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Mission accomplished. What's next? A film and a book.
Film News: We are proud to announce that Nick Middleton and Duncan Smith of Galiano Island
will form the core of the expedition film production team. Nick and Duncan will use a European production facility in the fall
of 2008. With Nick's Executive Direction and Duncan's editing wizardry, the project is shaping up to be a hit. Tim will support the production with storyline guidance,
expedition footage, narration and writing. The team welcomes Nicole Anchorman as production assistant.
 Book News: Tim's upcoming book Two Feet and a Heartbeat , to be published by Harbour Publishing in 2008, is developing well. Samples will be posted on this website as the publication date draws near.
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EXPEDITION NEWS
2006-11-14 -
Home Sweet Home
A Joyous End to an Epic Journey
 At 1 AM on Sunday morning, after 160 kilometres riding from northern Washington State, I approached a bridge and saw a roadsign I have dreamed of for years: "Vancouver City Limits."
In a wave of pure euphoria, I posed by the sign and snapped photos, as cars whizzed past me in the night. I had slept less than 6 hours across 80% of flood-ravaged Washington State to reach Vancouver on time, was hit by a car, snapped a crank, and was doused by days of rain, but I made it. Racing against a lowering snowline as winter set in, I had squeaked in before the freeze.
Happiness welled inside me to think that I had set out cycling north 2.5 years ago, with the unlikely hope that I would one day return by my own steam to Vancouver.
I had blundered naively into a saga of unexpected perils and challenge, armed with heaps of dumb luck and the cheering support of a whole community behind me. There by the bridge, I felt forever changed by the experience, and the lights of Vancouver lit up the Fraser River's far bank. I let out a spontaneous howl of joy from my perch above the river's north arm. "YEEEEEE- HOOOOOO!!!! I MADE IT!"
I pedalled across town in the dead of night to a home near the forests of Point Grey, where Adrian Sanders and my brother Jonathan, the duo who had sprung me out of jail in Panama, were waiting with a warm meal and tea. We hugged and laughed and threw my drenched clothes in the dryer.
"Wake up, Tim!" came the call to rouse me a few hours later. Where was I? What was happening? Adrian, fill me in!
 When I realized what day it was, I sprun out of bed and we pedalled to the Science Centre. It would be my welcome home! Sure enough, a group of hardy Vancouver cyclists had braved the rain to give me a heart-warming round of applause. Press cameras rolled footage and snapped photos as the group of us -- among them family and wonderful friends -- rolled away for a circuit of Vancouver's West End.
High in the cold wind on the Burrard Street Bridge, things began to unravel. Adrian's tire chose that moment to flatten. With twenty cyclists now stalled as we decided how to improvise, I was hit by an idea: utilize the Xtracycle!
We strapped Adrian's bike as cargo on my Xtracycle, and I gave him my bicycle to ride. As Adrian steered the unweildy beast down the bridge, I sat down on Jonathan's Xtracycle as a passenger. But as we approached the finish line, I couldn't contain my elation, so I stood up, raised my arms and surfed in over the line.
The moment was surreal. My friends from Harbour Publishing handed me a globe as I shook hands with Vancouver's avid-cyclist deputy mayor, Peter Ladner. The press had descended upon me again, and when I emerged from the scrum, only Jonathan, Adrian, and one other friend remained. Where had everyone gone? Well, where else? To the bar!!!
And so the festivities began. My father and his wife, as well as Adrian's entire family and a large contingent of friends were at the Arts Club in Granville Island. Bicycles were heaped outside as we soggy cyclists merrily warmed ourselves with steeming hot food and warm company within. I wished that time would slow down, so the gathering would never have to end.
We migrated back to Adrian's Mom's home in Dunbar, and what I expected to be a quiet denouement evolved spontaneously into further festivities that continued into the wee hours. We ate Sockeye Salmon, laughed around the TV when Peter Wall's documentary aired on CBC, and raised toasts to the reunion of friends.
It was only yesterday, after dashing downtown for a national interview on CTV, that I finally made the break from Vancouver. Cycling again with Jonathan and Adrian, we headed south for the BC Ferries terminal in Tswassen. That night, under a sky blazing with stars, we finally rolled onto a forest road on Galiano Island that leads to the oceanside home of my mother (currently in Africa) where I will write my book. As we rolled past the flicker of a woodstove at the Grand Central Diner, a man called out from the shadows of the patio:
Welcome back from Around the World!"
At last, I was home................ |
2006-11-09 -
Olympia, Washington, USA
Smoked by a Killer Automobile!
Arrival Press Release download: www.vancouvertovancouver.com/p-r-nov12.doc
A day of "crushing" adversity:
As if the deluge didn't create enough difficulty -- I've been cycling through conditions that registered the most one-day rainfall ever recorded in Oregon (over 13 inches), and which has killed two men and floated away homes all over Washington -- the Fates wove a hair-raising wrinkle into the tapestry of my journey. Last night, I was hit by a car.
I was happily cycling through puddles and drizzle at 8 PM in the town of Centralia. I was lit up like a christmas tree in a forest fire: my headlamp and tail-lights had fresh batteries, I wore a reflective safety vest, and my front panniers and Xtracycle were decked out with reflectors. When I saw a car waiting to turn right onto the street I traveled, I fixed the driver in my headlamp beam and attempted to make eye contact, but I made a critical mistake: I assumed a basic level of intelligence and attention.
The car lurched forward and crunched its bumper into my leg. My bicycle tumbled and I spilled onto the street, rolling away from the oncoming death-machine. The shocked visage of a middle-aged, overweight driver gaped, aghast at what she'd done, and then the primordial human panic reaction, Fight-or-Flight, took charge of her brain. She gunned the gas and sped off into the night.
I leapt up and sprinted after the car, aiming my headlamp at the receding liscence plate. I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
"Hit and Run!" I told the dispatcher, less angry at my particular assailant, than at the mentality of so many hit-and-run drivers who make mincemeat of cyclists every day.
Just last week, a friend of mine in Santa Monica, Jen Diamond, was delivered to a hospital in serious condition after an accident on the road. The driver who hit her bicycle had fled the scene and left Jen bleeding on the street. Jen, a brave woman and dedicated cylist, is sore but on the mend, and vows to keep cycling. She is an inspiration to all who know her. http://alrs.livejournal.com/44975.html
Evidently my own motor-maniac thought better of fleeing the scene, and after a couple of minutes she returned to apologize profusely. The police arrived and took stock of the situation. We discovered that my own physical complaints were mild -- bruised bones on my hands and legs, and a sore knee -- and my bicycle still worked. I was very lucky. As I cycled away, I thought about Dougal Christie, the Vancouver lawyer who was hit and died last summer after almost completing a trans-Canada cycle to win rights for people in poverty. I could have met a similar end. Why do so many cyclists bite the dust?
It's not because we're not wearing helmets, or cycling dangerously. It's because drivers are habitually inattentive and negligent! Anyone steering a massive rolling hunk of metal must assume, at all times, that they're about to mow down a cyclist. I've been hit in Vancouver, Mexico and now Washington, but I still understand that the health benefits of cycling far outweigh the risks - although I sure wish drivers would wake up and view themselves as the hazards on wheels that they are................ |
2006-11-06 -
Portland, Oregon
Flood Warnings for the US Northwest!
FLOOD WARNINGS -- after posting this news dispatch last night, it rained and rained and rained. This morning, I received phone call from Julie, my friend in Portland. It went like this:
"Tim, you're not seriously thinking of leaving are you? The whole Cascade region is under a flood warning! Wait until its safe to go!"
"I have to try, Julie, I'm so close to home..."
"It's not worth getting swept off the road in a flood! Think about it! What's the worst that can happen, you delay your arrival party?"
Julie probably has a point. Torrential rains kill untold thousands around the world each year, and right now, visibility is all but zero, creeks have spilled their banks, cars skid everywhere, and a rain worthy of mention in the Old Testament just keeps coming down. Global Warning keeps biting me in the backside. Should I stay or should I go?
I'll pack up and give it a try. If you don't hear from me soon, then I'm on the road, very wet, but everything is going to plan... althouth I guess I also won't write if I get washed away in a flash flood. Warnings are all over the internet and radio. It's messy out there. But I'll give it a shot. Stay tuned for my imminent arrival in Vancouver... or not. My fingers are crossed.
Below is what I posted last night:
From where I sat today -- inside, resting my legs for a change -- I would have had a clear view of Mount Saint Helens, if only the heavy rainclouds had cleared. In May 1980, when that volcano blew its top and dusted Portland in ashes, the sound could be heard in Vancouver, BC. That's how close to home I am!
The final days riding will be exciting for me. I start to wonder how I will adapt to days without steady toil through ever-changing weather and landscapes. Will I feel like a Rip Van Winkle, and find the world has evolved without me? Or will I immediatly find my place, and feel relief to simply relax in one spot? A fellow cyclist, Alistair Humphries, advised me to savour my final days as a nomad. The incessant rain is tough to ignore, but I will try.
I arrived in Portland last night during the area's heaviest rainfall so far this season. I was headed for the home of family of my friends in Santa Monica. Paul and Julie Hansen live at the summit of perhaps the tallest hill in Portland. My clothes were heavy with rain, and my vision was blurred by the downpour. In the thick of it, my cell phone rang. It was Paul.
"Tim, where are you? We can come to pick you up!"
Paul and Julie are like that - two kind souls willing to go out of their way to help a wet, weary traveler they had never even met. But soggy as I was, I couldn't accept Paul's offer of a lift. I am addicted to the physical rush of reaching a goal on my own steam, and after 12 hours soaked and struggling, I was almost there, warming my feet by a flickering fire.
Fast Forward 24 hours. I am rested and dry in a Portland bar. The place is packed with standing room only, and all eyes are on me. The person responsible, Melissa Bearns, is in the crowd, aching from a day of river kayaking. Her story on my travels made front page of the Sports section of Oregon's biggest newspaper (also online http://www.oregonlive.com/sports/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/sports/1162783527263450.xml&coll=7&thispage=1). The event was organized by the editors of a new outdoor adventure magazine, Wend, which bucks the magazine trend by seeking to inspire adventure rather than mass consumption.
I was discreetly sweating bullets until I realized how receptive the audience was. An excellent microbrew stout also helped. The crowd was full of cyclists and progressive thinkers. Somebody had parked an Xtracycle outside. If all Americans (or people anywhere) were like them, there would be no war in Iraq. There would be less threat of climate change. There would be fewer SUVs, and fewer hit-an-runs. They were the people actively making the world a better place.
So as I head onto the bleak, soggy highways for a final five days to Canada, I am uplifted and propelled not only by my proximity to home, but by the people who have touched me along the way, most recently the fine folks of Portland. They give me reason not simply to "rage, rage against the dying of the light," in the words of Dylan Thomas, nor to beleive, as Aldo Leopold put it, that "that the situation is hopeless should not prevent us from doing out best."
Because the light is not dying. The situation is not hopeless. The world is full of cyclists, like the people of Portland, pedaling in increasing numbers for better health, a cleaner planet, and a way, way cooler future for everyone.
Current News:
Don't forget you're invited to roll with me to the finish line in Vancouver on Sunday, November 12th. Details below (see bold text) or on this press release: www.vancouvertovancouver.com/p-r-nov12.doc............... |
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Expedition completed
November 12, 2006 :
Day 893
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It began as a dream to adventure by
zero-emission means: Vancouver to Moscow by human power. The the
dream then grew - how to make it home, and circle the world, without
fossil fuels? It took two and a half years on bicycles, by foot,
in rowboats, canoes, wooden raft and under sail, on a route across
five continents and two oceans. 
