Burns Lake, British Columbia
Distance: 44 miles (106 miles total)
Climb: 877 feet
At 9 am, Radha arrived for work. She is the housekeeper and from Ukraine. She lent Dimitri her van so that he could drive Lucy and me 35 miles to Fraser Lake, which would be my starting point for the day.
As I rolled Lucy to the desk, Kelli came out and greeted me with a gift bag of two sandwiches, a bottle of apple juice, and a bottle of water. She also gave me a tiny Korean keychain from Michael, the owner of The Hillview Guest Rooms, who himself is Korean. I was very touched.
Dimitri and I removed Lucy’s front wheel and got her and the saddlebags inside the back of the van. Radha came out, and we got a photo.
Dimitri and Radha are both Ukrainian, but they didn’t know each other before meeting at Hillview.
As soon as we left, Dimitri asked if I wanted a coffee. I said yes, in between my bites of the sandwich.
“Is Tim Horton’s OK?” he asked.
“I don’t know what that is.”
He seemed very surprised. Until that point, Dimitri thought I was Canadian. Tim Horton’s is a fast food restaurant as common to Canadians as Burger King is to Americans.
I tried to buy, but he wouldn’t let me.
Dimitri is 32. He grew up in a humble environment in Ukraine. He started his university studies but dropped out. He said that he was making as much money without a degree as others who had a degree.
I shared with him the mantra of my Uncle Jim that struck a nerve and eventually motivated me to go back to school at 32 years old: “You go to college to get an education, not a piece of paper.”
After some time, he decided to work abroad. He got a job in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, in the hospitality industry and met the love of his life: Kelli.
They moved to Qatar and worked a while before going to Mexico, her native country. After a period there, he met Michael, who sponsored him for a visa to Canada. He arrived about three years ago, right before Russia invaded Ukraine. Kelli joined him a year later.
At Fort Fraser, Dimitri stopped for gas. Again, he refused to let me pay. He even physically blocked me with his shoulder when I tried to insert my credit card into the pump. This is something only my closest family members would do—say, my cousin Kevin or my Uncle Bob.
“You are already doing more than 90 percent of the people” toward making the world a better place, he told me.
Yes, I thought, and you and your wife are immigrants, trying to eke out a living in a new country. Your country is under siege by Russia. Your family is suffering. You are trying to get some of them out of harm’s way, using all your resources to protect your loved ones…
Dimitri would like to go back to school but is uncertain. Could he afford it? Could he make time? I explained to him that he is the same age as I was when I went back to college for my bachelor’s degree.
I encouraged Dimitri to register and take at least one class. I asked him to email me to let me know.
Naturally, when Dimitri dropped me off at Fraser Lake, he wouldn’t accept any money. I was deeply touched.
After a few miles, I realized my legs didn’t have the energy that they had yesterday morning. I had not fully recovered. But I was motivated by the Hillview team. I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
Then I came across John Barnhardt, a 64-year-old Canadian fellow bike-packer, who sat resting along the side of the road as I rolled up.
“Kindred spirits,” I greeted him. (I really know how to greet someone when it comes right down to it.)
John was a retired career Canadian military serviceman. He has been riding since he was in the military. I saw his travel blogs dating back to 2007. We spoke for about 15 minutes, and then I took off. He had already ridden 20 miles or so farther than me and was going to stop just short of Burns Lake and camp. He had more gear than me, including a tent, sleeping bag, mat, and such accoutrements required for camping.
A braver man than me.
I pulled ahead of him—I had fresher legs—but after a few miles, Lucy sprung a back tire leak. The tire was not punctured, but the inner tube had developed a tiny hole an inch from the valve. The same place my first leak occurred a couple of weeks ago. I now wonder if there is not a problem with the rim.
John arrived just in time to help me pump the last few pounds of air into the tire.
A few miles further, we encountered a push hill. As we started up, I caught a glimpse of a black bear out of the corner of my eye. He was on the far side of a big ravine, slowly ambling away from us. By the time I got my phone out, he had gone behind a tree. But then he appeared out the other side, where I could film a few seconds of him.
After this push hill came another, just to remind me how fragile I am.
John pulled ahead sometimes and would disappear. At other times, I would pull ahead. But I was growing more and more tired all the way.
After getting to know John a little, I decided that I couldn’t let him camp out. I was on a mission of peace, after all. What type of human being would I be if I didn’t offer for him to get a warm shower and sleep in my room?
So, we checked in at the Key-Oh Lodge in Burns Lake around 5:20, which meant 7 hours for me to cover 44 miles—just better than 6 mph. But I did have to change a tire, which was close to an hour delay. We showered and went down to a little restaurant and had a nice Chinese meal, which was surprisingly good.