Odessey1

Northwest Odyssey - Part II

Riding the

Canadian Pacific

on the Port Alberni line

Vancouver Island, Canada

by Peter Hoffman

Arne leads Morgan with Cameron Lake below.

Last month I put the cart before the horse with the story of our accommodations on the private railroad car the Abraham Lincoln. This month we will start at the beginning of Arne and Morgan’s Northwest Odyssey, which was eventually joined by myself, John Vander Ven, Dick Smart, Ken Wright, Bear Kamoroff, Michael Conely, Eloy McEnroe and Mark Haney.

The trip began in the United States at the airport in Seattle, Washington, where Arne and Morgan were joined by John and I. Driving two cars, we headed north to Canada with just enough time to catch the last ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island which departed from Tsawassen at 10:30PM. The trip across the Straight of Georgia took over one and a half hours, and it was well after 1 AM the next day before we got to bed. Arne and Morgan had been up about 40 hours since leaving Sweden, with only a few unsatisfying naps on the plane.

Our destination that morning was the abandoned line between Parksville and Port Alberni, about 75 miles north of Nanaimo. This line was built by the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1914 and most recently operated by the Esquimalt & Nanaimo Railroad. Dick had given us directions to a good spot to set-on just east of the highway summit which was so isolated we missed the obscure dirt road on two attempts to locate it. But once found it was perfect.

As this was Arne and Morgan’s first ride on this trip, Arne’s two bikes needed to be unpacked and taken through the initial assembly procedure which took about an hour. While the bikes were being assembled, three very scruffy looking men came walking up the tracks, one carrying a gun. They were most interested in our bikes and

Securing our gear became commonplace as the growth along the rails was very heavy.

hung around for about a half hour talking. Although they were friendly we were still concerned. We were obviously going to be heading off soon leaving our unattended vehicles behind. Would these guys break into them and clean us out after we left? Fortunately, our fears proved unfounded.

It was about 2 PM before we headed down from the summit on the westward slope. This took us high above Cameron Lake. We crossed several great wooden trestles with expansive views of the lake below and the distant mountains. Rain and drizzle is the norm in this part of the world and it was true to form this day. The forests and foliage were thick and lush green and the undergrowth was shoulder high on both sides of the tracks. Thankfully, the growth between the rails was not much higher than 12 inches.

From suitcase to rails, Arne's

portable design is a masterpiece of engineering.

By the time we had ridden down the grade to the end of the lake and back, it was nearly 5 PM. Arne and Morgan wanted to ride the east side of the pass down into Port Alberni, and we figured we had about two and a half hours of light left, so John and I agreed to driving both cars into Port Alberni and picking up Arne and Morgan there. John had brought a walkie-talkie, and we gave Arne and Morgan one so we could keep in touch.

John and I took our time driving to Port Alberni, which was only about 10 miles by road. We drove around for some time trying to find where the railroad entered the town and find the optimum spot to wait for Arne and Morgan. And so began one of the longest evenings of my life.

John and I stood out at the crossing at six o’clock, not expecting our companions for at least another hour, but not wanting to miss them either when they came riding into town. At about seven it was getting dark fast, as the sky was heavily overcast, and we tried to contact the guys and find out where they were. The walkie-talkie had a range of only about 3 miles max. Although the reception was badly broken and hard to decipher, Arne told us they had the town in sight as they could see the lights below them. We were encouraged, figuring they were less than three miles out.

By eight there was still no sight of the riders. It was now almost completely dark. We tried several times again to contact them, to no avail. All contact had been lost. We waited and waited, straining to see down the rails in the darkness. By nine we were really getting worried. It had been pitch black for over an hour. We couldn't reach our companions on the walkie-talkie and it was drizzling on and off. All kinds of disaster scenarios were running through our heads. Around nine-thirty I asked John in a worried voice, “How long should we wait before we call the constables?”

Ten o'clock and still no contact. And then the walkie-talkie squeaked! It was Arne, but the reception was so poor we couldn’t understand anything he was saying. This frustrating back and fourth attempt at communication went on for many minutes, until at last we could at least ascertain they were all right. Now all we had to do was find them. Arne was trying to tell us where they were, but we could only guess at what he was saying. John and I headed to a gas station where we hoped to find a city map and maybe some help from one of the locals. We found several streets that sounded like what we thought Arne had said, but they were scattered all over creation. Then we asked the attendant if any of these streets were close to where the railroad came into town. We were then able to pick the most likely location.

After driving about two miles, there in our headlights were Arne and Morgan, sitting on a wall

and looking both relieved and unhappy. As it turned out, when they first told us on the walkie-talkie that they could see the town, they were still high on the pass and looking down on the town below them which didn’t look far away. In actuality, the rail line turned north away from town to make a long sweeping run out and then back into town as it descended the mountain side. Thus the three or so miles everyone thought they had to ride turned into more like twelve.

But their final undoing had yet to come. The rails across the pass had not been used for years and were heavily rusted and not slippery in the rain. Unbeknown to us, there was a tourist train operating out of Port Alberni which headed up the mountain for about four miles before turning back. This activity had made the rails shiny, and Arne and Morgan were continuously

derailing. They had to carry their bikes for over a mile in the dark before coming to a road crossing. Here they removed the outriggers and their packs and rode their bikes down the road to the first major intersection from where they reached us on the walkie-talkie.

Arne heads upgrade on our way back up the west side of the summit.

It was 11 PM before we retrieved their equipment. We were all famished, but the restaurants in Port Alberni were closed. We had to drive over the mountains and almost 100 miles before we found a place to eat. It was nearly 2 am before we crawled into bed, and we had to catch the 6:30 AM ferry back to the mainland in just four and a half hours. We had over 300 miles to drive after the two-hour boat trip to reach Othello in central Washington. The first segment of this vacation had become a sleep-deprived endurance test. We were all looking forward to arriving in Othello and relaxing aboard the

Abraham Lincoln.

We had no reason to expect our next day's riding would be as unusual as the first. Watch for our following episode: "Murphy's Law on the Milwaukee Road".

The lush forest environment and misty sky were beautiful even if cold and wet. Right, looking over the side of a trestle high above Cameron Lake.

John Vander Ven

Peter

Morgan

Peter