....was a journey in and of itself. 4:00pm on a Tuesday should not be as challenging as it was. At 176th and Hwy 1 we were parked. No movement at all. Fumes encircling us and not just from the car exhausts. We tried to find that detour route that no one else knew about. There was no such trail. Instead we wound our way, joined like a magnetic train set, through rural then urban, back to the parking lot.
When we were able to travel at a speed that required a distance of 2 seconds, I was already tired of the songs on my iPod...and this was day 1 of 6!! Route 3 to Summerland was uneventful. I kept trying to calculate our arrival time, and though the beauty should have captivated me I could tell I was getting stuck.
Seeing the lights of Penticton sparkle on the lake took my breath away and suddenly the darkness felt more like a blanket than an inconvenience. My head was getting ready for the next 5 days of riding..