For some time now we feel trapped in the same old story. Getting up, breakfast, pack up tent, start cycling. Dense is the forest on both sides of the trail, we pass through a dark green hose. A handful of dried fruit and a chocolate bar after two hours of riding. Two hours later, lunch time. Finally time for the MP3. So we plug the ears while we climb the daily pass. For a brief moment we are above the treeline, see far into the distance before we dive back into the needle sea. Loudly singing this time, so that we do not have suddenly a Grizzly under the wheels. Another short break. How do you like the audio book? Mmh, about as exciting as today's cycling day. We reach a small town. Shopping in the supermarket, as a reward for today's stage we eat an ice cream before we ride a few kilometers more to the next forest and pitch up camp there. Again noisily, after all we do not want a nocturnal visit from bears in the tent. Cooking, eating, brushing teeth, sleeping. The cycling is easy, there are no surprises waiting around the next corner or the next hill, everything has become predictable.
In Cranebrook we take a three days break in the youth hostel. "We make no plan you now" ..., but we have enough of waiting for an unexpected door that opens. Sometimes you have to open your doors yourself. And so we do the job proberly. Quite unusual for us, whom always need an eternity to take decisions. But we feel, it is time to reach for a new book from the shelf. For one, we do not know yet, one which surprises us again on each page with an unexpected turn. The book is thick and heavy, a huge tome. In artistic ornated letters stands thereon: INDIA & SOUTHEAST ASIA
From now on, the days are filled. Decisions follow on decisions, biking becomes somehow inessential. We go through our material by replacing broken things, improving what is not yet optimal. The head full of new ideas and plans we ride the Trans Canada Trail to Vancouver - and we are positively surprised. It often follows old train rails. The climbs are gentle, the downhills quiet. We cross rivers on old wooden railway viaducts and overcome mountains who are standing in the way for once not at the highest point, but after a barely perceptible ascent through ancient tunnels. And the further we come to the West, the more changes the forest. We pass mighty cedar trees, ferns and moss cover the ground, long lichen hang from the branches. It smells of earth, the air is clean and fresh. A Fangorn as from the "Lord of the Rings" - old, very old - missing only the Ents, the ancient sheperds of the forests, roaming around. But maybe they are even somewhere, well hidden in this endless wilderness.
One week until our flight. Slowly, a feeling is spreading, as if a holiday comes to an end, as if our journey would restart. We spend the last days on the American continent on the Island of San Juan. After we recovered from the tourist shock, we eventually find a quiet spot and camp undisturbed on a pebble beach in a small bay. Mountains of drift wood, piling up chaotically around our tent, as if giant's kids had just interrupted their game with building bricks. We listen to the uniform breath of the Pacific while full moon pours its silver over the dark water. A black fox is peeping curiously in our tent and out off the coast we hear blowing the Orcas. A dream spot. Here we say goodbye to America and try to prepare us mentally for the stark cultural change that awaits us.
The screeching of seagulls wakes us in the morning. It is low tide. Mist blurs the contours, immerses rocks and beach in a monochrome still life. The sea is retreated and has left a richly served dish. Seaweed, crabs, mussels. We walk along the beach and let the last few months pass by.
It was interesting to visit the United States and a part of Canada. The Americans were warm and uncomplicated. Their openness and hospitality has amazed us and we are grateful for the many wonderful encounters. But sometimes we also missed some tension, adventure and cultural challenge in the book NORTH AMERICA. And so we put this volume of our journey back in the shelf after six months and seven and a half thousand kilometers and we lift the cover of our new tome with butterflies in our stomach. Chapter 1: Ladakh and Zanskar. Colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind, glaciers, snowcapped five and six thousand high mountain ranges; Himalaya, mystical roof of the world.
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