Trip report shared from Olive Joy
June 12, 2025 - A group of nine alpine enthusiasts set out for a bike ride at sea level around four Gulf Islands in British Columbia. You might be wondering why a trip sponsored by the Alpine Club of Canada bagged no big peaks. It’s a tale full of twists - rooted in a love for the outdoors, unwilling to be stymied by the President of the United States, and guided by a goal to build outdoor community, skills, and confidence for youth in Victoria.
Seven months earlier, I was sitting in my living room, watching rain barrel down during a major storm hitting Vancouver Island. My group chat was blowing up. Plans for a cabin retreat in Jordan River with friends were dashed. The power was out, and our Airbnb reservation - meant to be our base camp for surfing, mushroom foraging, and hot tubbing (I mean, forest bathing) - was cancelled. Disappointed and soggy, I scoured the Internet for alternative adventures to lift my spirits.
A nature lover at heart, I’ve found my home on Vancouver Island. After escaping the concrete jungle of Toronto six years ago, I’ve made it my mission to soak up all that this paradise has to offer. From my first unexpectedly snowy backpacking trip to Circlet Lake, to dipping my toes into ski touring, to joining the Kludhak Club, I’ve been steadily building my knowledge, gear library, and - most importantly - my confidence in accessing the outdoors safely and joyfully.
One club, however, like the elusive morel mushroom, had remained just out of reach: the Alpine Club of Canada. Its name and pursuits inspire greatness. But it wasn’t until that wistful, damp November afternoon, while scrolling through the Vancouver Island Section’s upcoming events page, that I finally took the leap.
Two weeks later, I was driving up a logging road with two strangers after having completed an extensive Google Sheets emergency contact, scheduling, and food list (courtesy of Rachel), woken up at 6 AM, and loaded the car with snowshoes and enthusiasm for a Future Leaders weekend trip to the 5040 Hut. Our leaders, Martin and Rachel, guided us through a whiteout to a beacon of light in the dark - a warm reprieve and base for a weekend of snow touring, avalanche safety, hut lore (have you seen the outhouse view?!), and stories of past and future trips.
One particularly enthusiastic fellow, Scott, and I became fast friends - and occasional enemies during fierce games of Settlers of Catan. Scott is determined and hard-working, demonstrated during our late-night arrival at the cabin. When we found the pellet stove out of order, he and Martin spent over an hour tinkering with it until it finally roared to life. Thanks to them, the weekend was a cozy delight that left Scott and me inspired to lead a trip of our own.
Back in Victoria, iPad and maps in hand, Scott and I headed to CragX for a climb and planning session. We had it all laid out: we’d travel ecopoint-style, using only public transportation, cycling, and walking to reach our objective, summiting Mt. Appleton in the Olympic Mountain Range in Washington State, with a short detour on the descent to soak in some local hot springs. We love the idea of reaching a remote summit using an accessible and low-impact method of transportation: bicycles. This approach significantly reduces both environmental impact and barriers to access - core values for us when thinking about how we engage with the outdoors.
We submitted our proposal for the Vancouver Island Section’s Youth Memorial Grant and waited. But during that time, tensions escalated between the U.S. and Canada. As the President of the United States threatened tariffs and spouted violent rhetoric, a growing movement discouraged cross-border travel. With the U.S. suddenly off the table, it was time to pivot.
Back to CragX we went, with renewed determination and a time crunch as summer was coming on quick. Staying true to our foundations, we wanted to plan a trip that would be fully accessible by bike. Since biking to Strathcona over a long weekend seemed logistically impossible, we turned our attention to the Gulf Islands. Our chosen mission: biking through four islands in three days - Saturna, Mayne, Pender, and Salt Spring. Those who have visited these islands will already know that the cumulative elevation gain rivals that of many alpine trips. Although not a summit objective, we would be building community, developing skills, and fostering awareness and appreciation of environmental stewardship, key elements of an Alpine Club of Canada trip. In applying for the Youth Grant, our particular goal was to welcome new members and inspire confidence in their ability to plan and carry out an outdoor adventure. We’re deeply grateful to the Vancouver Island Section for making this grant available, helping ensure that the outdoors remains accessible, inviting, and inspiring for youth.
The date was set, and the crew was formed through classic Victoria connections: friends of friends, choirs, run club, Facebook Marketplace, and a friendly fellow bike-enthusiast colleague. We built a trip-planning spreadsheet (which I now use for every adventure - thank you Rachel for the template!), started a WhatsApp group chat, and gathered for a bike-and-beer session to review details before takeoff.
Then, a week before departure, I received a somber call from the club: their insurance policy had been revised and no longer covered bike trips. Undeterred, Scott and I reached out to private insurers for quotes. At first, we were quoted thousands of dollars to host a “biking event,” but eventually opted for individual health insurance at under $20 per person. Problem solved.
Panniers packed, food dehydrated, bibs on - we were off. Group One (myself, Ryan, and Mackenzie) left earlier in the day, enjoying a day off from work.. Group Two - Scott, Bianca, Becca, and Kylie - set out in the afternoon to meet us that evening at our first camp at Narvaez Bay on Saturna Island. Group Three - Nicole and Hanno - were to reunite with us the following morning at the ferry terminal.
The familiar Lochside Trail felt extra special that morning as the sun rose - no longer just a commuter route, but a gateway to adventure. Stepping off the ferry, we were immediately introduced to the weekend’s new terrain. Gone were the flat, rolling paths of Saanich, replaced with sharp turns, steep ascents, adrenaline-pumping descents. The objective of the Gulf Islands had emerged.
We acknowledge with gratitude that our journey through the Gulf Islands took place on the unceded, traditional, and ancestral territories of the Coast Salish Peoples, including the W̱SÁNEĆ, Hul’qumi’num-speaking Nations, and other Coast Salish communities who have cared for these lands and waters since time immemorial. As we biked across Saturna, Mayne and Salt Spring, we carried an awareness that these islands are not only beautiful recreation spaces, but also the homelands, gathering places, and sources of life for Indigenous peoples past, present, and future.
We made camp at the overflow campsite and set out to explore the area. It was a calm, sunny day. Ryan pulled out his fishing rod while Mackenzie and I read in the trees. The peaceful slowness of bikepacking settled in and 30 minutes later we heard a gleeful cry. He’d caught one! Fish unhooked and satisfied smiles plastered, we explored the park on bike until Group 2 arrived. Reunited, we enjoyed a sunset swim, ate so many tacos, and played games until late. Mostly strangers heading into the trip, we’re brought together as fast friends in that special liminal space of a group trip.
Just as our heads hit the pillow, the rain began - and didn’t let up. By 5:30 a.m., we dragged ourselves out of our tents for roll call. While this ungodly hour is far from the usual relaxed pace of bikepacking, we had two reasons: serious ground to cover, and the single ferry off Saturna bound for Mayne Island. The troops rallied over coffee, and soon we were grinding up the hill, raindrops quickly turning to sweat.
At the terminal, Nicole greeted us with an enthusiastic wave as we boarded. Our group was now complete - minus one. Hanno, feeling under the weather, still earned MVP status for driving Nicole to the ferry at 5 am.
Onboard, we soaked in the warmth of the cabin, recharging devices and our spirits. By the time we landed, the rain had lifted. Caffeinated and buzzing, we cranked up the tunes and pedaled up the Mayne ferry hill into town. After fueling at a café and chatting with a couple of friendly locals, we set out to explore. Between the rolling climbs, we discovered a lighthouse, tucked-away beaches, and the tranquil Japanese Garden. By midday, we had reached a crossroads: race back for the ferry to Pender, or linger on Mayne with some flex time. The vote was decided - stay. Bonus time meant a leisurely lunch and a beer flight at Mayne Island Brewing Co., the perfect cap to a morning of damp beginnings turned bright.
But we weren’t out of the woods yet. Back at the terminal, we boarded the boat for Long Harbor, Salt Spring. From there, we faced our hilliest ride yet, with an honorable mention to the climb leaving Ganges toward Ruckle Park. Though it was the last push of a long day, the group was wonderful. We shared snacks, encouragement, and stories to take our minds off the never-ending hills.
At last, we rolled into Ruckle for sunset, the park alive with tents and clusters of happy campers, like a West Coast Woodstock. We tucked in for the night, proud of the day’s accomplishments and lulled by waves crashing against the rocks.
Over breakfast the next morning, we laid out the game plan: biking up Mt. Tuam. At over 600 meters of climbing, it would be a serious effort. But as the conversation unfolded, the group consensus became clear—we’d pass on the objective. As leaders, Scott and I felt our responsibility was twofold: first, to ensure the group’s safety, and second, to keep the trip aligned with our shared goals. Skipping Mt. Tuam didn’t take away from the spirit of the journey, the memories we’d already made, or the potential joy of ending our adventure on a lighter note.
After a group hug, we pedaled out toward the final ferry. On that last ride together, we cranked up Pink Pony Club and sang at the top of our lungs - beautiful, off-key, and completely perfect.