The Synopsis

Looking back now, it's easy to see that Trial by Trail was born from that specific brand of youthful audacity—the kind that convinces you that "careful planning" and "absolute readiness" are things you can achieve in a few months of weekend prep. In the spring of 2000, Shayne, Wendy, and I decided we were going to see the true scale of Canada, not through a windshield, but from the saddle of our bicycles.

The Lead-Up

The journey didn't start at the Pacific; it started in the aisles of the High Country Bike Shop, which was owned by Brad Hunter, and through endless gear hauls at MEC. As a student leader used to organizing events, I threw myself into the logistics of an "epic" unsupported trek. We felt prepared—right up until our shakedown ride on the Georgian Trail, now a part of the Waterfront Trail, which greeted us with a cold, relentless soaking that hinted at the challenges to come. We were joined for the Western leg of the trip by a friend of Wendy's, but the core of the mission remained our shared passion for the road ahead.

The Journey West

Our adventure began not with a pedal stroke, but with the rhythmic clatter of VIA Rail’s The Canadian. We took the train out to Vancouver, using the cross-country transit to visit friends along the way—including an unexpected, wonderful stop in Kamloops. It was a time of high spirits and grandiose dreams, watching the landscape we intended to conquer roll past the window in reverse.

Trial by Highway

Our original vision was rooted in the Trans-Canada Trail, but reality proved a harsh teacher. We quickly discovered that the trail was often incomplete, impassable, or simply non-existent for loaded touring bikes. This forced us onto the Trans-Canada Highway—a shift that traded quiet nature for the roar of transport trucks and the grit of the shoulder.

The ride was a true test of endurance. We battled unseasonable cold that seeped into our bones, the frustrating loss of essential gear along the road, and the sheer physical toll of the mountains. Yet, these hardships were balanced by the incredible kindness of strangers who offered help when we needed it most. It was a journey of extremes—scenic beauty and mechanical frustration, youthful passion and hard-earned perspective.

The Records

The trip eventually reached its conclusion in Winnipeg. It was a bittersweet end, brought about by shifting group dynamics as we "dropped" team members along the way—Wendy's friend departed near Calgary, and eventually, Wendy herself had to call it in Winnipeg. While we didn't reach the Atlantic as a full team, the journals here stand as a permanent archive of that raw, unpolished reality.

Within these pages, you'll find our daily journals, photographs of the landscapes that took our breath away, and maps tracing our slow, steady progress eastward. We’ve also shared wisdom and warnings—lessons learned the hard way about gear, grit, and the importance of a good tailwind.

Thanks for being part of the journey.

— Blue