Apparently, bridges are known to be a common meeting place for cyclists. On that first day of many adventures, I waited patiently as cars roared above me on the Lion’s Gate Bridge. Group after group convened, then zoomed off while I waited for my friend to appear. Eager to thrive and stay connected, several of my physically active friends had started to come together for summer and fall bike rides. These would change over the winter months to snowshoeing, skiing and snow hiking.
Prior to the pandemic, I had always appreciated having friends and family over for meals and celebrations. It was energizing to be together, with the added benefit of being a natural motivation to clean my home. As the invisible danger of COVID-19 seeped into our world, the concept of a safe bubble became the priority.
My own household embraced the new reality, taking turns outdoing each other with incredible meals, and walking the dog in varying family combinations. Dust triggered latent allergies in my daughters, but without guests inside our home, the vacuum was practically abandoned by four capable adults! Eventually, all that closeness began to feel restrictive, as did Zoom visits. We yearned to connect with friends and extended family in person.
So, grateful to have a yard, we began to place chairs at a safe distance on our patio, and to have one or two people over at a time. As winter approached, we purchased a large gazebo and firepit. One couple arrived with their own wine, glasses and takeout meal and left before they needed to use the bathroom. It felt so wrong, and yet so right for the times.
On Thanksgiving, my sister joined my family under the canopy in torrential rain. Her husband hadn’t come, as he doubted that we would stay outside in such weather. My daughters were also ambivalent about this plan. Not my sister. She laughed, “It’s just like camping!”
Like me, many of my friends had resorted to doing outdoor exercise on their own. All of us were determined to find ways to keep ourselves and our families safe and healthy. We wanted to embrace the belief that health applies to mind, body and soul. The social connection was deeply missing from our lives, so I reached out to some of my active friends:
Corinna, a world-class triathlete, had continued to train by swimming in nearby Sasamat and Buntzen Lakes. When the lakes got cold, rather than go inside a community pool (even when they were open), she wore a wet suit. She also happens to be an energetic, tenacious 80-year-old who is the primary support for her 106-year-old mother who lives alone.
Beverly had trained for a 10-day trip with a friend on the Camino trail the previous year and had once again purchased a pass for Grouse Mountain. She also explored city bike routes and was eager to join outdoor adventures with others.
Cynthia was a member of a seniors’ bike group that had temporarily stopped, while eventually forming tiny groups to accommodate physical distancing rules. She wanted to join the occasional ride or mountain activity, when possible, as did Suzanne, who planned to retire soon.
Did I mention the importance of bridges? Living in the Lower Mainland, many bike plans involve one. Our new ad hoc group members live in different communities, so they either had to load their bike on a car or bus to cross a bridge, or in my case, meet my North Shore friend under the Lion’s Gate Bridge then ride across it and the Burrard Street Bridge to connect with the others.
Sometimes it would be pouring rain in one person’s home area, but they would still take a chance to come. We were usually graced with good weather, though, and it was always exhilarating to see each person arrive on a bike from different directions at Granville Island under the bridge.
We explored paths along False Creek, or west past Kitsilano and Jericho beaches, and numerous city bike routes, always finding time for coffee and a snack along the way. Finally, the cold fall rain forced us to put away our weary bikes.
Before long, it was time to dust off the snowshoes and ski equipment. As the local bears settled into hibernation and the snow reached decent levels, the mountain trails beckoned. By then, everyone had settled into new routines. Beverly’s grandchildren were homeschooling during the pandemic, and she played a pivotal role four days a week as an online tutor for her six-year-old granddaughter, Mila. She had started hiking Grouse on Tuesday afternoons.
My daughter, dubbed Mountain Goat, stirred my interest in hiking the BCMC, but we soon realized she would be shivering by the time I finally caught up with her. By then, I had caught the mountain bug, so I bought my first pass for Grouse, and joined Beverly regularly on Tuesdays. My hope was that her pace would be a better fit for me.
As we morphed into a winter sports group, Thursdays became a regular cross-country ski day. One by one, others from the cycling group plus a few others occasionally joined us. Several times, there were simple exchanges in mountain parking lots, like a thousand-piece puzzle of Paris, books, YakTrax or crampons. Corinna’s mouth-watering homemade sourdough bread, complete with the starter, recipe and instructions, was a big hit. There were times when we struggled to figure out a plan, catering to minor injuries and energy levels, but a friendly consideration for each other was paramount.
Loneliness and isolation evaporated as we separately drove across bridges and headed to the mountains. How can I explain the feeling of being surrounded by glistening white? Breathing in deeply and releasing tension, without even trying. Sometimes chattering about the mundanities of life, then sharing a crystal-clear moment of understanding about human hardships. At times, we just followed trails, quietly breathing and listening. Alone, but not.
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I loved this article.! It reminded me of my own groups, forming post retirement with friends of similar interests , and becoming so important to me in my transition, then throughout my life.
Jill