Bab's Heavenly Bog Blog

Have you ever been to the land of Dreams Come True?  It's an honest-to-God place, you know, where prayers are answered and dreams really do manifest in the physical world. I kid you not.  We visited it briefly on Sunday instead of going to the Tsawwassen Ferry terminal as planned.  I simply to time a trip to the ferries so that I can plan a couple of weekends away.  A previous attempt failed because of the intermittent schedule of the shuttle-bus through the George Massey Tunnel.  This one failed, too, but that's okay, cause I got to spend a bit of time in Heaven on Earth. 

Fair's fair.

Where did this miraculous event take place?  Beside a bog, of all things!  I want to remember it for posterity, so we took plenty of photos, and  then I went all out and created my very first Strava segment out of the experience.  I unleashed the full force of my active imagination and came up with the ever-so-creative name "Babble on by the bog."

Here's where you'll find it on a map:

What turns this tiny little stretch of nearly finished highway into Heaven on Earth?  It's not the road itself, though there is something undeniably smooth and seductive about a newly paved stretch of asphalt.  What's the primary characteristic of Heaven?  It has something to do with peace, right? Heaven is a beautiful, peaceful place.  Babble on by the bog is heavenly in its serenity, or it is till the end of December, anyway, when they plan to open the highway to traffic.  I mean, come on. Can you blame me for my enthusiasm? How often do you get ten kilometres of four lane highway all to yourself as one absolutely glorious bike path?

It was divine.

Seriously and fer real.

I used every possible lane every chance I could get.  

And it was completely peaceful, if a far cry from lonely.

After all, it's not like we were the ONLY SOULS out enjoying the afternoon sun...

but on this highway nobody was in a rush to get anywhere.

This sort of traffic is okay with me.

Luckily, no one seemed to mind when I had to make an unscheduled stop,
though I guess you can't blame a guy for watching like a hawk.

 I did try to obey all of the appropriate signage.
Kind of them to have so many places for a gal to relieve herself along the road, don't you think?
They say a proper cyclist is supposed to pee on the fly, but eeeeeew.  I'll have to work up to that one.  

And then it was time to head back home, which meant crossing the Alex Fraser Bridge again. Those thoughtful builders kindly left a little gap beside each and every light post, so that as you pass them, you can't help but note what a thin and insubstantial piece of infrastructure is supporting you, almost like an afterthought added to the edge of the deck, suspended so many hundreds of feet in the air.
It's just sick-making.  

Where DID I put that barf bag?!?

We took the express route from Heaven on Earth, straight through the gates of Hell itself.

Note how many pieces of cars are driving Hell's half-acre on a Sunday afternoon...

 Oh Hell's Bells.  

Let's get real.

 It doesn't matter one whit how many nasty bridges I have to cross, 

you know you'll find me out there somewhere, searching out the next little stretch of Heavenly road to explore.  Why? Because these thighs were made for riding, and that's the closest I've yet come to Paradise Found