For a mountain biking break you can't do better than the stunning terrain of British Columbia, the sport's spiritual home
"I thought we'd start with Thirsty Beaver, definitely take in Steam Donkey and Space Nugget, and perhaps if there's time we can check out Bucket of Blood. Did you bring your dodgeballs?"
Hauling his mountain bike out of the back of his truck, guide Mike Manara set off through the steaming Canadian drizzle towards the first creek crossing of the day, leaving me desperately searching for my ? how can I put this ? balls. I would find these homemade cakes much later on, gently oozing chocolate and peanuts between the bike tools in my backpack, a casualty of being thrown around a network of trails the collective naming of which sounded more like the latter stages of some gruesome illness than a fun day out on a bike.
"Nine years ago there were no riders in Cumberland," said Mike over lunch, a hastily arranged tree stump picnic stop well away from the bear poo we had spotted earlier. "But now the car park at the rec centre is full every weekend with people coming to mountain bike and that's great."
It's not an overstatement to say that British Columbia is mountain biking. The region on Canada's west coast has passionately nurtured both the sport's champions and its evolution, even giving the name to a particular genre of riding known as "north shore" (elevated wooden trails which act as bridges and launches for jumps), which was born on the northern shore of Vancouver's harbour. Travel up the Sea to Sky highway for 70 miles and you reach the behemoth of Whistler, a mountain resort which has invested so enthusiastically in its mountain biking infrastructure that it attracts 250,000 people a year into its purpose-built park and trails.
Cumberland lacks all of Whistler's sass and advertising savvy, an acute failing about which the small town is entirely unconcerned. It lies on Vancouver Island's east coast in an area known as the Comox Valley, 25 minutes south of Mount Washington ? another major outdoor sports destination.
From its founding in 1888 until its mines closed in 1966, Cumberland was a busy coal-producing town ? complete with bitter labour disputes and a reputation for hard living among its inhabitants which earned it the nickname Dodge City.
It is on this industrial heritage that the United Riders of Cumberland have gradually developed a network of trails, utilising the old logging tracks ? on Steam Donkey you can even feel the old sleepers underneath your wheels ? which surround the town.
"When I arrived 10 years ago there was nothing," said Jeremy Grasby, whose opening of the Riding Fool Hostel spearheaded Cumberland's transformation from dying community into sporting destination. "I mean, we're talking tumbleweed blowing across the street, you know?
"I don't know why I came here. I just love mountain biking and I love mountain bikers so it seemed to make sense. I had no grand plan, just open the place and see how it goes."
The hostel took over a 19th-century building that had for three generations been a hardware store belonging to CH Tarbell and sons, the original signage for which now hangs in the living room. Lodgers are diverse: we entered to find a chairlift operator at Mount Washington, full of youthful seasonaire glee, sitting on one sofa, while poring over a map were three fortysomethings pondering whether their UK-honed cycling skills were going to be enough for the terrain. Bikes stood in the hallway ? the Dodge City Cycles (dodgecitycycles.com) shop shares the building and mountain bike magazines were weighing down most of the tables. The hostel works in conjunction with Island Mountain Rides to organise guided rides for visitors both in the immediate area and further afield. It's fair to say that two wheels rule at the Riding Fool.
Most of the trails ? many of which you can ride straight from the hostel's front door ? are single track, hand built by people living locally, giving each one a story and a character of its own. Thirsty Beaver weaved through wet, lush forest, the creation of a group known as the River Rats ? chaps on the mature side of 50 with time on their hands and a love of carpentry, hence the beaver totempoles which dot the route and the expansive use of wooden bridges.
Three hours after surviving Bucket of Blood (a tree? a corner? oh no!), we were propping up the bar at the Waverley Hotel, where Pink Floyd tribute band the Pigs were inching their way through Dark Side of the Moon. The ceiling was pockmarked with wine corks and dry ice curled around the bike that swung gently from the rafters. Behind the bar was a glass door leading to the walk-in refrigerator which also served the off?licence next door.
Cumberland's main street, Dunsmuir Avenue, plays host to an eclectic mix of businesses from coffee shops and tattoo parlours to organic bakeries and vintage clothing stores. It's all a far cry from the adventurous terrain which surrounds the town and the rowdy history which the modern incarnation has inherited.
The following day Mike decided we needed to explore the riding in Strathcona Provincial Park, up on the Forbidden Plateau, so called because of the legend of the disappearance of women and children from the Comox tribe who were hiding there to escape raiders. It was a long and dusty slog to the start of the trails, but as we ascended, the view over to the mainland dulled the pain enough to suspend the use of bad language. We were heading for a trail named Cabin Fever which, as soon as we turned off from the fireroad ascent, was nothing short of extraordinary. Cresting bare rock outcrops with wide open vistas, we dived into dappled forest runs ending on tight, sandy corners twisting through low shrubbery. We rode back to Mike's truck on Bear Bait, a brilliantly mischievous trail which ducked over and under splayed tree roots, suitable for any rider with a sense of fun.
"I think you've earned a Lucky," said Mike before dumping a 15-can pack of Lucky Lager on the truck bed. Such is the enthusiasm with which the residents of Cumberland consume this brand of lager that it was named the Luckiest town in Canada in 2002 with more cans sold there than anywhere else in the country. Not bad going for a population of 2,800 people.
"There has been mountain biking here since mountain biking began," said Jeremy later. "I guess we are lucky ? the riding is phenomenal but we also have that smalltown community feel. There's everything you need."
And you're going to need those dodgeballs.
? The Riding Fool Hostel (2705 Dunsmuir, +1 250 336 8250, ridingfool.com) has dorm beds for C$25.75pp (�15) and doubles for �45. Island Mountain Rides (islandmountainrides.com) runs half?day tours from �45pp and full?day epic rides from �60pp. For more information, visit britishcolumbia.travel
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2011/sep/09/mountain-biking-british-columbia-canada
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