A honey of a ride

26 07 2010

Eating breakfast in a restaurant is the last bastion for culinary laziness. Or people on vacation.

Why pay someone to put a couple of slices of bread into a toaster and pour you a tiny glass of orange juice when it’s so quick and easy to do at home? And you don’t even have to wear pants!

Needless to say, I’m not a fan.

In fact, one of the reasons Katie and I like to rent vacation apartments when we’re traveling is so we can enjoy breakfast at home, at our own pace.

But apparently, eating breakfast out is pretty popular. Especially on weekends. Witness the crowded tables and lineups at the door of places like the High Level Diner in Edmonton, or Sophie’s Cosmic Café in Vancouver. Or Honey’s in Deep Cove.

That was the turnaround point for Sunday’s ride, with newly-minted roadie, Rich. And while my belly was already sated with a healthy starter of fruit smoothie, banana and a bagel, he suggested since we were there, we might as well indulge in one of the great Deep Cove institutions, a giant, spongy, sweet, chocolate-covered Honey’s donut.

I don’t eat donuts. I don’t drink coffee either. So places like Tim Horton’s, Krispy Kreme, or Country’s Donuts are foreign to me.

But seeing as this was more of a cultural experience rather than a junk food junket, and the calories consumed would be quickly burned by our 50 km return ride, I thought what the heck.

That's a mighty big donut!

The mid-ride snack is one of the pleasant rewards of 100 kms in the saddle. It can be a pizza lunch or a cherry pie Larabar. It can be a beer or a fruity tartlette. It can even be a chewy donut. But mostly, it’s guilt-free because you’ve pedaled hard to get there, and you’ll pedal hard to get home. It’s a reward.

To reach Sunday’s reward, we had to cross another one of the Lower Mainland’s major bridges, the Ironworker’s Memorial Bridge. It used to be called the Second Narrows Bridge because it traversed the second narrows of Burrard Inlet, but it was rechristened a few years ago to memorialize the workers who were killed and injured when the bridge collapsed while it was being built in 1958.

Getting ready to cross the Second Narrows Bridge.

For cyclists, the former name is apt. While the sidewalk is designated as a shared path for pedestrians and cyclists, hopefully the two never meet because it’s barely wide enough for the handlebars, let alone passing. Traffic on the Trans-Canada highway, though separated by a barrier, buzzes mercilessly over your shoulder. And don’t dare glance away to take in the views up Burrard Inlet or down through the harbor to the downtown skyline because one wobble could pitch you right into that barrier. It’s noisy. It’s grimy. It’s very stressful.

No room to pass!

Or to enjoy the views of Vancouver harbor and the skyline.



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