Whenever the team rolls up to a school or a community event, the Tour de Rock jingle is played over the speakers atop the Dodge Magnum we trail.

Tour de Rock; It’s all about the children.
Tour de Rock; We’re doing our part.
Tour de Rock; Come on Vancouver Island.
A thousand-kilometre tour; Together we’ll roll for a cure.

It’s been stuck in each rider’s mind (and each past rider’s mind) since the first day of Tour. I sing it loud each and every time the song plays – sometimes even when it’s not playing, but today the song and the 2012 team hit a really big mark. We finally achieved one half of the last line: “A thousand-kilometre Tour.” Tour is, in fact, some 1,050 kilometres of riding, but we hit the 1,000 kilometre mark this afternoon as we rode along McDonald Park Road in Sidney.

There was little fanfare as it happened; I looked down at my bike odometer that has been tracking our pedal strokes since Port Alice and counted down the metres until the tracker switched over to 1,000 kms. I announced it to the team, we cheered briefly, and we just kept riding. And it’s not because the moment wasn’t meaningful for us, it’s because we know the ride’s not over and the fight’s not over.

Today was a pretty remarkable day for the team. We began the day at St. Michaels University School, where fellow media rider Erin Glazier gave by far the best head shave we’ve seen to date on tour. She left Mr. Primrose there with what looked like hair wings.

We hit up Oak Bay High a little while later, which was really overwhelming. We entered the gym with some dancing, and the electric atmosphere didn’t die down. There were head shaves, toque presentations and an unbelievable cheque presentation, where the students and staff at Oak Bay High presented us with $46,117! It was incredible.

It’s moments like those that, as a rider, you will never forget. To see how involved and passionate the kids there are is so very impressive. Tour, like I’ve said before, is about more than just the riders, and the actions of the students at schools like Oak Bay High are indicative of that. They understand that their contributions to the cause will benefit children, many who are younger than them, who are battling cancer. They understand the spirit of community that Tour de Rock represents, and it’s an honour to be a rider to be involved in a moment so meaningful. The kids at Oak Bay, St. Mikes, Stelly’s, Lambrick Park, Kelset – all schools we stopped at today – all understand what their contributions to this cause means. It gives me great optimism for our future, not only as we see budding philanthropists in our midst, but optimism to beat out cancer. As the last line of the Tour de Rock jingle goes: “Together we will, one day, roll for that cure.”

Five members of the same family had their heads shaved in Ucluelet.

Apologies for the lack of update yesterday – we did the Alberni Hump, and I chose to spend our brief down time in a hot tub soaking the aches and pains, instead of writing. Hills have been the name of the game for the last two games. The team was pumped up going up (and down) to Port Alberni, and our ride today into Ucluelet was laden with a lot of steep, rough ups and a couple downs.

Only a few kilometres before we began our ascent up the Alberni Hump we passed two roadside memorials. We sped by them without a chance to see a name or a photo, and I don’t know what the circumstances were that cut those lives short at those particular spots, but I thought about those memorials until we readied at the bottom for our climb. Right before we began, Matt Webb (a cancer survivor himself, now 15 years in remission) left the team in tears, as he told a story about a former junior rider (a child most of our support crew – Tour alumni – knew) who passed away a couple years ago.

Many of the riders have pictures taped to their handlebars. It’s photos of their junior riders or their loved ones who they lost to cancer. The pictures serve as a reminder to all of us about why we’re riding and who we’re riding for. So as we began the ride up the hump, I had death and cancer on my mind. It’s unfortunate, but that’s why we ride. Cancer still exists, unfortunately, and it’s only through fundraising endeavours like Tour de Rock that finance cancer research that will help us one day find a cure. For the first time for the 2012 team, too, we had rain for our hump ride; it began right on cue as we started the climb. We rode hard and we rode together as a team, and we made it to the top, soaking wet, where we traded off some huge hugs. It’s the biggest, most daunting hill on Tour, and we killed it together as a team. Our training prepared us for it, our ride up Mount Washington showed us we could ride a hill even harder than the hump, but this ride – as part of an 1,100-km tour – was a lot more emotional.

Port Alberni was a terrific host and we attended some great fundraisers.

This morning we left Port Alberni en route to Ucluelet. This was the ride I was most concerned about. I knew it was going to be the hilliest ride, and I knew it was going to be one of our longest (110 km-ish). Even though it was just a few hours ago, I can’t remember much of the day. We stopped at a few rest stops for snack breaks and some pumping up in preparation for the big hills. Lots of fuel for a really hard ride day. It was our most scenic ride so far, and made me realize how lucky I am to have this opportunity to participate in something as huge as Tour de Rock. The roads were sketchy, filled with holes and craters, but we made it safe to Ucluelet this afternoon. Our only stop of the day was a terrific fundraiser at the Co-op here. Five members of one family (an RCMP officer and his four sons – all younger than 10) all shaved their heads. It was quite a sight to see.
Today marks Day 7 of riding. That means one week of Tour has passed and one weeks remains. It also means that the support crew that’s kept us safe, clean, fed, healthy, entertained and on schedule, leaves us tomorrow morning and gets replaced by a whole new support crew. I’d like to thank each and every one of them for everything they’ve done for the team over the last week. I cannot begin to explain what it’s like being on Tour, having a group of 20 people – volunteers – around making sure all your needs are met (including washing our sweaty clothes). They all play such an integral role in Tour, all behind the scenes, so here’s a huge kudos to each member of the Week 1 support crew, and here’s to a good second week with a great new crew.

The Tour de Rock team on Thursday, Sept. 27, travelling from Cumberland to Qualicum.

You quickly learn on Tour what the best way is to get you pumped and ready in the morning. For some it’s a hot shower, for some it’s a great meal and for others it’s a good cry that reminds you why we’re riding. Even before embarking on our ride this morning I got all three.

We ate a delicious community breakfast at the Thrifty Foods in Courtenay, but while I was there I happened to meet Mike. This morning Mike shaved his head in honour of his wife Laurie. She passed away a year ago. We hear stories like Mike’s on a daily basis; of children and adults losing their battle with cancer. Mike’s story touched me for a different reason though. Laurie passed away just 36 hours after being admitted to hospital. Mike told me about how quick her health deteriorated, and how when he last saw her he kissed her and told her he loved her.

I’ve already written about the Vancouver Island family that has shown us tremendous support in these first five days of riding. But as we get closer down Island, and closer to the end, we’re adding more people to the Tour de Rock family. People like Mike, who came out for breakfast today to show his support for what we’re doing and to give us more reason to ride hard and raise as much money as we can, so we can one day help to eradicate this disease.

We ended our day today in Parksville, having passed through Cumberland and Qualicum, taking the scenic route along the waterfront more or less the entire way. We had some terrific community stops today, but 150 metres after leaving our last school of the day (Winchelsea elementary), we hit a small milestone, together as a group: 500 kilometres done. It was a terrific feeling knowing that we, as a team, have pedalled such a great distance together. By the time we roll in to Centennial Square on October 5, our odometers will read somewhere between 1,000 and 1,100 kilometres. It’s amazing to think that we’re halfway there already. Thank you to all the people and communities who’ve shown us tremendous support over the first six days of Tour. Each one of you has given each one of us riders a little more push to get us through those 500 km. Here’s to a safe and successful 500 more!

Just as the team was preparing to pull out of our lunch stop and on to our next school of the day, a woman ran up to fellow rider Steve Martindale with tears streaming down her face. The woman very quickly shared her story with Steve and I about how she lost her 21-year-old daughter to cancer several years ago, leaving behind two young children. She hugged us both and thanked us for what we’re doing, so other parents don’t have to go through the same experience she had to, and her grandkids had to.

Today we rode to honour Karen and her family.

No more than 5 minutes earlier, the staff at the White Spot in Courtenay presented the team with a cheque. While White Spot is one of our sponsors and keeps us fed and fuelled many days on Tour, this wasn’t a corporate donation. This cheque was from the staff members there, who only a few months ago, lost a co-worker to cancer. They pooled money together and, with tears in their eyes, generously made a donation to the team.

Today we rode to honour the close-knit White Spot family.

What Tour de Rock does, and what Tour de Rock stands for is a unified fight against this cruel disease. We see this look of determined fight on the faces of everyone who cheers us and honks us on, everyone who hands us a cheque, everyone who shouts from their street-facing balconies. They all get what this is about.

And while Tour de Rock is centred around pediatric cancer and support programs for kids and families, the money raised that goes to research will help find a cure for pediatric and adult cancers one day. Karen was someone’s child. So was the White Spot employee who passed away. Cancer impacts families in many different ways, but one of the things is does is it brings people closer together in love and hope and optimism.

I’m riding for that side of the cancer fight. Because that’s the goal here. We don’t want to live in a world with cancer. And we want to live in a world where, if someone gets cancer, it can be treated and the treatment won’t leave lasting scars. The time will come when cancer will be eradicated, and after four days on my bike, and having been honked at, waved at, cheered at and hugged more times than I can count, it’s apparent to me that Vancouver Islanders are fighting for this reality, too.

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY:

We’ll typically ride up to schools, welcomed by throngs of children brandishing hand-drawn signs that read “Thank you” and “I love Tour de Rock.” We pulled into Courtenay Elementary and walked into the school gym and were welcomed by a ton of cheering kids. After a great assembly, and some creative fumbling through rider introductions (Bernie, Ernie, Tom, Tyrone, Ginger, Sheldon x2), the kids presented us with a piece of paper with a whale on it. These whales are what the school gives to students who do something remarkable or impressive or philanthropic, and each of us riders was given a whale from the students, because they believe what we’re doing represents those traits. I’d like to think we do, too.

Every school welcomes the team’s arrival in a different way, and that’s thanks to the members of our support crew who pump the kids up before our arrival. Valley View Elementary in Comox this afternoon was a pretty awesome entrance. We rode up to the school, with “Call Me Maybe” blaring over the outdoor speakers, and every single kid was singing and dancing along to the song. It was impossible not to grin from ear to ear seeing that, and it was impossible not to dance along to that.

After a delicious pasta dinner in Cumberland, the team went over to one of the schools for a fundraiser. One teen from the community, Josie Patterson, performed two songs for the team. Her voice and piano skills were astounding – much too good for a 14-year-old – but it left a lasting impression on me. Every community, every stop, and every person we meet offers us a different experience of Tour. Josie, to me, encompasses and represents the essence of community. She wanted to offer us something to make our ride easier, and our day that much better, and she did that through her talents. Some people cook us dinners and some people make us signs, and Josie performed two songs that left me with a love for the generous people of Cumberland.

I wrote this yesterday, but internet access has been sporadic and hasn’t allowed me to post yet. I’ll blog again later this afternoon with some stories from the road today, from Campbell River to Courtenay and Comox.

“You won’t remember any of the biking when you’re on Tour.” One of our trainers told our team that way back in the early days of prepping for this journey we’re taking. I found it hard to believe that you can forget about the undulating, never-ending hills that make up the north — especially the ones we do as part of the long 147- and 97-kilometre days.

But here we are on Day Four of Tour and I can honestly say that I don’t remember the 338 kilometres of riding we’ve done. I remember that it hurts, at times, and it’s tiring, and that my teammates are the most amazing motivators anyone could ask to be riding alongside — but Tour isn’t about the riding. Tour is about Point A and Point B and Point C, and so forth until we get all the way from Port Alice to Victoria. It’s the stops we make in the communities that welcome us with open arms that have left lasting impressions in my mind.

Today’s stops were unbelievable. Amid 94 kilometres of some steeps hills (up and down), we stopped at Sayward Elementary, and Discovery Passage, Ripple Rock and Ecole des Deux Mondes elementaries. The energy, excitement and enthusiasm of the kids and teachers were remarkable. It rejuvenates the riders and provides us with those moments of clarity that show us why we’re doing this.

Tour de Rock is so much more than 17 riders. Tour de Rock is a family, our Vancouver Island family that gravitates to the most worthy cause in the world, pediatric cancer, and fights in any way it can to overcome it and make the world a better, healthier place. Seeing the people in the communities, seeing the kids so elated to have us high five them out of genuine appreciation for what they do, that makes all the riding and the fatigue, less of an issue to us riders. I know next week when all is said and done, and a month from now, a year from now, a decade from now, I won’t remember a single inch of Vancouver Island roadway, but I won’t ever forget what it feels like to be loved by a community that supports what you’re doing 100 per cent.

HIGHLIGHT OF THE DAY: The principal of Ecole des Deux Mondes, Joanne Crawford, set a fundraising goal for her students. If they met it, she would kiss a pig. And lo and behold, at Campbell River Commons late this afternoon, Principal Crawford puckered up and kissed a pig. The event at Campbell River Commons was surreal. We were treated like royalty, ushered in behind a Mounted Police, actually mounted on a horse, and through an archway of dragon boat paddles. Community members — including a nine-year-old girl who raised $1,100 on her own — came forward in droves to give us cheques, love, support and well wishes. It was a great event… the best part of which was seeing someone kiss a pig, which then proceeded to defecate on the mall floor.

It’s hard to believe Tour’s already here – we head up to Port Alice in 17 days. The team, as a whole, is a far cry from where it was on March 4 for our first leisurely ride along the Goose. Since then we’ve, together as a team, rode up (and down!) Mount Washington, rode the unbelievably long, windy, hole-laden road from Saanich to Jordan River and back (some 140-plus kilometres), and we’ve become incredibly close, as friends and equals. In total, we’ve racked up nearly 200 hours of training already, we’ve travelled some 3,400 kilometres, and met so many amazing people along the way. And now, as the training gears down (there are only 5 rides left before we head out on Tour), I’m anxious knowing (and not knowing about) the incredible things to come for this team.

What we are doing, we know, is not about us. It’s about something much greater than we are, and something more important than any one of us (except Matt Webb). We all ride to save the lives of kids living with cancer. It’s that simple. Every pedal stroke we take is another step closer, another dollar raised, toward curing a disease that cruelly targets people young and old. The experience of Tour is one that no former Tour de Rock rider can put into words (or so I’ve been told). The emotions from meeting the parents who lost their newborn to cancer at two weeks old, and the thrills of meeting the bubbly seven-year-old who’s been in remission for six years, are what Tour is about. We are riding for them. I can’t even begin to express how much I am looking forward to meeting hundreds of people, and hearing hundreds of stories, and giving them all the time of day they deserve to be heard. It’s that experience of Tour – not the biking, not the fatigue – that I’m anticipating.

The 2012 Tour de Rock team poses at Camp Goodtimes in their costumes-of-choice prior to hosting a casino night for the young campers. (Photo courtesy of Brad Walsh)

It’s apparent by the exuberant look on his face that Matt Webb has familiarized himself with this meandering gravel road in rural Maple Ridge. He knows – all too well – where it leads.

As the Tour de Rock team convoys to Loon Lake, 20-year-old Matt sits beside me with anxious eyes glued to the road ahead, in anticipation of seeing the “Welcome to Camp Goodtimes” sign.

For 14 years, Matt spent weeks of his summer at Camp Goodtimes, a place for children with cancer (and those who have beat it) to meet one another and just be kids. No hospital beds, no doctors visits and no judgments.

The Canadian Cancer Society’s Cops for Cancer Tour de Rock doesn’t just raise money for pediatric cancer research. We also fundraise to send kids with cancer, their siblings and their parents to spend time at Camp Goodtimes – at no cost to them.

Matt first went to camp in 1998 at six years old.

Two years earlier, three months shy of his fourth birthday, Matt was diagnosed with Burkitt’s lymphoma. After months spent in hospital undergoing treatment, Matt was released cancer-free, and has been in remission now for 15 years.

Through the 14 summers he attended Camp Goodtimes – even as a kid – one thing stayed in Matt’s mind about his experience there: “It was where I could go to be me.”

Touring the beautiful site on July 19 with my Tour teammates, including Matt, the overwhelming impression is that Camp Goodtimes feels like any other summer camp; the children swim in the lake, go rock climbing and make arts and crafts. And sometimes the kids have to step away from all the fun to visit the camp’s ‘Med Shed’ to take their chemotherapy drugs.

“As a teen, (camp) was somewhere to go to build you up, where there was perfect understanding and acceptance. Teens away from camp can empathize (because of your cancer) all they want, but teens at camp actually know what it was like,” Matt tells me.

The positivity the 67 campers exuded when we met them was electric. Their gratitude for us was evident, as was our admiration for each one of them – they are the reason we are riding.

Our short trek to Camp Goodtimes culminated in a fun casino night, where the kids earned brightly coloured money playing human slot machine, wheel of fortune, blackjack and ring toss.

As each of them hurriedly attempted to win as much fake cash as they could, I couldn’t help but get caught up in the spirit of camp.

I know, in the back of my mind, that the only reason I’m there is because the money I’m raising is to benefit them and kids like them who have been diagnosed with cancer – but, at camp, these impassioned gamblers and game-players are just kids.

Here, the cancer doesn’t define who they are, and they are not judged or treated differently because they have scars and experiences that no child should ever have.

That’s the beauty of Camp Goodtimes.

As we tour the camp, and see the kids together, it’s evident that Matt misses the camaraderie and friendships formed in the weeks and over the years spent at camp.

Because Matt is one of the Tour de Rock team’s guest riders this year, and we have a rigorous training schedule, this is the first time in 14 years he can’t spend at least a week there.

But he, like the other 17 members of the Cops for Cancer team, knows that his commitment to ride will allow other kids with cancer to have a good time at camp.

“Our day at camp was really a reminder about one of the main reasons I’m riding: for camp. It’s been so good to me for so many years and this is the biggest way I can give back.”

Tour de Rock rider Matt Webb has his beard shaved off in front of the Camp Goodtimes crowd after raising $7,500. Matt hadn’t shaved in 7.5 months, and was only going to lose the beard when he reached the $7,5000 mark. (Photo courtesy of Brad Walsh)

Fellow Tour rider Steve Martindale (on right) and I stand atop Mount Washington after riding 19 kilometres to the top.

Straddling my bike at the base of Mount Washington, I look high in the sky and squint in an attempt to see the ski lodge at the top. No success.

I know the lodge is 19 kilometres away – all uphill – from where I stand, and the only way I’m getting there is by pedalling the whole way.

I also know that I’m moments away from beginning the hardest physical challenge I’ve ever undertaken. I’m surprisingly calm.

On a cold Sunday in early March of this year, I stood straddling my bike in the parking lot behind the Saanich police department – nervous as hell – surrounded by a group of complete strangers.

It was our first-ever Tour de Rock training ride. It had haunted me for weeks leading up to it. I hadn’t been on a bike in any real capacity in seven years, so I was pretty doubtful of my abilities on two wheels – and rightfully so.

Our first ride was a slow trek along the very flat Lochside Trail to Mattick’s Farm and back. It wasn’t exhausting, but it surely wasn’t a piece of cake.

Now here I am on July 15, less than five months later, standing at the bottom of one of Vancouver Island’s highest hills, and I’m ready to conquer it. It helps that my team is with me, and each one of them is about to tackle the same challenge.

“It’s just a bike ride. It’s just a bike ride,” I repeat in my head.

I’ve thought that phrase hundreds of times since March – any time I get fatigued during a ride – because I know that my uphill battle on a bike is nothing compared to a child’s battle with cancer treatment.

My motivation for riding through struggles, and pushing hard each time I get on my bike is the people I’m riding to support.

Even though the actual Tour hasn’t officially started – that runs Sept. 22 to Oct. 5 – the team has had the opportunity to meet children who have gone through cancer treatment. These kids – some as young as two years old – epitomize the words strength, bravery and fortitude.

They’ve spent their short lives undergoing chemotherapy, radiation, getting pricked by needles countless times a day, and not getting to live a carefree childhood.

These kids are my motivation and my inspiration to fight through burning leg muscles and a sore back, and pelting rain and howling wind, to bike 1,000-plus kilometres down Vancouver Island.

But right now, even before my 17 teammates and I head out on Tour, Mount Washington stands in our way.

It’s been said by many past riders that you don’t remember much of the riding – you’ll remember the community stops, the children you hug, the stories you hear and the emotions of it all, but not the biking.

I made it to the top of Mount Washington on Sunday along with my team – and we were all elated – but I barely remember the ride.

What’s stayed with me, instead, were the emotions I felt.

I remember a few periodic moments of dread, when I looked up the road and saw steep, endless asphalt. And I remember the pride I felt – the smile plastered to my face – when I pulled in to the ski lodge, sweaty and panting, after conquering Mount Washington.

Those emotion-filled memories, on both ends of the spectrum, are what I will take away from my experience as a Tour de Rock rider – it won’t be the Vancouver Island scenery or the six-hour rides along rolling Island roads.

At the end of the day, I’m riding for the kids and families dealing with pediatric cancer – they’re the fighters. All I’m doing is riding a bike.

Oct. 2 marked the day Chris Bush rode through Nanaimo on his quest to complete the Canadian Cancer Society Cops for Cancer Tour de Rock.

Chris talks fighting through injuries, sickness and fatigue:

It’s a strange phenomenon riding in a large group of cyclists.

On the tour we’ve now covered 560 km. Ride long and far enough with a large group of riders and you get the impression you’re riding in a vehicle except the “vehicle” is made up of riders and the bikes all working together.

Any machine that can balance upright on two skinny tires simply by moving forward is magic in itself, but being in a peloton – the tight formation road cyclists ride in to cut wind resistance and conserve energy – is a whole other experience. Think of a peloton as something like a big chain continuously moving forward and that clunks clockwise every few moments as riders switch into and out of the two front positions.

Working together, the riders and bikes become components of a single machine, which covers a lot of ground quickly. Some riders call it the “bubble.” I call it the Steam Punk Teleportation Device because bicycles are mainly based on 19th Century technology still in use today and because after you ride in the device for a while, focussed tightly on the bikes and riders around you, the world outside seems to simply whip past and you suddenly find yourself in the next town, without really understanding how you could have arrived there so quickly.

A couple of riders commented today on how unreal it seemed that we had ridden from Parksville to Port Alberni so rapidly. Suddenly we were at Cathedral Grove. Suddenly we were at the top of the Hump. Suddenly we were in Port Alberni making our first stop at a fundraising event.

It’s been like that through the whole tour. We ride and suddenly we’re there – as if we were somehow transported to the next town instead of having pedalled for hours over hills or through wind and rain to get there.

Hence the Steam Punk Teleportation Device.

Of course the sense of missing time is probably just a trick of memory. Ask some of the riders with sore muscles, chafing or with ice bags on their knees about whether they think they worked hard to get where they’ve arrived.

And if you look back through the day you remember pulling over and waving as you let the backed up traffic pass, truck drivers blowing their horns to show their support and the cheers and waves of drivers and bystanders – and you realize that perhaps your sense of missing time is really caused by what amounts to a form of sensory overload.

There’s so much going on between watching the bikes and riders just inches around you, shifting, braking, switching, calling out holes, curbs, grates and debris on the road and paying attention to the pace car for warnings and commands. Plus there’s our motorcycle escort with their sirens and horns warning us of vehicles passing from behind and the motorcycles whipping past us as they leapfrog ahead to block intersections and keep traffic clear of our path.

Combine that with hundreds of mental snapshots of what you’ve seen each day and it’s no wonder it seems like hours passed in mere minutes.

But I still prefer the concept of the Steam Punk Teleportation Device.