– by Hans Tammemagi –
Cycling around Lulu Island, where Richmond, B.C. sits, was like a trip around the world, and carbon-free to boot. My adventure began in Steveston, at the whale-shaped island’s southwest corner. I entered the Strait of Georgia Cannery, a rambling old building on pilings. This National Historic Site gives vivid insights into the times when the Fraser was the richest salmon-river in the world. The displays describe the labour force, consisting mainly of Japanese, Chinese, and First Nations.
The boardwalk at Fisherman’s Wharf was crowded with tourists with the smell of fish hanging in the air. Fishermen hawked salmon, halibut and prawns from their boats. That evening while gazing at masts silhouetted against a fiery orange sky, I reflected on the Japanese, who originally settled Steveston, but were brusquely removed to detention camps during World War II.
Next day, I cycled through the Britannia Heritage Shipyard, where Steveston’s history is laid out like a delectable buffet. Continuing east to London Heritage Farm, I relaxed on the cool veranda of the 1880 house, enjoying a British tea. The sun beat down as I rolled eastward, soon reaching a bizarre place: Finn Slough. About two dozen people live here as squatters in ramshackle homes, enjoying a hippy-style existence.
Next morning I passed blueberry stands, farms, and Lulu Winery. Arriving at exotic, domed Nanaksar Gurdwara Gurusikh Temple, it felt like India with men wearing turbans and ladies saris. I joined worshippers sitting on the floor as three men beat drums and chanted in a foreign tongue.
Near Lulu’s eastern end, a young man of Spanish extraction beat his bongo drum, enjoying solitude and his rhythmical music. I turned west along the north shore. After a long rural stretch, the scene turned urban and I found my hotel. Later, I pedalled to the nearby International Summer Night Market. Numerous vendors offered Asian food including hurricane fries, squid jerky, and fish balls to the throngs. What a contrast to typical Canadian fare!
Next morning, I explored the Golden Village, an area that felt like Hong Kong. At the crowded Yao Feng Centre I was almost the only non-Chinese shopper, and many stores had signs only in Chinese. Along Alexandra Road I had to choose from about 200 restaurants, mostly Asian. I munched on Chinese noodles and Peking duck, enjoying the cultural influence of the Chinese, who form more than half of Richmond’s population.
Heading west with boats and log booms on the right, I arrived at Richmond Oval. I soon turned south onto the West Dyke Trail and continued under a relentless sun, waving to passing cyclists. The path runs beside an attractive parkland with driftwood logs and views onto Georgia Strait. That afternoon, I rolled into Steveston and the circuit was complete. My butt was sore, but I was one happy guy for I had spent three sun-filled days immersed in the iconic melting pot of Canada.
