lianneoelke

[lianneoelke]

The Vancouver Island & Sunshine Coast Loop: A Solo Cycle Tour of BC’s Finest Retirement Communities. Part 2

Day 4: I hit the road at 7am. A quick ride on the Trans Canada woke me up and brought me to my daily bakery stop.

Serious Coffee for Serious Cyclists.

After second breakfast, I only had to follow one road: the 19A. With wide shoulders and no navigation required, I made good time up the coast. It would have been top notch riding if it wasn’t for the EXCESSIVE WIND that blew all day for NO REASON AT ALL. 

The best views were at Union Bay, where I slowed down a little too much until I realized the ferry I wanted to catch was coming up soon. I gunned it the last 25km to Comox, which was, shockingly, FULL OF HILLS. I gave up on my granny gear zen and let my rage carry me to the ferry terminal, where I caught the 3:25 just in time. The wind refused to chill out so I sat inside and charged my phone while I watched the white caps dance on the ocean.

Once I landed in Powell River it was only a few minutes to the campsite. After 113km my legs once again felt perfectly normal, which was weird. Sitting on a bike saddle, however, was deeply uncomfortable. I decided to walk the 3km to Townsite Brewing, stopping to gorge on veggie korma and stuffed potato naan on the way. 

I didn’t have room for another beer but I drank it anyway because I had biked HUNDREDS OF KILOMETERS to get there. 

I met this beautiful cat on the way back to the campsite, where I quickly fell asleep.

Day 5 began with gear sorting. It seemed like a lot.

I was a bit apprehensive about biking on the Sunshine Coast as I heard it was even hillier than Vancouver Island, but if the family camping next to me could bike to Lund from Powell River with a trailer and a young kid, there's no reason Gavin and I couldn't. The hills were very present, but still doable. I only had 27km to go, and I would have enjoyed the long decent into Lund if I knew I wouldn't have to climb back up eventually.

Lund was a tiny, bustling hub. I was surprised at the size of the grocery and liquor store (also surprised there was a liquor store at all). The store didn’t have much fresh produce, but I can live off beans, chips, and hot dogs for DAYS, thank you very much. Next I headed to Nancy's Bakery for a couple sandos and one of their famous blackberry cinnamon buns (which I'd been thinking about since the last time I was there, two years ago). I found a patio spot next to an outlet and gave my phone one last top up, because I couldn’t count on charging anything on Savary Island. With a couple hours before my water taxi reservation, I found myself on my own with nothing to do, which hadn't happened yet on the trip. I decided to call my parents and tell them what I was doing. I promised my mom I’d write a blog post so I could share some photos (hi, mom!). It was bizzy on Savary Island: rubbermaids, bags, boxes of booze, bikes, and a line of trucks lined up the dock. The people quickly dispersed into various homes, cabins, guest houses, resorts, and moss covered trailers. I went up the hill (no matter where I went, it was up a hill) to the campground: a loose scattering of wooden tent pads on some guy’s property. The owner told me “There is no check in. You just find a site that looks good and settle in.” Cool.

Of course the only rain I saw on the trip happened as soon as I arrived at a sub-tropical island. I expected to have a nap ASAP, but instead opted for a cold shower and laundry in the sink. I couldn’t fully clean my smelly bike shorts with Camp Suds; I could only make them slightly less smelly. 

Savary is a long, skinny island filled with lush rainforest and edged with white sandy beaches. After a comfortable and pitch black night, I was up at a decent hour. Day 6 was my rest day, which meant biking without all my gear. My legs felt overqualified for the 8km rip across the island and back. 

It was Gavin’s rest day, too. 

After a big brunch scramble and a hot dog, I headed to the beach, which was just as sunny and glorious as I imagined. I took a dip in the ocean, read, ate a bag of chips and a hot dog. When I ran out of food I went back to my camp and made an underwhelming dinner of overcooked veggies and terrible instant mashed potatoes with a hot dog. 

One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It’s about a girl growing up in a survivalist, ultra conservative, and unsafe family fighting for education, despite never setting foot in a classroom until the age of 17. I left my copy at a community library on Savary. Feel free to go get it. On day 7 I caught the morning water taxi back to Lund, then made one more stop at Nancy's before tackling the 3km uphill. It was overcast and muggy. Sweaty and grimy. The ride to Powell River was quick though, and I treated myself to a Buddha bowl and cold beer for lunch. 

It was another 27km to Saltery Bay...

... which was an exceptionally beautiful provincial park.

Of course the campground attendant came to collect fees while I was in the middle of washing myself from a pot.

I felt resourceful that day. Like I belonged out there. It was the little things, like seeing the cycle route sign even though I didn’t see any other cyclists, collecting large rocks to hold my tent down because the ground was too hard for stakes, or improvising a bear hang because the campground didn’t have a bear proof locker for cyclists (get it together, Saltery). Part of me still feels like the kid who spends all her time reading, watching LOTR EE marathons, and making pizza at Panago for $6 an hour. I never grew up thinking of myself as athletic or woodsy, and compared to many people I'm not, but it's about time I realize I can do this on my own. And that I love it.

Day 8 began with a serene ferry ride to Earl's Cove. Out of the entire trip, I was the most nervous about the upcoming ride from Earl's to Sechelt. I knew it would be windy, narrow, and steep, and I didn’t want to end up schmucked on the side of the 101 because some yahoo hauling a yacht, four kayaks, and a dozen mountain bikes couldn't be bothered to slow down on a blind corner. But at this point I had 500km of experience, a bag of Sour Cherry Blasters, and my screaming pink cycling jersey to get through the day safely. It was relatively quiet early Wednesday morning, and the beautiful ride turned out to be one of my favourite sections.

I took a detour on Redrooffs Road after Half Moon Bay to get off the highway for a bit. It was scenic enough, but the elevation was stupid. I hadn’t walked Gavin up that many hills since Thetis Lake Regional Park. Things started to go downhill from there. Metaphorically of course, as the hills only went up. 

Traffic volume started to increase at Sechelt, where I stopped for candy. The Cherry Blasters picked me right up, but not even a sugar rush can hold off eight days of fatigue indefinitely. The last few kilometers to Gibsons weren't exactly painful, but they were not pleasant. My faith in Google Maps’ elevation estimates might never recover. My bike chain was dry and squeaking, but I thought if I could just make it to my destination and offload my gear I could zip back into town and find a bike shop and get some lubricant. In reality, once I finally arrived at Mike's place, after 83km and over 1400m of elevation gain, I couldn't bring myself to take the hill down into Gibsons again. "Can olive oil work on bike chains" is not my proudest Google search, but weary, smelly, and perpetually damp cyclists are nothing if not humble. And the answer is no, not really, but olive oil is better than nothing.

Thankfully Persephone Brewing was within walking distance. My healing began with an order of spring rolls and a rye farmhouse ale.

That evening, as I settled in to my tent, I heard the soft whisper of my couch back at home. The call of the bahn mis at Chickpea that Brian said were amazing. The whinny of my stupidly sensitive horse on Red Dead Redemption 2 Online. The sweet yet powerful purr of Alley Cat, my gentle golden nugget. I was a two hour ride away from completing the biggest physical achievement of my life. A year ago running 5k was a stretch, and biking 11km to Richmond was a chore. I wanted to do an ambitious cycle tour to see if I could. And I can. There’s nothing particularly special about me, or most people, but that doesn’t have to stop us from getting shit done. 

Day 9 was a quick ride down to the ferry, then a hilly ride through West Van on Marine Drive. Once I hit the Lions Gate Bridge, I knew I was home free.

Coming home after 9 days and 590km of a door-to-door solo cycle tour was incredibly satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing my number one precious sweet potato again! 

This sweet pup is my number two. 

Maybe one day I’ll do a proper Google Maps route but this is the general idea.

Highlight(s): the views on Salt Spring, Sokka’s beautiful kitten face, the ride up from Nanaimo, the white sandy beaches at Savary, the peaceful ferry ride from Saltery, the surprisingly doable hills after Earl's Cove, the pics of my niece and nephew smiling on their first day back at school, the beers and food at Persephone, the moment I realized that I absolutely crushed every part of my ambitious plan. Lowlight: Thetis Lake Regional Park. Gold star: Gavin. This humble, unassuming, steel frame hybrid has been a true star, solid and dependable. I love this bike. I love what we can do together. Runner up: The weather. Almost perfect. Runner up: My legs. You know what you did.

#sunshinecoast #savaryisland #cycletour #cycletouring #camping #bc #british columbia #canada

[lianneoelke]

The Vancouver Island & Sunshine Coast Loop: A Solo Cycle Tour of BC’s Finest Retirement Communities. Part 1

It all started with a vague feeling that I should DO something before going back to work. One last hurrah. I took a day or two to plot all the locations I wanted to hit, because when I plan our trips (and let's face it, Brian, I'm always the one doing the planning), I want to do everything. Go everywhere. Usually BB Gun is there to keep me grounded, but this time I was on my own. So why not try for it all: Vancouver to Salt Spring to Savary and back on a bicycle in just over a week. Whenever I mentioned my itinerary people would say "wow, that's gonna make for long days". And I thought, yes probably. But what am I going to do with myself all day on my own, if not bike? I had time to extend the trip if necessary, but I know myself. I don’t accomplish much without a deadline. So let's shoot for the proverbial stars. If I miss, I might hit the moon. Or a truck. 

Such a keener. I zipped down the hill from our house and crossed my favourite bridge (Canada Line Bikeway: what a treasure), then navigated the chaos that is Richmond. I will always be salty at the lack of biking infrastructure in that city. After tackling the Alex Fraser bridge, which isn’t so bad after rush hour, it was a quick ride to Four Winds Brewing (closed, unfortunately), then left onto quiet, flat, rural roads, which lead me to Tsawassen. 

Gavin and I took the ferry to Swartz Bay, then Salt Spring Island. The hill up from Fulford Harbour was a big wake-up call. As were the many hills leading to Ruckle Park. I did not pack light. Still, it was only the first day. Far too early to regret the book, hammock, and cans of wine stuffed into my panniers. I was slightly concerned with the many signs claiming Ruckle Park was full. That seemed odd for a Wednesday, so I carried on to the park anyway. I refilled my water and happened to meet another solo female cyclist also looking for a site. We found one, and decided to split it. 

Earlier that day I realized I had put my tires on backwards. Like a ding dong. The tread should be going the OTHER WAY. But I could fix this!

So pumped right now.

After a pleasant evening of reading, wine, and conversation with my unexpected bike buddy, Lynn, I woke up to a deer roaming the campground. I had chocolate and instant coffee to get me back to Fulford Harbour, where I had proper coffee and one of the best samosas of my life. Lynn, on a day trip to Victoria, joined me. I was happy for the company. Our timing was perfect and we caught the early ferry. We took the Lochside Regional Trail from Swartz Bay to Victoria: a beautiful, mostly flat ride though rich grandparent territory. We stopped for lunch at Canoe Brewpub in downtown Victoria.  

I had a top notch beet salad and a side of fries. I never regret a side of fries.

Lynn and I parted ways after lunch. I rode the Galloping Goose trail out to Langford. The trail was full of pedestrians and unnecessarily slow cyclists (if Gavin, fully loaded and shaped like a brick, passes you on a hill, he is going to JUDGE you). Eventually I left the Goose and followed Google Maps through Thetis Lake Regional Park. 

I too was enchanted at first by the charming name and dappled sunlight. I quickly learned, however, that Thetis Lake Regional Park is a hellhole for cyclists. Worse than Richmond. Richmond. The path wasn’t clearly marked and I found myself stopping, checking the map, and backtracking every two minutes. The loose gravel was a pain, especially on tight corners and steep hills, which I was barely able to walk Gavin up, because the ELEVATION in Thetis Lake Regional Park is absolutely UNNECESSARY. A truly regrettable experience. 

Once I finally made it out of that wretched labyrinth, I was only minutes away from Tessa’s place, which included a hot shower, Tessa, and most importantly: Sokka.

This little ragdoll kitten is a huge fan of bikes!

And walks!

And backpack rides!

I had a great time hanging out with Tessa and watching Sokka play with anything and everything. I would die for this cat.

Day 3 began with an unfortunate but necessary backtrack through the nightmare that is Thetis Lake Regional Park, where I was instantly turned around and disheartened. I eventually found my way back to the Galloping Goose, then the Interurban Rail Trail, which took me through Saanich to the Mill Bay Ferry to cross the Saanich Inlet. No way was I going to haul Gavin up the Malahat. No. NO.  

I followed the Rotary Route through rural roads, some with shoulders and some without, and stopped in Cowichan Bay. I followed Tessa’s excellent recommendation and hit up the bakery, where I bought a pretzel, cinnamon bun, almond croissant, and cookie: my second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, and afternoon tea. Bakery stockpiles became a daily routine. I was LIVING for CARBS. 

The plan that day was to bike from Langford to Nanaimo, which was, as they say, a “big day”. The distance didn’t bother me as I knew what 100km with a loaded bike felt like, more or less. What did bother me was the elevation. It was impossible not to be taken aback by the sheer AUDACITY of each hill standing in my way. They came. They went. They came again and again, hour after hour. I dreaded each downhill because I knew I’d have to make up the elevation. 

It took half the day to realize there was nothing I could do about a climb except put Gavin into granny gear and keep going. It took as long as it took, and then it was over. There’s something wonderful in realizing that even the sweatiest hill is temporary, a blip. And every now and then I’d find an unexpectedly beautiful flat stretch and have the road to myself for a minute, and everything reset. 

At Ladysmith the Rotary Route spit me out on the Trans Canada highway, which I rode for a handful of kilometers. I thought the highway would be dicey, but I was pleasantly surprised by the (mostly) wide shoulders and reasonable grade. Traffic whipped by, but I found it invigorating. The hardest part was keeping Gavin under the speed limit. I'd take the Trans Canada over Thetis Lake Regional Park any day. After the highway I hopped on some less busy roads, although the rush hour traffic picked up in the afternoon. I ended up in Nanaimo for dinner, where I found a perfect Mexican restaurant and local craft beer. After 116km, I felt surprisingly... normal.

The day wasn’t over yet, however. The last 14km were a roller coaster, and not because of the elevation. When I left downtown Nanaimo, the bright blue sky faded to dull grey and I had suddenly run out of steam. Gavin was heavy. Time slowed. Moments like these, however, are why I travel with candy, and a bag of Swedish Berries saved my life. I ended up at Dave and Ann’s place with high spirits.

I enjoyed a campfire at the lovely lake while the sugar rush faded, then fell asleep to the soft rustle-thud of ripe apples and pears falling to the grass. Tomorrow would also be a “big day”, but with more on the line: catching the 3pm ferry from Comox to Powell so I could get to Townsite Brewing before they closed.

#cycletour solocycletour cycling bicycle vancouverisland BC britishcolumbia camping canada

[lianneoelke]

JANE SINNER is available in paperback on October 8th! I'm giving away a copy on Twitter (@lianneoelke) to celebrate 🎉 📙 #janesinner #nicetryjanesinner #amreading #ya #yacontemporary #giveaway #win #books #bookstagram #epicreads #canada #bc (at Garry Point) https://www.instagram.com/p/B3C5IoWgE3Y/?igshid=tajt9ppju5yy

#janesinner #nicetryjanesinner #amreading #ya #yacontemporary #giveaway #win #books #bookstagram #epicreads #canada #bc

[lianneoelke]

Yukon Gold, Part 2: An Involuntary Dismount From the Canoe

Good morning from Fort Selkirk!

With bellies full of hearty chilli and a sky full of smoke, JJ and Falcon Heavy were ready to hit the river for our fourth day of canoeing down the Yukon River.

We were only five minutes past Fort Selkirk when JJ realized we forgot a radio and both cans of bear spray. We couldn’t just turn around and paddle upstream, so we had to land so Brian could run up the beach and grab everything (which was left on the above picnic table). After that, we were well on our way to an 80km day.

We spotted a black bear munching berries on an island.

We weren’t the only group on the river making a pilgrimage to Dawson City for the music festival. We’d play leapfrog with the same groups so often we came up with nicknames:

Spanish Armada: the group of nine Spaniards that made giant Spanish omelettes for breakfast and tied two canoes together because they had an odd number of people.

Walmart: the family that travelled with camping chairs, big tarps, and coolers. JJ disliked Walmart. JJ thought Walmart was American. Those are two separate sentences. Walmart was actually from Whitehorse. 

Gold Diggers: a husband and wife that would set up on islands and pan for gold. Or so it seemed. 

Reckless Youth: a handful of twenty-somethings from UBC with an aversion to life jackets.

Father & Son: they had little to say, to us or each other.

Frenchies: two French guys. That’s it. 

Christmas Trees: a red and green boat of women having a jolly old time.

We learned the Spanish Armada planned to camp at the site we were aiming for that night. We could have joined them, but I, for one, did not travel all that way to the middle of nowhere to make new friends. So we had to find somewhere else. We came across another good campsite early in the day, but the weather was beautiful and we wanted to get more kilometers in, so we kept pushing. This moment would be remembered as the time we “got greedy”.

Storm clouds blew in fast. When thunder started booming, Brian told us all to get off the river. So we did. And we waited. Then the rain started. And we waited some more. 

Brian (very reasonably) didn’t want to get back on the water until thirty minutes after the last thunder, but the thunder wouldn’t let up. Things were looking grim. Then we remembered we had snacks. We survived on gummy bears, chips, tea, toasted pita and hummus, and craft hot chocolate from Portland, for the two and a half hours it took for the storm to pass.

Spirits wavered but never failed. 

By the time the storm passed, we still had another ten kilometers to paddle before we reached our goal of Brittania creek, and we found ourselves in the curious position of chasing the storm we had just weathered. When we finally arrived, the site was full of bugs, but at least there weren’t any new friends buzzing around.

For dinner I made a bastardized version of Pad Thai, using the canoe as a table while being swarmed by mosquitoes. I quickly realized why this particular packet of curry paste was left untouched in our cupboard for years.

By this point JJ had given up on the trappings of individuality and had matured into a fully realized single entity. So when JJ cast a line and caught their first decently sized fish at 11.36 pm, the three of us celebrated the incredible testament to JJ’s speed, momentum, and finesse. Considering all the rain we endured, we figured it was safe to build a small beach fire to cook the fish. 

We all came to regret this decision, as the fish remains and fish-smoked clothes had to be dealt with before we could finally go to bed, in order to minimize bear attraction. However, since I cooked that night, I was able to dodge clean up. I went to bed without a care in the world.

Day five dawned sunny and misty. We knew this would also be a big day, but for a very different reason. This was the day we’d reach the bakery. Yes, somehow there was a bakery in the middle of nowhere on the Yukon River. 

Power strokes would get us there quicker. 

Of course we had to stop whenever we came across moose trampling through the bushes, beavers smacking their tails, and bears ambling down the beach.

The bakery turned out to be less of a bakery and more of a family home that sold $18 omelettes and saran-wrapped cookies (we bought them all). We payed $8 each to stay the night. Camping in someone else’s backyard to listen to their kids blast music and play in their pool felt strange after the solitude of the river, but we knew the daily thunderstorm would hit us soon and the last thing we needed was to “get greedy” again. So we settled in, washed up, and tackled laundry.

JJ waiting out the 6 o’clock thundershowers. 

Of course, no camping trip with JJ (formerly Rob) would be complete without curry. JJ made us a heaping pot, just in time for more rain showers. 

The next day we found ourselves fresh out of fresh ingredients, so we climbed aboard the COUS COUS train and headed for dehydration station.

Rafting up for snacks and map checks.

We had lunch at the island right before the White River, which poured all its glacial silt into the Yukon. The two rivers blended like miso soup. JJ made ramen while Brian flew his drone for a better view.

After lunch, we found a short but steep trail to hike. 

After the merge we could no longer filter our water from the river, which was so thick we couldn’t even see our own feet when we dipped them in. All the silt brushing against our canoes made a constant fizzing noise, like a never-ending glass of coke being poured. 

Just a couple bros enjoying happy hour with river-chilled beer.

After the relative business of the “bakery”, we decided to camp on an undesignated island covered in moose tracks. While the views and privacy were top notch, all the silt made for very muddy shores.

Brian made delicious minestrone soup for dinner, then treated us to freeze-dried ice cream sandos in honour of the 50th anniversary of the moon landing.

You can only get dishes so clean in the silty water, but on day six, cleanliness was no longer a priority. Brian had bought a last minute gold pan in Whitehorse, and while it didn’t find us any gold, it did make an excellent vessel for washing dishes and laundry.

The sky was still light at 1 am, because the sky was always light. We went to bed when it was light. We woke up when it was light. Time had no meaning on the river. It created (for me, at least) a sense of security. Openness. Like the Yukon had nothing to hide. But the truth was, we were in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of kilometers from the nearest town, on a muddy river where every island was covered with bear, wolf, and moose tracks.

We woke to the sound of splashing outside our tent. I immediately thought the moose had come to do us in, but instead of moose on the loose, we saw a gaggle of goose. 

These banks were home to countless cliff swallows that zipped along the river, eating bugs. Yum. 

“JJ first.”

There’s gold in them there hills. But not really.

Our last night on the river was spent at the Mechem Creek site. We set up camp as Brian howled in the cold cold creek, washing off the heat of the day.

Fire bans don’t count on the last day of the trip. Not if it’s been raining every day and you’re careful. JJ struggled to get the fire going (which Brian and I found slightly concerning, considering how dry the sticks were), but all’s well that ends well. 

I made a pesto surprise COUS COUS dinner with brownie bear poo for dessert. Everyone saved some sort of fun surprise for their last meal.

“Very good food on this trip. Every meal has been at least a solid 7.5 out of 10.” - JJ

The site at Mechem creek turned out to be my favourite camp site, not least because we saved a bag of wine for that night. 

We woke up at 6am up to a brilliant, clear sky.

JJ treated us to one last meal on the river.

There’s nothing better than a well packed canoe! 

River travel is tiring work.

We rafted up for one last ceremonial flip of the map, which brought us to our final page. Spirits were high. Jokes were shared. We were finally on the home stretch of our 8 day, 400 km paddle through the Yukon wilderness.

Minutes away from Dawson City, disaster struck.

Brian wanted to stop for a drone shot of Dawson before we paddled in, so we radioed JJ to let them know to land at the tip of the next island. Unable to reach the point in time, JJ decided to land mid island, where the strong current had eroded the bank, causing several trees to topple. It was a bad place to land, and they came in hot hot hot.

Official statement from JJ:

“JJ experienced an involuntary dismount resulting in minor losses from the deck and a minor intake of water. However, the landing was successful.”

JJ thought the word “capsize” was too passionate for the encounter, but Falcon Heavy disagreed. When JJ’s canoe met land, the current hit from underneath, tipping the canoe and its contents upstream. Brian turned to me and said “They capsized. They did exactly what I told them not to do.” No one was injured, although Jordan’s solar panel and Rob’s hat and beloved binoculars were lost to the water. Falcon Heavy found a safe eddy to pull in, then Brian brought out the drone while we waited for JJ to get their shit together.

The paddle of shame.

We had just got back in the water when we heard the unmistakable rumble of thunder. We were faced with a dilemma: get off the water, like all Brian’s experience suggested we do, or “get greedy” and paddle hard to race the storm.

We paddled hard...

... but not so hard we didn’t have time to admire the first and only fox we saw on the river.

That’s Dawson City at the top.

This time our gamble paid off, and we made it to the docks with nae drama (except for the paddleboat that honked at us to get out of its spot).

Safe and sound in Dawson City, it was time to look back at our favourite and not so favourite moments of the canoe trip.

JJ (Jordan)

Highlight: Fort Selkirk. Just the whole fort. So cool.

Lowlight: Involuntary canoe dismount and loss of solar panel. 

Gold Star: Gold Pan/Brian Shaw for getting the gold pan.

JJ (Rob)

Highlight: The River (as a tangible entity and metaphysical being) The colours, the current, the curves...the feeling.

Lowlight: Involuntary canoe dismount and loss of binoculars. 

Gold Star: JJ. The physical embodiment of speed, momentum and finesse.*

*In all my years of highlight/ lowlight/ gold star, I have never seen someone award the gold star to themselves. 

Brian

Highlight: All the Yukon cabins. The history of the Yukon Crossing, the trees growing out of Thom’s Location cabin roof, the historically intact cabins of Fort Selkirk (inside and out), and all the private cabins we saw in between.

Lowlight: Cleaning up the fish & fire at Britannia Creek between midnight and 1am, exhausted from the long day, swarmed by bugs, still stinking of fish, right into the tent.

Gold Star: Jordan, for making the trip (and JJ) happen by stepping in at the last minute and filling the spot, prepared and enthusiastic, and a strong paddler.

Lianne

Highlight: The beautiful site and tasty food at Mechem Creek. Also the fact that none of the canoeists that stopped by the creek for water decided to stay the night, because sharing the site would have really killed the vibe.

Lowlight: Spending hours waiting out the day four thunderstorm under a tarp.

Gold Star: The map. Following along and “staying found”, as Brian would say, was easy and delightful.

Bonus Gold Star: Brian Shaw. The unofficial leader of our canoe trip, Brian looked after us all with his experience, well-muscled arms, moon landing trivia, sexy beard, and positive attitude. 

As always, most of the good pics were taken by Brian. He put together an album of the 2019 Yukon River greatest hits: 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/22674099@N08/albums/72157710102335767/page1

Stay tuned for the third and final part of Yukon Gold. Dawson City will bring a music festival, rowdy casino, epic hike, and a real life Yukon character known as “the Ghost”. 

#yukon #yukongold #yukonriver #canoe #canoeing #canoecamping #exploreyukon #dawson #camping #canada #explorecanada

[lianneoelke]

Yukon Gold, Part 1: Do You Know the River?

The long awaited write up of our 2019 Yukon adventure is finally here. You’re welcome.

400 km of canoeing down the Yukon River is no small feat. Brian made sure Rob, Jordan, and I were well aware of the fact. Especially since Rob and Jordan were relatively new to the canoeing scene. Brian was eager to use his experience from a childhood spent navigating white water to keep us all alive. And survive we did, in part because there wasn’t really any white water on our trip.

After weeks of maps, YouTube videos, meal prep, and capsize practice in the ocean, the four of us were ready to journey from Carmacks to Dawson City in eight days. We arrived in Whitehorse on the morning of Thursday, July 11, and soon realized we were in for a smoke show. Forest fires were raging across the Yukon, and a territory wide fire ban was in effect. Bummer.

After buying fresh groceries, fuel, and bear spray, we dropped our bags off at a seedy hotel and explored Whitehorse. The river, though smoky, was beautiful and not nearly as cold as we feared. We ended up (of course) at Yukon Brewing, the biggest craft brewery up north. After sampling everything they had (which was decent enough), we went to Woodcutter’s Blanket, a delightfully small brew pub where we poured over maps and made last minute adjustments to our plan. Woodcutter’s beer met the extremely high standards set by us pretentious city folk.

Next up was an unremarkable dingy bar next to the hotel, where we enjoyed more Yukon Gold (which would become the official beer of our expedition) while playing pool (I think Brian won? He doesn’t remember) and Dutch Blitz (I definitely won).

The next morning we packed our bags, grabbed coffee, breakfast, and lunch, and jumped on a Husky Bus to Carmacks, where we had arranged for the rental canoes to be dropped off.

We loaded up the boats and put in, right as a group of nine canoeists from Spain (who would later come to be known as the Spanish Armada) pulled in. Maybe we didn’t look as prepared as we felt, because as we untied our ropes and started paddling, one of the Spaniards called out “Do you know the river?” and we replied “sort of” and he said “The Five Finger Rapids! Stay right! But not all the way right!”. Then the Spanish Armada was lost to the smoke and current and we were on our own.

River paddling was new to us lake canoeists, and as we cautiously tested our paddles against the current, we were delighted to discover how easy it was to let the 8km/ hr water move us along. We were fresh and eager to paddle relatively hard until we reached the famous Five Finger Rapids. Brian had done his part to instil a healthy fear of the rapids into us all, and after waving to the people viewing from a nearby platform, we plunged into the churning water. Thirty seconds and a couple small splashes later, we were out of the rapids, thinking “that’s it?”. Exactly as Brian hoped. Better safe than sorry.

We reached our first campsite quickly. At this point the river closely followed the highway, so the campsite had car access and was relatively developed with outhouses, cooking shelters, and fire rings we couldn’t use. Rob treated us to a lovely pasta. Fresh ingredients cooked simply and all that. Having successfully navigated the rapids on our first day, we were all in high spirits and enjoyed the evening.

The next morning dawned wet and smoky. I resigned myself to the possibility that we would never have clear skies for the duration of the trip.

Smokey or not, we were all delighted to be on the river. Group dynamics were starting to comfortably settle. Despite their relative inexperience, Jordan and Rob’s canoe proved to be quite strong, with Jordan’s powerhouse stroke keeping them in the lead and Rob’s gentle finessing keeping them on course. They decided to call their canoe unit “JJ” (for Jordan and Judson). Neither of them seemed to realize what a terrible name that is.

Press release from JJ:

JJ is complex unicellular dictatorship. Her architecture is modeled on eukaryotes and possess analogous sub-cellular organelles such as a membrane (canoe), mitochondria (solar panel), ER (garbage bag) and cilia (Jordon). JJ functions as an independent authoritarian state. Decisions, actions and morals are attained as one unified body. Her unofficial slogan is: JJ first. Her unofficial motto is: For the good of the state.

Brian and I took a more relaxed approach and were content to keep our individual identities. We called our canoe “Falcon Heavy”, as a nod to the fiftieth anniversary of the moon landing and a humble comparison to the innovative explorers of SpaceX. Mottos are stupid so we didn’t have one.

With another six days left to reach Dawson City, we had time to stop wherever we felt like, including old historic sites like Yukon Crossing...

... where Rob promptly lost his first fishing lure.

The morning was a wet and buggy affair, so we improvised a lunch shelter with a tarp and paddles.

Next stop was Minto, another old outpost. We knew our friend Brittany was starting her own canoe journey from there, so we kept an eye out for her going forward. Minto is also where the highway splits off from the river, so at this point we were even more on our own.

We spent our second night at a site called Thom’s Location, which featured a rustic cabin with trees growing out of the roof.

Jordan went above and beyond with his fresh ratatouille and chocolate zucchini loaf!

We didn’t see any other paddlers the next morning, but we did see a moose and her two calves. JJ scared them away by getting too close.

Dall sheep dotted the mountains.

Brian taking in the view (ie me).

Last stop of day three was Fort Selkirk, a historic trading post and campground marked by a smiling gold star on our map.

The campground was large, with a wood stove in the cooking shelter, garbage cans (a true luxury!), and stunning views. The Fort itself was a collection of abandoned buildings stretching a kilometer down the river.

“Hello! Just going to take a quick look in here. In we go. Nae drama.”

Most of these buildings were open for exploration. It felt like Red Dead Redemption II, though we unfortunately did not come across any horse stimulants, cocaine gum, or half empty bottles of bourbon.

The Jack Thornton school.

Storm clouds moved in quickly, as they did nearly every evening on the river. Thunderstorms made us nervous, since there were already enough forest fires burning in the Yukon (including one on nearby Volcano Mountain). Fort Selkirk was prepared with pumps and hoses reaching down to the river.

Jordan wasn’t worried about forest fires.

Brian spent the hot summer evening firing up the hot wood stove in the hot cooking shelter to make his hot jalapeno cornbread (surprise: he put cheddar in the cornbread! This one’s for you, Rob!). As we enjoyed the cornbread with Brian’s famous BBQ beans while also enjoying the view, we asked ourselves again: “Do you know the river?”. The answer was still “sort of”. We were getting to know each other as well, with distinct boat identities emerging, camp routines settling, and phrases like “just going for a little wee wee over here” and “Muchas gracias. MUCHAS. GRACIAS.” becoming as familiar as the constant splash of paddles or chirping of squirrels.

Little did we know, we’d need all our newfound knowledge to survive the following day. Stay tuned for harrowing thunderstorms, merging rivers, and muddy islands! Yukon Gold: Part Two coming soon. Or whenever I feel like it.

*around half of the above photos (the good ones) were taken by Brian.

#yukongold #yukon #yukonriver #exploreyukon #fortselkirk #canada #explorecanada #staywild #canoe #canoeing #canoetrip #camping

[lianneoelke]

Watney Wanders: Part 7

I know this post is two years late. Sue me. 

Quick recap: in 2017, Brian and I took Watney, our ‘84 Dodge camper van, on an epic six week long journey to Haida Gwaii, Bowron Lakes, Mount Robson, and finally, Alberta.

My sister Erin got married in a barn in Edmonton. It turned out to be a very nice barn. Built by rich Albertans. Classic. The day before the wedding, I drew Bosker/ Oelke Wedding signs to direct traffic while Brian washed the dance floor. There was a thunderstorm and tornado warning that night, and since Brian spent the night parked out back in Watney, he was able to re-peg the tents to keep them from flying away. Absolute champion.

Where the ladies got ready.

It was, without a doubt, the most hilarious wedding I’ve eve been to. Erin and Alex seamlessly wove chocolate milk into their ceremony, Nicolas Cage quotes (“Not the bees!”) into their wedding vows, candy into their thank-you gifts, and garden gnomes into their drink tickets. What more could you ask for?

I’m wearing one of the neon green skirts. Woo!

The dance floor got pretty rowdy.

The next day we helped clean up. We then booked it to Calgary, where we met up with an old friend of Brian’s, looking to catch the latest episode of GoT. The following morning we headed west on Highway 1. We wanted to spend time hiking in Banff, but the air was a lil too thick with smoke (and the views not as outstanding as they could have been) for any rigorous outdoor activity. We decided to push on to Glacier National Park. I spent a night there by myself the previous summer, all small and snugly tucked away in Watney while thunder boomed across the glacier. It’s one of my favourite campsites in BC.

Our first day in Illicelliwaet found us (or at least me) too socially and otherwise exhausted to do any hiking beyond a short walk after dinner, but the next day, we attempted one of the many Grouse Grinds of Glacier National Park. After 4 km and 950 meters up relentless switchbacks we found ourselves in the middle of a panoramic (but smoky) view.

It’s not the destination that’s important, but the friends you make along the way.

After a night parked across the best site in the campground, we spent the morning watching the family pack so we could drive in 30 seconds after they left. Camping in a national park is serious business.

I had originally planned on an endless summer of limited responsibilities, but I had to start work on another Christmas movie the following week, so I settled for steady employment and lunch and money instead. Thanks a lot, Mark.

The ride home was rocky. After a few stops to skillfully apply duck tape under Watney’s hood, we eventually found ourselves in familiar Vancouver rush hour traffic, our ears still ringing from the roar of Watney’s engine.

At that was the end of Watney Wanders 2017.

Highlight: Seeing my lil sister get married.

Lowlight: The bar in Calgary that couldn’t figure out their shit enough to screen the season premiere of GoT properly, forcing us to leave before they ruined everything.

Gold Star: To Erin (aka Goose aka Erin Bosker the 2nd) for planning such a great wedding.

Overall Gold Star: i thought about giving this gold star to Alley Cat because she’s an absolute dream, but I figured that would be a dick move since she wasn’t actually on the trip. So Brian gets the gold star. But not by default! He is the only person I could never get sick of after six weeks in a van together.

Additional Overall Gold Star: To Alley Cat for being an absolute dream.

#watneywanders campervan camperlife camping exploreBC BC beautifulBC Alberta Edmonton wedding AlleyCat

[lianneoelke]

THE HAZEL WOOD is one of the best written books I've come across. Pure fantastical creepy delight. #yafiction #ya #yalit #fantasy #epicreads #thehazelwood #bibliophile #books #bookstagram #booktography #amreading #bc #hellobc #sunshinecoast #sunshinecoasttrail #sct #hiking #backpacking

#sct #bibliophile #bc #backpacking #amreading #hellobc #ya #books #bookstagram #booktography #sunshinecoast #fantasy #sunshinecoasttrail #hiking #epicreads #yalit #yafiction #thehazelwood

[lianneoelke]

Nothing like a Canada Day filled with paddling, questionable portages, oversized tadpoles, beavers, osprey, sunsets, boxes of wine, and decent people. #canada #canadaday #powellriver #canoe #canoeing #camping #hellobc #bc #sunshinecoast #westcoast #westcoastbestcoast (at Powell River, British Columbia)

#canoeing #canada #hellobc #camping #bc #sunshinecoast #canadaday #westcoast #westcoastbestcoast #powellriver #canoe

[lianneoelke]

I honestly never thought I was good enough to be an author. … I would read a really amazing book and think, ‘Oh, someone really special and talented did this. That’s someone else’s job, not mine.’

Lianne Oelke, debut author of NICE TRY, JANE SINNER (out now!).

Listen to the full interview here, or download it on iTunes or Spotify.

(via firstdraftwithsarahenni)

[lianneoelke]

I can't believe I've lived in Vancouver for over 5 years and never went snowshoeing on Grouse Mountain until today. #grousemountain #northvan #bc #hellobc #bluebirdday #snowshoeing #explorebc #canada #alpinebliss (at Grouse Mountain-The Peak of Vancouver)

#northvan #grousemountain #hellobc #explorebc #canada #snowshoeing #alpinebliss #bluebirdday #bc

[lianneoelke]

Blog Tour + #Review: NICE TRY, JANE SINNER by Lianne Oelke (w/ #Giveaway)!

Hello, and welcome! I am absolutely giddy to share with you today all the info about, and my review for, the incredibly hilarious debut from Lianne Oelke, Nice Try, Jane Sinner! Words cannot properly express the fun I had reading this gem, but I’ll do my best to get across this message: you should read this :) It’s one of the funniest books I’ve read in a while, and I want to put it into the hands of everyone I know. There’s also a giveaway happening, so stay with me to the end so you can enter!

About the Book

title: Nice Try, Jane Sinner author: Lianne Oelke publisher: Clarion Books release date: 9 January 2018

The only thing 17-year-old Jane Sinner hates more than failure is pity. After a personal crisis and her subsequent expulsion from high school, she’s going nowhere fast. Jane’s well-meaning parents push her to attend a high school completion program at the nearby Elbow River Community College, and she agrees, on one condition: she gets to move out.

Jane tackles her housing problem by signing up for House of Orange, a student-run reality show that is basically Big Brother, but for Elbow River Students. Living away from home, the chance to win a car (used, but whatever), and a campus full of people who don’t know what she did in high school… what more could she want? Okay, maybe a family that understands why she’d rather turn to Freud than Jesus to make sense of her life, but she’ll settle for fifteen minutes in the proverbial spotlight.

As House of Orange grows from a low-budget web series to a local TV show with fans and shoddy T-shirts, Jane finally has the chance to let her cynical, competitive nature thrive. She’ll use her growing fan base, and whatever Intro to Psychology can teach her, to prove to the world—or at least viewers of substandard TV—that she has what it takes to win.

Add to Goodreads: Nice Try, Jane Sinner Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | iBooks | TBD

About the Author

Lianne Oelke @lianneoelke lives in Vancouver, BC. A mere three years of working in the film industry has left her far more jaded, bitter, and misanthropic than she could have dreamed possible. Having worked on one too many made-for-TV movies featuring the mild romantic antics of generically attractive white people, she’s taken it upon herself to push back with some pretty substandard stories of her own.

Besides books, her three great passions in life are cats, craft beer, and camping. When she’s not working, Lianne likes to take off, eh in her ‘83 camper van. She maintains a steady hate/ love relationship with hiking, but is always up for exploring British Columbia- whatever it takes to find a nice spot to set up her hammock. Her hammock is her favorite place in the world.

Connect with Lianne: Website | Tumblr | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

My 5-Star Review

I’d already been approved for the ARC of this book on NetGalley when I saw the announcement from Rockstar Book Tours for this blog tour, and I figured it would be fun to take part. I knew from the summary that Nice Try, Jane Sinner (NT,JS) was supposed to be humorous, and I thought it’d be a nice change since I usually do blog tours for YA sci-fi, fantasy, and historical fiction. I’m so glad I asked to participate, because I’m thrilled to be able to share with you just how much I love this book! 

Because of the format the ARC was in, I couldn’t highlight and make notes on my Kindle, so I had to take notes manually (I almost always take notes and/or highlight or use page flags (lots and lots of page flags!), whether electronic or hard copy, and not only when I’m participating in a blog tour). I was writing in a little notebook, but I counted, and I figure I took about nine full-size pages of notes. NINE! There were just so many incredible quotes I wanted to capture, so many laugh out loud moments I’d jot down page numbers for so I could go back later, and quite a few times when my reaction was simply, “OMG, [character’s name]! Really?!” 

This book was the funniest thing I’ve read in a long, long time. I laughed out loud and snickered so much, I think I irritated my kiddo who was reading next to me ;-) At the same time, there are some really profound moments, and the book touches on important topics, especially for teens who are closer to high school graduation and pondering not only “what’s next?”, but also, “who am I?” We all go through that time of separating ourselves from our parents and “their” beliefs, or else digging in deeper and deciding that their beliefs are also our beliefs. It is often a tricky, emotional, isolating process, and we see that in Jane’s story. She struggles with her faith (but is it even *her* faith? or is it just her parents’ faith?), and there is some truly incisive commentary regarding spirituality as opposed to organized religion. She struggles with trying to decide what she even wants to do with her life, not to mention what kind of person she will be. 

Now, lest you think maybe I misspoke originally and that this must actually be a heavy drag of a book, trust me, it’s not! Jane reckons with all these questions about her future (and her present) with huge doses of humor, witty retorts, and biting sarcasm. The book is written in journal style, so we are hearing Jane’s voice exclusively, assuming when she’s recalling conversations that we are hearing what *she remembers* someone having said. In that sense, this is all filtered through her brain, and oh, that brain is truly a fabulous place to be! Jane’s experience in the “House of Orange” - both the physical place and the reality show - is truly life-changing, and I am so glad I went along for the ride. I really wasn’t sure how the author was going to end the story, but once I finished I knew it was exactly as it should’ve been. Ms. Oelke absolutely nailed it. (And I have the teeniest spark of hope that we may see Jane, Carol, Robbie, Marc, Jenna, and Alex Park again…)

I cannot recommend this book highly enough, and I want to put it into the hands of everyone I know! I am going to keep my pages of notes; I’m even going to go back and write down the full quotes that I don’t want to forget. I promise, if you read this: you will laugh so hard, you may even cry (I did!), and you will love this book. It’s an amazing debut from a new young talent, and I will be watching with hawk-eyes to see what she brings us next.

Thanks so much to Clarion Books for the ARC, to Rockstar Book Tours for including me on the tour, and to Lianne Oelke for the incredible book! 

Rating: 5 stars for this laugh-out-loud debut!

Disclosure: I received an e-ARC via NetGalley from the publisher, but this has in no way affected my review. This is my honest rating and review of the book.

The Giveaway

Three (3) winners will each receive a finished copy of Nice Try, Jane Sinner (US only). Enter via the Rafflecopter below, and good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Tour

Week One:

1/1/2018 - Emily Reads Everything - Spotlight

½/2018 - The Hermit Librarian - Review

1/3/2018 - A Dream Within A Dream - Excerpt

¼/2018 - The Bookish Libra - Review

1/5/2018 - Tales of the Ravenous Reader - Interview

Week Two:

1/8/2018 - The Book Nut - Review

1/9/2018 - Margie’s Must Reads - Guest Post

1/10/2018 - Book-Keeping - Review

1/11/2018 - BookHounds YA - Interview

1/12/2018 - JustAddaWord - Review

[lianneoelke]

It's breezy on the top. #EmpireStateBuilding #CanucksinNYC

#empirestatebuilding #canucksinnyc

[lianneoelke]

Attention all Canadian teens and/ or book bloggers...

I have one ARC of NICE TRY, JANE SINNER left. Want to win? Enter on Twitter by Dec 11:

https://twitter.com/lianneoelke/status/938805829452537856

#giveaway #ya #nice try jane sinner #arc

[lianneoelke]

ABA Winter 2017-2018 Indie Next Pick

NICE TRY, JANE SINNER is an Indie Next pick. 

HELLO.

http://www.bookweb.org/news/winter-2017%E2%80%932018-kids%E2%80%99-indie-next-list-preview-102244

#ABA #indienext #nice try jane sinner

[lianneoelke]

Throwback to this summer's epic Haida Gwaii kayak trip! Follow me on Twitter @lianneoelke by Nov. 14th to win your own ARC of NICE TRY, JANE SINNER (scenery not included, but book swag is). #haidagwaii #gwaiihaanas #kayaking #kayak #camping #beachcamping #explorebc #hellobc #canada #parkscanada #canada150 #westcoast #pacificnorthwest #keepitwild #beautifulbc #wanderlust #YA #yalit #giveaway #nicetryjanesinner #bookstagram #books #amreading #epicreads #bibliophile #yafiction #yacontemp #read #arc #ARCsinthewild (at Haida Gwaii)

#westcoast #kayaking #bookstagram #nicetryjanesinner #bibliophile #arc #read #arcsinthewild #keepitwild #pacificnorthwest #canada #haidagwaii #beautifulbc #beachcamping #epicreads #books #amreading #parkscanada #wanderlust #yalit #canada150 #gwaiihaanas #kayak #ya #explorebc #camping #giveaway #yafiction #hellobc #yacontemp

[lianneoelke]

NICE TRY, JANE SINNER ARC

Who’s in the mood for a NICE TRY, JANE SINNER ARC giveaway? I definitely maybe have a copy up for grabs tomorrow morning... 

#giveaway #contest #ARC #nice try jane sinner #ya #yalit #amreading

[lianneoelke]

I’ve decided to tell you guys a story about piracy.

I didn’t think I had much to add to the piracy commentary I made yesterday, but after seeing some of the replies to it, I decided it’s time for this story.

Here are a few things we should get clear before I go on:

1) This is a U.S. centered discussion. Not because I value my non U.S. readers any less, but because I am published with a U.S. publisher first, who then sells my rights elsewhere. This means that the fate of my books, good or bad, is largely decided on U.S. turf, through U.S. sales to readers and libraries.

2) This is not a conversation about whether or not artists deserve to get money for art, or whether or not you think I in particular, as a flawed human, deserve money. It is only about how piracy affects a book’s fate at the publishing house. 

3) It is also not a conversation about book prices, or publishing costs, or what is a fair price for art, though it is worthwhile to remember that every copy of a blockbuster sold means that the publishing house can publish new and niche voices. Publishing can’t afford to publish the new and midlist voices without the James Pattersons selling well. 

It is only about two statements that I saw go by: 

1) piracy doesn’t hurt publishing. 

2) someone who pirates the book was never going to buy it anyway, so it’s not a lost sale.

Now, with those statements in mind, here’s the story.

It’s the story of a novel called The Raven King, the fourth installment in a planned four book series. All three of its predecessors hit the bestseller list. Book three, however, faltered in strange ways. The print copies sold just as well as before, landing it on the list, but the e-copies dropped precipitously. 

Now, series are a strange and dangerous thing in publishing. They’re usually games of diminishing returns, for logical reasons: folks buy the first book, like it, maybe buy the second, lose interest. The number of folks who try the first will always be more than the number of folks who make it to the third or fourth. Sometimes this change in numbers is so extreme that publishers cancel the rest of the series, which you may have experienced as a reader — beginning a series only to have the release date of the next book get pushed off and pushed off again before it merely dies quietly in a corner somewhere by the flies.

So I expected to see a sales drop in book three, Blue Lily, Lily Blue, but as my readers are historically evenly split across the formats, I expected it to see the cut balanced across both formats. This was absolutely not true. Where were all the e-readers going? Articles online had headlines like PEOPLE NO LONGER ENJOY READING EBOOKS IT SEEMS.

Really?

There was another new phenomenon with Blue Lily, Lily Blue, too — one that started before it was published. Like many novels, it was available to early reviewers and booksellers in advanced form (ARCs: advanced reader copies). Traditionally these have been cheaply printed paperback versions of the book. Recently, e-ARCs have become common, available on locked sites from publishers. 

BLLB’s e-arc escaped the site, made it to the internet, and began circulating busily among fans long before the book had even hit shelves. Piracy is a thing authors have been told to live with, it’s not hurting you, it’s like the mites in your pillow, and so I didn’t think too hard about it until I got that royalty statement with BLLB’s e-sales cut in half. 

Strange, I thought. Particularly as it seemed on the internet and at my booming real-life book tours that interest in the Raven Cycle in general was growing, not shrinking. Meanwhile, floating about in the forums and on Tumblr as a creator, it was not difficult to see fans sharing the pdfs of the books back and forth. For awhile, I paid for a service that went through piracy sites and took down illegal pdfs, but it was pointless. There were too many. And as long as even one was left up, that was all that was needed for sharing. 

I asked my publisher to make sure there were no e-ARCs available of book four, the Raven King, explaining that I felt piracy was a real issue with this series in a way it hadn’t been for any of my others. They replied with the old adage that piracy didn’t really do anything, but yes, they’d make sure there was no e-ARCs if that made me happy. 

Then they told me that they were cutting the print run of The Raven King to less than half of the print run for Blue Lily, Lily Blue. No hard feelings, understand, they told me, it’s just that the sales for Blue Lily didn’t justify printing any more copies. The series was in decline, they were so proud of me, it had 19 starred reviews from pro journals and was the most starred YA series ever written, but that just didn’t equal sales. They still loved me.

This, my friends, is a real world consequence.

This is also where people usually step in and say, but that’s not piracy’s fault. You just said series naturally declined, and you just were a victim of bad marketing or bad covers or readers just actually don’t like you that much.

Hold that thought. 

I was intent on proving that piracy had affected the Raven Cycle, and so I began to work with one of my brothers on a plan. It was impossible to take down every illegal pdf; I’d already seen that. So we were going to do the opposite. We created a pdf of the Raven King. It was the same length as the real book, but it was just the first four chapters over and over again. At the end, my brother wrote a small note about the ways piracy hurt your favorite books. I knew we wouldn’t be able to hold the fort for long — real versions would slowly get passed around by hand through forum messaging — but I told my brother: I want to hold the fort for one week. Enough to prove that a point. Enough to show everyone that this is no longer 2004. This is the smart phone generation, and a pirated book sometimes is a lost sale.

Then, on midnight of my book release, my brother put it up everywhere on every pirate site. He uploaded dozens and dozens and dozens of these pdfs of The Raven King. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one of his pdfs. We sailed those epub seas with our own flag shredding the sky.

The effects were instant. The forums and sites exploded with bewildered activity. Fans asked if anyone had managed to find a link to a legit pdf. Dozens of posts appeared saying that since they hadn’t been able to find a pdf, they’d been forced to hit up Amazon and buy the book.

And we sold out of the first printing in two days.

Two days.

I was on tour for it, and the bookstores I went to didn’t have enough copies to sell to people coming, because online orders had emptied the warehouse. My publisher scrambled to print more, and then print more again. Print sales and e-sales became once more evenly matched.

Then the pdfs hit the forums and e-sales sagged and it was business as usual, but it didn’t matter: I’d proven the point. Piracy has consequences.

That’s the end of the story, but there’s an epilogue. I’m now writing three more books set in that world, books that I’m absolutely delighted to be able to write. They’re an absolute blast. My publisher bought this trilogy because the numbers on the previous series supported them buying more books in that world. But the numbers almost didn’t. Because even as I knew I had more readers than ever, on paper, the Raven Cycle was petering out. 

The Ronan trilogy nearly didn’t exist because of piracy. And already I can see in the tags how Tumblr users are talking about how they intend to pirate book one of the new trilogy for any number of reasons, because I am terrible or because they would ‘rather die than pay for a book’. As an author, I can’t stop that. But pirating book one means that publishing cancels book two. This ain’t 2004 anymore. A pirated copy isn’t ‘good advertising’ or ‘great word of mouth’ or ‘not really a lost sale.’

That’s my long piracy story.