I drive north to see a guy about an adaptive bike. 850 miles, one international border, five cups of coffee and a night sleeping in the back of my car on the edge of a quiet lake in Central British Columbia. It’s a long journey, especially because I don’t even know if I have the function to ride the thing. But I’d been waiting a long time for a piece of equipment like this. Seventeen years, to be precise. Ever since I broke my neck while on a summer ski trip not far from here.

Now after many hours of analyzing Instagram videos and one phone call to get details the internet didn’t provide, I think that maybe, just maybe, a machinist in Calgary has done it — designed a product that could allow me, with weak hands and little core function, to access the wilderness in a way that’s been unavailable since my accident.

Ten hours from home, I wind along a river colored milky turquoise with glacial runoff and flanked by forest and high mountains. This landscape stirs a fire that