A swooping downhill: I think it’s an overused term for describing mountain bike trails, but as I rolled along, steering my bike from banked corner to stomach-dropping roll, it was the only thing that came to mind “” swooping.

I was flying down a trail on the flank of Mount Geoffrey on Hornby Island. If I had looked up from the trail, I would have seen the Strait of Georgia, the section of water separating Vancouver Island from the mainland. Of course, I didn’t take my eyes off the twisting trail carving its way through the woods. Instead, I was intently focused on the leaf-covered trail snaking through neon-green moss. It felt more like a rollercoaster ride, or tree skiing, than mountain biking. For that, I was thankful.

Living on the B.C. coast, it’s hard to complain about the mountain biking trails, but I’m going to anyway. While there are more options for riding than I can cover in a summer, within an hour of my house, they are predominantly of the rock- and root-studded variety. They’re lots of fun when it’s dry and a good challenge when it’s wet. But sometimes, all I want is to go fast on a hardtail cross-country bike and not worry about blowing out my shock or risking my life. Until I jumped on the ferry headed for Hornby Island, I didn’t know I could find what I was looking for so close to home.

To get to Hornby requires a unique shuttle ride: a ferry to Denman Island, 10 kilometres of driving or sprinting by bike across the island, followed by another 10-minute ferry ride that brings you to the trailhead, the start of the road on Hornby Island.

Hornby is an eclectic community of artists, farmers, recluses and retirees trying to escape the hectic pace of somewhere else. Life on Hornby happens at a leisurely pace until the summer tourist season begins. The island population quadruples from approximately 1,000 winter residents to 4,000-plus cottagers and visitors. But even then, things are pretty mellow, if a little busier. Case in point is the island’s attitude toward biking.

There are towns and cities that are bike-friendly, but imagine a whole island. First, the roads criss-crossing the island are perfect for cyclists looking to explore backroads and beaches, such as the famous Tribune Bay, a kilometre-long strip of white sand reputably home to the warmest water on Canada’s West Coast. Alongside several kilometres of these roads are gravel paths specifically for the two-wheeled traveler. Every store, gallery and business seems to have a bike rack, and then there’s the mountain biking.

Twenty years ago, a group of locals began building trails in the untouched woods of the island’s only mountain. Using the topography like a survey crew, the trail builders used the natural features of Mount Geoffrey, its bluffy ramps on the west side to gently climb to the summit, and its rolling east side to get back down. But it was what they uncovered below the forest duff that truly sets Hornby riding apart.
“Hornby is unique from the rest of B.C. riding in that there’s few rocks and roots,” says Tig Cross, a longtime Hornby rider and trail builder. “A thin coat of dirt lies over conglomerate rock, and we get less rain too. This makes for smooth, fast riding.” I was about to experience what Cross was referring to.

After getting off the ferry, my friend Paul and I cruised up the paved road and quickly turned off onto a gravel road. So much for warming up slowly. Mountain Road lived up to its name with a steep grade. Before we pedaled to the end of the road and onto singletrack, the early-winter chill was gone and so was the hard uphill, at least for a while. At first, the trail cruised along at a gentle grade. Cross was right: even the climbing is fast and smooth. Every now and then, the trail would run along the edge of the bands of cliffs. The snow-topped ranges of Vancouver Island marked the horizon, while far below lay Lambert Channel and the ferry chugging toward Denman Island. Eagles soared over the dark quiet waters, and between sucking breaths, I could hear the loud barking of sea lions in the cold air. Each winter, California sea lions migrate to the area to winter in the relative calm of the Strait of Georgia.

In some ways we too had migrated to Hornby. Mountain biking on Dec. 17 is not a typical Canadian activity, but then Hornby is not typically Canadian. It only snows once or twice a winter here. And the snow rarely lasts for more than a week. That leaves 50 weeks a year of riding. Add to that the fact that Hornby’s climate is drier than that of most of the B.C. coast and it becomes obvious why Vancouver Islanders, such as Paul and I, often seek winter solace on the trails of the Island.

Within 20 minutes, we were at the end of one switchback and were climbing up Cliff Trail toward the 330-metre summit. Like Mountain Road, Cliff Trail lives up to its name. Never far from the edge of a 30-metre cliff that disappears into thick forest, the trail weaves through gnarled stands of Douglas fir and arbutus, the common trees covered in red berries with bright orange and red bark. At times, tires roll just inches from the edge. Views over Denman Island and the forests and farms of Vancouver Island distract from the drop and inspire, making the climbing pass quickly. It helps that it is the perfect grade for climbing; only twice short hills kick back into pitches made more for walking than pedaling.

After less than an hour of climbing, we arrive at the summit trail map with just a light burn in the quads. Now came the hard part, deciding how to get down. At almost every intersection, the local trail society has posted easy-to-read trail maps that make staying found easier than getting lost. In all, there are 26 trails covering 80 kilometres of Mount Geoffrey Park. They range from gravel roads to narrow singletrack to banked slalom. None of it is anything like the steep and infamous downhill trails Vancouver Island and North Vancouver are famous for. It’s more like old-school cross-country with the occasional hint of freeride.

On the way down, most trails run for 5 to 10 minutes between intersections and there are options for all abilities. For the freeriders, Your Mom is full of elevated boardwalks, stunts and jumps, while Hot Rails is steeper. Four Dead Aliens, Furry Creek and Washing Machine are all considered easy, fast, twisty singletrack trails.

That’s where we started. We pedaled off the top and were soon flying through the forest. True to Cross’s words, the trail was fast and smooth. We were soon locked into the rollercoaster, swooping down hills, banking hard on corners, flying down a steep section into a relaxed run-out and following it up with more of the same. No trail was more like a rollercoaster than No Horses. The primo trail on the Island is a natural half-pipe for mountain bikes. The trail is a series of rounded switchbacks down a creekbed, with the sides banked for speed and perfect small tabletops near the bottom.

Paul and I came flying out of No Horses with Oliver Twist on our minds, “More please.” But we were at the bottom of the trail network and because Hornby has so many things to do, it’s hard to just ride all day long. There’s a winery, a mead winery that dispels all the myths of mead, countless art galleries and studios, great eateries, hikes and one of the best beaches on Vancouver Island. Tribune Bay is almost a kilometre of flat, white sand.

It’s a great place to cool off after a summer ride or just a nice spot to sit and eat a snack. But be warned: even the warmest water on the B.C. coast isn’t even close to subtropical.
The only drawback to island life is planning life around the ferry’s schedule. And with schedules in our minds, we hit the trail heading for the other side of the Island. It was

Saturday, so on the way we stopped at the market outside of the community centre, a building built out of a giant tree trunk, for a snack of candied salmon and apple cider. We followed this visit up with a quick stop at the Hornby Recycling Centre to sort through the used bike parts for anything useful and to use the world’s coolest toilet.
Built out of 90% recycled material, the worm-composting toilet is a marvel of the three R’s. The walls are made of tin cans, boxes, newspapers and old hot-water tanks. Salvaged tile makes up the throne and rear-wheel hangers hold the toilet paper. Best of all, it produces no waste, despite its very purpose; everything that goes in comes out as fertilizer.

Thoroughly inspired to be better recyclers, we were soon walking onto the ferry, although reluctantly. It’s hard to get one’s fill of swooping downhills and inspiring climbs, and we both knew the next time the idea of slipping and sliding around the trails of the Comox Valley lost its appeal, we’d be back.