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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 24, 2021 20:26:43 GMT
Intro & Day Zero, Wild Canada West: British Columbia 2015
Inordinate planning length, disappointments and the odd stupendous sight seem to be trademarks of my longer bike adventures of the past few years. After a minor letdown of not being able to get booked up for the Isle of Man TT for 2015, I was told of a newspaper article for a tour company offering bike adventures, in Canada of all places. Partner-in-crime, Norrie, set me up nicely and would not let the matter rest until I had read the print so, I downloaded a copy and literally gasped at the photos presented. A quick look at the tour company’s website had me hooked and the rest was simply down to logistics and of course, cost.
This didn’t go down very well initially, since it was winter 2014 and we were not too long back from Italy and World Ducati Week however, a long-term interest-free credit card helped ease the negotiations! Sometimes, shift work does have some advantages, in my case, regular holiday blocks which lined up well with the recommended best touring window for west coast Canada of August. Sadly, Norrie couldn’t get the same days off but I had some extra holidays available to use so, with two weeks in mind I hastily booked the BMW GS1200’s we had decided upon, after some studying of the hire companies array of machines. Both of us having the same bike seemed sensible to troubleshoot and yes, gentle reader, we did ask if Ducati’s could be made available! Maybe, next time…
It did look as though our plans had stalled when no flights could be found, Air Canada and B.A. flights were either booked for the days we needed or prohibitively expensive. When exactly the brainstorming hit of looking on Canadian websites for flights, I’m not sure but, it worked. The WestJet Company was due to start flying out of Glasgow to various destinations in May 2015 and it could not have been better timed for us. Flights were duly booked and those and the deposits for the tour were paid together, no turning back now, we were off to the ‘big country’.
Sadly, gentle reader that is the end of the good news as far as WestJet was concerned. A month later, I received an email stating our two-flight journey had altered to three with the unwelcome addition of Glasgow to Halifax (Nova Scotia) onto the original, Toronto / Vancouver. Nothing could be done, no compensation would be offered and as a goodwill gesture, we were offered preselected seats so that we were guaranteed to sit together. The next disappointment to be unearthed was no hot meals of any type on any of the flights! I worked out we were in the air for 14 hours with only cold food offered apparently, the ‘infrastructure’ would not be in place to allow hot food service before we flew, I detest those types of ‘buzz-phrase’.
Thank goodness the fun of deciding on route variations and learning about the geography of the land was such a welcome distraction. The tour company (Cyclebc) have a range of accommodations available over much of Canada it appears, they used to offer guided vacations in the past but this seems to be by request now however, the great knowledge gained by actually riding the roads was evident in the meticulous day notes they produce. All this planning and rekindling my cycling interest in pursuit of a little much needed fitness, worked very much against any motorbike riding time at all, during the first half of 2015. The decision to try a lighter weight set of riding trousers at least got my Ducati out of the garage to blow the cobwebs away and help with the purchase of some Dianese Amsterdam (how appropriate a name from previous tours) textile trousers from Infinity cycles.
All my other riding kit I was very happy with but, I did want to take some on-board video of our rides and my eyes were made much more square investigating options on the 'net until, the decision to buy a JVC action cam was made, along with the fun of making that work! I never thought I’d be glad of leaving my own bike behind. However, I found it time-consuming enough trying to plan packing priorities for the limited space we had on the hire bikes, without worrying about bike servicing and the like. Factor into this the late addition of a set of Bluetooth bike-to-bike intercoms and it was astonishing how fast the days were counting down to departure. A trip to a local BMW agency was sweet and sour in that we were at least convinced at making a good bike choice but dismayed at how small one factory pannier was, being quite compromised on space due to the huge single silencer fitted. Norrie to the rescue though, he had not one but two Bags-Connections removable tankbags and in a turn of good fortune the hire company in Vancouver dealt with the same supplier and could source appropriate fittings for the bikes; result.
Fancy some late changes, dear reader? A possible mistake first in not realising how diverse a city Vancouver is, as we both agreed on sacrificing a free-day on our first proper day, for a riding day to get us acclimatised to the bikes and riding in Canada. Later in the journey we decided to add a dip down over the border into the USA and instead of a final ‘lazy-day’ in Vancouver. I talked Norrie into a ferry ride to Vancouver Island for a ride down to the State capital: Victoria. All accepted by CycleBC without any qualms or fuss at all. With seven days to go, I finally started my holiday block and was buzzing with excitement. For weeks previously, If I wasn’t searching for information on Canada then I was either studying the route, especially on Google street view for the start and end of each day, or watching videos of Canada on the ‘net. There is a fine line I think between preparing oneself for a trip well and tainting the surprise, I’d hoped I got the balance right, reading up on things like plastic bank notes that can stick together when new, right turns on a red light being fine but the signs or lights to prevent the same can be located anywhere and really important stuff like the best local beers and bourbons!
Our eventual Full Route - 'J'is the start & finish point, South from Vancouver to Abbotsford then, North to 'B' & Beyond...
On a very serious note, the massive and uncontrollable forest fires in the northern California areas were causing problems many miles north and into Canada. Firefighters lives had already been taken along with hundreds of thousands of acres of forest, the knock-on effect being road closures from the smog and even a highway we might need, closed down the very day before we left our own, green and pleasant lands. One day to go came around too quickly, with a long list of 'to do' items for both home and away, only completed on Friday morning. I had to sacrifice my preferred route of the A68 North as a visit to friends on the outskirts of Newcastle was needed, a poor choice of day as the roadworks that seem to have been built with the A1, in and around the Metro centre caused even more delays than normal. With only a single coffee stop, I pushed on up the motorway; late, as expected I guess, getting to Glasgow but, spot on time for an excellent meal to be served as soon as I walked in! Over a few beers the evening also passed far too quickly, little time to enjoy the moment. Documents checked, cameras sorted, helmet intercomms installed, with an unnecessary and annoying Bluetooth pairing issue delaying plans, by the time I'd completed our online check-in, we were able to enjoy a whole four hours of sleep before getting back up again for the airport run!
Poor Norrie had to endure a deluge of personal and work issues that became so critical, at a week before departure, there was a doubt if he would be able to go to Canada at all. Thankfully, all overcome, a penalty still remained that he was missing a few items that we were running around the airport to try and source. Luggage tags, luggage locks, batteries and even suntan lotion were all things wanted to settle a flustered Scotsman before we flew. All were obtained but Norrie's purchase of an oversized bottle of sun-cream did worry me and later, it was to prove, damn well founded...
The final check-in annoyed me somewhat. Instructions I thought were clear: One piece of hold luggage, 25Kg maximum weight. I'd had to drag an old large suitcase from our loft and rebuild a broken lining to pack all my clothing in a single bag. I was a few grams over and got a 'tut-tut' from the desk clerk, while Norrie used two slightly smaller bags and nothing was said with no extra payment to make, bizarre. Just time to grab a coffee and snack and for us to indulge in some foolishness before the flight of buying Scotland caps and flags for us and the bikes to wear! With the misery of UK security checks out of the way we got to the gate just as the first call was announced. Seats as planned, we were both carrying our helmets as hand luggage which thankfully, didn’t prove a problem at all as they went in the overhead lockers with ease. Clear Saturday morning take-off skies allowed Norrie to point out some landmarks before we headed off, over the water.
Farewell Bonny Scotland
We sat with an informative lady called Linda, who happily talked almost non-stop after introducing herself as a minor internet music star. She kept us entertained and did offer some interesting motoring advice, "Don’t trust any Chinese drivers in Canada"! Speaking of similar, I do wish I hadn't bothered with the cold Chinese chicken wrap I'd ordered. I knew something was wrong from the instant tingling in my lips which felt like cold sores and would trouble me for days to come. Sleep came easily as the initial excitement of travel wore off and the next I knew we were preparing to land in Halifax. A very welcoming place it was too. Water features, wide quiet walkways and welcoming staff made it feel like a holiday arrival now, for these two aliens, anyway. Customs clearance was effortless but it was curious, picking up our hold luggage and carrying them all of fifty feet to another conveyor belt for them to disappear, however, it was deeply worrying for Norrie sadly, as his brand new Ducati tote bag came through with the sides so badly scuffed it was hard to make out the Ducati text.
Our First and Happiest landing in Canada
A drink and a decent WARM bite to eat were obvious next priorities as this was the longest stopover of the journey to Vancouver. A leisurely look around the airport shops led to our first taste of Canadian ice cream, the small kiosk having a Tardis like array of flavours available. Just as we arrived at the security gate we heard the first call for our flight and hurried through with our hand luggage, a familiar routine already for us, Norrie had to take his belt and metal heeled boots off, I had to take out and open my notebook for electronic inspection. Sadly, the guards took issue with our helmet intercomms. Going to different scanners to save time might have been a mistake but, my while my explanation was accepted quickly, Norrie was still being questioned, while I was caught up in another issue. Last minute at home, I'd dropped a multi-tool into my hand luggage in case of bike problems, completely forgetting that the tool also contained a very sharp blade and scissors - Glasgow were happy with this but not Halifax security. I either left it behind or tried to get it into my hold luggage, (that was long gone) so it is on permanent holiday in Nova Scotia now, the guards finally being happy we really were riding bikes after seeing our deposit paperwork.
I wish that was the worst of our problems but it didn’t even come close. We heard no announcements in the security area and became alarmed at the lack of any passengers, anywhere on the walkways to our gate. We decided to start running down the aisles but at the gate we were greeted by the unbelievable sight of our plane, backing away gracefully from the stand! Too shocked to be angry, I think I felt all my energy drain away at that point knowing we were essentially only a third into our journey. "Don’t Panic" said the clerk in what seemed to me a feeble parody of the hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy. "The plane is full but we can get you on the next flight in 30 minutes", this seemed beyond my comprehension, apparently, late as we were, but without any final calls, known to be on a connecting flight meant our seats could be sold to make WestJet a little more money.
Best of all, OUR luggage was on the flight that had just departed for Toronto.
In compensation we were given ‘plus’ seats which are a little wider with more legroom and apparently, complimentary food and drink but, only when the attendants bring the trolleys around. Needless to say, whisky was almost a medicinal requirement at that point. Being our shortest flight at a mere 2 hours 30 minutes, I can hardly remember it now, but, I made sure not to have any of the cold foods offered, sticking with snacks and drinks only.
Despite a quote I’d heard of “it's always a happy day when our tickets show YYZ”, the latter being the airport code for Toronto, the location didn’t always have a good reputation with customers and certainly left a bitter taste in our mouths, partly our fault but some, definitely not. After disembarking, we knew we had cleared the port-of-entry already and thought we would have to collect our luggage as this was supposed to be our first change of aircraft. After finding the correct carousel we waited a stressed 40 mins for most of the luggage to be collected from the flight we were ‘supposed’ to be on. The WestJet rep couldn’t understand it but a helpful baggage assistant worked it out instantly after checking our itinerary. Our baggage was automatically taken to the next flight, no intervention was needed! So we tried to return to the boarding area we came from but security would not allow that, so we had to move ‘on’ to the entrance lobby. The WestJet desk, at the other end of the building had this happen many times before (surprise, surprise) and allowed us through their gate without any delay. To say we were both somewhat stressed by this time is something of an understatement, we didn’t even want any food or drink, I simply wanted to be on our last flight and away. Sadly, because we had effectively been through the check-in procedure once more, we had to go through security clearance again.
Any guesses at an unbelievable airport security issue this time dear reader?
Norries sun cream would be the correct answer.
Even though, it was in a 'Boots-the–Chemist' original hermetically sealed bag, stamped from Glasgow, that wasn’t good enough for Toronto. An end of shift guard, chastised Norrie for having an oversized lotion and said it would have to be removed from its bag and scanned. Now, I have no idea what the scanning was meant to do, I only saw the bar code being read and the item didn’t exist on the guard’s system. The next step was an analysis of the contents, which it turned out couldn’t be attempted as the necessary machine was broken! Sadly, Norrie was beyond his threshold at this point and called for the supervisor, who simply laughed and walked away, when Norrie said a few choice words (to the guard, who promptly disappeared) and then came to tell me of the problems. I said to simply leave the lotion with them but Norrie was then ushered over to a group of guards, it appears the lotion was confiscated anyway AND Norrie was required to go and check in AGAIN, followed by another security scanning at a different desk, unbelievable!!
I was sure our entire holiday was under some horrific curse by this time. After 20 minutes of waiting, I went to get a bottle of water for the painkillers I needed to take, it took another 20 minutes for Norrie to finally appear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry before so I thought I’d better buy us some beer to try and calm down. 13 hours we had been on the go already and we were frazzled, for the want of a better term. The flight was then late taking off, we were back to standard seats and I’m afraid we both needed a stiff drink during our final 5-hour trip to Vancouver.
Even now, nearly three months after the event, upon typing this, I can still connect with my own frustration with the final insult upon landing when one of Norrie’s cases had disappeared! My large case appeared quickly on the carousel, followed by Norrie’s standard case but NOT, his Ducati bag. It was 9.30pm local time now and we had been awake for 20 hours on only 4 hours of sleep. All the help desks were either closed or deserted, as travellers drifted away into the night, we were, eventually, the only two left standing.
I walked to the other end of the collection terminal, looking for help and the local staff said to try the damaged luggage area which was… right next to where Norrie was still waiting for me. I’m afraid gentle reader that I lose the timeline around this point, I was told to wait in various areas and was eventually taken to an oversized baggage area where (surprise, surprise) there was Norrie’s, much smaller than a standard suitcase, Ducati bag – but (NOT a surprise), it was smashed to pieces, broken handle, base and dented top, it had been badly misused and of course, no one was available to record a complaint.
I wonder what it is about the human condition to think that recurring bad situations can only improve?
Norrie was actually in remarkably good spirits, nothing was missing and we were in one, very much tested piece.
Vancouver City was impressive, the little we saw of it through the windows of our silent Toyota Prius on our way ‘uptown’. It was 11pm by the time we arrived at the hotel, I was surprised at how quiet the roads were with few cars or people visible on a Saturday evening. Check-in was easy and we were allowed into the breakfast area to grab a coffee and some snacks after being told the only bars were closed already or too far to walk. It didn’t really matter, back in the room, I remember unpacking and hanging a few dress clothes and hopping in the shower to try and wash a nightmare start away to a dream vacation, well, it was already unforgettable.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 24, 2021 20:34:54 GMT
(Day 1) Sunday, Sunday – old school cool
It really did feel like I’d awoken from a dreadful dream until I lay in bed and motivated myself with the small matter of going to get some gleaming motorbikes to ride. Breakfast was interesting with a variety of visitors present and learning unfamiliar routines like trying to make a giant waffle that I didn’t get chance to – yet. Upstairs once more, to get some bike gear for riding the BMW’s back again, we only paused to take some area photos from the top floor gym that had a full set of windows, in place of one wall. Five blocks turned out to be a little further than I thought to walk down to the cycle hire base but, surprisingly busy and still full of lessons to be learned, flashing red lights suspended over crossroads and contactless buttons for crossing the road being just two of them. CycleBC operates its Vancouver branch out of a large basement unit that is filled to capacity with pedal and motor bikes. Mike, the store manager greeted us and was already working on the red and blue GS1200s that we had requested, great they looked too, in my head I’d already named them ‘loonie (Red) and toonie (Blue)’ after the popular names for the Canadian one and two dollar coins.
Mike was already working on the bikes fitting the tankbag mounting rings for us, sadly, they didn’t quite work but Mike didn’t want to give up on them so, we completed the paperwork and the briefing for essential information before wandering back to the main street to ‘Cartems Donuterie’ for some great homemade donuts and coffee to keep us fuelled. The server for the day asked us to take a seat and even brought a roadmap over to us as he took such interest in our route and pointed out places of interest, being a keen cyclist himself. They even gave us some locally grown tea to take with us for the journey.
Back at the hire shop, there was double trouble, not only would the tank bags not work on either bike, the prospect of having only a single Satnav between us became apparent when a unit had NOT been returned as planned and, NO Satnav of ANY type was available for our test ride and would not be until late tomorrow - when we leave to start the tour!
The seat height on my bike was a little higher than I was used to but it was wonderfully easy to handle, just as well as my concentration was fully occupied with traffic laws, the first major left turn being at lights was a particular worry but, common sense prevailed. We wanted to go back to the hotel to work out parking arrangements and grab a few drinks and snack bars from a nearby outlet while deciding on a revised (re:easier) route for the afternoon. I had two locations in mind for our test ride, Cypress Mountain and Capilano Lake, both being to the north, on the other side of Vancouver bay.
The intercoms (at low speeds) were a god send as I could tell Norrie which direction I was thinking of heading in and for us to point out any issues to each other. Our route would take us through the very center of the city, through the middle of the delightful looking Stanley Park, and over Lions Gate Bridge. The temperature was in the high 20’s already and the locals were gridlocking the area to get to the park. Being warned against ‘lane-splitting’ (filtering as we know it, which is illegal in British Columbia), we were good boys, in the main and sat with the traffic. The beachfront housing on the north shore was almost as lovely as it looked expensive, we know because I took an early wrong turn after the bridge and ran us along Marine Drive, west but we really didn’t care as it was such a pleasant ride next to the waterway, slow going but good roads and a scenic view of the bay and various marinas.
Thirsty work this enjoying one’s self so, I stopped us overlooking a popular spot called the Whyte-Islet, some photos and a check of a free map from the hotel showed us we were going to have to abandon one destination due to the time taken. Cypress Mountain was nearby and offered excellent views so we headed there next and after a brief highway blast, sharing it with many cyclists, we let the bikes cool at the viewpoint over the bay. In the UK I would have expected a burger or ice cream van at the least but, not here, refreshingly clean and unspoiled, visitors were left to simply enjoy the view and nature.
Chatting with some cyclists who had been riding all day long so far, informed us the view was too obscured by trees further up the road so we spent even more time chilling out, even though the temperature had me taking off a layer of clothing. The return ride was much easier, as we dropped straight on Highway 99 to take us right back into the city. Norrie was very impressed with the mirrored and giant skyscrapers in the commerce sector and within a few kilometers (don’t worry, dear reader all other distance references will be non-Canadian) we had passed, more marinas, stadia and science areas, a city well worth a visit.
I was pleasantly pleased with not taking any detours on our return to the hotel, the bikes safely stored in the underground parking, food, once again became a priority after only snacking for so long. The desk clerk recommended Martini’s restaurant, 5 blocks west, a slightly run-down area but plenty of people were out, taking the air. The restaurant had customers sitting outside, sipping on drinks as the light faded away, that seemed like a great idea and inside we were offered ‘tasters’ of the locally brewed ales, the ‘analogue 78 Kolsch’ was such a favourite, I can’t honestly remember how many we had! Memories of the American-styled bar are fading now, we felt we deserved pasta dishes of some type but I don’t recollect which but it (and the service) were so good I left a sizeable tip, especially as our server informed us on traffic law and that the red suspended flashing light over a road indicated to vehicles that it was pedestrian controlled.
The return walk to our hotel was obviously diverse but, did include our first visit to a ‘Tim Hortons’ coffee shop we had been advised to check out. ‘Timmies’ appears to be the Canadian preferred stop, over Starbucks but, I wasn’t convinced, I did however, nearly wet myself from laughing so hard when Norrie asked for all the coffee options, his face was a gem, watching it fall further and further as the myriad choices continued...
A final apology is necessary gentle reader, as I have no idea what time we finally staggered into the hotel, sometime around midnight is my best guess, we had only ridden 50 miles that day but, overcome more obstacles and ridden safely for the first time in Canada through a major city, without incident and loved it! Even over the cranky air-con unit, a contented sleep came easily, my drowsy images of the day crowned with riding by the sea and the blue water, converging with the sky in the distance.
Time to put the past behind us and look forward to making some sweet memories…
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 24, 2021 21:01:43 GMT
(Day 2) Monday – Hope, Hell’s Gate and Kamloops…
Awoken by early morning traffic we were keen to have breakfast and get sorted. Riding kit and likely needed items for the road went into my topbox, while the fun was trying to get everything else into the two panniers was awkward, as mouldings reduced the interior spaces. I left all my travel clothes behind and quite a bit more, including walking shoes that simply would not go in the bike boxes. Spending our very last night of the entire tour, back here in the same hotel meant they were happy for us to leave our baggage with them, quite a result. On one of many trips down to the garage, I collected the SatNav that finally arrived at reception for us, all charged, mapped, and ready to roll, apparently. Norrie checked us out while I sorted my helmet cam out for first use abroad, more later.
Time for the first irritation of the day sadly, the SatNav (Garmin Nuvi), which I was surprised to note lacked a proper holder and power supply. A cigarette lighter type adapter with a USB fitting and a cable to the back of the unit was all that was supplied. I turned the unit on to allow the maps to load knowing it would not be able to get a satellite lock. Double check of luggage locked on and a quick look over and around and it was time to fire up! So my previous poor relationship with Garmin didn’t start well in Canada, hitting the starter button, obviously disturbed the SatNav power supply so badly, that the screen went blank and it re-booted all over again. Let’s wait another two minutes then, for the maps to load in the baking space of a heat-exchanged underground car park. The sunshine was brilliantly bright outside and we were able to wait without causing a jam, thankfully while I selected the route for today and set off while waiting for GPS lock. We were both glad to be finally on our way, even if it was into the late morning busy traffic. We got caught out in lanes with traffic waiting to turn left a couple of times before we started reading the flow correctly for the mile or so we needed on Main Street to the easy right that would lead us East and away from Vancouver. Terminal Avenue was to be anything but easy however, a truck pulling out on me nearly making it ‘terminal’ in a real sense, 25 mph speed limits, narrow 4-lane residential roads, and traffic lights every block made for slow and often gridlocked progress. The first mile took 20 minutes or so, Norrie was impressed by the car sales district we negotiated, however shining supercars clambering for window space. The neat and tidy residential areas felt like many we have ridden through but the variety and diversity of vehicles around us constantly kept us interested and on our toes. I heard Norrie laugh in my headset as I pointed out a road name we crossed under; ‘Renfrew Street’, ‘Nanaimo’ was another I registered, knowing we would ride to its namesake towards the end of our adventure. It was another 30 minutes before we finally left the geometric order behind and joined our blacktop companion for the next 270 miles, the Trans-Canada highway or simply, Highway 1.
*This is a little way down the road...
A beautiful Ford Mustang, blasted up the on-ramp as we gave way, so we simply had to follow in kind and very well the bikes responded too. Well, all the way up to the plated limit of 50 whole mph for a major highway. The Mustang disappeared into the distance, while I heeded stern warnings of severe speeding penalties. That didn’t last long! Every vehicle it seemed, was overtaking us so, I upped to 60 mph which seemed, 'prudent'. The 3-lane highway soon opened up into 4, with narrower lanes than the UK but with much higher quality construction concrete barriers protecting opposing traffic all the time. We were still getting some vehicles cutting in front of us occasionally, some a little too close for my liking. Just then the left-hand lane changed into a type with a minimum vehicle occupancy requirement, thankfully, bikes were exempt and so I zipped into the lane and enjoyed a few smug mph more in a totally empty lane. Nice idea, Canada. I was a little peeved when the lane ended after 10 miles or so but the reason became apparent as we had our first meeting of many, with the mighty Fraser River, crossing the interestingly suspended Port Mann Bridge, in the process.
The photo is a still I captured from my helmet-cam video. Why such a miniature marvel of technology is marred with such an overly-sensitive microphone I will never know, turning the sound off for every playback soon became just as annoying. Southwards we ran for a little while now, to only a mile away from the state line with the USA, then, North-East, past the curiously named town of Chilliwack. Time for some more Satnav insanity? Happy to oblige, I knew there was a scenic spot nearby and we were due a rest stop so, I didn’t mind when the unit indicated for us to take an exit ramp. Sure enough, at the top of the ramp, it wanted us to go straight on and join the highway we had just left! I’m afraid a few choice northern phrases were directed at it. Bridal Veils Falls was the scenic spot advertised but, we headed off for a rest stop a few miles later as the coffee was obviously having an effect. A subway outlet seemed to fit the bill nicely for a snack, cold drinks being needed as the temps were as unexpectedly high as the sun was blinding. Thank goodness for vented jackets and interior helmet visors. Visitors were again interested in the loaded bikes out front and Norrie ended up taking a photo of a driving instructor’s car with a giant peaked hat on the roof to attract business. A small apology gentle reader for this day’s title but, it is accurate, ‘Hope’ was indeed the next town we skirted past. Huge mountains had been constant companions in whichever direction we looked but, unbeknown to us, so too had the Fraser River, we crossed it for the 2nd time that day on the oddly, very normal, Fraser Bridge. I expected something a little grander as the explorer the river is named for, Simon Fraser, first landed at this very town in the year 1808 and made the first documented expedition of the entire 854 miles long river complex. Riding due North now and sheltered from winds amongst the canyons the temperature seemed to have gone North too. The Hope River RV Park looked like an interesting place to stop and instantly confirmed the ambient temperature at 32 degrees.
Our first gas station visit couldn’t have been more laid back, dire threats that motorcyclists must pay first, didn’t materialise but that could have been down to our smooth foreign accents, of course . Bikes fuelled and left in the shade of the porch we had to have a look inside this classical outpost. Sockeye fillets were stored in an ice tray next to the entryway and inside was everything for any type of traveller, auto spares, wildness aids, a deli, and best of all, homemade Hard ice cream. We chatted with staff and customers alike before wandering outside to check the bikes and take in the atmosphere a little, while I was map checking, Norrie burst into activity at the sound of a train that I'd not noticed. He could see the massive train coming, the track being on the other side of the road from us, always the motor-head he snapped away in his element and he came back beaming with child-like joy, despite having to scoff his ice-cream to take photos. Back on the bikes and only a few miles up the highway we passed Spuzzum Creek and noted, between the dense but attractive trees lining the road that there was now a railway line on either side of the river. This was real gold-mining area now as the entire Fraser Canyon had a gold rush in the late 1850s, lasting less than 5 years however, especially as a reported 30,000 men descended upon the area seeking fortune. Across the river again at Alexandra Bridge we got a good view of the fast-moving river, heavy with sediment and the shored eroded with its passage, which ties in nicely with the next 'attraction' we stopped at, involving the Fraser River; Hell's Gate.
The explorer Simon Fraser named this place in his journal as "a place where no human should venture, for surely these are the gates of Hell". The stunning narrowing of the river at this point must surely have made it look that way, the high water velocity even proved a problem to the prolific salmon that were crucial to the local trade, the fish being easy to catch when resting from the efforts of trying to get upstream. It’s now the site of a tourist attraction and Airtram (cable car), with no available facilities at all roadside, I'm glad we overcame that to enjoy a look into the history of the area. The Airtram drops dramatically over the stomach-churning river to a museum/shop/cafe installation on the opposite shore. Storyboards, videos and various artifacts detail historical events, the travels of all six types of Pacific Salmon, the building of nearby railways, and intertwined disasters of landslide and loss of life. Due to higher water velocities, controversial water fishways were constructed in the late 1940s that were ultimately successful in allowing the fish to return to their spawning grounds, the importance of this being evident, even in those times, of the cost: 1.5 million dollars! After some refreshments, we took a walk over a gleaming new footbridge for an even closer view of this waterwork of mother nature, what a foul mood she must have been in that day...
The temperature was starting to feel a little oppressive, so I dug out my Camelbak to try and keep hydrated, the cold water inside helping to cool my own back, too. No one or two 'humps' jokes please, dear readers. One final Fraser River footnote, since we were about to get moving again. The highest recorded river flow occurred in 1894 (with colossal flooding) and some clever boffins managed to calculate the maximum volume flow at a staggering 17,000 cubic metres every SECOND!
Back on the billiard table smooth roads, there was a repeat problem again. The posted speed limit; 60 mph in this case and while we upped the speed, I was very conscious that cars and even the odd, unladen lorry, were trying to get past us at times. My reluctance was unfounded of course, as we didn't see any type of speed enforcement for the rest of the day. As much as I have enjoyed riding in Europe in the past, these roads were easily equal to the best of it. Good signage, almost always two lanes minimum going uphill for long or slow vehicles, and excellent visibility while the views, however, were very special. Mountain tops everywhere, the majority of the day with either trees or rockface nearby for company, twisting roads along river banks - hard to beat, when combined together.
50 miles of fun later at Lytton, we bade a temporary goodbye to the Fraser and hello to the Thompson River, which we crossed over 20 miles later at Spencers Bridge, oddly that's not the name of the bridge. Travelling East and now North there was a distinct change in the scenery, rock was more prominent, vegetation a little more sparse but trees seemed just as verdant as ever, good roots I imagine. We decided against a planned food stop as it was late afternoon already and we still had 80 miles to ride and the overnight hotel to find yet. Traffic was becoming as few as the trees now only another 15 miles up Highway 1, the mountains became less majestic, while in the foreground, brushland gave this area a distinctly American feel, to me at least. A splash and dash stop was the plan next, but the smell of oven-baked cakes soon put paid to that idea at the Esso station that loomed out of nowhere, like a mirage. It did seem a little odd to me that our first scheduled day on the road was our longest, I can only put it down to acclimating taking its toll as even Norrie was feeling weary. Easy fuelling at a fraction of UK prices was now a routine event and next, we passed a motor complex I'd pencilled in if we had time to look. It was actually a drag racing strip in the middle of nowhere, I had visions of us blasting down the quarter mile for the hell of it but they must have been used to that game, all gates were locked and no one could be seen. At Cache Creek, I very nearly missed the slip-off right, though we were staying on Hwy1, the sign stated 'South' even though I knew we were going East, with the green number '1' sign almost an apology hung on the edge of the road. While the road speeds increased from the town limit up to the plated 60 mph, we caught up to what I believe is the fastest logging truck in the world! Once he sussed out we were no threat his speed eased up to between 80 and 90 mph (not Kmh, I must add), it was easy for us to match his pace especially as he telegraphed the bends in the road to us and obviously knew every one, very well.
Big open plains were now presented to us but I chose to sit in behind 'Mad-Max', going uphill and without a load, he was easily passing all other vehicles, so that was good enough for us. Thankfully the river came back into view again and then it expanded into Kamloops Lake, with lush greenery adorning its banks. Since that last stop there had been a problem with our intercomms, great below 50 mph or so, Norrie could hear me fine but something must have happened to his microphone as at higher speeds it was simply static in my ear and I ended up turning my unit off. More disappointment next in that the two exits that were our preferred options, were both closed due to maintenance. The Satnav took this badly and hadn’t even recalculated by the next exit so, before we were in another town, I took the very next exit which came to our first four-way stop at a main junction. Now this, I'd not read about but, the concept once explained is easy, first one to the junction is first one to go and everyone else stops, and it works, really well, until some foreigners, that didn’t learn, come and muck it up, of course. The clockwork Satnav had caught up by this time and after seeing much of the town, directed us safely to the Ramada Kamloops, where we were instructed to park our bikes next to the lobby, so the desk clerk could watch them for us, superb.
Check-in was swift but we had to carry our panniers to the 2nd-floor room which was thankfully, nearby. There was very nearly a battle for the first shower but that Norrie bloke had lost none of his "travel light - travel fast" mystic properties! While jack flash showered, I unpacked and got ready evening clothes to change into. The night was starting to draw in already so sadly for us, being tired we decided to eat in the hotel restaurant without looking it over first, all empty tables rang alarm bells, the starters were quite good but the mains were not enjoyable it had to be said. Apparently, service had been taken over by a concern that was well respected in mobile catering but didn’t impress us. Much better was the top floor bar with a viewing deck overlooking, let’s all say it together now; the Thompson River. It actually was a very nice end to the day, with drinks and even Irish coffee's on the terrace as the light faded away, a good view of the town and away towards the outline of the mountains in the distance.
Almost before we knew it, we were the last ones supping and the hostess was clearing away tables. As we made our way to pay our tab for the evening we struck up a conversation with a guy at the bar who informed us he was a train driver for the huge passenger trains. Norrie was enthralled and could hardly ask enough questions of him. I couldn’t resist asking if he saw many Grizzly bears to which he thankfully stated, “Very few, they are quite clever and avoid the loud trains”. Most detested apparently were Elk as they wander onto the lines and refuse to move even with a gigantic train heading towards them. Norrie, split his sides laughing at the nickname given to them, and he unfairly used on your gentle editor; Swamp Donkey!
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 25, 2021 21:40:07 GMT
(Day 3) Tuesday – Positive Mental Attitude
No surprise that after the last few days and a decent journey yesterday when we slept in a little the following morning. There were quite a few guests for breakfast but it was a disappointing meal, so we filled up on fruit juice and coffee instead. On passing reception to check on the bike a message handed to me from the tour organisers, added to the concerns of the day. The fires at the state line were worse and additional highways were now closed but our coordinator would keep a close eye on the situation. With apologies, he then announced a mistake in the booking program meant that the two day stop over I was really looking forward to at Mount Robson Park was now only one and our next hotel would be a Best Western Plus, at a nearby town called Valemount. A cryptic ending stated that he would make it up to us, along the way, sounded even less attractive but, outside the day was glorious and the bikes, sat untouched & almost as raring to go as we were.
Having all the hotels pre-paid was a pleasant experience, since we’d not run up any room bills and I was using the free wifi to make face-time video calls back to the UK, check-out was a breeze. We did pause to take some photos from the bar-terrace as the only real elevated view we had was at night. Forgetting the note and looking over the roads and scenery before us instilled me with an expectant feeling, the day was ours for the taking. Soon on the road again, I always took extra care for the first few miles, too easy to be blasé with unfamiliar roads and code.
On the outskirts of Kamloops, we finally left Hwy1 behind and turned North, the Thompson River was divided by North and South names and we joined the Southern Yellowhead Highway (Hwy5), under clear blue skies, how good it felt to be on open roads, once more.
It had been quite some years since I rode a BMW, I've owned three but only ever 2-valve engines. My yard-stick was my trusty ST4s and while the GS was more refined, it didn’t feel as precise nor, anywhere near as involving a ride as the Ducati. However, the GS did, especially in my case, carry a stunning amount of kit. Panniers and topbox were all full to capacity and it hardly felt any different from our first footloose day in Vancouver. Mine was the higher-rated spec of the bikes, remote suspension adjust, cruise control, and refined Mode selectable electronics were mentioned. Tyre pressure indication was fun, so much so, that I never even checked the pressures manually, during the whole trip. Of most value was the cruise control, which allowed me to safely use the Satnav and my helmet cam and next, the heated grips.
I must confess gentle reader to falling into my holiday bad habit of riding without gloves, oh the shame, mainly to easily execute the previous needs. The windscreen being easily adjustable was a nice touch but happened to be set just right for me from the start. The split seats are both height adjustable by means of a clever plate that they rest on, I needed mine set to its lowest position, which was also set from the start. My worn hip was playing me up quite badly at times so the whole ride was a concern to me. Everything felt much better in the heatwave we were experiencing but very soon it became obvious to me that I was having problems pushing the bike upright off its sidestand. To nurse things along, I worked out by standing on the pegs and leaning away from the sidestand, a gentle tug on the bars would ‘usually’ bring the bike upright but it did draw some odd looks from bystanders at times. Poor Norrie was unhappy with his bike, the front end shimmied when braking hard but the tyre pressure was fine, later we were advised to visit a dealer but Norrie didn’t want to lose time and had learned to “suck it up” by then.
These highways all appeared to have been built with the rivers in mind, at the town of Barriere we crossed its river and then the North Thompson within a mile of each other, one bridge a very old metal style, the other a longer concrete creation allowing a good view around and of the likewise, almost ever-present railway lines. We hardly noticed the tiny hamlet of Blackpool, so little of it visible from the road, now I’m not sure why that made me feel hungry but it was after midday by that time and instantly the Wells Grey Inn appeared by the side of the road. The ‘Diner’ sign was all it took for me to signal a stop and my hungry buddy was in full agreement. We headed inside and were greeted with a full-on American booth-style diner, just what I’d hoped for. The pink uniformed waitress, already carrying a Pyrex of coffee, showed us to a booth and started filling our cups without needing to ask, she knew her clientele down to a fine art.
I was hungry enough to tackle an all-day breakfast but, it must be said, Canadian bacon so far, had not been up to scratch (sorry). So, thinking a smaller meal would be better on the bike, we decided to have an egg with toast offering instead, I knew what would happen next and insisted the lady took Norrie’s order first. I was already grinning when she asked how Norrie would his eggs, “Well, what have you got?” was his reply, and the lady, bless her must have listed every variation possible, sunny side up, over-easy, etcetera. I was laughing then but still smiling even writing this now at the look of bewilderment on Norrie’s face – Ace!
What a great simple meal it was too, lightly fried toast, ‘grits’ (tasty fried small potatoes) and a small garnish of grapes really complimented the dish. I did get my own back on behalf of Norrie and stunned the waitress in the process by asking for scrambled eggs and for them to be placed ON the toast, she’d never heard of such a thing and laughed as she went to tell the chef. Getting moving again was quite tough, the heat had soared outside enough that we were glad of parking the bikes in the shade. It was also at the Wells Grey that Norrie spied a replica/caricature of a Grizzly bear, on the sidewalk and decided he must have a photo taken with it, putting his Scotland cap on the bears head became his signature and regular photo for the rest of the holiday.
We were only halfway along our 200-mile route for the day and at that point were meant to visit a nearby river falls but locals told us the heat had dried it up so much that it wasn’t worth visiting! The highway continued to serpentine over and around the North Thompson River as though they were constructed together. Finally turning North again, the trees beside the road became more numerous and green, and in the distance, the first peak we had seen that was covered in snow; was Mount Monashee, I was informed later. A local back at Hell’s Gate operating the Airtram had told us that he had never seen the peaks so barren, either global warming or the forest fires taking the blame. A stretch of legs seemed appropriate so some blacktop and whitetop photos entered the collection. Maybe it was seeing the high topped mountain or the late change of itinerary making the journey seem more spontaneous but to me, today's ride started to feel really special, perhaps it was just getting more used to riding and feeling more connected to the bike or perhaps, it really was just a little bit epic.
I don’t think that was on Norrie’s mind when, a few miles up the road, he pulled alongside me pointing to his gas tank, I thought I was pushing things a little and when I looked at my display, it also started to flash into petrol reserve. I saw our hotel but drove on, knowing that a gas station was just up the road, I dislike having to hunt for petrol at the start of a ride, anyway, and thought we might grab a coffee. Late afternoon now and the hotel a few miles back down the highway had me thinking a snack might be better so while paying for the gas I asked for options. The local Swiss Bakery was highly rated but had just closed so The Gathering Tree, a few blocks away was next on their list. What a treasure Valemount was, clean streets, picket-fenced houses, and a community where people seemed happy to stop, take time, and actually talk to each other. The coffee shop was very new-age but obviously popular, the gift shop sold artwork and jewellery while all the food, including the great cakes, was homemade. The sign above the serving desk offered “Enjoy the Journey”, good advice. With the sun starting to kiss the tops of the nearby mountains we thought it best to go and check in to the hotel, the outside impressed me, with vertical wood beams along its length and the bike parking under cover and right next to the lobby door, great start. That soon faltered but, not their fault, no payment had been made for the room so a credit card swipe was needed until that could be sorted out. We were offered a porters trolley to take all our luggage together and save our weary backs, which I thought was a great idea. The room was excellent with a wood theme continuing throughout. After showering and changing we wandered back downstairs into the atrium, a huge open space comprising a central open fire, snack tables with motorcycle logos etched in, and finally a drinks bar made completely from rough-cut wood and stone.
It was a great place to hang out and since there were also free supplies of hot drinks, water, and fruit juice, we did just that. I’m not sure why I had misjudged the hotel, from its name, it was well appointed throughout, to the rear of the property a small garden to walk into leading to a steam room and at the far end a swimming pool that was a hive of activity as it was fitted with water slides. It was then we found out the children in Canada also had a long summer break, similar to the UK. Going back to our room, I noticed a reading and quiet area above the atrium that was also equipped with computers for guest use and took a chance to browse some local websites.
Valemount lies at the intersection of three major mountain ranges; Rocky, Monashee, and Cariboo. Temperate in the summer for trail walks, hiking, and mountain biking while winters bring out skis and snowmobiles, so all year-around activities. Norrie took a keen interest that the massive passenger train ‘The Canadian’ stops at Valemount station at least twice a week. The name for the town was coined during railway construction: ‘The Vale amidst the Mountains’, very fitting. Our next stop was to be only 20 miles away, in the shadow of Mount Robson, the tallest in the Rockies, it had been visible for most of the afternoon but was now a monolithic force that dominated the skyline, I wondered if we would be able to ride our bikes up any (very) gentle dirt tracks and by chance asked our waitress in the hotel restaurant later if she knew of anywhere. An avid hiker herself, she warned that all the tracks would be too steep and rocky for anything but specialist machines, then, an interesting “but, you can hire quad bikes, here in town”. That, spiked my curiosity, no end, more so, when the mention of one the highest but most accessible local ascents, Canoe Mountain, was possible even by mountain bike. A few more drinks in the atrium and I was sold on the idea but Norrie I felt, was going to take a little persuasion, even once a few obstacles were overcome. Back in the room, I had my notebook out instantly and was checking options on the internet even while backing up my videos. Norrie had been watching TV but the poor guy was fast asleep when I next checked however, that was nearly midnight. I didn't dare look at any images of the Mountain itself as that was one surprise I couldn't spoil but I had the exhilarating feeling that we were on the edge of doing something astounding and I would not let the chance pass by!
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 26, 2021 21:01:32 GMT
(Day 4) Wednesday – ‘Test for Echo’
(How could I miss out a full Rush tribute, when in Canada!)
It was Norrie’s laughing that woke me the next morning, apparently I’d ‘trashed’ my bed once again! Couldn’t be helped, every hotel we stayed in so far had immaculately prepared beds but, with sheets tucked in drum-tight especially at the base. Now, I never had liked direct pressure onto my toes and this seems to have only become worse with advancing years so, even though I now pulled the sheets out before getting onto bed, I was obviously giving them a good kicking about during the night, apologies all around then. An excellent breakfast and unlimited coffee were just the start to the day I’d hoped for then, straight back to the room to phone around for quad bikes to hire. The first two hire stores I tried had nothing available at all then, a call to the Valemount information centre gained another two contacts to phone, the first, fully booked but the last, had two bikes left.
Was everything on this holiday going to be bitter sweet? The sting in the tail was that the last store, Alpine Country Rentals only had two bikes left for customers bringing their own trailers or station wagons, they certainly didn’t expect two bike riders today and the quad bikes were not road legal but, they would try and locate a spare trailer and phone us back. It didn’t seem promising, the cost was reasonable considering the need for insurance but, would be higher due to having to take us and the bikes to and from, a drop off point. Bags all packed and still no phone call, our ride really needed to be today as we were moving on again tomorrow morning. Then, the phone call I’d hoped for, Alpine had located a trailer and the bikes were ours, if we wanted them. Norrie still seemed a little reluctant, we were a long way from home but, I soon pointed out that I thought the risk was less than riding motorbikes on the open road! I think curiosity actually won the day and like me, Norrie might not be able to forgive himself on missing this type of opportunity. Changing, check-out and charging away never went quite so quickly as this time.
The rental store is only 2 miles away from the hotel, passing the gas station and The Gathering Tree once again, almost made me feel like I knew my surroundings. We had to cross the train line, I won’t say ‘crossing’ because it’s simply as ‘the movies’ depict, no barriers, simply a bell and flashing red light when a train approaches. In a wonderful turn of fate, I could hear a train whistle in the distance so with no traffic around, drew up before the line and let Norrie have an early treat. I managed to turn my helmet-cam on just as the train drew level, the driver returned my wave as he flashed by, commercial stock seeming to be the entire train load. Norrie was grinning like a Cheshire cat, I took it as a good sign as we made a left turn onto Main Street or, as its also named and I much prefer; ‘Whiskey Fill Road’.
This seemed to be an older part of town, with many of the service businesses tucked away here but, certainly none the worse for it. A tiny library and then a white wooden painted church cross bore all the signs of a caring community with construction work in progress too. Next, we smelt the Swiss Bakery even before we saw it! Fresh bread being baked, then, the rental store, with our quads already waiting outside for us and huge beasts they looked too!
Inside we were greeted by Tara who made sure we knew what we had booked and then set us away with some paperwork to complete. Monies paid she then took us on a tour and inspection of the bikes, both Can-Am 4-wheel drive machines, the black one, a 400cc size was to be mine, while Norrie got a red 500cc machine fitted with power steering. Instructions on using the winch to extricate ourselves was a slight concern, while I was surprised how little storage capacity the bike had for the expanses of bodywork at the rear, it was important to me as we were advised to zip down to the bakery for some food to take with us, while the bikes were being loaded. The bakery had the look of an Alpine cottage from the frontage, complete with Swiss flags proudly at either side. Even the coffee was good inside, which was just as well as the queue to be served made me worry about getting back in time. Two rounds of sandwiches, made with local produce and better still, freshly made bread were just what we needed. Back at the rental store, the bikes had both been loaded by helper Brad who was ready and waiting for us. We locked up our BMW’s and jumped into Brad’s battered station wagon who promptly drove us back down Whiskey Fill Road in a cloud of dust. The road soon emerged onto Highway 5 and there in front of us was the massive expanse of the mountain, growing larger with every mile.
Brad was an interesting young guy, so laid back and easy to talk with. He had left Valemount, only to return a few years later for the attraction of year-around activities. The access road to the mountain tracks came up soon and Brad turned off into a clearing to enable unloading of the bikes. He reversed the bikes out at full speed as though he’d done it all his life. I asked if the trail to the summit was sign posted at all and got the classic reply of “nope, take the first left fork and head for the sky!” Wearing our helmets seemed a decent idea for both eye protection and keeping warm, we suited up and stored our food and drink on the bikes before taking a few final photo’s, we were both grinning at each other in anticipation. It had been 20 years since I spent an afternoon on a Honda ‘big red’, which only surprised me for how long ago it was. The Can-Am was a far more sophisticated machine, using a Rotax engine design that is used in many off and on road motor bikes, easily switchable 2 and 4 wheel drive, although we were advised to stay in 4 wheel drive.
Norrie waved for me to go first and I was keen to get moving as the heat was oppressive in the absence of any breeze. The gentle lower trails were a good introduction to riding the bikes for us but, soon enough we left the lower tree line and the path became narrower and more rock strewn. It had been that dry for so long that a dust cloud was been blown up behind me causing Norrie to have to drop away behind to avoid being choked. Excited progress needed to be tempered against the inexperience of this type of riding, so that I found myself slowing down a few times, when I felt caution over rough ground was needed. I hoped that years of mountain bike riding had given me a decent eye for finding a smooth line but some of the violent jolts on rocks that were much bigger than I anticipated, disproved that at times.
Occasionally, I would stop and check that Norrie was still visible as there were no mirrors fitted to either bike, a dust cloud with a red dot denoting his progress. The left fork was already passed and the track narrowed, in places to only a little wider than the quads, there was already quite an incline but, this didn’t ease at all despite switchbacks, always climbing. For fifteen or so minutes, the trees on either side of us were so dense that there was no real view to be seen, other than a view of the hillside and some vegetation on our right. Then a little while later, as the trail began to stretch out to a visible length, the trees thinned out on our left and suddenly, there in the distance was Valemount and our first view of some of the peaks. An even better view appeared and I couldn’t resist but have a quick safety check behind before stopping for a breather. I turned off the engine and engaged the parking brake quickly to soak up some atmosphere (and be able to hear Norrie’s approach).
Apart from the ticking of a cooling engine, all that could be heard were some distant birds and the breeze shooting the trees. I stood on top of the bike to snap some photo’s, just in time for Norrie to appear and zap up to park behind my bike in no time. Perhaps, it was the frantic pace that our adventure had been at so far but the contrast to that moment was noticeable to both of us. I only found out later we were less than half way to the summit at that point, the theatre of mountains all around, still tall above.
(Valemount in the Distance, colossal Mt Robson besting the clouds, above and the left of my head)
Media calls dealt with and no idea how much further to go, we pressed on. Still warm at that altitude, sheltered by the trees once again, all that was to end suddenly as we emerged onto an open area, know to the locals as ‘the golf course’. Much more rutted, with deep tracks and larger rocks, our progress was slowed with the concern of causing damage to the quads. Cutting back across the plains, exposed us to some cold winds, took us the very edge of a precipitous drop but showed the beauty of the western mountains that so far, had been hidden. The area now took on a barren, almost volcanic feel, added to, I imagine by not having seen another living soul on our assent. We traversed the slopes a little faster now, our faith in the ability of the machines, rising almost as quickly as the temperature felt to be dropping. Then, finally, with some odd looking vertical artefacts, in the distance was the pinnacle of our ride…
Re-watching the video I took of this final section of the climb, I can still remember reaching a plateau where the telecommunications tower is sited and then a small but steep rise in the distance, I still laugh at my uncharacteristic thought of “I ‘aint stopping now!” and accelerated up the ramp onto the final summit. Blow me, there at a solitary wooden cross, next to the edge of infinity was…
Another pair of quad bikes! I found it funny but very fitting that a lovely mature couple had made the same adventure as us to enjoy this marvel of nature. After saying hello and making contact the gentleman came up with the insightful comment that “every single person should see a sight like this in their lifetime”. We couldn’t agree more, to see something so much bigger and more inspiring than ourselves, is humbling. Parked safely and engines silenced we could truly appreciate the calmness and stunning views of a panorama of multiple mountain ranges.
I’ve never imagined such a vista could exist in my imagination, never mind our own world. The addition of some ballistic looking weather monitoring equipment, along with the telecomms was a distraction but, a necessary one and as soon as that thought was formed I couldn’t help but wonder how much effort that construction had taken. I did find it amusing that I had a full service strength mobile signal as I decided to try a ‘photo-sphere’ bubble photo on my iPhone, to post up on Google maps later, nature and technology in harmony – I hope.
We could not but help taking hundreds of photos between us, it did not matter how far one looked in the distance, there was always more peaks and spectacular views to be seen. The stark wooden cross that faced away from the nearest edge and distant Kinbasket lake marks the point where a young snowmobile rider lost his life from parking his machine on an ice pack that gave way. A small pile of stones was nestled at the cross base and it seemed only respectful for each of us to add a small rock.
(Kinbasket Lake)
By way of explanation for today’s title, the Canadian band ‘Rush’, released an album called Test for Echo, which featured on its cover a structure of stones, in the rough form of a human being. We had seen one already at Hell’s Gate and here on a sparse area away from the cross, was another small figure and thankfully, the travelling couple reminded me that these figures originally were part of the indigenous Inuit people’s culture and indicated a landmark or significant location and called ‘Inukshuk’, I found it touching that someone had taken the time for construction, perhaps, for those who had passed by or even more poignantly, had given their lives to the mountain.
The helpful couple wandered off in exploration while hunger got the better of us and we dug our wonderful sandwiches out from the trunks of our machines and devoured them. Norrie explored a nearby basin while I shot some video on my cameras. Some snow in the basin and a cutting wind running through it, proved how high we were, I thought the possible lack of oxygen might have been the issue to make us move first but it was the inevitable cold temperature, even in spite of our own motorcycle clothing, that made the decision to descend. The quads started flawlessly and with a farewell wave to our fellow explorers we reluctantly started on the decent. Whilst it was no problem keeping a good speed, the quad slowing easily when needed on the throttle, my issue was tired legs from trying to hold a stable body position. We reached the edge of the forest again and overhead I could see eagles circling above us, so took the chance to stop and risk some long range photo’s that I didn’t think would work, Norrie, did the same but stood on the back of his quad for a better view. Just as the birds flew out of view a group of two quads and a two-seater ‘dune buggy’ type quad came towards us. The buggy looked great fun and kept up easily with the single riders, I must say though, the lady passenger was looking a bit ‘shook-up’. Into the forest again and it was difficult to recognise the same sections of track that we must have ridden already. I stopped at one point to let Norrie in front, keen to get some video of him ripping down the trail, sadly, all I got was a dust blanket in front of me, no matter how slowly the speed; bad idea. Just as well that I decided to hang back to avoid the worst of dust, rounding a corner a group of two wheeled trail bike riders were hammering up to towards us. I thought it best to stop on the side and give them room to pass but, I was stunned at the lead rider, he had a small girl, no older than 5 years, sat on the TANK of the bike, holding on to the handlebars! I hoped his bike skills were good, for both their sakes.
We were back at or start point too quickly, an hour before our appointed time for pick-up as it turns out. Having downed our last drinks and chatted to other quad riders we had no choice but to enjoy the forest view, especially as bizarrely enough, we couldn’t get a mobile signal at all. At least we were warm once again, some riders offered to call our hire company as soon as they got signal and thankfully, within 20 minutes Brad arrived, which was just as well as poor Norrie received a nasty bite from some winged critter, requiring medication eventually! Bikes loaded, we were taken back to the hire store for them to be checked over before we could get on our way. Tara gave me little scolding for some damage to a section of plastic on my quad that I honestly did not know the cause, really! That was quite nicely balanced by not using any fuel according to the bike gauge at all. Thanks made to everyone, we high-tailed it down the road in the hope of another great coffee at the Swiss Bakery but, they were just closing and as luck wouldn’t have it, so was the Gathering Tree. Back to the gas station then. Our bikes were still fully fuelled, so just as I went to pay for our coffee’s, the lovely Swiss lady owner of the bakery, was paying for her own gas and insisted on paying for our coffee’s as well. A small but heart-warming gesture that for me, portrayed Valemount perfectly. Sad to leave but still hyped from the best unplanned adventure I could have hoped for, the 20 mile ride to our overnight stop seemed all too easy. Off a small side road, we literally turned under the shadow of Mount Robson to such an idyllic location, complete with wood cottages. The shale driveway and parking area certainly worried me but didn’t trouble the BMW at all, one of the hosts, Claudia, was waiting to greet us on the porch as we climbed the stairs to it. The main lodge we were staying in was immaculate and turned out to the hosts home as well, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that shoes were to be left in the hall. The evening meal was to be served soon, so the race was on to unpack the bikes, get kit up to the top floor to our room called the ‘Grizzly Den 2’ and manage a shower too. Two single beds and small tables were all the tiny attic room could take and our 4 panniers were literally spilled out all over the floor. We both caught our heads on the low overhead roof timbers but what a great shower it was. Clothing changed, I wanted to get downstairs so Norrie could shower, our other host, Curtis, greeted me warmly and we met our first stumbling block, I’d forgot (and was advised by our itinerary) that alcohol isn’t normal available at the lodge, thankfully, Curtis was happy for us to buy some of his personal stock of Canadian lager, which suited us just dandy!
It was to be a communal evening meal and at the large table an English couple and Canadian family were already discussing their adventures, talk came easily and many questions fielded about our bike tour and Canoe Mountain in particular. A delightful elderly couple from Florida introduced themselves, just as Norrie arrived in time to be amazed that they were travelling on the Canadian passenger train we heard so much about already. The gentleman had owned his own business and knew not only the astronaut Neil Armstrong but President Ford, what interesting input he made. I can hardly remember the food, I’m a little ashamed to say, it was hot, home cooked and very welcome, with nothing left on my plate, the conversations were of such interest, brief friends, united by interests of travel and nature. All too soon, people needed to take to their beds either due to active days past or those to come, we took a stroll outside onto the pristine lawns that led down to the nearby waterway, at the water’s edge a plinth had been constructed as a viewing platform that now housed a nest of wicker chairs under a veiled tent so visitors can admire the view and tranquillity. Back at the lodge an outdoor telescope had been provided that allowed good views of ‘the’ Mountain, its 13,000ft peak shrouded in mist, as often happened.
It’s probably a good thing that the other guests had retired and that no alcohol was easily available. We chatted on the day’s events for an easy hour and pondered the next day before tiredness caught up with us too. Our room might only have had small single beds for the first time on this vacation but, they were so comfortable with quality bedding, with only the few sounds of nature outside, I drifted off into a deep sleep, sadly, it was only to be for a few hours…
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 26, 2021 21:23:53 GMT
Thursday (D5) – ‘Natural Science’
Keeping hydrated on a longer ride day, I find is essential. We were surprised to find the average temperature profile for British Columbia in the high 20’s °C for August, so much for my year around perceptions of cool and snow. This preamble is just to help prove that a single bottle of alcohol wasn’t the main cause of my needing to make a ‘call of nature’, in the ‘wee’ hours of the morning (sorry). I didn’t find much humour however, after jumping up in the pitch black and promptly cracking my skull on the low overhead roof beam edge! Stopping the bleeding was now more of a priority than toilet duty but it was only superficial and probably knocked some sense into me. Wide awake now, I decided to grab my notebook to catch up on some contact with friends and family. What a backdrop to do it with though, sat at the dinner table looking out towards Mt. Robson, the rest of the lodge in silence, just a magical time-out that I could keep for myself. Our longest ride so far today, the planning notes told me, 260 miles to Jasper, finishing in Banff for two nights, at last, a stop-over. Our hosts needed the table to prepare for breakfast, so I decamped to a settee and remember wrapping a warm blanket around myself, left out for just that purpose. A reward of steaming hot coffee was supplied and I took a moment to feel truly blessed for being, right here – right now. Soon the table was full with our lodge companions and I was able to entertain them with some of our ride videos, the quad bikes section provoking the most interest and questions. Breakfast was of excellent quality but, with my being up so long, not quite enough quantity! It would have been interesting to see some of the many walks from the lodge but we only had time for a brief walk down again, to the river in appreciation of the location. Pristine lawns, babbling creek and a rolling forest and ourselves, all had to pay homage to overwhelming Mount Robson.
Getting packed was becoming easier now, more from repetition than design. There was a chill in the air as we set off, so I took the precaution of wearing my lightweight waterproof jacket and with the heated grips, soon felt comfortable on the move. Apologies, dear reader, as I forgot to mention the two additions I made to our bikes after collecting them, both bikes got fitted with an ‘angel-bell’ that my fiancée insisted upon. These are to warn away, bad spirits and who am I to argue, mine had guided me across Europe and back without incident so if it helps in the slightest, so far away from home, then, I’m happy to add a few grams of luck. Second, to help my on-board comfort, I brought my AirHawk seat pad with me, the fraction of extra seat height vastly overcome by the lack of any saddle soreness. It might of took some explaining at an airport baggage check but, you’d have to try one to know how good they can be.
The day before, past Valemount, we left Highway 5 and rode all of 5 miles to the turning we now emerged onto, once again. Hwy 16, better known as the Yellowhead and oddly, I did see a sign for the area known as ‘Tête Jaune Cache’ which inspired the highway name and many other things apparently, after a notable fur trapper from the 1800’s, was gifted the nickname because of his blonde hair. The Fraser River was, yet again our flowing partner while intermediate hills and trees soon hid the river but even Mt. Robson itself. The river soon expanded into ‘Moose Lake’ not that we could see much of it, the traffic was all exceeding the posted speed limits and we were quite happy to do the same, given that the last law enforcement we saw in two days was at Valemount. Once again we appeared to be surrounded by mountains as we passed through numerous valleys.
Trying to shoot video on the move was always fun, the battery has a maximum life of 4 hours and while I had a spare battery, I’d had one flatten within a few hours so was trying to turn it off when not needed. It took three seconds of pressing the power button to turn it on, then I’d wait a second before hitting the record button next to it. It could be done with thin summer gloves but my biggest problem was that I’d forget what state the unit was in! I could do with a dummy switch to help me out, there is a phone app to use but that would of entailed too much complexity and using Wi-Fi therefore, expending even more battery. Our first state crossing into Alberta came up soon enough, proudly signed as ‘Wild Rose Country’ and then a line of traffic waiting to pay for access into Jasper National Park, which we also needed to pay, no reduction for motorcycles here, payment is only on a per person basis. Cars in front of us changed lanes in front as a giant motorhome towing a car took some time to process, we caught up to a couple on a similar BMW to ours, they gave us a friendly wave, as we also swapped lanes to get going after paying our fee.
It was only another 10 miles to the town of Jasper, we fuelled the bikes up on the way in at one of the few stations we found had a pay at pump facility. There seemed to be motorbikes all over especially sidecars, which I saw once moving again, were actually being used on novel sight-seeing tours. We rode the length of main street and I could almost feel Norrie bursting with excitement as this was also the location of a major train station, the sidings running nearly the full length of the town. I parked us up inside its car park, as I saw a plume of diesel smoke announcing a possible departure, Norrie was just as keen as I knew he would be, camera at the ready instantly, for some big-loco action. The twin-engine behemoth took some moving and impressed us and the other spectators that had appeared. Coffee was, of course, always on our agenda and after a brief walk of Connaught Drive decided that ‘the Other Paw Bakery’ café would suit us just fine. The queue out of the door, good testament of our decision, the coffee was good but my first taste of a bar I’d seen a few times, was even better; a homemade ‘Nanaimo’ bar. I’ll let the gentle reader look it up, at your leisure – it’s worth the trouble of trying to make some, too.
Jasper is listed as the commercial centre of the National park but, I took a liking to it instantly. Busy with tourists walking around but with a nice atmosphere too, the regular ringing of train bells adding to the feel of an active town. Every outlet was packed into an area with an average population of 5000 or so, gift shops competed with restaurants on the main roads, while in parallel, drug stores, clothing, sports, grocery, bike hire and every other needed supply was available. Norrie treated himself to some nice designer glasses, while I decided to make do with some strong painkillers as my head was still throbbing from its lodge denting. We saw a beautiful looking streamlined Victory cycle, with matching metallic red trailer that looked ideal for mile munching these roads, with that in mind, we started back to our own bikes, Norrie zipped off to get some static loco photos and once ready, I noticed what I thought was a small castle onto a nearby peak. Turned out to be the Jasper Skytram that sits atop Whistlers Mountain, I perhaps greedily, wished we had just a little more time…
Change of Highway now to 93 and its ominous name, ‘Icefields Parkway’ and no sooner had we got going than Norrie was pointing to a Bear Warning sign, at the side of the road. My travelling buddy was now desperate to see even a small bear, while your cautious editor wasn’t keen to see anything moving near the roadside, the signs advice of “All bears are dangerous, if seen, stay inside your vehicle”, didn’t inspire any confidence either and I started taking up a more middle-of-road, riding position when no traffic was around or, ‘making progress’. I cussed to myself at missing a turn onto some possible easy, back road action on 93A but knew both routes led to our next view point of Athabasca Falls. Although many of the huge mountains around us appeared motionless, the foreground seemed to change constantly and I had the notion we were riding though a forest of Christmas trees at one point! Soon enough our off-turn appeared, always with scenic signs to assist, as nice as it was to cover distance, I always appreciated turning onto minor roads as the pre-cursor to a discovery of some type. The car park was as busy as the scenic walk next to the river, the falls themselves were a small walk away but once again, visitors told us that they were much diminished so, with time pressing on, we decided to do the same and chalked up the occasion to a nice leg-stretch.
Back on the 93 the roadside vista was changing once again, the vegetation becoming sparser, oddly this is also intended as a general meaning for the word ‘Athabasca’ itself, from the language of the Cree Tribe who inhabited the area. The hillsides suddenly gave way to open wetlands that ran right up to the very roadside, birds could be seen feeding and the temperature dropped a few degrees with the breeze running over the land and onto the highway. A scenic viewpoint sign appeared so we pulled into the rest area and read up on the huge ice laden mountain facing us; Stutfield Peak. I was amazed at the history interplay between the original inhabitants and English background, the simple example here being that this mountain is part of the Winston Churchill Range, in the Canadian Rockies. A telescope was available for the interested to use and I waited to use it while Norrie got some good photo practise in. I’m not sure if the vehicles were few on the highway or it was the qualities of the area but I really enjoyed the calm of the surroundings. Mentioning vehicles, a huge Merc explorer pulled up that I was sure I’d noted back at the falls, Norrie confirmed that we had indeed seen ‘Mustang Sally’, adventurers from Germany who from the sticker collection appear to have worked their way up from Florida!
Projected arrival time: 7pm, dammit, when enjoying oneself is the only reason for NOT having a SatNav. No sooner did we get going, cresting an incline than there was a Skywalk announced by the road side, there is a much larger version of this, that I was disappointed to miss, at Vancouver. A glass walkway is usually suspended by massive horseshoe shaped metalwork, in such a way as to give the visitor the experience they are walking in thin-air over a view point, in this case a ravine far below, sadly, I knew we would need some decent food and fuel before much longer, so we pressed on.
But only for 5 miles, some views are too good to pass and the Columbia Icefield area and well sited Discovery centre, opposite, was ideally placed for us to be able to stop safely and take photos of the active glacier and the array of mountains the most prominent of which, all topped 10,000 feet high. Tour buses were mere dots to the naked eye and as tempting as the centre looked we didn’t even dismount the bikes, both of us being hungry now after only a snack, back at Jasper.
That tiny white dot middle bottom is a full size TOUR BUS!
30 miles to the next fuel stop didn’t sound too bad but I didn’t figure how popular the area was or the convoy of tour buses that we happened upon just as road became narrow and twisting (or ‘good’ as we motorcyclists prefer). The low down grunt of the GS’s was used well but double solid lines are never placed on a road without reason so, some caution was necessary, so sooner had we dispensed with the caravan than we came across a full 300-degree loop in the highway, so that I could easily look back to see Norrie, ‘styling-it-up’! I heard it referred to later as ‘The Big Bend’ as there is also a Big Bend Peak, I couldn’t figure out the need for it apart from as homage to the peak. More flatlands were appearing now as altitude altered too, it looked as though flooding might be an issue in a few places, white topped snow peaks were becoming more numerous as well.
All we had done, ever since leaving Jasper on Hwy 93, was ride though valleys that in essence did not even scratch the surface of the Rockies, never mind the other joining ranges. A 5 mile almost straight stretch of road finally gave in to the base of Mt. Wilson and curved us nicely, past a thankfully raised road barrier for use in winter to the Saskatchewan River Crossing. Well I thought that where we were, the sign now simply said ‘The Crossing Resort’, it had fuel and food and the first was deal with, even if we did have to queue individually. It was already 6pm by the time we sat down to a simple but tasty meal of soup and in my case, chilli and rice. I remember taking advantage of a free top-up of coffee, just as the light outside started failing, yes gentle reader, rain had finally caught up with us.
I don’t mind riding in the wet as long as I’m kitted up for it properly. I ran out to my bike and retrieved my one-piece suit and Gortex gloves, my full-on rain. My Daytona bike boots are the only ones I had anyway and had been proved in torrential rain so, I was more than happy with those. I didn’t bother looking up an arrival time now, safe progress was called for instead of time-keeping. 85 miles to go was the only figure I was interested in as we set off into declining conditions, the bikes hand-guards did a great job of deflecting wind and rain but, the temperature was plummeting and the heated grips were very well received.
Some 15 minutes or so down the road, flashing yellow lights, either side of the highway slowed us down for us to be alerted to – roadworks??? Yes indeed, the entire highway width had just been renewed with shiny but lovely and smooth, black tarmac. Even better, it was so new that no middle or edge lines had been painted and the rainwater could actually be seen forming pools on the road surface. Despite my initial concerns at seeing this, it didn’t trouble the bikes one little bit and after assessing the conditions we ended up riding only a little less than we had been previously. Total darkness came very quickly now, the bike headlights coming into their own, we were easily able to pass other road vehicles by keeping a wary position on the road. I was more nervous about wildlife running out in front of us during darkness, well done BMW for designing excellent main-beams. Thick forests on either side of the road didn’t help my imagination but thanks to design again, hands and feet were toasty warm to keep our alertness, decently high.
Just as well, near the end of our time with Hwy 93 we, once again, saw flashing lights in the distance. This time was even odder, with only rescue vehicles in attendance, we could see a stretcher being pulled up the embankment, the occupant, thankfully alive was waving a hand near one of the search lights. Waved on, we soon turned East onto a past favourite, Hwy 1, for the near final run into Banff. Nearly, as we have not had any Satnav insanity today! Next exit we were again, taken off, to cross a road and ride straight down the other side, back onto Hwy 1. Then, instead of taking us to the exit after Banff, giving us an easy ride to the hotel and it being on the correct side of the road for us. We were taken off early, in the teeming rain I might add, over railway tracks, through housing areas and then downtown Banff before a final insult of passing our hotel, on the opposite roadside with every nearby chance of a U-turn being denied by road signs.
I knew the garage was underneath the hotel and wonderfully warm it was too, once I’d zipped inside to get a parking pass. 9pm now and nearly 10 hours travelling time and once we had checked-in and took turns unpacking and showering, we both realised how hungry we were. It was still raining heavily so there was no way we would have ventured far away from the hotel however, the bar looked very inviting and essentially, was still serving food. I can only vaguely remember a warm meal with Nacho’s but, the local beers were mighty fine and our entertaining barman even introduced me a naughty new spirit; Royal Crown. Excellent nightcap. The last minutes of the day saw us staggering around outside trying to take night-time photos, at least the rain had stopped but, that cold shock made me feel so tired and I can honestly say dear reader, I don’t remember anything until the next morning.[/SIZE][/FONT]
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 26, 2021 21:49:23 GMT
Friday (D6) – Boardwalk Banff
Whilst I did set an alarm, it was the rain hammering against the windows that woke me first, that along with the need to wash the taste of last night out of my mouth. I am a little ashamed to say gentle reader that when the alarm did go off, I cancelled it and in such a comfortable bed, went straight back to sleep again! Obviously, we then woke up later than ever with only 30 minutes left before the end of the breakfast service. The waitress confirmed my fears that the rain and heavy fog were set in for the day and that any plans for elevated sight-seeing would be pointless.
After a quick check to see all was fine with our somewhat dirty bikes we returned to our room, donned lightweight waterproofs and struck out to see something of Banff. In a nice co-incidence, it seems Banff was named in 1884 by George Stephen, president of the Canadian Pacific Railway, recalling his birthplace after the town in Aberdeen-shire, Scotland. Being the town with the second highest elevation in Alberta would no doubt make this a very popular destination for skiers and outdoor lovers alike, except when it was raining cats and dogs, of course. A little way down Banff Avenue in some forward planning we ducked into a hotel we were thinking of eating at that evening, over a coffee we decided against the menu and quickly decided to go rain dancing again. Norrie looked every bit the debonair traveller in his Dianese clothing, while I appeared more like 'bag-man' in my roll-up two-piece nylon, in fairness, everyone was wrapped up against the elements so that even a 'stranger-from-a-strange-land' didn’t feel out of place. After crossing Wolf street, the hotels were left behind us and replaced with every type of shop, bar and restaurant that could be squeezed in side-by-side.
With thanks to Wikipedia!
In our never ending coffee quest, I dragged a reluctant Norrie into Starbucks for the first time ever and, despite his reservations he enjoyed the coffee, even if every single seat was taken. Back outside, interesting heritage and artistic works vied for our attention among the normal tourist items, we did buy some trinkets but of course, ever wary of carrying capacity on the bikes.
Mid-afternoon now, the sun was trying its hardest to burn off the haze on the mountains but, it was a losing battle. We wandered into the 'Clock tower village Mall', more as a way of avoiding another downpour than anything else and while Norrie checked out a potential purchase in a jewellers, I waited outside and ended up chatting to a lady with an immaculately groomed and very friendly dog, also taking shelter. She explained her husband was 'somewhere' in the building as they had just left the bar up above on the first floor, that she recommended. Norrie had returned by this time and it was all the recommendation we needed, so the Banff Avenue Brewing Company was our next visit. For mere drinking novices, like ourselves, the novelty of the brewery was in offering 6 (or even 12 for the seasoned drinkers), small sample glasses of any combination of available brews. Along with a snack, to slow the drinking process, I must say I enjoyed all the brews except the very darkest. What a pleasant way to pass the time.
A fellow Brit, on hearing my accent came over and introduced himself, oddly enough, he was also touring on a motorcycle and making his way to Revelstoke which in circular coincidence was our next destination too! We snapped some photos from the veranda just as some of the fog was clearing so we could see some of the 7 peaks visible just from the normal forward view, Mount Cory at 2800m being the highest. Sustained for a little while longer we set off again, the rain eased to just intermittent and we could see the effect of it in the swollen Bow river as we crossed on the concrete road bridge dating back to 1923. Norrie also managed a quite atmospheric Mountain photo, the peak visible for a few minutes as the fog cleared, temporarily.
Following the river Bow now, I had half an idea to try and get to The Fairmont complex and its castle like hotel but the rain came once again and in fading light we decided seeing it from a distance was enough and turned back, walking through woodland this time and crossing the very newest pedestrian bridge, impressively spanning the 80m of river with wooden cladding on its sides and a wood deck to walk on.
Soon enough we were back on Banff avenue and into the corridor of hotels but now we saw the pleasing sight of a hotel with an Italian restaurant in its facilities, the 'Banff Ptarmigan Inn' was inviting in itself and even if we only had a simple specialty meal of meatballs, it was very good and no desert was needed.
Our hotel was only a 15 minute walk up the avenue and even in precautionary waterproofs, it was still pleasant to enjoy the pure fresh air. Back in the room a complementary bottle of wine was waiting from David at Cycle BC. A kind gesture, I thought but we had consumed a fair amount of octane already so Norrie stored it safely in one of his panniers. Tea was much more appropriate, back on Day 1 I'd been given some local tea to try and since we were as close to 'home' on the bikes, right now, as would be as good a time as any - thank you, Cartems Donuterie, it was refreshing. Unlike the weather forecast for tomorrow: more rain, I let Norrie study the weather channels on TV while I looked up route options again on my notebook, there wasn’t many but, I didn’t want to try and avoid the main highway we rode on the way in, for a two lane road that took us closer to a mountain range; fingers crossed.
I was itching (sorry dear reader, not literally, I might add) to try the hotel pool but couldn’t lure Norrie along, so wondering if there might be enough room and forgetting it was Friday night, I wandering into a huge area, with only two people present. The pool was easily 25m long and kept at a moderate temperature to allow swimming. The extra prize was a big jet pool in the corner, I was going to say, Jacuzzi but it was oblong and could easily accommodate 30 or so people. After 10 length or so in the main pool I turned the jets on and sat in the corner pool, it was blissful. Sitting down, jets in the very lower level massaged my calves, while through the upper windows I could still see the dark outline of nearby mountains, illuminated, I can only imagine by distant lights. Extra, more powerful jets were placed on the rear of the seating level and my back was very glad of those, before I knew it the 15 minute timer had clicked off, so after a quick drink I had a last swim in the big pool. I had the whole facility to myself now so a last dip in the smaller pool seemed a good way to end. I didn’t realise my muscles were so sore, I tried laying down on the sitting area to direct the jets onto my upper legs and glutes, on leaving the water I freely admit to feeling a little drained so sat in a tabled rest area, next to the pool and sipped the rest of my water until it was shower time.
Norrie was channel surfing the dozens of information channels on the TV, when I returned, there was so much to do that we had missed out upon but at least we had a feel for the good character of the area. Sleep came so easily once again but, isn’t that the way it should be, on holiday?
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 26, 2021 22:01:00 GMT
Saturday D7 – Revelstoke (Workin’ them Angels) Another alarm call and another trashed bed, I couldn’t ignore either, so I dressed and even made the bed presentable since we were leaving soon. I hardly dared to look out of the window but, the sun was shining, the roads were dry and the sky was the deepest blue I’d seen in a long time. Breakfast was a quiet affair with few guests, being familiar with the hotel’s routine eased the path for us but I mused over how staying for two nights didn’t seem to be long at all when arriving late on the first evening. Still, today was a relatively easy 180 miles and mainly highway, we were soon packed and in the oven otherwise known as the garage, trying to get mobile as quickly as possible and keep what little hydration we had. I was surprised how quiet the roads were that we had only walked yesterday but not as surprised at how sore I was on the bike, probably from the hydro-pounding, last night! Unavoidably, we soon turned back onto Highway 1 but, I had a cunning plan. Only a few miles on, 1A parallels the Trans-Canada Highway but, is a mile closer to the foot of the various peaks, including Mount Ishbel and the many jagged features of Castle Mountain. The exit came up for 1A and I could see the traffic slowing down ahead but not leaving the Highway. Sure enough, the exit had just been closed, the police and traffic department still in attendance finishing putting cones out. I must admit, dear reader, to some disappointed ‘arm-flapping’ at this point and a slight increase to our previous speed. To make matters slightly worse, nearly 10 miles further, I tried to get us onto 1A again with the same result: closed. There were mist clouds around the base of the mountains, so the road might have been cooler and possibly damp but, I was just trying to console myself, it was a road specifically designated as a scenic route now, I just hoped it wasn’t the start of a reversal of fortunes. Not all was lost, the next exit is where the side show would have brought us to in any event; the hamlet of Lake Louise, with the actual lake a mile further west. At we found out where a lot of Saturday morning traffic had headed to, Lake Louise! As soon as we left the highway it was nose-to-tail traffic crawling along looking for limited parking spaces. After half a mile, vehicles were being left by the side of the road, the occupants choosing to walk on the verge. With a solid centre line, I decided to be a good traveller and stay in line with the traffic but turning into the eventual parking lot showed how futile this endeavour was as every single space was taken. I gestured to Norrie that we should go elsewhere and he agreed. Thankfully, back at the Mount Robson lodge, someone else had mentioned a smaller lake only a few miles south that was just as pretty as Louise. The traffic has cleared a little on the return road as so many had parked up, allowing us to press on and then, turn onto the single-destination lane to Moraine Lake. A little too busy for bend-swinging fun, the tall tree-lined smooth tarmac only gave a glimpse of the treasures to come, while I was a bit more attentive of distracted drivers and possible wildlife.
The car park at the end of the road didn’t appear to have any bike bays at all so paid my penalty of having us leave the bikes at the entranceway, with a kind warden saying he did not mind, one bit; respect to you, sir. We could already see a shockingly blue lake but, the coffee had worked its magic, as usual, and a rest stop was needed first. Coffee and cookies seemed a decent replacement and we sat under table shades, with birds tweeting (no doubt for crumbs) as we took what felt like a well-deserved rest.
Little did we know that the views at Moraine Lake are the most photographed in ALL Canada. Part of the ‘Valley of the Ten Peaks’, every single one of them topping out in excess of 10,000 feet high, with one, Deltaform Mountain, 1234 feet higher still! Jaw-droppingly, picture perfect the scene was even used on the back of the Canadian twenty dollar bill for ten years. Standing beside the lake was just idyllic, large rocks to sit on by the ice blue water, framed by tall trees; dizziness inducing mountains with children climbing a smaller hillock near the waterline where, signature felled tree trunks waited in disorder to be liberated.
Canoe's were even available for hire, another activity I would have really liked to of tried but, wearing bike gear didn't seem the best choice and only one single brave soul had the spirit to attempt it so, that had to be consigned into the missed opportunity section.
Ever onward but first, back along the forest road, we came in on and then a quick refuel at a Husky station in Lake Louise. I tried pointing my helmet cam rearwards on this run and managed to capture some nice shots with Norrie gracing the scenery. Only next did we manage to pass the terminus of the Icefield Parkway and finally ride on a section of highway brand new to us. Only 5 miles later, we were welcomed back into British Columbia and the Yoho National Park, 10 miles more and we turned off, as our ride notes mentioned a worthwhile diversion to a waterfall. I liked the Yoho Valley road as soon as we turned onto it, typical wooden decked road bridges and quality tarmac again leading into proper bend swinging fun this time. The valley meanders between the Wapta and Ogden mountains and what a gem it is, I really didn't want this section of ride to end as it was the elixir I'd hoped of experiencing the superb scenery and great biking roads.
The end of the road was well worth stopping for though; Takakkaw Falls, even though depleted by the dry weather, at an impressive 302 meters high and ranked 45th tallest was still worth closer inspection and a full car park of visitors seemed to agree. Picnic tables were full of families enjoying the area and the nearby bed of the Kicking Horse river could easily be walked and observed. 'Takakkaw' it seems, is roughly translated to the phrase 'It is magnificent' which, even after all we had seen so far, was certainly the case.
Norrie produced some trail bars from his topbox, that we had bought back on day one so it was timely to devour them now after missing lunch by a good margin. It was only 8 miles back to Highway 1 and a return to flatlands valley riding on fast roads. Signposts for the town of Field appeared but with plenty of fuel onboard still we opted for pressing onwards, which happened to be Southwards before swinging back West, once again.
Welcome to Takakkaw
Mid-afternoon now and I was starting to get a little hungry just as our route planner mentioned an option for a good food stop in the town of Golden, slipping off 'left' when driving on the right felt very odd to me and sadly, is a harbinger of the next event and an explanation of the title for today's posting.
A road closure forced the SatNat into a recalculation and we seemed to spend 20 minutes riding around side roads. Eventually, I had enough and at an empty crossroads, instructed the Nav to find the nearest fuel station instead. Soon enough, we found ourselves at three parallel sets of roads, still not being too sure of 4-way stops, I edged through the first two and saw a fuel stop on the right-hand side, the SatNav was insistent I continue on and then left. There were only 10 feet of land between the two roads and a single stop line before the last road, IF there was a 'No-left-turn' sign then I didn't see it but managed to assess that nothing was coming from either direction.
Today's title once again, gentle reader, refers to a Rush song about pushing one's luck a little too hard and making ones 'Angels, work overtime'! Something felt instantly WRONG, our lanes of the road were much too narrow compared to the other two lanes on the opposite side of the solid raised center barrier, that alone made my adrenaline surge. I had indeed just made a left turn, into the oncoming traffic on Highway 1.
I could see an end to the barrier up the road and a set of cross-roads. My heart was racing as I gunned the bike to the end of the barrier and into a hatched marked road area to check that Norrie was following me. I hit my hazard light switch and Norrie tucked in behind me. I think my luck was also 'Golden' at that point as only a single car came towards us and didn't even slow, allowing us to turn left again and into fuel station haven.
Total knowledge of one's own stupidity is a terrible thing and I felt dreadfully shaken that I had put both our lives in peril. Norrie was nonplussed in that nothing bad had actually happened, but I had trouble getting my bike fuelled up and was very glad of a Tim Horton's cafe nearby for a coffee fix.
I’m afraid dear reader, that the remaining 90 miles to our destination are simply blank in my memories, I had been affected by ‘the Golden event’ obviously, as not only did we pass over the Columbia River and passed the very opposite end of Kinbasket Lake to that at Canoe Mountain, (the waterway running for 110 miles in between) but we even skirted around Iconoclast Mountain, the name of which would of normally, impressed me greatly. Our ride notes mention being wary of the wildlife and winding nature of Rogers Pass, of which neither made an impression. I later tried to look up the Inuit phrase for ‘bad luck’ and if my slender research was correct, there is no interpretation for the word, ‘luck’. The closest I found was a word for ‘bad thing’, which I think is the malevolent expletive, maiksuk! That suited my dark mood, just fine. Thankfully, by the outskirts of our destination, I’d pulled around and actually recall feeling a little nervous of making any sort of similar mistake, so much so, that I took a wrong exit on an offset road junction. It was fine this time, as I’d studied Google maps images enough to navigate to the hotel rear without even needing to refer to the SatNav.
The Regent hotel certainly lived up to its name, our room was excellent, with two double sized beds and an office type area at the far end that Norrie allowed me to take-over with my notebook and various charging stations, it suited us, just fine. A bar meal was also equally fine and a few tall drinks disappeared all too easily as did the negatives of the ride.
Light fading already, we could hear music playing outside somewhere and decided a stretch of the legs would be welcome. Sure enough, two blocks down, on the delightfully cobbled portion of MacKenzie Avenue was a bandstand full of musicians and with the road closed off, at least a hundred chairs had been arranged and mostly filled, for the towns-people to enjoy an open festival. It was a great atmosphere and the only surprise to me was that no-one was dancing in the isles!
After some more grizzly statue photo hilarity for Norrie, we did a 180 turn to explore the rest of the avenue with the sun setting behind, what I believe, appropriately enough, is Mount English. Some interesting fish metal sculptures signalled the end of our wandering and we returned to the Conversations Coffee House, that we spied earlier but, surprisingly, not for a beverage but for homemade ice-cream. An indication of just how pleasant an evening it was. We admired the spirit of Revelstoke, instantly.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 26, 2021 22:19:10 GMT
Sunday – D8 – Ainsworth Hot Springs: ‘Road to Utopia’.
We were already halfway through our adventure. My sleep had been disturbed early by a train in the nearby yard and from the snug warmth of my bed I lazily allowed thoughts to try and form some structure. One of my greatest concerns was around not gelling with the hire bike, leading to reluctance of travel. Why did I even waste time worrying, I loved the bike experience and looked forward to each ride. Norrie was a great ride companion too, in the three short years we had known each other, since riding to Italy in 2012 we had covered almost 10,000 miles together, without major incident or a single harsh word.
We were soon packed and ready for breakfast and who should we see at the table but our fellow traveller and beer taster from Banff! He had teamed up with a friend who lives in Penticton and would head off that way soon. We had been offered a meal, if we cared to visit and would have gladly accepted if we didn’t have a testing ride day next. The pair mentioned an interesting railway museum near to the hotel and I could almost feel Norries ears prick to attention. At last I finally got the chance to make my first breakfast waffle in Canada. It was a little toasty around the edges but it all was scoffed down, just the same.
We bid farewell to the biking duo and since reception didn’t mind us checking out a little later, struck out in the direction given to the museum. The town almost seemed as quiet and chilled as we were, so I took the chance at a photo stood in the middle of the main road, a parallel road, took us alongside the railway tracks to the sidings, some interesting snow ploughs could be seen but, no museum. It was a nice stretch of the legs but we had a ferry to catch in a while and decided to return to the hotel to find out we had been given the wrong direction to walk. Never mind, on the road once more, we fuelled up and passed over the Columbia River on the single lane, iron ‘Big Eddy’ bridge, completed in 1924 the 1,079 feet of suspension is named after the bend in the river it is situated on, it allowed us to bypass the Trans-Canada highway completely and drop onto Highway 23 for our short run to the Ferry.
All we had done was track the Columbia River down to Shelter Bay, the Monashee Mountains on our right and the Selkirk’s on the left but, with so few vehicles on the road, for me, it turned into the type of ride that allows you to unwind and just be at peace with the bike and the surroundings, a special ride in other words; carefree!
At the ferry, we arrived just as vehicles were being loaded, a separate lane onboard reserved for motorcycles and then I found out there was no fee to pay. I like B.C. ferries, first free ride I’ve had in my life.
Two elderly ladies overheard myself and Norrie, talking next to the ships handrail and took a shine to Norrie’s Scottish accent, lovely to talk with we covered our journey, Scotland, winter survival, the area and places to eat in a few short minutes, I love the diversity of travelling.
The water was mirror smooth as we crossed the Columbia once again, now as Upper Arrow Lake, it almost felt like crossing a grand Scottish loch and in any event, added no end to the relaxed feeling of the morning.
There is however, a distressing footnote to our crossing. Away in the distance I commented on the mist, hanging in the air and was told it was actually smog from the massive forest fires burning over 100 miles away, across the state line, our destination the next day. All too soon we alighted at Galena Bay and rejoined Hwy 23. The day was warming up nicely and following the ladies advice, some 8 miles later and on the edge of the same lake, we stopped at Halcyon Hot Springs. The name is totally apt for this charming village, complete with restaurant and mineral spa pools.
Nothing was too much trouble for us and while we would have been happy with a ‘coffee-to-go’, we were told the restaurant would open for us and before long we were sat at a balcony table overlooking both the pools and lake. How refreshing it was to be treated so well, even in all our motorcycling attire. As we were leaving, I spied a job advertisement for resort staff and jokingly, thought to myself that if the salary came with a room and a bike, I’d file an application in there and then!
Back on Highway 23 and what a nice surprise that turned out to be. Single lane in either direction, it twisted and turned beautifully next to the Lake. The solid center line didn’t even bother us (much) as the traffic was so light but the trees were a little double-edged; nice to ride next to such green foliage and intrusive due to the sights of the Lake and mountains often being blocked out. I’ve never been one for reading my horoscope but I certainly believe there is ‘something’ to being a Pisces sign and having a love of water and riding next to it on holiday; just magical. The road was getting degraded and had been repaired in places but it was mostly easy to see and compensate for. The road elevation allowed us to get tantalizing glimpses of the Lake and surroundings and then suddenly brought us down level with the lake to an opening where logging operations were taking place at an area marked only as ‘St. Leon’.
Passing lanes were again being provided on steeper sections of climbs, to aid our progress as we swooped around the bases of ever changing mountains. I did feel a little guilty at not stopping for some of the pretty scenic viewpoints by the side of the road, especially so, as all too soon we took the bypass around the village of Nakusp, onto Highway 6, southeast towards new waterways. Norrie commented how much this section felt like Scotland and some of its Lochs, which made me smile as I deliberately didn't mention the same thought I had earlier. We passed two picturesque smaller Lakes before riding next to Slocan Lake and onto the village of New Denver, before turning off for Highway 31a. We instantly passed some interesting looking wooden dome connected buildings that only while writing this review did I find out are cunningly called ‘Villa Dome Quixote’, I enjoy word play like that.
Highway 31a is another good rider’s road, flowing, with good sight lines that allow for making progress. Other Ducati riders seem to agree, if the gentle reader cares to take a Google street view from mid-way between New Denver and Three Forks, a cool couple can be seen enjoying their Multistrada’s! The lead rider even waves to the camera.
At Three Forks, we took the exit to the ghost town of Sandon and an excursion down 4 miles of dirt track that, until I got used to it, troubled me much more than the BMW. Crossing the wooden bridge over the trickling Carpenter creek was almost like crossing back in time. Sandon was home to around 5000 souls at the end of the 1800’s, only a few years earlier, a find of Galena ore had been made, the most important ore of Lead, the ore also contains smaller quantities of much more valuable Silver, provoking a veritable ‘rush’ at the time. We turned onto Slocan Star Street, which actually shows the rear of the original buildings and a few visitors had made the same trip as us. After a brief pause for tactics, we decided to ride on, up to the Silversmith hydroelectric powerhouse, the oldest continuously water driven generating station in the whole state. I’ve read of the inside of the station being likened to the theatre of a Frankenstein movie and there were definite similarities, huge spinning machinery, constant humming of electric power and dials with swinging needles in attendance. Although not the first Sandon powerhouse, it was advanced when installed in 1916 and after extra water was diverted to it from the Carpenter and Cody creeks to keep pace with power demands, it has been in constant use.
Poor Sandon went from boom to bust in 20 tumultuous years, gutted by fire in 1900, rebuilt and then flooded in 1955. Various avalanches also played their parts with the slender valley suffering snowfall of around 20 feet each winter, how families could endure such isolation and harsh conditions, I found hard to imagine.
*Sandon in its Hayday 1898 with thanks to BCarchives.
Abandoned mining and engineering machinery lay all around the crossroads nearby, so too did some, now blocked off, entrances to long disused mine tunnels, some 300 of which existed at the peak of ore extraction. We took some photos before riding our own machines back down, parking up outside the three story City Hall, now incorporating the ‘Prospectors Pick’ store, thankfully open, for lead bellies like ourselves to indulge in even more (delicious) homemade ice cream!
Not one, but two railways fought to construct access to the valley and on the opposite side of the road the pitiful decayed sight of steam locomotive #6947 sits, awaiting renovation. Even more bizarrely, I then hopped onto a Victoria trolley bus, still bearing its ‘Broadway to Granville’ destination. Apparently, sixteen very much intact electric trolley buses were brought here after over 200 of Canada’s city trolleys were destroyed, to be ‘upgraded’ with diesel buses! The final plan is a complete restoration of 13 buses to be decorated in the colours of the 13 cities they were displaced from. In an odd piece of cyclic karma, the bus next to one I ‘conducted’ had the destination ‘Renfrew’, on the rotating sign over the cab, not only is this the area in Vancouver next to where we hired our bikes (riding on Renfrew St. on our first day) but, the area in Glasgow we flew out from and where Norrie lives!
Before the Watchmaker presses us on to leave Sandon, an explanation of today’s title. When I posted the very first episode of this diary on a local Ducati forum, one comment came in that it sounded like a Bob Hope road movie from the 1940’s. This intrigued me, as I remember my father watching these movies’ during my childhood, some searching found another nice link with the movie ‘Road to Utopia’, where the scene is set during an Alaska gold rush, I quite like the symmetry and especially admire the thought of anyone biking in Alaska
It really was time for us to press on, late afternoon already, the ride back up the dirt track seemed dustier, probably due to the still air. Some fun was still to be had, waiting for us back up on highway 31a, it was only 40 miles to our destination so there was no real need to hurry. The road twisted and turned in between the pretty waterways of bear and fish lakes and some visitors to both were making the most of the setting sun. Both lakes came right to the road edge making them easily accessible and even a group of Ducati riders were nearby, I’m sure I saw some lovely Superlights amongst them.
Our next point of interest was the city of Kaslo, where we left the 31a and joined the entirely similar Highway 31. Sadly, I only found out later that we missed out on visiting the sternwheeler S.S. Moyie that is reputedly the oldest intact passenger steam vessel of its type, in the world!
Heading due South now, Kaslo was already some 18 miles from the Northern start of Kootenay Lake that we were skirting down however, due to the high trees we were unable to see the waterway for another 5 miles but when we did, it was quite a shock. All of the mountains on the opposite shore were obscured by smoke and the state line was still some 60 miles away, with the forest fires causing the smoke an unknown distance after that.
We soon turned into our destination of Ainsworth hot springs, the resort was a little dour to our tired eyes but, the staff were superb and the facilities, excellent. We had a ground floor room only feet away from our bikes and it was a joy to be able to unload so quickly without needing elevators or trolleys. Another treat awaited us inside, David back at CycleBC had already paid for any evening meal we cared to order, what kindness. We made speedy reservations as I was keen to try out the hot springs that the resort is named after. David was still worried about our planned route the next day but stated a road we needed had just been reopened but, advised caution and asking for information locally.
After showering and changing we both felt we deserved a drink and retired to the cocktail Lounge, I only felt the need for a single alcoholic drink, deliberately I might add, in view of taking to the water in a little while. It had only been some 140 miles on the road today but I certainly felt as though we had done a lot. We decided to dispense with any hors d'oeuvres and made up with this in having an excellent steak each. Relaxing in the upper floor of the complex, dusk seemed to draw in very quickly, probably hastened by the smoke all around so, we returned to our room to chill and prepare for the next day.
I was advised and knew it was a good idea to wait at least an hour before taking to the water so, I used the time wisely to backup video and photos and carry out chores such as laundry and visor cleaning etc. Norrie could not be tempted to don his water wings while my curiosity simply would not allow me to let the opportunity pass. The changing area was on the second floor and after showering each resort guest is given a robe to take with them outside. A free bathing facility for patrons staying in the resort, external visitors are also welcomed and can enter directly from the car park. There are two open pools one of which is a cold plunge that I only dipped a toe in. The second is a much larger lounging pool that is maintained at a constant 35 degrees Celsius and with the majority of guests having left already, I was able to swim easily full length in what felt like almost tropical water. All of the hot water is fed from the Cody mountain caves high above the resort, totally odourless, the water is lightly filtered and very rich in minerals. Being now suitably warm I thought I was ready to explore the cave system, a separate horseshoe shaped tunnel, disappearing into the mountainside.
*With thanks to Ainsworth Hot springs / Hotnaturally.com
A few small steps lead up to a trough shaped area that served as a waiting point for patrons to decide if they would enter the cave system again, overflow water spilled into a hot tub to allow guests to partake in the healing water while seated. The cave water is cooled to an average of 42 degrees C which felt astonishingly hot at first to me, only the distraction of the subtle tube lights and rough cut walls keeping me from hurrying through. I only had a few inches of head clearance spare, while the floor had been suitably conditioned for barefoot walking. Quiet and darkened alcoves have been provided for those who wished to loiter or maybe just enjoy a little more solitude. I traversed the opposite leg of this astonishing one-way system before returning to the lounge pool. It now felt positively cold! Only, 8 or so degrees cooler it could not have been more noticeable, I swam again to get warm and soon had that pool to myself as it was only 20 minutes to closing time. Eager to sample the caves once again I did another loop and at one point saw someone floating, totally outstretched. Since I was near the exit I returned again instantly and tried doing the same, it was easy and so relaxing to float along with the slight current of the water, hitting some of the sharp outcrops, being the only danger. I was captivated and must admit to going around one more time with no-one else present in the caves. Pool attendance were tidying up by this point so I thought it best to shower, grab a bottle of water and return to our room. Norrie was fast asleep and I must say about 15 minutes later I could no longer keep my eyes open, the waters having done their job well.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 27, 2021 15:08:46 GMT
Day 9 – Washington / Kelowna: ‘Darkest Day’.
My sleep must have been good as I awoke early and quickly got up and dressed, keen for my travel buddy to experience the hot springs using the early hours nominated for hotel guests only. Norrie however, would have none of it, focused already on the day ahead and equally keen to have breakfast and hit the road! During the planning stage of this trip, we almost simultaneously suggested dipping down into Washington State as this day’s ride would bring us so close. I’d pondered the exact route for quite a while and though I really wanted to take another ferry to Kootenay Bay (the world’s longest free ferry crossing), which would allow us ride next to the lake for 30 miles and then try the highest part of the Hwy 3, ‘Crowsnest Pass’ in B.C., it was simply too much. Our distance for the day was 310 miles already, with a fair amount of minor roads being needed, it did rile me for some time, having to make this compromise but, since I knew we would have some riding in the dark and the alternative would have added an extra 50 miles, it was the sensible option to take.
(With Thanks to Google Maps)
An excellent breakfast was followed by a delightfully smooth departure, thanks, once again to being able to park the bikes, almost outside the apartment. The smoke was more evident over Kootenay Lake than last night, in the still air it seemed to hang like some sort of oppressive curtain. Emerging onto highway 31 again, south, soon took my mind off it, as did the signpost for Toad Rock Motorcycle Campground, that came up after only a few miles and interesting it looked too. The road surface was a bit, let’s be kind, ‘weathered’ on this single lane road but, the very light traffic allowed for good progress. Just before the town of Balfour, two friendly North bound motorcyclists waved friendly greetings, always nice to see, I think and shortly after our road designation changed to Highway 3A, ready to swing us along the west tributary of the lake; Kootenay River, ("Kootenai" is thought to be a word meaning "water people").
Speaking of which, it’s not every day one gets to see a riverboat nestling in a green plot, next to a road junction corner but, that’s just what we saw next in the shape of the ‘SS Nasookin’, the rescued remains of what was in the past, B.C.’s biggest sternwheeler, after many guises now, converted into a unique family home.
After crossing the river, we stopped at a Husky station in Nelson to refuel, we agreed there was no other need to attend to and pressed on to Highway 6, west. A mere 3 miles later we rode back over the river to its northern shore but not for long, at Castlegar we bid farewell to the Kootenay and returned to the Columbia River once more. I found it a little amusing that we rode on the Crowsnet highway for less than a mile before turning off for Highway 22. With a population of over 7000 it didn’t surprise me to see a ‘Welcome to Castlegar City’ sign apparently, the city takes its name from Castlegar, County Galway in Ireland, the ancestral home of townsite founder Edward Mahon.
Before leaving Castlegar, mention should be made of the prolific explorer and map maker, David Thompson. A plaque on the east bank of the Columbia River is dedicated to him upon his arrival at Castlegar; September 5th 1811. His first significant survey in 1792 was mapping a route to Lake Althabasca and the Englishman’s skill and reputation grew rapidly afterwards. From humble beginnings he rose to become a partner in the fur trading North West Company and was not only the first European to navigate the full length of the Columbia River but became considered as the "greatest land geographer who ever lived." If that wasn’t testament to his stamina, he lived to the ripe age of 86 and fathered 13 children! His full story is well worth pursuing.
We were now skirting the Columbia River, south, with an attendant railway line for company too and soon enough skirted the city of Trail and its village of Warfield, soon after, until at last, tucked high in the Monashee Mountains, we reached the city of Rossland at an elevation of 1023 metres (3410 feet).
I’m not sure what it is about wide, main road towns but I took an instant liking to Rossland. Perhaps it’s the simplicity of design or a reminder of my own original hometown layout, sadly, it was hard to see the far end of the town already with the ever thickening fire smoke, present all around now. Already after noon and my stomach told me so, quite loudly, I spied a coffee house called Alpine Grind and hung a right turn to park nearby, on quite an incline so that leaving the bikes in gear seemed a wise precaution. The smell of coffee in the shop and the decent queue of customers, made the decision to stay easy and not only was the coffee great but the Rocky Road cake, really was the best I’ve ever tasted! Some fun photos taken on the stools made up with miniature bicycle wheels later and we were outside snapping shots of the main street itself. Norrie shocked me by NOT wanting a photo next to the superb casting of two bears playing on top each other, the claws were obvious and I thought the best animal representation we had seen yet but, Norrie thought it was too realistic, how fickle!
Once I’d stopped laughing at my grizzly obsessed buddy, we mounted up and headed towards the border crossing, thankfully only 8 miles away. All of the areas over the last few days of travel had involved land mining of one type or another and riding down Hwy 22, now named the Paterson-Trail felt to me, very much like prospector country. The roads became dead straight for a time before we arrived at the ominous looking frontier crossing at Patterson. We were waived on to proceed to a set of red lights, where we waited until they turned green. Officer Durham came out to greet us which I thought a nice gesture for us motorcyclists. Sadly, that was just the start of our woes. We knew of the fee to be paid for crossing and had all our paperwork in order but foolishly, I thought the payment would be in Canadian Dollars. Nope, cash needed to be American Dollars and just an hour before the credit card machine had died so no electronic payment could be made either; stalemate. The only option was to ride back to Rossland and obtain some American Dollar bills. The experiences we had getting this far must have tempered me quite well as I now found this quite amusing. Officer Durham was very helpful and bemused to find out I lived in the county in the United Kingdom that he was named after and if I remember correctly, traced his roots right back there to the 1700’s!
Rossland it turns out was founded on the back of a gold discovery, in the late 1800’s by the prospector-miner Ross Thompson, who originally named the town site ‘Thompson’ but was thwarted by discovering that place name already existed so, I guess he went with his first name instead. I’d seen a photo of him, back at Sandon with its own founding father; wheels-within-wheels.
At least I knew the roads back to Rossland and had also spied a Credit Union opposite the coffee house there, little wrong with my observation (or plain nosiness) at least. The lady cashier in the Credit Union was delightful and even waived the exchange fee when we told her of our plight, made all the funnier when she commented that at least we were coming straight back to her wonderful country. Maybe she had a glint in her eye for my devilishly well styled companion?
Back down Little Sheep Creek road for a third time with our $12 fee stowed away ready, we approached the crossing station looking like seasoned travellers. An interesting process of finger printing, scanning, photographing and cross-checks later at least gave us time to enjoy a glass of water and cool down a little and thank you for the Homeland Security pens, which, of course we didn’t just take.
It would have been interesting to take photos of the Washington and Stevens County welcome signs but we had lost far too much time. I don’t know why the 55 miles per hour sign startled me but it did, after seeing Km speeds for so long. I knew exactly how to change the oddly, well behaving SatNav to display Mph and did so, the downside being that the excess speed warnings came up more rapidly. There was now a tangible smell of burning wood everywhere, so distracting was it that I didn’t notice that Hwy 22 had now become State Route 25 in the USA. Our destination was to be 50 miles South and the city of Colville, it meant something to us both and allowed us to return to Canada only backtracking a short distance out of the city, instead of retracing routes. A few miles further down the road, I saw the first warning of what might come later, as the hill sides gave way to open farm land, a group of young distressed deer bolted from under a tree canopy and had my heart in my mouth by racing towards the road side fence. Thankfully, a toot from my horn dissuaded them, much to my relief. Some more center line riding seemed prudent from that point on and indeed, when needed for the remainder of the day.
The mighty Columbia River greeted us once more as we crossed it toward the town of Northport, this gentle section of wide waterway kept us company for the next few miles too, with a railway running without any safety barrier only a few feet away from the roadside for the run down to our exit onto the Williams Lake road. There was some arrow straight roadway to be consumed on this 20 mile stretch of road and even in the thickening smoke, it was a good opportunity to raise the tempo and make up for lost time. If it wasn’t for the smoke it would be been an enjoyable ride, open pastures with farm land running right up to the road edge in places but all too soon, our minor road ended and we joined SR395 on the edge of Colville City.
We stopped our bikes under the city sign for some photos and to take stock of our location. A cluster of food outlets was nearby that looked interesting while on our side of the road, lumber yards seemed to dominate the view, what there was of it, I could see a tower crane in the near distance but it was completely shrouded in smoke and I’m not sure if it was an accumulation from the day but my eyes were positively stinging from the same. Subway was to be our choice of food outlet as convenience and speed became necessity. My original plan was to visit the city historical society museum but, as it was after 3 pm already that idea had to be consigned, along with all the others that I regretted, as unfulfilled. A lone lady was running the food outlet as all her staff had called in sick, the abilities of women being able to multitask so well is still a source of wonder to me, at times. Likewise, a sub, cookie and iced tea hadn’t tasted that good for a long time either, it had only been a 140 mile journey so far but we seemed to be stymied at every point and the reality was that we were not at half distance, yet. I remembered that back in the UK, I’d bought some eye spray to help with tired and sore eyes, so now seemed an ideal time to try, just sprayed onto closed eyelids it must have worked so well that Norrie wanted me to tend to his eyes too! What a sight that must have seemed (sorry, gentle reader).
One memory that will stay with me for some time is that of two women who were chatting in a booth near to us. Norrie disappeared for a comfort break and being close to the window I was admiring our motoring feats of technology that had carried us so far. Brought right back to earth, I overheard one of the ladies say “I think we should give thanks for that” and they bowed their heads together and spoke a simple and touching prayer. I admired them for expressing their faith and gentleness openly.
I took the chance in a quiet moment to ask the lady server if the roads north were all open and she replied that some had been closed earlier and advised us to go to the only open information facility in nearby Kettle Falls. Instead of making a right turn on the State Route, it seemed a shame not to see something of the city so a quick run down to the next roundabout and back again seemed appropriate before finally, heading North. Kettle Falls is only 4 miles North-West of Colville and the Information bureaux was obvious from the main road. Incorporated into a library the staff could not have been more helpful, searching the internet they found the roads we selected open, importantly, including the next border crossing or it would have been a significant back track to Paterson. Bad news was they advised the smoke was about to get even WORSE and insisted we wore some ‘duck masks’ as the local children called them, as theirs had a much brighter yellow colouring to coax wearing of them. We were very glad of them and they weren’t as cumbersome as our crazy photo might imply...
The Columbia is one of the oddest Rivers I’ve ever encountered as we crossed over it yet again before heading due North, oddly it was only for a few miles as the river turned North-East and the waterway we ran next to became the Kettle River. The smoke was no worse than at Kettle Falls but the smell was intense, just like being stood too close to a raging bonfire and the fires obviously had raged here as next we saw an RV park that had been cleared and filled with scores of tents, marked as ‘Incident control’ and a shelter for those fighting the fires. A very short distance on the opposite roadside was situated some of their larger equipment, water bowsers, mobile cannon units and even a large helicopter, capable of dropping water, I imagine. The scale of the operation and effects were only becoming clear to us now.
We had our own problem to worry about only 2 miles further North, ‘loose chippings’, ‘oil on road’ and ‘no median line’ were all ominous precursors to new road having just been laid for the second time on our journeys. 35 mph speed limits were posted continuously as were some even more ominous signs for motorcyclists!
It took twice as long as we expected to reach the state line at Laurier and the Cascade Border Crossing, some light relief provided by the ‘tax free booze’ shop sign immediately before the crossing station. It was 5.30pm and we were very glad of the smooth, rapid and, please note USA, fee free passage back into ‘The Best Place on Earth’, so the Welcome to B.C. sign stated.
I didn’t think it would be possible for the smoke or smell to become worse but it really did, as soon as we swung due West and back once more, onto the Crowsnest Highway. The reason was obvious, this whole area had been ravaged by fires, the ground was often scorched and yet the damage to the trees was bizarre in its design, most were totally charred, ranging from completely stripped to many retaining branches and yet, some trees appeared to have been spared any damage at all! The saving grace I hoped, is that the standing trees might regrow and that in nature, this is a recurrent phenomenon, millennia old. I do remember hearing that for once this disaster was not due to human failings, discarded cigarettes or camp fires and was caused by a lightning storm. Little consolation to those who lost business, property or, as happened in too many cases, lives.
Speed restrictions were in force on Hwy 3 as well and while all drivers were attentive by turning headlights on, it was difficult to make any decent progress, especially as the thick smoke hastened the early evening dusk. Just after the city of Grand Forks we bid farewell to the Kettle River and started an odd, grand horseshoe shaped maneuver that I could only figure was taking us around Mt. Attwood and the ghost town of what was B.C.’s highest city of Phoenix at 4600 feet above sea level. There was only the satisfaction of riding safely and considerately to take from this section of the route and even that was muted when I saw a house that had fallen in the disaster, perhaps it was a blessing that darkness came early.
(The same section of Highway before and after The Fire)
A flash of head lights from Norrie and I knew exactly what he meant, his fuel reserve always seemed to come on a little earlier than mine and the SatNav showed only 20 miles to the next fuel stop so I gave him a thumbs-up sign to show all was OK. The city of Greenwood soon appeared with its Race Trac fuel station at the far end. Being here completed a neat hat-trick of visits for us, having arrived at British Columbia’s largest populated city of Vancouver with some 600,000 plus inhabitants, we were now in its smallest city of just over 700, Phoenix then completed the set, as the highest.
After fueling both bikes, side-by-side to obtain a single bill, I paid for the fuel while Norrie shot off for the restrooms. An interesting smell pervaded the ‘we sell everything’ store so I asked if any hot food might be available, “of course, our soup is Borscht” said the lady attendant and pointed to a sign behind me stating exactly the same. Norrie was nodding approval already, so we took a seat at the rear of the station and of course, dear reader, your curious editor had to ask about the soup. I’d never heard of the Ukrainian originated dish before, highly beet coloured for our meal, it was spicy, hot and very importantly to us; filling.
Back on the road, we had just over 100 riding miles still left to our hotel in Kelowna and on inspecting a road map from a book stand noted that a straight line can be draw between our start and finish points today with roughly the same distance separating them. I’d been in this situation many times before but this time, was surprisingly unconcerned, our bikes were more than adequate for the task, we knew where we were going and would get there, just a little later than planned.
Back on Hwy 3 once again, we dropped to within a mile of the State line and then the Kettle River returned all ‘Columbia’ on us and not content with tracking the highway, ducked under us, considerately at the Kettle River RV park. Only 2 miles later we turned onto Hwy 33 at Rock Creek before the Kettle River finally moved away from us, some 8 miles further north at Westbridge. This whole area had been evacuated just a week previously and the communes were all empty, the size of the fire here was reported at 2,500 hectares and could not be controlled at that time.
I’m afraid I have little to say about the remainder of the ride as my thoughts were lost on the devastation, the like of which I’ve never known before. Total darkness now, the stunning headlights of the BMW’s could be used to good effect in the non-existent traffic. Still going North, past Beaverdell, I believe, the road had been resurfaced but not too recently, superb road marking were in place and I’m not too disappointed to report the excess speed warning on the SatNav nearly got burned into the screen. At last we turned West which I knew signalled the last 15 miles to our hotel and sure enough as the city lights started to glow, the traffic arrived with it and I don’t mind admitting a small sigh of relief that our journey’s end for today was nearing. We did receive an award in the form of the odometers clicking over to 2000 Km on the outskirts of Kelowna and a return to city life.
The parking lot of the Prestige Inn was as easy to find as the corner plot location of the hotel itself, opposite the City Park. My only concern around the Inn having its own casino were easily dealt with (sorry about that), by Cycle BC requesting a room well away from that particular action and excellent along with quiet it was too. We used a porter’s trolley, once again, to move all the panniers this time as we were staying for two nights. David, back at base had thoughtfully provided yet another bottle of wine for our stay but, we had a dire problem to deal with; we stunk to high heaven! Every piece of bike clothing, boots, gloves and helmet all included reeked of smoke. Thankfully, we had a balcony that was fit for the task, even if it did get littered with our belongings. Two single rooms might have been a better idea here but we had already made the decision to economise so taking turns in an essential, long and very good shower was no real hardship.
What did turn out to be a slight problem, with us arriving quite late was that the plush looking restaurant was fully booked but then, to add insult the basement bar was closed as no staff were available. I think the dear reader can imagine just how much we looked forward to a long drink. The staff kindly recommended a bar quite a few blocks away but sadly, neither of us could wait that long and two blocks away I spied the ‘Black Bear’ grill and bar that was very quiet but seemed attractive. Two drinks disappeared instantly, along with a few others, some shorts (that’s the alcohol, I’m referring to) and some bar snacks later and we were very merry and tired travellers. Now, at the end of the night, Norrie insisted on paying the bill, since I had paid to fuel the bikes, hours ago back at Greenwood. Let it be said that Norrie is a true Scotsman and his displeasure was broadcast widely as a bill was produced that was more than the cost to fill two BMW fuel tanks! I believe the tip fee was eventually waived and we drew some attention laughing most of the way back to the hotel but what an adventure and I do believe I was asleep as soon as my heavy head sunk into the pillow. Images and Maps with grateful thanks to Google
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 27, 2021 22:31:36 GMT
Day 10: Kelowna, British Columbia - 0 Miles, plenty on foot!
Kelowna flag and Motto: Fruitful in Unity.
It will be of no surprise to the gentle reader that we were very late for breakfast the next morning! We really didn't know what to expect from the upmarket restaurant within the hotel but it turned out to be very good. Not only was the presentation excellent but the taste was superb, all in all so enjoyable that we lingered for quite some time just enjoying the coffee, service and the corner plot view. Let's get the only negative out of the way for the whole of the day, on our way back to the hotel the previous night, I had seen quite a few people gathering in the city park opposite, I didn't think anything of it at the time but, the next morning I was surprised to see the police department moving people on who had obviously slept in the park overnight. I'm not sure why I found this distressing as I knew Kelowna was a substantially sized City. At least, there were no confrontations with the police and public quickly moved on.
It was nice not having any schedule for the day, I did have a mind to find somewhere that rented pedal bicycles but found out it was quite some distance from the hotel. In no particular hurry, we wandered down Abbott Street and could instantly see the Okanagan Lake dominating the view. The lake is 84 miles in length from near Vandon in the North down to Penticton, 25 miles downstream in the south. We walked down to a delightful landmark known as the Kelowna sails and crossed the road before going into a marina. It felt so relaxing to be in a waterside city once again, people were wandering around the marina charting boats, seaplanes could be seen landing and taking off nearby and one brave soul was even trying out some water jet boots on the lake itself!
I have no doubt we looked like complete tourists but we were having far too much fun to worry about that. We turned down the main street of Barnard Avenue to see the interesting landmark Paramount cinema, Coffee always on our minds, of course, introduced us to a new outlet called Blendz coffee, this impressed us so much that we started to look for the chain at every opportunity. Drawn once again to the Lakeside walk we passed through Stuart Park with an interesting bear sculpture, (simply entitled ‘The Bear’) on top of a low-level building, it turns out that the name Kelowna in the area’s First Nation inhabitants tongue means roughly ‘female grizzly bear’, I’m not sure which of the two of us laughed the most. Onwards, we walked passed the very exclusive looking dining levels of the Kelowna Yacht Club and further past grand designed hotels to return to calmness, once again, as the green and immaculate Waterfront Park and features proudly claimed their space by the water.
A slightly too tall resort complex made up for its presence with a magnificent water sculpture on its frontage, including dolphins at play above one another called ‘Rhapsody’ but, that signalled the end of our waterfront stroll and we headed back into the city streets. The goodness of Google showed me that a motorcycle store was nearby and a well restored Moto-Guzzi outside the shop front pointed the way. MotoVida at first sight appeared to be a modern boutique store with a bent for classic machines, behind that, however, was a large garage and workshop that was obviously in demand. Bikes of all types were getting some serious alterations and the shop owners were very glad to show two interested Brits around, even if it was obvious there was little we could buy! A sticker exchange was the best we could offer but the shop went the extra mile and insisted we took a wood bike puck each to remember the shop on our travels, thanks guys, mine is now on display at home, far too good to use.
We did get some good advice to try the micro-brewery, next door, (how appropriate, booze and bikes) and we did have to quaff a few tasters, just to appreciate the range of flavours. I'm sure the gentle reader will understand. Three blocks walk later, amidst office structures and with the hour well after mid-day it was not so much 'money on my mind' as the much more essential 'tummy on my mind'! A wonderful shop name drew my attention, 'The Curious Cafe Artistry and Alchemy', an eclectic range of decoration and artwork, along with good soup and great coffee.
Interesting custom cars traded places with clusters of cyclists on the streets as we retraced our route back to our temporary home at the Prestige Inn. We stayed close to the water’s edge to enjoy the sight of children playing safely and suitably noisily, on an enterprising concern of a large scale multicoloured floating water park, before continuing the trail around and then through the city park. The heat of the mid-afternoon sun was almost as intense as I remembered from Hell's Gate on our first day on the road and while it was good to attend to sundry tasks back in the hotel room, I will freely admit to having a nap for a short while, just to be able to report that the bedding was sufficiently comfortable, obviously.
When we awoke the sun was low and orange in the sky already, shrouded by the still present smoke that also lingered even now, on our bike clothing! Showered and changed, we struck off out, once more to explore a little by taking a different direction. The retail area was winding down now as the bars and restaurant’s came to life. Having enjoyed the marina area so much we walked back towards the waterfront and decided on having our evening meal outside while we had the chance. After a few investigations we finally decided on an Irish bar called Kelly O’Bryans, mainly I think as the sound of cheers could be heard a few blocks away. Upstairs to choose to eat under a covered balcony area with a view of the Lake and bizarrely, the Kelowna bear sculpture. A few drinks were needed to ease the path for Buffalo sized burgers, I could hardly pick up and a plate smashing pizza on our orders and I do remember my grizzly companion asking for a takeaway box but, some things that happen in Kelowna, stay in Kelowna. I certainly wished we could of too, boats drifted lazily by as we enjoyed long drinks and the view over the lake. A stream of performance cars going to the Paramount, behind us, kept Norrie entertained in the high-octane way that I was sure he was going to sorely miss, especially the thunderous V8’s rolling by.
Without a care in the world, we watched the sun shimmer its best over the water before starting to slide towards the distant hills. I’m glad that such good memories have the same feeling of tranquillity, no matter how far in retrospect.
The restaurant was starting to empty and since we felt at the opposite end of spectrum, we knew it was time to depart for our accommodation too. I abused Norries camera while he played with kinetic pavement lighting, a gentleman caught my lens by walking past with a fully grown Timber-Wolf and next to the water line was a sculpture of a serpent that we didn’t understand at the time is a companion for our very own Loch Ness monster, known here as Ogopogo.
I was mystified by Kelowna, British Columbia’s largest inland city, yet still retaining a sea-side holiday feeling. Ever expanding, with habitats on both side of the Lake, (in the shape of the province’s newest city; West Kelowna) but it still felt fresh and intimate to this traveller, what a vibrant area.
Kelowna as seen from Knox Mountain - Thanks to Wikipedia.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 27, 2021 22:55:32 GMT
Wednesday: D11 Kelowna - Whistler (Aug 26 - Wed) “99 Percent Perfect”: 260 Miles
The gentle reader will be shocked to learn that we arose early and were well presented and on time for breakfast! Of course, knowing an excellent meal is waiting, tends to be a good motivator for both of us. I only added to the meal I had the day before and we sat at a window table once again, watching the hectic traffic of Highway 97. Wikipedia informed me that 97 is the longest continuously numbered highway anywhere in Canada. Bizarrely, at just over 2000Km, the gentle reader may care to recall that same number as the total distance we accumulated on our arrival at Kelowna. I bet that would be an interesting ride, from Osoyoos, at the USA border, only 20 miles further west than where we crossed, twisting and turning, through Kamloops and Cache Creek before heading North to Prince George and then through the sparsely inhabited Northern Rockies, all the way to the Yukon Boundary, the entire length of British Columbia! Check out was as easy as ever and a last pedestrian breath of fresh air on checking the bikes, showed the city (park), waits for no-one. Ladies were playing tennis and children were equally active clambering over the activity zones, all seemed well with Kelowna.
I was a little apprehensive about riding that morning, being off the bikes for a full day and emerging straight onto a major highway didn’t sit too well with me, so I used that as a sign to be cautious for a little while. The BMW’s fired up instantly, I’d learnt to start mine early to give the Garmin as much time as possible to wake up, then an easy left turn onto a junction where the traffic could only filter off to the right, ended the riding warm up nicely and placed us on the three-lane asphalt of Highway 97. Within a mile we were over the Okanagan Lake, the impressive William R. Bennett Bridge supporting us easily as the main section of it actually floats on pontoons with the water being some 60 meters deep at that point. Soon after we entered BC’s newest city, West Kelowna and totally different it felt too, rows of adverts beside the highway and block after block of shops and malls. I guess the downside of visiting any city is in making an escape, it was a beautiful bright day and I could still see the sun glittering on the lake, not too far off on my left, the bike was handling nicely but I was getting an itchy throttle hand after what seemed like ages but, in fact was only 6 slow miles covered, across the new city. The road suddenly splitting came as a wake-up call, it seems the lanes isolate an elongated cluster of buildings that includes the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, so who was going to argue with that.
With our last glimpse of the lake, it was time to bid Hwy 97 proper, farewell and we slipped off to a little ‘cousin’, I imagine in the form of Highway 97C, the much newer, Okanagan Connector. Not so little, the three lanes soon shed to become two and the 120Km/h sign was very welcome as we tried to keep our speed down to that. Passing the Trepanier protected area, the vista opened up nicely, we had been climbing constantly and the winter warning signs and pole markers beside the road must have borne witness to some harsh conditions which thankfully, were not reflected in the good road surface. There did seem to be a lot of road signs on our assent, ‘dense fog’, ‘snow chains’ and ‘no fuel for 85Km’ being just the tip of the iceberg, (ouch). For 5 miles we had been climbing when we reached a U-turn point that used a subway under the highway, what a clever safety idea. Still gaining altitude, I was even more impressed to see quite a few groups of cyclists grinding away in the hot and unforgiving conditions, some were even towing small trailers of equipment. That feeling soon turned to admiration for them when soon after, I saw information proclaiming this Highway as the second highest in BC at the summit point of Pennask Mountain and a leg burning 1700m above sea level. Time to explain today’s title a little and why perfection, apparently reached 99%. I’m sorry most respected reader but, I promise this will be the penultimate time I complain about SatNav insanity. We were starting to get a little low on fuel so I was pleasantly surprised when only a mile past the summit and still on equally high ground, the MadNav asked us to slip off to the right. Sunset Main Road, stated the sign before we had to plunge down a steep incline to be greeted by a four-way crossroad. Before leaving the highway I checked carefully, by slowing down, however, the unit was adamant this was the way to go; to exactly nowhere! A lodge was proudly proclaimed some 20-odd Km away but we got to look at the screen now pointing ‘straight ahead’ again to take us back UP to Hwy 97C. I can only imagine that someone had programmed way-points into the unit and it was picking them up in some way but I had neither the time nor patience now to examine it. Once more, onto the road, dear friends and the SatNav got some physical finger abuse but slightly redeemed itself by showing the nearest fuel stop to be 40 miles away. We could see the city of Merritt, down below us now, spread out in the Nicola Valley, the city motto of ‘flourish under the sun’ was very apt as the heat of the day was getting to us already. ‘Coffuel’, was next on our minds, the coffee and fuel amalgam being of equal priority and the Husky station fulfilled the latter while on the same location what appeared to us to be a massive restaurant actually turned out to be smaller but, incorporated into a Greyhound bus station. Still almost sated from breakfast we were quite happy to sit in the bus hall, with a view of the bikes, having a coffee and a Twinkie, just to show how well we could adapt to our surroundings.
A full tank seemed to bother me more than the bike but, as expected normal service was resumed once on the move. I guess everyone was either eating or busy in Merritt as few citizens could be seen, I did note a few motorbikes parked outside of motels that hopefully was a good sign of roads to come. An easy right turn onto Nicola Avenue also signed as Highway 8 soon took us past the city limit. Just as we passed what appeared to be cement works, I noticed not only two giant wooden stands, taller than the telegraph poles around them for birds to nest upon, one was occupied while the other looked bare but, what a great idea. The cement works owners were obviously proud of its Country; a Canada flag was not only displayed on top of a silo but the Maple Leaf also flew high up on the lookout point over the valley; quite right too. The good road condition was greeted with a bike friendly 80Km/h limit but sadly that soon dropped to 60; we both knew this road in our homeland, would have been rated for 100Km/h speed.
Sprawling farm lands were all around us now and I found it invigorating to see huge tracts being worked instead of the much smaller plots I’d seen being harvested during my life. A tiny wooden church, daubed with faded white paint but now highlighted with blue steeple and trimmings denoted the area of a First Nations community. A much newer church in the distance and very modern buildings nearby gave a real contrast, almost as though the past had to be retained to give the future an identity. I hope it worked out for them. Next up was a mobile home park and then another smaller community with the speed limit reduced even further to 50, I never push limits when in built-up areas but couldn’t help but wonder about the effect this would have on the day as we had not quite covered a third of today’s distance yet. I need not have worried too much as instantly the limit was increased to 80Km/h but, the sign came with a slight warning, it was situated, perhaps deliberately, next to the most quaint cemetery, tiny grey weathered headstones in rough lines, all facing up the valley, some with fresh tributes. Point taken.
Green fields were being watered by massive contraptions, similar to ones we had seen previously but instead of running a horizontal track, many of these were anchored at one end and used a semi-circular track, the water pressure providing the motive power for its slow progress but enough pressure still being available to produce a sizeable enough water spray to feel the mist on the bikes. After a brief stab at heading West, we were now aiming to the North West, the scenery continued in a similar vein, pleasant open valleys and fairly straight line roads; easy riding. I mused on the small cracks in the asphalt that would be of no concern to anyone but a rider on two or possibly three wheels and then the myriad other fragments that we all absorb, gravel, over banding, diesel, pot holes, filled in holes, camber and I guess the list is only tempered by experience. Then, just as I was beginning to miss riding next to a waterway of some sort, up popped the Nicola River again, almost in synergy with the thought, maybe I really was adapting more than I imagined.
Just as the road began gently climbing, it appeared that we deserved a treat; not only did the view open nicely but the nature of the road began to follow the twists and turns of the river more closely, to make for fun riding. Not by coincidence, I imagine, we began to see groups of fellow riders appear, everyone waving to us in shared enjoyment, something that I always appreciate, a little action that could easily mean a lot to someone. Norrie was a little more stoic about such things but at least, he was waving to the larger groups now.
For ten miles the road continued like this, great riding, open sight lines, good road surface and interesting scenery too. The speed limit only dropped in one place and it was totally justified, the danger of rocks, must have happened recently and even though a barrier protected the roadside, some spoil had made it onto the surface and been crushed into gravel, making this rider glad we had slowed enough for avoidance. More than a few times, we twisted back and forth over the Nicola River until the road suddenly flattened out and we passed over the Nicola one last time before welcoming back the Thompson River! We passed Spencers Bridge and then onto the Trans-Canada highway, once again. This is the ONLY section of open road on our entire tour that was deliberately planned for us to ride twice, but in opposite directions; the 20-mile stretch of Hwy 1 between, Spencers Bridge and Lytton. This is what I grown used to and so loved now, grand scenery, towering mountains and a wide river to ride along, it really felt like it couldn’t get much better. Only 10 miles down the road and the mighty Thompson was narrow compared to its former scale, 10 miles further and we slipped off Hwy1 onto 12 towards Lytton, noting a set of railway lines across our path on an inclined and curved section of road, I bet those would be dangerous in the wet! Lytton, we soon discovered, has not only been inhabited for an estimated 10 thousand years, yes, I thought I’d better write the number down but also has one of the highest maximum temperatures for the whole province often topping 40 deg C. Not quite that much today but, it certainly felt higher than 30 degrees and I’d drank my Camelbak empty already, so poor Norrie must have been gagging for a drink.
I thought ‘half-day’ closing on a Wednesday was a purely English tradition but Lytton was almost quiet enough to be taking part as well. We rode the full length of the Main Street and didn’t spot an obvious place to rest. In exasperation, I pulled up near and signalled to a gentleman walking towards us, being able to open our helmets to say ‘Hello’ seems a respectful gesture to make and the passer-by came to help us. I asked if there was anywhere near to get a coffee, an unsure response was not what I hope for and apologised for disturbing the guy, apparently, he did live nearby but only ever ate in the Chinese restaurants and could highly recommend them. Not quite what we were looking for, he thankfully remembered somewhere near the ScotiaBank, back the way we came and a good recommendation the ‘Lyl Towne Deli and Sandwich shop’ turned out to be. The simple homemade good food was well received, especially the BumbleBerry pie and ice cream that I wondered about trying to manage an extra portion, as it was delicious.
Outside of the Deli, in a tiny community almost submerged, if not by the immense Fraser river nearby but figuratively by the theatre of hills and mountains all around, we met the most astonishing young couple, I’ve had the pleasure to meet, just as they were getting ready to move on. I’d noticed some nice pedal bikes on entering the Deli but didn’t note the large trailer carrying not one but two, full-size foldable canoe’s stored within. They had already cycled to Takakkaw Falls and Moraine Lake and camped at both and canoed on the waterways, taking spectacular photos and video en route. I invite the gentle reader to search the internet for ‘meander the world’ and be spell-bound.
I decided to try mounting my bike cam to the crash bar on the BMW to provide some relief from the constant helmet viewpoint before travelling the small distance to the left exit for Highway 12. We were about to ride 35 miles Northeast to enable a further 85 miles Southwest travel and our destination of Whistler, it was hard to believe so many mountains and peaks had collided here but our satellite route around them pointed to how impenetrable their nature. We had only travelled a single mile when I admit to being spooked by two animals running next to the opposite barrier, a short distance ahead. It seemed equally odd that further away, a pickup truck accelerated from our roadside. Despite my imagination, the animals turned out to be two large dogs, that were not concerned with the noise from our slowing engines. They stayed next to the concrete barrier as we safely passed by, I watched them in my mirror, hugging the barrier almost as though they knew the road, I found it perplexing.
Not even the same distance again and we happened upon a small community, so small that no speed reduction was in place but, with a group of people walking along the road edge, thankfully on the opposite side, for us but sadly walking with their backs to the traffic, not good. Enough warnings, I knew this was to be a road to look forward to but now, I also understood full attention and concentration were demanded, no afternoon cruise this time.
It seems an understanding was reached and straight away the roads began to flow once more, double solid lines but clean road, begging to be ridden and we were glad to oblige, the lightened fuel load making bend swinging easier than previously. Seems we needed a final test to be awarded our highway graduation today. Rounding a nice set of constant radius bends, I could see, in the distance, a car, parked on the opposite side of the road and others slowing near it. I throttled back and showed a brake light to Norrie, sure enough, there was a goat walking, taking all the time in the world to go, nowhere obvious to me but, it was calm and allowed us both to pass, without showing the slightest interest.
All of the above happened within 10 minutes of leaving Lytton. I noted the majority of the road was slightly downhill most of the way and I guess I’m just wired to enjoy descents more than climbing, why is still a mystery to me, as I’m well aware of how a front tyre can be overloaded by braking, many rubber tracks on the entry to corners from overzealous drivers paying equal testament. At a less hectic stretch of road, I reached down to check on the video cam to discover the poor thing was boiling hot to the touch, not good for delicate electronics, as soon as enough run off was available I pulled over and removed the cam from its mount. A makeshift home was made for the mount on the handlebar end but this interfered with bike operations but, I wanted the cam in a cooler air stream and still be able to keep an eye on it, all appeared well. Four miles outside of Lillooet the road surface became almost pristine just as the highway dropped down and ran at its closest to the Fraser River, it felt a little sinful not to take in the canyon scenery fully but this was the idyllic roads that we had been hoping for, fifth gear most of the time and gentle throttle control paying dividends. We could see why much of this area was considered the premier for river rafting, numerous teams riding the rapids and in some cases the howls of excitement could even be heard within our helmets.
The exit to Lillooet came up and we swept through the easy left turn onto Highway 99, of course, another link in the chain for today’s title. We crossed the Fraser one last time and avoided the town Main Street by following the highway over a rough wooden bridge and the Seton River...
Crossing a similar bridge near a Hydro power station, still on the highway now proclaiming itself as ‘Duffey Lake Road’. The road condition was quite poor at this point, so I was quite happy to indulge in some easy canyon cruising, while we had the chance, it didn’t help us see much of the lovely Seton Lake itself as we glided past a valley viewing point before everything was hidden from us by peaks and mountains.
Riding the wide canyons felt very ‘Scottish’ to me once again, probably through rising and falling with the terrain instead of being on the valley floor. The road must have been subject to some harsh conditions, the video shows some bouncing of the bike over the repaired surface, a constant crack being visible in the centre but grass coming to the very edge and splendid views more than made up for any surface imperfections. The road was now running alongside the Cayoosh Creek and we crossed over it a few times on wooden, one-way traffic bridges but, after the last of these the road surface became much newer and, as if an angel was riding with us, the sun came out to play from behind the peaks that seemed to lift us from an ebb in the ride. Duffey Lake itself soon arrived so we took a break in one of the many scenic viewpoints along the lakeside. I do believe we raided Norries final reserve of his nature bars as we knew another stop before Whistler was unlikely. Late afternoon when we set off next and the sun was dazzling us a little by skipping through the tops of the trees but in compensation, the road widened nicely so that there was no need of full lane sightline needed for making ‘good progress’. The road and scenery simply became superb once again, the path of the road highlighted well in advance by the tree line and the sun now shining on the distant slopes, some road bridges had their wooden decks re-laid which I was a little wary of but, it never upset the bikes at all. The section from Joffre Lakes to Lillooet Lake was a joy to experience, no traffic, perhaps due to it being around meal time and a few well-posted switchbacks to scrub the tyre sidewalls with, all added to the flavour of the ride.
All this goodness had to become subdued at some time and the edge of Lillooet Lake was to be it. Traffic backed up and overtaking became hazardous so, it was single line but pleasant riding, with farmland and mountain views still dominant. Some very late signposted road works caused a vehicle some locked up wheels, as midway through a bend a small section of rubble had been laid, this being the only noteworthy item all the way to the community of Pemberton, nearly 6 pm now we forlornly only had time to wave to Pemberton's stout Inukshuk, as Whistler was calling. The road now takes on the name of the ‘Sea-to-Sky’ Highway and I love that phrase, conjuring images of roads so perfect they meld sea and sky together, at least in my grey matter. More traffic denoted the popularity of the Olympic resort we were aiming for and some thoughtfully provided two lanes on our side of the road even allowed us to get throttle happy in places, brought to a halt by the only major road works we actually observed during the whole trip, I believe. A two-mile-long section was being totally resurfaced, the tram lines of excavation unsettling the bikes but not the riders, for a change.
Green lake lived up well to its name and I smiled to myself at seeing people enjoying nature at its best. I didn’t realise how close our day’s ride was to its end, less than a mile later, we left turned into the cycling haven that is the village and made our way to the Summit Lodge Boutique Hotel. Underground parking makes perfect sense but for me, signals an indoor oven for motorcycle clothed riders. Another two-night stay, so porter’s trolley collected, all four panniers came off and our spacious room suddenly looked quite littered. Free coffee was kindly provided in the lobby so I grabbed one while Norrie showered and got changed. A very stylish place this appeared, outside and in and yet I was a little surprised at the number of dog’s guests had brought with them, great to see, I thought, all sorts of breeds and sizes and that they were well catered for. Pedal bike hire was available and with the hire shop built into the lobby, hotel residents got a free taster session as well.
Good coffee; I grabbed a refill and made another for my Grizzly buddy to consume while I enjoyed a jet blasting from the power shower in the bathroom. Our room was a great design, lots of hidden storage space, a cooking area and even an iPad mini loaded with information for the area. Early evening, ‘in-between-time’ and in-between meals but a great time to stretch ride weary legs with a walk around the Olympic plaza and a little window shopping, we made a reservation to eat out, as the restaurant in the hotel was fully booked. Then, by lucky chance, we happened upon another outlet of Blenz Coffee, so it was compulsory to stop and indulge a little and let the world go by.
I liked the feel of the plaza, it was vibrant and alive with activity. Despite its initial design in the 1960's the resort had been continuously upgraded, always with the ideal of winning an Olympic winter games bid, which it finally hosted in 2010. We took our evening meal on the edge of the plaza, choosing to eat outdoors as the temperature was so mild, 23 degrees celsius at nearly 8 pm. The meal it must be said was only average, I was starting to think we had been perhaps, spoiled on our journey but Norrie agreed with me. Even more so, when we saw the high price to be paid for our pleasure but, we had been warned in advance that this was a world-class resort.
Another walk seemed appropriate and I was pleased by the diversity of shops and eating options, every type of taste appeared to be catered for. Many shops were still open late and I couldn't resist but browse at some of the high-end pedal bikes and their technology that were on display. We passed up the various options for a slightly stronger beverage, choosing to return to the hotel and then being thwarted at discovering the bar was closed for refurbishment. No great problem, the coffee was good and we were both weary. Norrie surfed the TV info channels while I did my tech chores and read brochures on activities for tomorrow. It was only when we turned the lights off that the problems began!
With no noise being made by ourselves we became aware of a brain-addling droning sound that neither of us could sleep with. Just as annoying was that we could not identify the source of the noise, it almost seeming to come from all sides. I called reception and a maintenance operative was sent who confirmed the noise (that he'd never heard before) and went away to investigate. It took us some time to work out it was an interference noise between our air-con unit and the one next door. The noise was only lessened by turning the air-con down, so the room was much hotter but, the outside fans could not be turned off so, an unsettled night was had by both of us with two grumpy and grizzly bikers waking the next morning.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 27, 2021 23:18:55 GMT
WCW D12 Whistler - Pedal Power (Aug 27 Thurs) 0 Miles
The black noise had stopped with the fans being turned off sometime during the night and despite laying in for quite a while, it could not make up for the loss of quality sleep time. After showering, we grabbed coffee's on the way to reception to see if there had been a resolution.
Dogs sigining-in chalkboard!
None was forthcoming, the only option appearing to be our move to another part of the hotel and they could not let us know where, until later in the afternoon. More alarm bells sounded for me when breakfast turned out to be at an alcove outlet where members of the public could also walk in from street level and eat, I'd never known this style of breakfast in all my years and it continued into the meal itself, a full cooked breakfast, that turned out to be full cooked in used oil and I could not even stomach half of it. We left silently and looked admiringly at guests eating their first meal of the day at Blenz and decided to do the same the next morning. Time to halt the downhill slide the day was trying to attempt and that was done by seeing families enjoying themselves at the Blackcomb area. I had vastly underestimated the scale of the resort in the darkness of the previous evening however, the Blackcomb was now a constantly moving mass of mountain bikers! A skiing facility in winter but now, during summer and autumn, Whistler mountain bike park came into play carrying adrenaline junkies to a height of over 3,500 feet for as much fun as pumped arms and legs can manage. It looked superb, families, clad in suitable armour, whooping in delight and at base camp, trying to decide which trail to attempt next. I was so pleased to see this, I'd been to downhill races in the U.K. many years ago but never dreamed that any facility existed of this magnitude, nicely done Canada!
We allowed ourselves some retail therapy next, having bought very little and with a better feel now for what we might be able to squeeze onto the bikes. I bought a gyroball camera mount for my action-cam in the hope of obtaining a little more video variation and some Canadian memento's for my long-suffering better-half, back in the U.K.
Insulation for the Arctic Conditions?!?
After a quick sandwich on the run, I ushered Norrie back to the hotel as seeing so many pedal bikes had inspired me, not to attempt any downhill action but certainly to enjoy a little of the trails and views the area had to offer. My initial plan was to hire a tandem, as our hotel had three brand new examples outside when we left, sadly the only size left now was much too large for us so, we decided to borrow some city-style bikes instead.
So, where should two bikers on unfamiliar pedal bikes ride to? Lost Lake, of course. Suitably attired, (crash helmets and trousers tucked into socks) it was a pleasure to ride on such cycle friendly roads and paths.
We soon got away from the main roads and dropped down onto a cinder path that led us on some undulating forest trails, around the edge of the lake. Norrie, ever the speed demon, zapped ahead at every opportunity but, my wily ways soon reeled him back in again, good fun.
The view over the lake was well worth the effort, the sun catching the ripples in the water and a cooling breeze were both equally welcomed. Viewing areas and information platforms were carefully placed to have minimal impact on the surroundings while further around the lake, toddlers were splashing at the water's edge from a small beach area. Some brave souls had even struck out swimming for the sunbathing float in the middle of the lake, to my surprise I did find out later this used to be a popular spot for nude sunbathing...
We returned via a different path that kept us off-road for a little longer but brought us back via a subway to an unfamiliar part of the resort, not to be perturbed, we soon identified some nearby shops and even managed a short-cut back to the hotel. Poor Norrie nearly drank the water dispenser dry, while I badly needed a coffee fix, what a pair we must have seemed.
For some additional hilarity, we were next told our change of room was now ready so, we swiftly packed up and unpacked on the top floor, at the opposite end of the hotel with a wonderful view of the Garibaldi range of mountains from our balcony. A prize every time.
Best use made of the new shower, we changed and hurried out to eat as the exertions of the day had left us quite ravenous. We discounted a couple of venues after looking at their menu's but, I remembered seeing one interesting looking place the day before and the queue of customers waiting to be seated, confirmed its suitability. Full to capacity 'The Old Spaghetti Factory' had its own bar area so we were more than happy to down a few drinks while waiting for our table. The turn-of-the-century decor is one of the centre points of the chain and it certainly felt grand as we were ushered into the huge dining area. In a reminiscence of Italy, we had lashings of garlic with most things and damned the consequences! The food was very good and with a few more drinks, time passed so quickly that I certainly wished that for one night, it might stand still.
No such luck of course. I do remember it took a little while for us to wander back to the hotel but at least, we knew the way well by now. I think I even left the coffee machine a tip that night as I was so impressed with its selfless service, a nightcap latte was just what I needed. Our need for a good nights sleep was much greater however and thankfully, that is just what happened as the silence was far from deafening. I didn't even have time to fully recap the day's events to myself before the magical carrier of sleep floated me away to dreamland.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 28, 2021 16:38:12 GMT
WCW D13 Whistler – Victoria: “The Experience is Everything”.
Aug 28 Friday
The night’s sleep had been so good that upon awaking, I simply laid and revelled in the cosy warmth and comfort that I didn’t want to disturb. It took me a while to realise the noise from outside was actually rain. Knowing we only had a 70 mile run for the first part of our ride today, I didn’t bother checking the weather earlier and had been caught out. Grabbing the hotel’s iPad only showed drastic news, a colossal rainstorm was starting to head inland and this rain was just the mildest of pre-cursors. I enjoyed the quality shower (and the array of lotions, creams and toiletries supplied) one last time and then sorted my bike clothing and a majority of the packing while Norrie showered. Downstairs we were thoughtfully offered a free breakfast in compensation for having to move rooms but, we respectfully declined and struck out for our last visit to Blenz. I was surprised how good their breakfast was, the smell of great coffee helps, of course, but the pastries, cereals and simpler foods were just what we both fancied to start the day right.
Back at the hotel, a number of dogs were waiting in the lobby as owners were checking out, which is just what we also did next.
Waterproofs donned as late as possible in the basement oven, we made a reasonably swift departure but not too far as fuel was next on the agenda. This took us along Highway 99, which seemed to be falling consistently since we joined it and in this direction I named in my head, the sky-to-sea highway.More than once the road just dried out and then there would be some mist or light rain to dampen the surface again. I didn’t bother us or the bikes at all but the spray from some of the bigger trucks was something to be wary of. Lots of waterways were hidden from us by forests except when we crossed river bridges, then, just past the town of Squamish, the weather gods took a little pity on us and allowed, not only the roads to dry but, provided us view of Howe Sound and a little later in the middle of it, Anvil Island.
A few miles of easy two-lane 99 later and we were at our mainland destination of Horseshoe Bay. Full circle, we had been less than a mile away from here already on our very first day, exploring on our newly collected steeds. They looked quite a bit worse for wear now. Cypress Mountain even looked familiar to me but, we soon turned away and left the highway to allow us access to the ferry port. This would have normally been an end to the tour, with just 15 miles more riding back to the Cycle BC headquarters. I’d even looked into an evening dinner cruise in Vancouver harbour that sounded interesting if the weather held. However, Norrie needed little persuasion on spending another day on the bike and riding even further, Vancouver Island looked intriguing to me on the light reading I’d done and was the only viable detour without covering old ground.
At the port, we filtered correctly for the destination we needed and were waved to a motorcycle-only zone for waiting. An ideal opportunity to remove waterproofs as the weather was getting milder all the time. Some fun photos were snapped with our wooden bike pucks from the guys at MotoVida and then it was time to board the ferry. Motorcycles first, yet again, an elevated road guided us into the yawning chasm that was the entranceway onto our road-deck of the ferry and a larger version of the cleverly designed wooden wedges, which we had seen before, were offered for each rider to secure their machines for transit. An interesting array of machines was present, including, as on our last ferry, a Can-am trike, a good turn-out of Triumph’s and a selection of serious touring and trail bikes.
Our ship for the voyage was the Coastal Renaissance, which at the time of its build was one of a small fleet of the world’s largest double-ended ferries. I knew the gentle reader would enjoy that. We certainly enjoyed the spacious decks on board but not necessarily, the number of deck stairs we had to climb to reach the passenger levels. In the cafe we chose, everyone must have rushed to the window seats as hardly any were empty. It meant we could place all our bags in view while we queued for drinks and snacks and being central, we could see out of both sets of windows. The 90-minute crossing was very pleasant. Tiny islands could be seen with isolated but very beautiful looking houses, one of which Norrie was told was available to hire for those seeking solitude.
Considering how treacherous it was hinted the crossing could be, I was surprised by how calm the crossing was and put a lot of this down to the size of the ferry. Right on time we were called to return to our vehicles and no sooner did we start our bikes than we were waved to move along. Such a slick operation. With that, we arrived at Departure Bay, just one of the terminals at Nanaimo, yes, I did keep thinking of the excellent sweet bar I had, way back in Jasper and almost a lifetime ago.
It transpired that Nanaimo was originally named Colville Town! I thought this some sort of bizarre mistake but it seems not, the discovery of coal in the area, back in 1849 prompted large scale mining and it was not until 1860 that the town would be renamed by the native Indians as “Sne-ny-mo”, from where its current city name is derived.
Speaking of earlier discoveries, the road we were riding on now was also the Trans-Canada Highway and would be all the way down to our overnight stay in the B.C. capital of Victoria. I’m not quite sure why but Nanaimo seemed a little ‘run-down’ to me almost like the neglected suburbs of a city, perhaps it was just the port areas we were riding through but then, the boating industry appeared to be replaced with concrete and metal industrial units that didn’t let up, mile after mile they continued.
The twin highway was posted at a decent speed of 90 Km per hour, which was just as well considering the sets of traffic lights every few miles, even after we had left the city. As we passed the Nanaimo airport sign the view and highway opened up but the scenery seemed bleak to me while the narrow lanes and constant speeding by the majority of drivers gave me the impression that this highway was just a utility road, to be driven on as quickly as possible with only a destination in mind. Where the land was open it was mainly scrub and bushes and yet where trees were present it was often to hide more roadside commerce. If the gentle reader had not gathered, I was in low spirits at the uninspiring riding, I kept trying to put it down to being so spoiled by what we had seen already but, the facts that this was our very last main day on the road and that I had specifically added this detour when we could have easily returned to Vancouver for a relaxing end to our holiday played on my mind.
In-flight cleaning session.
At the community of Goldstream, the road finally turned East, for the run into Victoria and then South within the city limits. I suspected a Capital city and Friday afternoon were never going to be a great combination but I was surprised as the traffic moved reasonable well though the suburbs. All along the commerce area were hints of the Victorian influences that I’d heard of for the city, my spirits were lifted, I bonded with the place instantly as it reminded me of England but, as I remembered it in my childhood, grand and significant. Douglas Street was already awash with people and I took to the city even more as we swung around the busy harbour and past wonderfully impressive government buildings and stylish hotels. We turned away from the water and saw the handsome frontage to our own hotel and followed the signs to parking at the rear.
Those alarm bells were ringing in my head, once more at the sight of match-boxed sided rooms and more than a few residents leaning over the outside railing to smoke tobacco and stare at the alien machines that had just arrived. The name really should have been the ‘Bates Motel’ as that is how we both felt about being inside. I hope the gentle reader will understand why we dared not even shower in the room but felt the need to ‘escape’ as soon as possible, then, the correct texture of a 1950’s horror story will have been painted.
We walked back along the road we had ridden and bought some tall drinks at the first popular place we saw. Both of us were perplexed by the day’s events, the ferry crossing being the only highlight of the day so far. Victoria to the rescue, we set out again down to the harbour’s edge with merchants stall’s set out on walkways, some street carnival and even a decent bagpipe player, much to the chagrin of my Scottish supporter. The elaborate Baroque style buildings all around were a treat, from the weather worn rotunda of the Parliament buildings to the Royal BC Museum and even some of the hotels, looking strikingly stylized. The harbour complex attracted us further, water taxi’s zipped across the water with various other boats and vied for space with sea-planes that seemed to be doing a roaring trade.
‘Welcome to Victoria’, proclaimed the delightful flower arrangement running easily a hundred yards long on the main road bankside of the marina and I really did feel welcomed. A phrase came to me that I had seen back in Whistler near our hotel, a van with a huge single word ‘Smith’, which just happens to be my surname, so obviously, attracted my attention and written underneath the statement “the experience is everything”. I later found out it was a vehicle for the goggles and eyewear manufacturer but the motto had found a home in my tiny grey matter, somewhere.
My perception changed, the indifferent ride and down-market hotel, were just experiences; we’d survive them unscathed and they wouldn’t detract from the marvels we had already experienced and the interesting sights all round us, which chances are, we would never get to see again.
The harbours stretched away into the distance now, a late market was getting ready to open for guests as were an Irish-themed live band, on this outcropping section of the marina. Tourist attractions, whale spotting trips, massive luxury yachts and even tall-ships all took their place in the section of waterway amongst hundreds of smaller vessels. Food could be smelled and heard cooking outside too, which turned both our minds to our eternal consumption issue. Just by the very action of hearing our accents as we talked, quite few people took the time to talk with us, we discovered live concerts were held in summer on a massive platform floated to the middle of the harbour and of a few interesting places to eat! Walking away from the water we passed many eating places that didn’t seem to our liking and then I saw the other Cycle BC hire outlet that I’d noted as we rode in. Early evening already, we were going to pop inside to say hello, as essentially we had some of their bikes but, all the staff were busy with customers and more were waiting, a great array of scooter and pedal bikes lined the property and well-presented too. I decided to allow my iPhone to show me some eating options as we were both hungry now and blow me down, an outlet of the Old Spaghetti Factory was just around the corner on Douglas Street. Must be the ingrained hint of Italian in both of us but it was a decision that didn’t even need discussion and off we went.
It was only a short walk between conference centres, malls and even a bus station to the Italian food that smelled great even before we got there. The décor of the outlet was detailed as in Whistler, just like stepping back in time. We hadn’t even finished our drinks before the food was presented and I do believe two clean plates were taken away soon after! Some Italian deserts were also consumed and I do seem to remember being decadent in ordering some delicious Lemoncello liqueur, just to ease the food down, I’d recommend the gentle reader to try some.
Back out on the streets and the city had come alive. More people were taking the night air with the roads around the harbour full of pedal-bike taxis, horse-drawn carriages and even open-topped London double-decker buses in full English flag livery. Many of the buildings were artistically illuminated and we stopped, with many other people to admire the vine-clad frontage of the luxurious Fairmount Empress hotel, the description of a chateau-style hotel, simply not doing it enough justice.
Despite my new “Smith” resolution, I must admit it was with heavy feet, I crossed the road to the harbour wall and started the return to the hotel. The main Legislature building was beautifully illuminated with lights placed on the edges, giving a strong outline to the night sky and reminding me of a Sultans palace in even more distant lands.
Back at the ‘lodging’, it occurred to me that right now, I was the furthest West I had ever been and curiosity being the driver that it is, got the better of me. It seems we were 4500 miles away from home, measuring our direct flight path back to the U.K. (but a curious distance, given that the Trans-Canada Highway is longer, I can only imagine ‘as-the-bird-flies’ is a complex calculation) and yet, I just wanted to see even more of this interesting island and this gratifying province of Canada.
Sadly, as I drifted off into slumber, I couldn’t know that we were about to ride into a calamity many would rate worse than the forest fires aftermath we had already experienced.
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Post by Iconic944ss on Sept 28, 2021 16:51:52 GMT
WCW D14 - Victoria - Vancouver. (Rush Hour / Journey's End) Aug 29 Saturday Following only the second worst night’s sleep of the whole holiday, we packed quickly in anticipation of the breakfast matching the standard of the accommodation. We were not disappointed so, it might be best to leave that episode to history and place us on our trusty bikes for a ride along the seafront! I guess I should have returned us to the Old Spaghetti Factory, executed a right turn and then made our way to the only objective I had, to ride to Mile Zero, the start of the Trans-Canada highway. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for the easy way. A few twists and turns in the opposite direction dropped us onto the frontage of Dallas Road, it had rained overnight and the roads were still damp. Shower proofs protected us and kept us warm against the cool wind. I stopped us at an open section of the road looking out over a strait that I thought was simply a set of islands but in actual fact is Port Angeles and the U.S.A. over the invisible state line. So intent was I at finding the Mile Zero monument that next, I rode straight past it! It was only eagle-eye Norrie that spotted it and quick toot of his horn brought me around.We parked the bikes on the Trans-Canada highway, which actually at this point, is an ordinary and fittingly simple two-way town road. We walked over to pay our respects to the monument and pose for some photos, there is so much history attached to the Mile Zero. A plaque is affixed to it celebrating the efforts of Glasgow-born ultramarathon runner Al Howie, who, among many wondrous achievements, ran the Trans-Canada highway from its start, just over 4500 miles away in Newfoundland to Victoria in the record time of 72 days and 10 hours! An even more poignant statue near here is devoted to Terry Fox and his one-legged run of Hope across Canada in 1980 to raise Cancer awareness, his spirit and vision being so inspirational that had his body allowed, he too would have ran to this very spot. We stayed on Dallas Road, as I was enjoying the seaward view so much, impressive houses having a majestic view of the bay as the road eventually merged into Beach Drive and swept us all the way along to Oak Marina. ‘Scenic Drive’, stated the road side sign and it was certainly that, even with blocks of condominiums opposite, blocking the landward view it was still enchanting riding that in all honestly, I didn't want to end. The houses grew more impressive and charming and I even noticed the Glenlyon Norfolk School that looked more like a Derbyshire town house than I've seen in a long time! BR: Glenlyon Norfolk School, with Thanks to John Greaves I eventually had to concede too much time was being lost on direction less sightseeing, no matter how pleasant and made the decision to turn onto Highway 17 for the run to the Swartz Bay ferry terminal. Just as smooth and efficient as the Horseshoe Bay terminal we were eased along the stream of vehicles but just in time to see the lane of bikes empty in the distance, meaning we would have to be loaded last and at the stern of the vessel. At least, while waiting on our own we had a laugh at the café name on shore: Land’s End. Today’s ferry the ‘Spirit of Vancouver Island’ is one of the two biggest in BC Ferries fleet, with even more carrying capacity than the Coastal Renaissance at 470 vehicles and 2100 passengers, we were certainly glad of the extra size and tonnage as the sea swell was noticeable as soon as the ship got underway. A good number of passengers were on board as the queues were noticeable for the café so we bought extra supplies to keep us good. The poor ship was getting a sound lashing from the wind, rain and then the sea itself joined in, eventually escalating until food and drinks were being spilled from tables and a ‘battening down of hatches’ was announced. Just to make things interesting the captain called over the ship’s intercom and announced storm conditions in the Strait of Georgia and we would have to circle while data gathering and assessments took place. Obviously well-rehearsed, the ship was turned to minimise listing which was just as well, as we were held in station keeping for another 90 minutes before the man-made peninsular of Tsawwassen came into view and the ferry docked. The rain and winds had hardly abated at all so, full wet weather suits were brought into play, for only the second time, on the road to Banff. The need for the remote peninsular was to accommodate commercial chemical ships that I observed jockeying for berths in the conditions. Sadly, it meant for a harrowing ride along the exposed causeway back to the mainland and a battering by the elements. As soon as we reached the mainland it was obvious something major had occurred. Wooden changing shacks on the beachfront had been flattened, trees had been blown over and leaf and branch debris were strewn all over the roads. An ambulance overtook us on Highway 17 with red lights flashing almost to emphasise the seriousness of the situation that wasn’t lost on us. One wish we hoped to achieve was to visit a Ducati bike shop, once back in Vancouver. Oddly enough, the biggest outlet near to our hotel was also a BMW dealership and the same that supplied the hire bikes to Cycle BC. I entered the dealership data into the SatNav via its zip code to make sure a good route was found and sure enough, instead of keeping us on major roads as I expected, it slipped us off Hwy 17a and onto a minor road, running us next to our old friend the Fraser River! It should have only been 90 minutes maximum to get to the bike shop but that amount of time later, with the conditions failing and now the traffic lights being off at many junctions, we still had not even crossed the river. I was so pleased to see a large road bridge finally loom into sight, the conditions were just damp, but not drying at all and after being dry for so long many of the roads were greasy, making smooth riding essential. Then, I noticed there was no traffic on the Alex Fraser Bridge, it had been closed down and we were being diverted to stay by the south of the river. Bad luck coming, bad luck going, or so it seemed to me. Bizarrely, back on Hwy 17 again, the traffic was nose to tail until we were taken off the road to use the Pattuilo Bridge to cross the Fraser River, the lattice suspension bridge reminded me of similar structure in the Gateshead Bridge back in the U.K. The wind made its presence felt as we crossed the river into New Westminster but, no sooner did we pass next to Queen’s park on the opposite side of the road than the heavens started to unleash an absolute deluge of rain upon us. Thank goodness for flip helmets and pin-lock visors to minimise the problem of misting however, my concentration was waning and I was in need of a break when, a little distance away a McDonalds was spotted, it was an easy decision to turn off the McBride Boulevard, for a coffee at the very least. Bikes parked and SatNav stowed away in my topbox, we made our weary way inside where a dinnertime queue of people had exactly the same idea. I told Norrie, it was my treat and asked him if he wanted anything to eat but he was too preoccupied to even answer me, searching around himself, he looked a little ashen before delivering his knockout blow. “I’ve left my backpack on the ferry”. Simple words that didn’t even sink in as I thought Norrie was referring to his waterproofs. “Whats in your backpack, Norrie?” I asked hoping for the best. “My passport, money, credit cards and camera” was Norries shocking reply. Not being able to quite take that in, I moved away from the order desk to around the corner and took some of my wet kit off while trying to process the information. Norrie didn’t even need to check outside or on his bike, he’d hung his pack on the back of the ferry café chair and didn’t put it back on again. I tried working through the variables, best case, the pack is handed in. We get the pack back to use before tomorrow morning, all is well. However, if the passport is lost, we need to figure a way to try and get Norrie a temporary passport so we can return home. Then, I tried to figure out who was best to help us, we wanted to go to the Ducati dealership anyway and knew they would have many more staff than Cycle BC so, they seemed the logical choice, Norrie agreed. We finally grabbed a coffee, the rain being so bad that we could not see the other side of the street while we continued to discuss options. We needed to move, our flight home was 6 am the next morning. I had a contact phone number from my ferry ticket for the port but sadly, couldn’t contact anyone using my mobile. By the time we lightened our own loads and dried kit out, the rain had eased significantly so, with no time to waste, we donned back up again and headed off. Our situation was put into context very rapidly at the next junction where another diversion was now in place, a tree had blown over and fallen onto an occupied car! Paramedics and police were in attendance but it looked dire. The SatNav recalculated yet again as we made our way through a maze of town houses and minor roads, time to push everything out of my head and concentrate on riding, not quite easy to do when streams of water were running across many of the roads and now many more traffic lights were dark, in this part of the city. Vancouver BMW Ducati came up soon enough and we rushed inside and explained our critical need to one of the sales staff. I’d actually emailed the sales manager before we left the U.K. in case any events were taking place, he’d passed this on to his staff so they were aware of the possibility of visitors from afar. All the staff that helped us in our hour of need were excellent, land lines were made available to both of us, drinks brought to us and assistance gave freely when it was needed. The outcome was that Norrie’s backpack had been found and complete with the passport, sadly it was missed on the first cleaning sweep and was returned to the Island so now, it would have to be brought back to the mainland, it would be available from 3 pm but, the lost property office closed at 7 pm and since the passport was a legal document, only Norrie himself could pick it up so, a courier was out of the question. The shop had phoned Cycle BC for us and they needed Norrie’s bike back now, as it needed a major service. So after a very quick look around the spacious dealership, it was time to suit back up once again and venture out into the rain and now darkening skies. Grandview highway to us three blocks into East 12th Avenue for the same again where we fuelled the bikes up before finding the traffic lights were dark on the Kingsway. Even the previously placid Vancouver drivers could be heard sounding horns and revving though four-way gridlock when fighting for priority. I decided to avoid Kingsway and use side streets instead; bad idea, I’m afraid gentle reader I’m going to have to admit to using a vacant cycle path and us both doing some pretty nifty manoeuvres at times, needs must. Safely back at Cycle BC, it was now raining hard, with the sky black with storm clouds. Hands were waved in the negative but I wasn’t sorry about riding straight into the shop basement to escape the now cold rain and the wind. Options; a taxi back to Tsawwassen would be expensive with no guarantee of making it on time in the conditions. Norrie would have to pay insurance, as a minimum for another bike and so, the only real option was for us to ride my bike, two-up! Norrie emptied all his panniers and topbox contents into black bin bags, while I did likewise, leaving only essential kit my topbox. I believe it was another ‘Dave’ that helping us in the shop and first-class he was too, our bags would be taken to the hotel and at the end of the day, we could leave my bike there too. All the paperwork was sorted swiftly, letting us get straight back on the road and hurry to the ferry port. It was only later that the scale of the storm, (that had hit hardest in the earlier hours of the morning), was made clear to us. Hundreds of trees had been uprooted or broken, half a million homes were without power but worst of all, a handful of people had lost their lives from falling trees or accidents. Power grids were down, taking out not just traffic signals but street lighting, the chaos was much more wide-spread than we imagined. So we rode out, two-up, into all of this. Dave was calm in our crisis and had put the bike into wet riding mode, I was used to full-power mode but pulling away did feel a little easier. Dave even tried to plot a decent course for us to Hwy 99, set the SatNav for the ferry terminal and wished us good luck. It felt like we would bloody well need it!
I fired up our intercoms once again so Norrie could help watching traffic and road names. We got onto the avenue we needed but the traffic was Saturday gridlock of a type I’ve never experienced before. After 5 pm already, I seriously thought of attempting some lane splitting but decided against it as other drivers simply would not be prepared for it but, I had other problems to worry about, in any case. Hill starts! We seemed to be constantly up and down hills for the first hour or so and I was starting to get a serious pain in my left leg from holding up all our collective weight until I sussed out a way to use the front brake with a single finger, instead of the rear and still controlling the throttle, it made life a little easier. I lost count of the number of dark cross-roads we came upon, either extreme caution or a confident attitude were called for. Then, just when the highway seemed to be in sight the road was closed down and we were diverted again, it seemed as though we rode through a parking lot at one point, as we simply followed the locals while a recalc took place. Then, another diversion, a multiple vehicle incident, glass and fluids were strewn over both lanes so I trickled the big BMW through at walking pace and hoped the fluids would be cleaned away quickly. This was starting to feel like endless torture, I had seen one solitary other motorcycle and dare not take my hand off the bars to wave, given the gusts of wind that could strike at any second.
It had taken us in the region of 60 minutes to travel 4 miles. But, we still had a final irony to suffer gentle readers. We had not yet made it to Hwy 99 however, I could see the signs for it when an interesting sign came up on the SatNav; ‘Low Battery’. I was shocked, to say the least. I’d not even seen the first warning that should have been mains power lost. I pulled over to the side of the road and checked the wiring. The power LED was also dark while everything looked intact, I could only assume water had worked its way in and either caused a short or a blown fuse but regardless, I couldn’t fix it. We only just made it onto the highway, 5 short minutes later when the SatNav died completely. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, I knew 99 would take us back to Hwy 17 and from there I could wing it all the way to the terminal.
WHY, is there always a BUT! Because there always is. ‘But’, it was well after 6 pm and we still had 20 miles to go: so go! The interchange onto Hwy 17 was a worry but worked out fine, likewise, I still remembered the two lane road down to the terminal but the frequent junction’s without any traffic lights meant caution every time and I could almost feel the clock ticking.
The skies were a little brighter when we reached the port and we hurried into what turned out to be the wrong part of the terminal for lost and found. We could see Norrie’s bag straight away from the correct desk and the lady clerk was happy to hand Norrie his passport and every other single item of his, all intact. Impressive honesty, given the large amount of money Norrie had been carrying. The lady didn’t know who had handed the bag back in. I laughed as Norrie produced a bottle of wine and handed it to the clerk for either her or whoever deserved it the most, in any event, it was a great result.
It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders but I also instantly felt dreadfully tired, running on adrenaline, I imagine. With the café closed a machine brewed coffee had to suffice but I was apprehensive about the ride back without a guide of any type. The air even felt a little warmer as a rainbow broke out on the horizon, another prize every time. Back up Hwy 17 for the third time in less than 12 hours, at a much slower pace. I must say that Norrie was an excellent passenger, moving correctly when needed, watching for hazards and keeping me good.
I’m still not sure which route I took on the exit of Hwy 17 to return us to Vancouver but it seemed much easier than the first attempt, some underpasses provided much-welcomed warmth. I remember a very industrial area and then the sign for West 12th Avenue that I knew would take us back to Kingsway and the hotel. Norrie hopped into the hotel for an entry token and poor ‘Loonie’ was finally quietened in the car lot, sometime around 8 pm at night, after roughly 11 hours on the road.
Check-in completed, our cases were retrieved along with a mountain of black bags that Norrie seemed very happy to see. I think we were even given the same room as last time to make life easier and Norrie was a Gentleman, unloading the bags and returning the trolley while I simply had to jump in the shower and soak to try and pull myself around.
It was only after Norrie had showered that we realised how terribly hungry we were, of course, we’d not eaten a decent meal all day long! The Indian ran restaurant next door, thankfully catered for all tastes and we could not be bothered to go elsewhere. Each of us devoured a bottle of Canadian lager before deciding upon food. We both decided upon something I thought I’d never see outside of the U.K., a ‘Parmesan’. We had ours with rice as a novelty and damn fine it tasted too, clean plates, some ice-cream and quite a few more bottles were consumed to toast our last full day in British Columbia.
It was nearly midnight by the time we returned to the hotel and in a particularly idiotic move, I felt parched and drank far too much fresh milk from out of a chiller unit before downing more than one cup of coffee, which Norrie also did partake in. A final goodbye to my BMW included storing the SatNav in the topbox, along with a note about the failed charging system before handing the keys in at reception and asking for a wake-up call at 4 am.
Yes, gentle readers, you are very perceptive, after midnight and we had not even started packing yet. The few slight gifts we had bought making all the difference and filling our suitcases to absolute capacity. Norrie managed just fine, having an extra case and collapsed into bed about 1 am while attempting to travel ‘light’ proved my undoing and took three attempts at packing before my suitcase could even be zipped closed. The last backup of the final copies of videos and photos and I too could no longer stay awake, falling into bed finally, at 2 am. Even though I’d set an alarm and knew the wake-up call was also requested, it was a restless sleep.
Sure enough, the 4 am alarm was prompt and now, no longer adventurers, just simply two weary travellers that had to drag themselves and luggage to reception, one final time. Minutes later and we were in another hybrid taxi being hummed along to the airport. It felt surreal, not only a city eerily quiet and still recovering from the storm but, after two weeks of either walking or riding in some way, not being in control of our direction and destiny, felt quite odd. Soon enough, the bright lights of the departure area were overhead and we were amazed that our overweight suitcases were swallowed by the machinery bowels of the airport without a word or hint of excess baggage charge. I really thought this part of the city would never sleep and was surprised when all shop shutters were down and long queues of passengers waited outside of breakfast bars, just as we did at a Timmy Horton’s, for our first hit of the day.
Except I didn’t feel right at all. I only managed a few sips of coffee and a bite of the bagels we’d bought and could not stomach any more. I took some strong sedative pain-killers, in the hope that some sleep would help me pull around and even though I slept through our first short-haul flight, it was not to be and I am sad to report that I became more ill as the day wore on. So, I will end our final day in Canadian air-space, for now right here.
[/SIZE][/FONT] Reflections As I am writing this now it is 6 months after the start of our adventure. I was so stunned, mesmerised, awe-struck and then fried by our experiences that I couldn’t even begin writing about them for 3 months after we returned, safely, back home to the United Kingdom. Trying to sort photos and videos helped keep memories fresh but, note to self, check all camera time and date settings when wanting a correct timeline of images, from different devices! Telling family and friends of our time in British Columbia eventually made the decision for me to start writing up our exploits but inevitably, I have forgotten many memories but reinforced the trip instead, with details that I found interesting and I hope, fit in reasonably with the journey.
There is a little ‘housekeeping’ to sort, of course, before signing off:
We actually visited four landmark cities during out travels, in order: Vancouver, largest by population. West Kelowna, newest. Greenwood, smallest by population, (approx. 700). New Westminster, oldest. Despite the mention in the text, the highest, Phoenix, didn’t count really as it no longer has city status and we only skirted around it!
Norrie protested WestJet over the damage to his brand-new flight case and received a refund and some air miles that are time-restricted, I doubt those miles will ever be used.
In a crushing blow of fate, but, entirely my own fault. I discovered only recently, that I actually have a distant family relative, living in Victoria! My cousin had signed me up for a family history page that I only glimpsed through to look at some family photos. If I had looked more carefully, I’d have seen the lady who created the page is my relative on Vancouver Island and had even visited the United Kingdom, mainly researching our, admittedly 'split' link, in the family tree.
Our tour covered just over 2000 miles and only ever really felt rushed on the very last day of riding. Travelling next to continuous ranges of mountains for whole days at a time really was astonishing but, if I had to name a highlight for our trip then it would have to be Canoe Mountain. Unplanned and unexpected, it seemed our destiny to reach what I’m sure I will be able to call my own, ‘roof-of-the world’ and will be for me, unsurpassed...
But, New Zealand sounds 'interesting' - LoL.
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