In 2013, I managed an exclusive, high end bicycle shop. We sold custom bikes ranging in price from $8,000 to $25,000. Sadly, that market didn’t exist in Spokane. Subsequently, the business closed and I found myself unemployed. A month later, my wife invited me to live at another residence. So, there I was in the dark of winter, wallowing in the misery of unemployed divorcedom… When springtime arrived, I received my meager “severance package” from the court. Still unemployed, I had nothing better to do, so I loaded up my 1983 Suzuki GR650 motorcycle and wandered around WA and BC.
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| Packed & ready to go! |
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| Plume of smoke |
I stayed with various friends in the Seattle area for a few days. On my last day there, I woke to rain, or “Seattle Sunshine” as I like to call it.
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| Leaving Seattle |
Undaunted, I pressed north pointing toward Canada. The rain came and went with certain frequency. Since I didn’t think to pack any, I had to stop to buy some rain gear. This proved to be a good purchase as this adventure unfolded. I avoided main highways as much as possible. Main roads get you to your destination efficiently. I was on an adventure, efficiency was not an issue.I found a terrific road off the beaten path. Highway 9 that took me from Bellingham to Sumas on the US/Canadian border. This town exists mostly as a place for Canadians to purchase cheap milk and gasoline. As I waited in line to cross the border, I saw shoppers putting shopping cart loads of milk jugs into their cars. Funny that a socialist country doesn’t subsidize the dairy industry like the capitalist country to the south!
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| The queue to Canada |
I crossed into British Columbia with no actual destination in mind. I could veer left and head into Vancouver, or veer right and stay within my budget. It was getting late, so I opted to stay on budget. I stopped in the town of Chilliwack. It was named after a 70's band so I thought that it was as good a place as any to make a plan.
The band Chilliwack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DVt8K8d4ac&feature=emb_logo
I found a little dot on the map called Harrison Hot Springs. It sounded like a good target to spend the night. I made my destination just as night fell. I set up in a municipal campground. Just about every small town in BC has one. A great option for the low budget traveler who doesn’t mind sleeping on the ground...
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| Municipal campground |
Harrison Hot Springs is a cute little community. I spent a couple of days there. The water from the hot spring is piped into a community pool. It was a lovely place to relax road-weary muscles. There was an amusing on the pool deck. It seems to indicate that the water is -100 degrees.
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| Wait... what? |
When I wasn’t soaking in the hot water, I would sit at a sidewalk café people watching. Once in a while someone would chat me up. I guess that traveling by motorcycle makes me a bit of a curiosity.
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| Beautiful Downtown Harrison HS! |
The time came to break camp and move forward. I headed east toward the Crow’s Nest Highway. CNH is a winding mountain road with spectacular vistas! The mountain pass’ beauty is rivaled only by the Bavarian Alps! After a couple of hours of stunning scenery, I descended out of the lush mountains and into the desert of the Okanogan region.
About the time I got to Keramoos, my speedometer quit working. I had to
pretty much guess how fast I was going. I used the tachometer to help gauge,
though I really had no point of reference as to how RPMs equated to MPH(1).
I was still a long way from home and chose not to worry about the speedometer.
I headed north to Kelona. A lovely lake community; so vibrant and alive. There,
I met a guy, “Canadian Kevin,” and we hung out all day. A philosophical fellow who lives in a camper in an orchard north of town. People watching from
the sidewalk café. He shared some cannabis and we wandered down to the shore of
Lake Okanogan. We marveled at the tribute to Ogopogo, the fabled sea creature
that lives in the depths of the lake. We also marveled at the beach apparel
which was more appealing than the tourist apparel on the streets! A game of
Hacky Sack found us and we enjoyed the sunshine and camaraderie as the day
progressed into evening, evening into night.
I found a hostel in town that had a bed, a shower and a continental
breakfast. All for just $30! That was less than the campsite in Harrison Hot
Springs! At every hostel I have stayed at in Europe, there was at least one Australian.
Here, I didn’t see any! The next morning I was surprised to meet two Aussies at
the breakfast table. So, to this day, I
have never stayed in a hostel without Australians!
I loaded up my bike in a light drizzle. I met up with Canadian Kevin for
coffee and a pastry at a strip mall Starbucks. We talked about life, living and societal
expectations. As the drizzle turned to rain, I realized that I had a long day
ahead of me. We said our goodbyes, and headed north toward Vernon. I could live
in Vernon for its name alone!
I took a right turn onto Highway 6 toward Nakusp. A sign on the way out
of town warned to check your fuel gauge as the next fuel stop was 140km.
Canadians are so helpful! I had about half a tank, so I turned around to fuel up. I can go about 225km on a
tank, and it was about 200km to Nakusp. I didn’t want to push my luck.
The temperature dropped and rain came down harder as I meandered along the twisting highway over Monashee Pass. It was cold, wet and slow. All of the corners I dreamt about speeding through were dangerously wet and slippery. I pulled into a rest stop to add another layer in a futile attempt to stave off the chill. Descending off of the pass, the weather dried. My core temperature rose as I waited for the ferry to cross Arrow Lake.
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| Waiting to cross Upper Arrow Lake |
As the boat docked, the ferryman waved me forward so that I could “lead the pack out.” After we docked, I sped away enjoying the dry pavement under my tires. I fueled up in Nakusp, had a snack then headed down the winding highway toward New Denver. Twisting, undulating topography was delightful as I leaned into one corner after another, the tachometer was running 4,000 to 5,500 rpm(2) the whole way.
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| Highway 6 toward New Denver |
New Denver is a tiny village. Once home to a Japanese concentration camp. I did not realize that the Canadians also rounded up citizens of Japanese decent during World War Two. The camp is now a well preserved memorial to the atrocity the government inflicted upon them.
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| The only restaurant in New Denver |
After lunch at the only restaurant in town, I decided to not stay in New Denver. I rode the 50km on Highway 31A to Kaslo. 31A is a motorcyclist’s dream! Twisting the throttle, shifting the gears, every curve was an adventure!
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| Highway 31A to Kaslo |
The engine was running 5,500 to about 6,500 rpm.(3) I still didn’t know how fast that was but at that point it really didn’t matter. I only came upon one car along the way. I passed like it was standing still! The exhilaration of this stretch of road made me forget all about all the wet, cold and slow going of Monashee Pass.
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| Kaslo Municipal Campground |
It was a sunny, hot afternoon as I rolled into Kaslo. I headed straight to the municipal campground and staked claim to the last remaining campsite. I wandered around the village looking that the things thereare to look at. It is an artisan community that hosts a large jazz festival every August. ( https://kaslojazzfest.com/ ) I couldn’t stick around for that. Besides, all of the near by accommodations have been reserved since the previous festival.
I ate lunch at the Crooked Café. The building is literally crooked. “The Building is slanty but the food’s plumb good” said a Yelp review. It is mostly vegetarian fare, which I appreciate.
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| The Crooked Café |
Later,
I sat on a rock overlooking a slough. I sat for a couple of hours watching a
beaver fashion freshly felled trees into living quarters. A Zen moment like this can not be purchased.
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| The busy beaver slough |
Morning came quickly. I watched the sunrise as I enjoyed my coffee. A fellow camper came over to tell me about a weather advisory of thunder showers with the possibility of violent winds. The day was cloudless, sunny and warm. I took it under advisory, packed up and headed out.
20 minutes up the road is a quaint hot spring resort. It started as a gold mind, but as the miners dug into the mountain they got flooded out by hot water. A resort was built around the abandoned mine. You can now float back into the old mine for about 30 metres. In front of the mine are concrete lined
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| Inside the "mine" |
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| AC&C |
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| Edith Prickley |
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| MSD |
After finishing lunch, I wandered around “the Wednesday Market,”
enjoying the sunshine and people watching. It was about 2 pm when I decided
that it was time to go. The final thre-hour push home.
I had an uneventful 45 minutes to the US border. The crossing was a
breeze. I just flashed my passport and was on my way. After I fueling up in
Ione, WA (“NO, I own Washington!”) I found a winding county road that crossed
through the Kalispel Reservation. Terrific scenery and another road made for
motorcycles! As I approach the village of Usk, I saw the clouds starting to swell
and darken. I stopped to put on my rain pants “just in case.” It wasn’t looking
pretty; the tranquil blue sky was disappearing quickly. About 35 miles to go, I
saw several lightening strikes in the direction that I was heading. As I pulled
onto Highway 2, It was clear that I was going to get rained on. I did NOT
anticipate what I was about to encounter.
The predicted winds came up and were, indeed, violent. Branches
were flying out of the trees horizontally going way beyond the other side of
the highway before hitting the ground. The winds brought torrential rains. Rain
so hard that I could barely see 100 metres up the road. I began to slow when I
got whipped across 2 lanes, then got whipped back again. I was certain that I
was going down. My brakes were wet and ineffective, not slowing me as quickly
as I wanted them to. After getting whipped across the lanes again I was able to
guide my moto to the shoulder of the road. I was nearly stopped when a gust
knocked me off my bike and I rolled down a shallow ravine. I wasn’t badly hurt,
but the wind kept me from getting back up. As I laid face down in the ditch, marble-sized
hail pelted down accelerated by the 70 mph winds. It really hurt even through
my leathers. Several cars pulled over to check on me. A motorcycle on its side
and a guy in the ditch looked more dramatic than it actually was. I was grateful for all
who stopped. Especially the Pend Oreille County Commissioner, Karen Skook, who
insisted that I sit in her car until the storm passed. I later found out this weather event is known as a "micro-burst." This is basically a tornado without the funnel cloud.
This rain passed and the winds died down. I righted my bike, it started right up and I was once again on my way. A few miles up, there was a traffic back up. Being on a motorcycle, I sauntered up to the front of the mile-long line of cars. Several trees had fallen across the road. Seemingly out of nowhere, guys with chainsaws and front end loaders appeared to move the debris off of the road. I was wet, tired and shaken. I wove my way around the workers. One yelled at me, “You can wait 5 fucking minutes!” Without a word, I just kept going. Periodically, there were more trees across the highway. I was able to get around them on my nimble two wheeler. Up ahead, there was a brilliant glow of red, blue and yellow flashing lights. Several emergency vehicles converged on a trailer park that was destroyed by falling trees. Many of the trees snapped off about 20 feet up. I stopped long enough to snap a couple of pictures but was anxious to be home.
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| Micro-burst destruction |
Nearly six hours after leaving Nelson, I arrived home. I was soaking wet. Everything was
soaked, clear into the centre of my bags. I was just glad to be safely home. I
hung everything up to dry, then climbed into a hot bath, reflecting on my day. A
day that started out warm sunny then turned into one of the most harrowing
experiences of my life.
Life doesn’t always go according to plan. I didn’t plan to go out of
business. I didn’t plan to be divorced. I certainly did not plan on being
knocked off of my motorcycle by a 70 mph wind. I learned that I need to accept
life on its terms, to adapt and move forward on the new trajectory.
(1) I got
my speedometer fixed then made a chart so I can calculate MPH from RPM
(2) 4,000 – 5,500 rpm = 55 mph - 70 mph
(3) 5,500 – 6,500 rpm = 70 mph – 90 mph
(4) Aspirin
with codeine. Available OTC in Canada. You are allowed to bring 50 tablets into
the US
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