A sleep in for some, others battling a tour party from Asia, many apparently struggling with western customs and culture, particularly as far as breakfast room etiquette is concerned. Not to worry.
For most of us, a free day in Hinton was spent on the bikes, some covering as many kms As a normal day - Neville and Yvonne getting very close to the Alaskan border in the process. I am beginning to show the first signs of suffering from a "scenery overload" - whichever direction you look there is something spectacular, another beautiful Lake, soaring peak or roaring river. To observe a bit of the local culture, a few of us ventured into a Walmart, (like The Warehouse but on steroids). We weren't disappointed, although judging by how humble some of the staff and patrons appeared, we have every reason to feel very lucky. As in many places in the USA, "trailers" are prevalent- fairly simply built, about the shape and size of a 40ft container (unless you are a big wheel in the trailer park and have a "double wide") - a very economical way for those without the means for a conventional home to live quite comfortably. Perhaps we can learn from this, although we do suffer from issues of expensive land and perhaps more critically, a sense of entitlement, many of our "poor" seemingly having higher expectations as beneficiaries than those in other places. Our favourite moment at Walmart was coming across two big and friendly dogs on the back of a pickup- the driver stopped so we could take some photos. - gorgeous. The real wildlife aficionados booked an evening tour with the implied guarantee that their time and money would be well spent - by all accounts they had lots of fun but not too much success. Those less energetic enjoyed a great steak meal at the diner next door - perhaps both groups initially thinking they'd made the right decision. Our 8am departure was quite chilly, with dark brooding clouds on the horizon, the possibility of rain forecast. Whilst the rain didn't eventuate, most added extra layers at the first stop, having been cold for the previous hour. After several more stops to take in the sights and bang off the obligatory photos, Doc led us into a bit of an alpine resort complete with gas, a pub, accomodation for those who wanted it, and a young Aussie working under a pop up tent selling hotdogs - lunch for most of us. Time to strip off all extra gear (T shirts for some of us) for the final leg into Banff - the additional traffic due to the weekend is quite apparent- bloody nuisance. We've just completed a walk up and down the main drag of this very pretty tourist town and I've pleased to have a cold can beside me as I write. Time to go. We arrived into Prince George, BC, a city of about 75000 people, situated almost in line with the bottom of Alaska, late on what had turned out to be a very hot day. Unfortunately the gas station next to our hotel didn't sell beer, and the instructions offer, initially by an Indian gentleman with a thick accent who really didn't want any mention of alcohol crossing his lips, and subsequently by his well meaning but quite unsophisticated assistant, proved unsatisfactory. Not to worry, my desperation overcame this obstacle and 10 minutes on the Harley had the problem solved - phew. We'd decided that the Vietnamese restaurant adjacent to the hotel would be the best option for dinner, (forsaking other delightful aroma's that very tempting) but unfortunately this was not the case - we were disappointed. It seems that in their efforts to cater to the tastes of as many as possible, they'd surrendered any authenticity and ended up with a hotch potch combination of bad Vietnamese, Chinese and European. Not to worry. As an aside, our young waitress was staggered that people would willingly visit Prince George, but was enthusiastic about Jasper, our next destination. Because we had quite a long way to go, and we were not sure as to road conditions, a 7am start was called for, much too early for some, but everyone was ready to roll before the allotted time. We headed due East, into the warmth of the rising sun, and after a bit of a false start and regrouping on the outskirts of town, great roads encouraged swift progress, often devouring the he distance at over 2km per minute. A truck lying forlornly in a ditch on the side of the road, was a timely reminder that things can go wrong, especially as one of the team later heard that a car and two fatalities had also been involved. We passed Logging trucks going in both directions, feeding the hungry mills that power the economy, knowing from hard earned experience to watch for the rocks and debris this monsters can create. As usual, as our route wound through the valleys the scenery either side was spectacular, soaring peaks, the odd one high enough to retain the remnants of snow, most covered in trees. Again, very reminiscent of New Zealand, but with more trees, plenty of beautiful still lakes and flowing mountain streams. The first sign of wildlife I saw was a squirrel racing across the road, his wee legs moving so fast so as to be almost invisible, his body appearing to shimmer, playing a dangerous game that could have deadly consequences. As the day progressed bigger animals, many big horned mountain sheep and the odd caribou were spotted very close to the road, relaxed and unconcerned by our passing. Judging by the number of signs warning of the presence wildlife, we must have caught them on a quiet day. We arrived in Jasper, apparently a fairly famous ski town in time for lunch before the final 80km leg Hinton, a railway town of about 10,000, and notable for being the first Police Car (touch wood) that we've seen since leaving Vancouver- and this one pulled over an errant motorist just in front of us. Our Best Western hotel is totally dry, so no drinking permitted (due to archaic liquor licensing laws) anywhere on the premises. Tonight's dinner will be at a restaurant boasting steak, pasta, Italian and Greek food - marvellous! Mel Lee, Godfather of the tour and hardcase alround good guy, poses for the camera, with Tina in attendance The short day planned for today allowed for a 9am departure, a real bonus for those among us who are not early risers - others who rise early anyway had time for other things, and in my case this meant a walk. As mentioned previously, Williams Lake was really at the epicentre of the fires that have ravaged hundreds of thousands of hectares in BC and Alberta over recent weeks, so we were fortunate to have arrived at the very tail end. This morning, the sun although the sun was visible it was as a bright red orb, struggling to be seen through the remnants of lingering smoke (my photo does not do it justice), although a breeze picked up during the course of the This is timber country, with everything else dependant on local mills and plants to be the catalyst for the economy - too much bad luck or downturn will have the inevitable outcome of tearing the heart out of the town, just like this old Kenworth, once new, powerful and proud, now, after years of service, worn out and left to rust. An unplanned detour added 160kms to today's ride, which was a real bonus - we ended up at an old mining town called Barkerville- the town has been restored to 1868, and successfully recreates how simply people lived under very difficult conditions. When we consider that the most simple staples had to be transported hundreds of kms over almost non existent tracks..The road in and out was a real treat, very little traffic, and in pretty good condition allowing us to stretch our legs occasionally, marvellous. This side trip ate into our fuel and most were on fumes by the time we reached the first available fuel. A guy at the gas station approached me, interested as to where from - he and his wife had left home in Northern Alberta 14 hours previously and were headed for Vancouver, another 8 hours away, to collect a new Harley - bearing in mind the limited riding season, you'd have to think he is very keen. Upon arriving in Lillooet last night it was apparent that a "Plan B" was required - our route through to Williams Lake was blocked due to one of the many massive forest fires bedevilling British Columbia at the moment. Mike C engaged a couple of knowledgeable locals in conversation at the local equivalent of the RSA, and quickly got the good oil that saved us several hours today. We all enjoyed a banquet dinner laid on by a very industrious self described "Chinese Vietnamese" at the restaurant next door to the Reynolds Hotel, our humble but very comfortable and quirky accommodation for the night. The meal was undoubtedly the best available in this small and dirt poor town, generous in both quantity and quality. A 7am departure for this morning dictated a fairly early night (for most), but we we treated to a hearty breakfast in the hotel dining room before heading off, with bacon, eggs and hashed potatoes appearing to be fairly popular. The route from town took us into country very reminiscent of Central Otago, soaring peaks, shale and rocks and of course, rivers - there was some discussion as to whether the smoke had dissipated at all, but as we progressed, particularly after the "locals detour ", it got much, much worse. At the aforementioned turn off, we were instructed by a young and attractive police woman (complete with gun) to join a line of traffic to be led through to the other end of the route by an offical pilot vehicle, and strict instructions not to stop for any reason. As we progressed I was mildly intrigued to see a the start of a trend - the small farms became increasingly untidy, all with wrecks aplenty, old cars, pickup trucks and farm equipment, some in orderly rows, others where ever it was they happened to break down. These wrecks we obviously inter generational, the newest perhaps 15 years old, with a minimum of one (usually more) per decade going back to the 1930s. Likewise, homes and buildings were in poor shape, some abandoned, other still lived in although perhaps shouldn't have been. That being said, we are a long way from anywhere and even today I have not seen any apparent industry or prosperity. Something the Canadians do do well is trains, big trains, with one today possibly 2km long, hundreds of carriages of all sorts, sizes and purpose, pulled by 5 locomotives going goodness knows where - very impressive. Frequent roadside signs warn of wildlife - Jacqui was rewarded with the sighting of a bear, and others saw what was possibly a mountain lion, bigger than a large dog, but unfortunately quite dead at the roads edge, the victim of something bigger than a Harley (in which case he would not be lying there alone). Very sad. As the afternoon progressed we were very pleased to stop for lunch at a cafe in the very small hamlet of "Butte" (pronounced "Beaut"), another delightful and impressive break, before the final leg into what was the epicentre of the recent conflagration (the evacuation notice is still in force), Williams Lake. Time for a drink. The fires in British Columbia really are a big deal, affecting a huge area, and thousands of people. Whole towns were evacuated, some for up to two weeks, and even now the traffic is understandably heavier away from the fires (and we are headed the other way). Our destination for today is Williams Lake, effectively the epicentre of the conflagration, but thankfully since passed (but only hours ago). Open the attachment and look for the centre, the bit that shows a red house on fire. The map also shows the huge area affected. http://google.org/crisismap/google.com/2017-british-columbia-wildfires Prior to departing Lillooet at this morning there was conjecture as to whether the smoke was better or worse - one thing was for sure though, it certainly got a lot worse as we progressed into what was a bit of a detour that took us closer to the hot spots (lead by an offical pilot vehicle), before turning on to a circuitous route around the danger area. having arrived at the hotel, we've been made aware of the notices advising that we may be evacuated at very short notice Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 We're off - right on time Doc led us out of the Pacific Gateway Hotel, our Home for the past few days, headed north west. Thankfully today is BC Day, a public holiday, and our passage through the city was a breeze, with many of the "Pink" community apparently still sleeping off yesterday's Gay Pride celebrations, which was a very big deal, and ran late into the night.
Most of the team enjoyed a meal at a family spaghetti restaurant in Gastown, cheap and cheerful at under $30 per head, including drinks - fabulous. Passing through the city is to traverse the full spectrum of society, with all too many down and outers sleeping on the streets, and in cardboard boxes under bushes through to the multi million dollar homes of those more fortunate (and prosperous). Apparently (and it is very much out in the open) Vancouver has extreme drug issues, with a liberal bureaucracy providing every means to exacerbate the situation- strangely enough, the program of dealing with addicts has been a huge success, at least in increasing the numbers of addicts- since needles and heroin started being provided to druggies at no cost, the problem has multiplied many fold. Nice one guys. So, Over the spectacular Lions Gate Bridge (according to Wikipedia, apparently funded in a land deal in 1933 by the Guinness Brewing family), and out of town, traffic light and progress good. The "smog" from forest fires has not improved, and according to the forecast, best case scenario is that it will linger until the end of the week. Our route is famous for absolutely magnificent scenery, but unfortunately not today - smoke from the huge forest fires is very much an issue, and likely to become even more so as we progress, but not a problem for this intrepid Harley guy, the bike and road ahead always being my priority. Whistler for lunch - no beggars about (that I saw) - perhaps a less liberal town that does not encourage riff raff. We found a lovely cafe and we're served by two great young ladies, a Kiwi and an Aussie. We've really noticed that service at many places is pretty average, and these two energetic girls made a mockery of their local equivalents. Not far from Whistler is the site of the 2010 Winter Olympics, and Doc took us the the site of the 90 metre Ski Jump (think Eddie the Eagle). Very big cojones required to participate in this event. The roads have been very good so far, perhaps not quite the quality we've experienced in the USA or Europe, but a huge steep above many in New Zealand. At one rest stop we encountered a young couple, he apparently a yoga guru, his attractive young assistant adding to the picture. Their transport and home was a well worn car, by all accounts once a Mazda 121, that had transformed into something very unusual , solar panels on the roof, bits and pieces added on all over the place. With over 800,000km on the clock the poor wee thing was well past retirement. We arrived in Lillooet late afternoon, and as far as hick towns go, this one would be a candidate, with absolutely no evidence of any prosperity, but the locals we've spoken to have great character and very generous with their time and advice - part of tomorrow's route is closed due to fires, but local knowledge is helping us work around in. A 7am departure means any early night! Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 The whole team has now arrived, all coming from afar, most from Auckland, although most like us via a circuitous route, others from Dubai. A very disappointing meal at the restaurant adjoining the hotel last night - both food and service being well below par, and inevitably subject to a beating on Trip Advisor. Over drinks last night Mel suggested that I contact Eagle Rider (supplier of our Harley's) to see if they could replace my old clunker with a newer bike that may have been returned on Saturday afternoon. The upshot is that both Mike C and I now have near new bikes, and are much happier as a consequence, our two faithful old bikes having traded in, the guys from Eagle Rider embarrassed to have put us in this position. Well done Mel! Today Doc had arranged a bus to take us sightseeing and we piled about at 9am, ready for whatever was on offer. Unfortunately our driver, Louis (pronounced "Louie"), failed to provide any sort of commentary, either because he suffered from shyness or lack of English, (possibly very French Canadian) so instead we had a local radio station, but between those in the team who had a modicum of local knowledge the tour was a success, with a commentary of sorts, first stop the markets at Granville Island. Wow, food hall delights, fresh fruit, meat and verges, baked goods, coffee, you name it - foodie heaven. From there the Suspension Bridge at Calilano River Regional Park - a magnificent spot and at $45 a head, (and 10,000 visitors on a day like today - do the arithmetic!), a very nice earner for the BC Park Service too. Louis dropped us off at the waterfront for lunch, and having been the recipient of a very large bird poo dropped from upon high, I was a sitter for first prize in the "most likely to be lucky today"award - All evidence suggested that it was a very big bird. After a clean up we stopped for lunch in the sun - fabulous. Mike and I then took our leave to swap bikes, getting caught up in a huge traffic jam - Gay Pride Day in Vancouver had taken over the central city. Very interesting!😀 We're now back in the room packing for tomorrow, culling out everything that doesn't need to leave with us in the morning and will remain in storage until we return later in the month Looking down from our 8th floor window we can see both up and down the river, to the left a pier based bar and restaurant (booked for dinner tonight), the smallest work boat I have ever seen, as tall as it is long, functional in every regard and zero asthetic appeal.
Across the river is a busy fuel dock that plays host to boats of every size all day long, each waiting patiently for the opportunity to gas up. Like hardy motorcyclists, boaties have a fairly limited window of barely a few months to enjoy their passion, the coming and going of an extended winter all to short. The peaked blue roofs of under cover boat storage are reminder of the extremes in climate , too much snow on deck being a bad thing. Huge rafts of logs bunched up along the river are a throwback to the timber based history of British Columbia, and a warning to experienced mariners of the dangers posed by waterlogged trunks lurking inches below the surface. We went back to Frankies Diner for breakfast, wondering how there can be so much disparity between prices in Auckland, and what we've experienced here so far - not complaining! Another coach ride to the ferry, and what a big operation that is, a sort of a combination of Waiheke and Inter-Islander, but on a much bigger scale, and no faffing about. The ferries go every hour on the hour, passing in the narrowest part of the journey, keeping the wheels of commerce on what is an important part of the economy, turning - strange that Victoria is the state capital, but that seems to be the way in North America. Our stop was conveniently right back at the River Rock Hotel, where we'd stowed our bag of motorcycle gear! So a quick dash inside, then waking up a dozing taxi driver for the short trip (about 2km) across a couple of bridges to the Pacific Gateway Hotel to meet our Harley buddies. I motivated the driver, who'd been waiting over an hour for a fare with a tip far in excess of what the meter was going to read, and he was happy with that. Before long the group began to assemble in the bar, and before long we were settled in for the tour briefing, before drifting away for dinner then reassembling later for more drinks, like the excited tourists we are. A 9am departure to collect bikes from Eagle Rider a few minutes down the road. In contrast to the circus we experienced at Eagle Rider in LAX a few years ago, these guys we pretty slick. That being said, rather than the "new and near new" bikes we'd been assured were waiting, we ended up with a collection, some new, some fairly old (our clunker, burnt orange and now named "Tigger" has 54000km on the clock, vibrates like an old concrete mixer with a gearbox straight from an early 1950's Massey ferguson tractor). In spite of this no one is complaining and we're keen to get on our way head towards the smoke. Our first stop was to the local Harley shop - new jackets, T shirts, helmets, and most importantly, bells, were all available at prices that were very compelling. Regular followers of my blog will recall that many Harley people put great store in the mystical powers of the little bell, (a gift that must be given), to warn off the Road Gremlins and any danger that may come our way. "I'm not superstitious" (in fact I am), but in the many years and tens of thousands of km's I have ridden over many years, the power of the bell has been proven beyond all doubt, and is as essential to me as a helmet. BC has been experiencing very significant bush and forest fires for the past month or so, and the smoke generated hundreds of kilometres away covers the entire state, (even on Vancouver the sun was never visible) - and our planned route takes us directly towards the centre of what are now evacuated areas. We'll take our chances, ready to about face and depart quickly if necessary. Our hotel is conveniently located adjacent to a massive outlet mall, big names, discount prices, heaven for those more interested in bargains then Harley's, but as I am now the pleased beneficiary of several new linen shirts, no complaints. Tomorrow is a day for sightseeing and any further tweeking that may be required, with tour departure Monday morning. Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 We'd just sat down at a restaurant last night when a couple were seated at an adjacent table, she perhaps 18 with the complexion and beauty only the young enjoy, her arm from wrist to bicep wrapped in plastic film, a fresh tattoo visible beneath. Her partner was much older, skin like the leather of an old saddle, weathered and worn, and all the hallmarks of having been the artist who'd worked on the girl, with very little unlinked skin visible, from the tips of his fingers, to the top of his tattooed head.
As we enjoyed an Italian inspired tapas meal, I watched an SUV pull up outside, parking under one of the 1300 hanging baskets that beautify the inner city, the big smiling face of a Rottweiler hanging out the window, looking very pleased with himself, out for a ride with Dad, a big man, heavily tattooed forearms visible. A few minutes later a young man approached the vehicle, a brief transaction took place, and within seconds the street was empty, deal done. |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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