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I hadn’t really planned to start writing a blog however I do write a number of short stories and from time to time I write about motorcycle experiences so I thought I might share them with others who have similar interests and who might enjoy reading them. So that’s likely what will happen here. I will not promise to update regularly however whenever I write something motorcycle related it will probably make its appearance on here.

GarryS

Bikes I have owned.

Honda 50 mini trail
Honda CB 350
Yamaha 175 Enduro
Yamaha 80 Enduro (kids)
Yamaha 250 Enduro
Virago 500 (or was it 550?)
Vulcan 750
Yamaha XS 650
Harley Sportster XL


The Honda mini trail I actually bought for myself to use when hunting. I have to say it worked great and took me places where I could never have believed it might be capable of going. The nice part about it was how I could pick it up and carry it through the bad spots. (I have a short story that I wrote about riding it beside my bro-inlaw on his artic cat mini that I will post if I can find it)

The mini was plenty of fun. It also did service for many years entertaining my two boys until they outgrew it. I sold it after that for more money then I had paid for it new from the dealer. Go figure. I guess it's called inflation.

The Yamaha 80 was really bought for the boys but it was rather a fun ride though no doubt I made for a comical sight touring around the farm on that thing with my knees about level with my eyes. I don’t remember getting rid of it but it disappeared somewhere along the way through life’s journey. I can’t say enough about how serviceable it and the Honda mini trail were. Then again, I never have had any significant issues with any of the bikes I have owned. I’d like to say it had to do with the regular service but that would be a lie.

The CB 350 came next. I picked it up for $400 from a co-workers brother. He had to get rid of it as he was constantly in trouble with the police for the way in which he rode it. I think it mainly had to do with the shorty mufflers and his excessive use of throttle in the wrong places. During the entire time that I had it I never had any issues with the same cops that he did. Might that be because I knew when to relaxing my throttle hand? Particularly when I could see the cops were around. I am here to tell you that it was loud. I sold it a few years later and at that time I lived about 3 – 3 ½ miles out of town. In the evening, I could hear the idiot that bought it all the way from my place as he cranked on the throttle around town. The CB 350 lasted him five weeks. When I sold it I had the feeling I was betraying an old friend as I watched it disappear down the driveway and onto the narrow country road. I saw him later and he commented on what a great bike it had been. Apparently the bike lasted him longer then anything, car or truck that he had previously owned. How sad is that………..?

I had the Yamaha 175 Enduro and the 250 Enduro around the same time. If one is good two has to be even better right? The 175 I picked up at a local auction for a bargain or else I would never have looked twice at it. Unfortunately a friend of mine killed the motor during a rough outing in the boonies a couple of years later. Had I done that to his bike I would have compensated him for the loss. Somehow he didn’t seem to feel the need to do that for me. Oh well, he is still a friend.

The 250 was a great all round machine. Wish I still had it today though I doubt I can keep up with the local groups that do off-roading around here. Would be nice though.

I bought the Virago when I moved to Vancouver Island. For the first time in my life I was living in a location where motorcycling seemed truly viable. Unlike Alberta where we had lived previously, the weather provides so many great riding days during spring summer and fall. Some of the more hardy people out here ride year round regardless of the rain and cooler temperatures but I am selective about the conditions I ride into.

There is a little story about the Virago that needs telling. I bought it in Parksville, which is about two and a half hours from Victoria. I had driven up to look at a Honda shadow but after I sent my ride home I learned that the Shadow was no longer for sale. You might say the Virago happened to be the next best thing.

What should be noted is that this was early season like April or very early May so the weather didn’t happen to be as warm as it might have been. The other thing was that I had not been on a motorcycle for about three years. It was late afternoon when I left Parksville on my way to Victoria. Before I got through Nanaimo, I had to stop and buy warmer gloves, I also should have bought more clothing but I didn’t. As I became chilled, I guess I picked up the pace and I recall entering a tight curve at a much higher speed then I should have been traveling. Thanks to my years of experience, I just gritted my teeth and leaned that bike hard into the turn. I made it but it was an eye opener, not to mention the pucker factor at the time. After that I slowed down and made several stops to warm up.

Lesson: a two and a half hour ride in heavy traffic with inadequate gear and when out of condition as far as riding is concerned, during dropping temperatures is not smart. I won’t do that again. In fact, since then I am extremely careful to be overdressed rather than under dressed.

The virago seemed to be an okay bike but I didn’t own it for long. I spotted a Vulcan 750 down at the dealers and liked it. You can guess the rest. The Vulcan seemed so much larger that I nearly dumped it on my way out of the dealer’s lot. Wouldn’t that have been an embarrassment? Fortunately I was quick enough to save it and never made that mistake again.

I liked the Vulcan. It had ample power to carry Ev and our little dog, Brutus as well as me. Brutus was a miniature pinscher that weighed seven pounds. I’d pop him inside of my jacket and away we’d go. Whether he liked it or not is hard to say. He’d peek out around my neck line until speeds reached 60 km/hr or greater, then he would duck back inside and curl up to sleep until we got to our destination. He didn’t seem to enjoy the wind in his face. Brutus logged more then a few kms inside of my jacket. He was great to have on the cool days, almost like a heated vest. I think he enjoyed the warmer days more then I did when having his extra heat was something I didn’t really need.

I sold the Vulcan after I retired but came to wish that I hadn’t. I wasn’t riding it because I had little need to except for occasional joy rides and it seems that joy rides are more fun when you have someone to share them with. Riding by oneself holds less appeal.

Somehow I ran across the website of the SCRC and learned that they had a chapter in Victoria or more to the point, on the island. When I found that they met only a short distance from where I live it was only a matter of time before I bought another motorcycle, a Yamaha 650XS, and joined the ranks of the SCRC.

For the first time ever, I will have a motorcycle that is licensed the year through. That is the 650XS that I picked up three years back. The bike is old enough to qualify for BC collectors insurance, which means a serious reduction in costs to insure and license it. I now feel I can afford to keep one insured throughout the off season so that if a nice spell of weather comes along I can take the opportunity to get out into the wind at least for a short spin if not for a longer ride. Unlike some I don’t feel the need to get in a New Years day cruise but I might depending on the weather.

I still have the old 650 and it is still is great shape with only 30,000 kms on the odometer. It’s not the only bike in the garage though as I picked up a Harley Davidson Sportster during a weak moment. The Sportster gets all my attention through the best riding weather and when the rainy season arrives it gets parked and the old 650 takes its place. What can I say; the Harley is the best bike I have ever owned in many ways. It may not get the fuel mileage that the Vulcan did but it can beat the Yamaha in that regard.

In truth I am somewhat surprised that I find it so enjoyable in light of the many derogatory things that people say about the Harley Davidson line up. I have reached the conclusion that the majority of the people, who make those remarks, have never owned or had opportunity to do any amount of riding on one. When you think about it, the simple answer is that each of us has different criteria when it comes to what we want from our vehicle. Lets just say the Harley fits nicely within my wants and needs.

This was written a few years back and it is told as it was related to me. Anyone who has had the opportunity to visit the town of Athabasca in Alberta knows just how hilly it is. I recall riding my pedal bike as I grew up there. Riding consisted of coasting down the hills and pushing back up

Then the Japanese introduced those inexpensive motorcycles to North America.

True story:

Year’s back, my two younger brothers had a 65 cc Honda that they shared. More often then not, they doubled on the little machine. The thriving metropolis of Athabasca Alberta nestled on the river bank (Read that as HILLY) spread from the river to the highlands. The small bike was incapable of out accelerating a large dog as they headed up the hills, particularly when they were riding two up as they did most of the time, and there were several places where they had to deal with aggressive canines just to get home.

As a means of self-defense, they conceived the idea of carrying a crochet mallet, of all things. The theory behind this maneuver was that the passenger, being less occupied than the operator, would swing the mallet and smack the dog on the head, hopefully dissuading it while the other endeavored to mash the bike through the gears in order to flee.

In theory it sounds good, in practice well…..

Alas, they had not taken into account the possibility of an enthusiastic swing missing the intended target and that is precisely what happened the first time they attempted this maneuver. Without any practice, they soon discovered that theory and practicality were two entirely different scenarios.

When Howard, riding as passenger missed the dog, the small (As you can imagine a 65 cc bike to be) standard was put through some rather wild gyrations caused by the momentum of the hardwood mallet arcing through from one side of the bike to the other. As part of the effort of maintaining balance, Joe, at the controls, failed to meet the needs of downshifting to increase acceleration. Howard suffered the consequences of his inaccurate use of the mallet and got bitten.

Back to the drawing board.

Later they refined their defense against further dog assaults by purchasing and carrying a small pellet revolver to discourage canine attentions. (A method not necessarily recommended in today’s world) Apparently, this proved more effective as the one riding shotgun had six chances at the dog and a miss caused minimal disruption to the operation of the vehicle. Any kind of a hit was almost certain to cause the aggressive critter to re-assess his urge to press on with the attack.

Great stories! More!

CNF2002 wrote:Great stories! More!

Thanks for the Kudos. I have a number of stories written however I am thinking I might just pace myself as far as posting them, perhaps one a week or so. Stay tuned.

On another note. I am riding to Wetaskiwin Alberta from Victoria in early June. Three of us are making the pilgrimage to view the Reynolds museum and catch the major display featuring motorcycles.

http://www.machinemuseum.net/

Not sure what the true distance works out to but we are looking at 6 days round trip, then again we are all seniors and not in any big hurry. I'm sure that the ride could be done in much shorter time by those who have greater vigour and stamina. Isn't it funny how we wait till we get old to slow down and enjoy what there is around us?

I’m not sure how the ride will work out. We just did a ride up to Port Hardy and back as a test run (I’ll post the story about that, next) Don and Ken like to really hustle, I guess they haven’t gotten “Old like me” yet. I already told them I would ride my ride and catch them at the rest stops which translates to “You guys go as fast as you want, I’ll take my time and enjoy the scenery, the wind, the bugs along with the rain and everything else Mom Nature can throw at us.”

Speaking of Mother Nature, I am certain that she is holding back some torrential rain for early June. What the heck, most of the riding I’ve done has been through dry weather if not actually great stuff. Into every life some rain must fall. I used to live in Alberta. I remember the rainy summers and springs as well as the fall. (And those Albertans think it rains a lot out here. Ha ha)

Here's a picture of my 650XS. She's a great old machine for around town, not so terrific at speeds over 100 km on the highway where the vibration really increases. She always feels like another gear in the tranny would be the ticket --------- but it ain't there.. Oh well.

http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album_sh ... ic_id=3442

So it’s Sunday. Not looking like a really scorching day but maybe that’s for the best. Days with cloud and less warm are good riding days. I can even hack the rain if I have to, I’ve got the gear.

The SCRC is having a show and shine today. It’s somewhat of a combined effort between all the island chapters. I’m thinking I might just join them for a bit of a ride, up to Ladysmith and the Timberland Pub (that’s where it’s being held) and if I can hang around long enough I might even ride back with the group, otherwise I’ll do as usual and take off home alone. I don’t ride with these guys all that often anymore but I am still a member in good standing, might as well stay acquainted.

I said from time to time that I’d post some of the short stories I had written over the years, at least the motorcycle related ones. So how about a mini-bike related one? That should be close enough to motorcycle to qualify.

This is a true story. If I were a really great writer I could probably accurately convey just how funny it actually was, as it stands, you’ll just have to take my word for it. One of the funniest incidents I ever saw.

This happened along the banks of the Athabasca river, north east of the town.

The Artic Cat

Many of the older Hunter's will remember the time when power toboggans and ATV's didn't exist, or at least when their popularity was in its infancy, before they become a popular recreation vehicle. When leaving the highways and secondary roads behind for a days hunting, the only sure way into the backcountry other than on horseback and pack mule, was to travel on foot. There is quite a lot to be said for hunting on foot. The hunter is not typically limited as much by the terrain or natural obstacles when traveling on foot. Nor is one restricted to following old logging roads or other natural open trails as you are if using one of the ATV’s of today’s world.

By moving slowly and softly the hunter can ease down an old trail and if he remains watchful and alert he will often see quite an abundance of game. Or if the hunter chooses to cover more territory he may do so by stepping out with a more purposeful stride until finally he finds himself in an area that is more to his liking. The ground that you can cover is only limited by the length of the day and perhaps by your physical endurance. Often times though one finds himself wondering what is over that next hill, the one that seems just beyond his range. What lies just past that last bend in the river, you know, the bend that is just a little too far to reach if you don't wish to be walking out in the dark?

Jack Edwards was my hunting partner. The fact that he was my brother-in-law was not relevant. Jack and I had become good friends in spite of the fact that I had married his sister. I guess he didn’t hold that against me and I valued his woods experience and casual matter of fact mannerisms. Being just a few years older than me, Jack had hunted longer and was certainly familiar with more of the better hunting areas surrounding the small community where we lived. I never really thought of it as such, but I suppose he was in fact my mentor, at least to some degree.

We hunted East of the Town of Athabasca around Jackfish Lake or West toward Lawrence or Myers lakes. At 25 years, I was certainly in the prime of my life and Jack also. Even today, though now retired, he retains much of his youthful condition and exuberance particularly in regards to hunting. For either of us walking was no problem but times change and something happened that altered our way of hunting.

I bought a Honda 50 cc. Mini-trail bike. Likely it had something to do with my small sons but I don’t really remember just what was the reason behind my buying that mini-trail bike. I came home with it one day after stopping at the Honda dealer. Though I was large bodied, I was nevertheless able to climb astride the thing and away it would go toting me about. With a three speed transmission, by the time it was wound up in 3rd gear this little bike could hit about 35 miles/hr on a good road, even with a gorilla like me on it’s back.

One of the features that motivated me to buy this little trail bike was the fact that the handlebars would fold down reducing the overall size so that it would fit comfortably into the trunk of most any car. Honda had devised a neat fastening system that allowed each handlebar to rotate apart and away from the other rotating all the way down to the front axle. Once this was done, you simply picked the little bike up and laid it in the trunk of your car. What a sweet setup it seemed.

Other than my wife and children, Jack was the first person I showed the mini-bike to and as he inspected it, the idea was born, that this would be the ideal contraption to get us farther back into the bush and allow us to hunt areas which had previously been beyond our easy reach. Jack was always thinking about hunting and though it was his genius that conceived the idea there was no difficulty to get it to germinate and take root in my mind. Could the bike carry 2 of us? That certainly was the question.

We must have made for an amusing sight as we putted up and down the alleyway, two strapping guys astride that little bike. But it worked. It actually seemed capable of carrying us.

I am sure that the engineers at Honda had never conceived the idea that their product would be put to such a task but it was, within the week. I expect, if we had encountered any game on our first tour of the back roads, that the animals would have stood spellbound wondering just what in the devil was coming down the road toward them.

We managed to penetrate deeper into our hunting zone than we had ever penetrated on any of our previous walking hunts. It was great although somewhat crowded on the little bike and it definitely was a challenge to maneuver since the small machine was more than just a little top heavy with our 6 ft. bodies perched upon it. Convinced that this was the way to go, yet realizing the difficulties of both of us traveling any distance on the one bike, the genius in Jack surfaced once again. We needed another one. It was that simple.

Of course since I had mine, the responsibility for getting another bike fell to Jack. He was up to the challenge and within a few days, after responding to a knock on my door, I was greeted by Jack and next to him standing in the driveway was this shiny new green Artic Cat mini bike. Oh yes it was a beauty. The yellow of the Honda looked drab beside that shiny green accented with ample chrome. The Artic Cat also came with a 4-hp. motor whereas the Honda boasted only of having 2 ½ or 3 hp. Instead of a gearbox the little Artic Cat mini bike had a variable pulley drive system similar to that used on the snowmobiles of today. The Artic Cat also featured a fold down system on the handlebars to facilitate conveying it in the trunk of a car. Unlike the Honda, on which the handlebars rotated sideways, the Artic Cat’s handlebars were spread wide enough that they could rotate forward as a unit and clear the wheel and fender. It was simply a matter of loosening the U bolts that held them secure and then rotating them out of the way.

Slow to admit to being out classed and out powered, I decided it was going to take a few excursions to prove the worth of his machine and provide an accurate comparison between the Artic Cat and the Honda. That was easy to arrange and since we were only weeks away from hunting season, it seemed a good scouting trip was in order.

Saturday morning was one of those textbook perfect mornings, the kind you seldom seem to get on a Saturday. The dew hadn’t even burned off the grass before we were unloading the little two wheelers out at the quiet end of a country road. Today we would cruise the old trails high on top of the riverbank above the mighty Athabasca River even descending to the depths of the wide river valley if we so chose. The terrain in this area is very sandy and rather open. Though many of the trails that we traversed were old, they were slow to become overgrown as the sandy soil lacking in nutrients provided a poor base for all but the tough grasses and more tenacious shrubs. Also there was generally sufficient traffic to keep them from becoming choked with vegetation.

Cruising along was great. We could tear down those old roads at times reaching speeds of 25 to 30 mph. I don’t know that we actually did any scouting; I think we just drove about enjoying the day and having fun on our little bikes. Any side trail or clear area was an invitation to explore and we so did.

Soon it became apparent that the Artic Cat bike was a superior machine in most respects. With more horsepower and the smooth power transmission from the variable drive pulleys negating the need to pause during acceleration to shift gears it left the Honda rider eating dust. I had to content myself with the knowledge that Jack had paid more for the Artic Cat. Oh it wasn’t a great deal faster but it did seem to excel in every comparison to the Honda. I think Jack was mighty pleased.

About the time that we turned around to retrace our route and load up the machines for the trip home, I was looking for an opportunity to get the edge and give Jack a face full of the dust I had been eating throughout the day. I had an inexplicable urge to at least reduce the size of the grin on his face even it I didn’t remove it entirely. I cruised just back of him and off to the side, in the other wheel track as we wove our way through the twists and turns made by the windy old road that we were traveling. My mind was partial occupied with schemes of how I might, if only briefly, best Jack on his Artic Cat. I always was good at remembering details of the trail I had traveled and as we approached a certain area, I recalled the lay of the land ahead. Most important, I remembered the mud puddle. Yes, there was a mud puddle across the road and mainly in my lane.

The plan had formed even before we neared the puddle. I had a way to get even for the humiliation of having my Honda surpassed by the Artic Cat. As we approached the mud hole Jack slowed somewhat and I was now just a few feet behind and off to the side. I stood on the foot pegs and looked hard off to the right, into the distance, as though I was looking at or had seen something. Jack slowed too and peered hard to the right, trying to see just what held my interest. I knew he had not seen the puddle yet as it was just beyond a slight rise, in a dip, with another rise on the other side. I slowed even more. Jack did too, straining hard to see whatever it was I found so fascinating.

We crested the small rise and as we did I dropped back to a seated position, kicked the little bike into second gear and hit the throttle hard. The Honda leapt to the task, well at least as much as it could. Jack reacted too as I shot past him, but too late, as his bike neared the puddle I hit it at full speed, right down the center, a maneuver that sprayed water and mud everywhere. I doubt he had time to do anything but close his mouth and shut his eyes before that wall of water washed over him. Ah revenge; it felt so sweet.

I kicked the little Honda into third gear and bent forward to cut the wind as I raced down that sandy road. I could hear the Artic Cat gaining as I reached top speed, and knew that in a few seconds it would scream past me. I didn’t care; I was laughing hard and enjoying the moment, brief as it happened to be.

Sure enough, the extra power of the Artic cat pushed Jack past at full bore just as we crested the next rise, which had a fair dip on the other side. I bet Jack was doing 35 mph. as he flew by. Flew is the correct word because at the speed we were traveling, we were both airborne coming over the hump. By now he was about ten feet ahead of me determined to feed me a face full of dust and sand but the “Fat Lady hadn’t sung yet”, this run wasn’t over.

The Honda mini-trail had soft suspension on the front end only. On the rear, the wheel was mounted to a solid frame. Fearing the worst, I eased off on the throttle. Here again, the Artic Cat was superior having shocks and springs on both front and rear thereby providing a softer landing.

Imagine if you can, a little mini bike hurtling through the air with a 170 pound rider perched on it’s back. When Jack and the bike landed, at least ½ of his 170 pounds was brought down hard on the front handlebars with the remaining weight on the seat and the foot pegs. Here lay the problem. The Artic cat’s handlebars rotate forward to transport it in a vehicle. All that held them upright when the bike was ridden was the friction provided by two small “U” clamps.

Those “U” clamps need to be very tight to withstand any excessive pressure on the handle bars, especially when one considers the mechanical advantage provide by the extended length said bars. Let me tell you, in this case, the U clamps were not tight enough. The second Jack landed with his weight applied forward onto the handlebars; they rotated from upright to the collapsed, ready for transport position. I doubt anyone has ever tried to ride a mini-bike in that position before. You see, this put Jack’s nose just above the front wheel and his hands inches above the ground.

Remember, this all happened at thirty or so miles per hour and now Jack is suddenly in a position with his face just inches above the front wheel and able to see only the road immediately in front of it. That sounds pretty bad right? It gets even better. The genius designer of this mini-bike had elected to use a “twist grip” throttle just like full size motorcycles use. Controlling his machine from that position with hands inches off the ground and rump in the air somewhat above the height of his head is difficult enough, but now Jack can’t let go and the forward rotation of the handlebars has the dang throttle right at full.

Now I am a sympathetic individual (mostly) however what I was seeing from behind had to be the funniest site that I had ever seen. I have no idea how he managed to stop that thing without killing himself. That’s because I lost control of my own ride. No kidding. I lost control of everything.

Riding at speed down an old road on two wheels, while convulsed with laughter is pretty much impossible. At least it was for me and in seconds my bike and I were tumbling head over heels down the road along side of Jack. Picture a vicious catfight where the opponents roll over and over.

I lay unable to move, not from any injuries or pain but rather I was just not able to regain control of my mirth. Slowly however I returned to my senses enough to rise up on one elbow and peer off down the road after Jack

At first I saw nothing other then a large cloud of dust. I struggled to my feet and slapped the dust from my clothes; I could see Jack lying motionless in the center of the roadway, no mini-bike in sight. Starting toward him with intentions to help I watched him slowly begin to rise from the dust.

“Son --- of ---- a ----- B-Bi-t-ch” I heard, each word said with a pause between it and the next and before I know it, I’m back down again on the ground convulsed with laughter. Tears streamed down my face again I had no control over my muscles for several more minutes until finally that attack of mirth subsided. This time when I look over I see is Jack laughing every bit as hard as I was and I know he is all right.

Well it seems that the engineers at both Honda and Artic Cat had each made tough little machines for neither suffered any ill effects and we were able to not only ride them home but we used them many times over the next several years until our children and each of us had out grown them. Later the Artic Cat came into my possession and the same thing happened to me but only the once. I welded the handlebars permanently in the riding position and it became no longer a fold down system.

Authors note: Over time it turned out that the Honda was the more durable of the two bikes and thirty years later and lord knows how many kids, the thing was still going strong to the best of my knowledge.
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old-n-slow wrote:The SCRC is having a show and shine today. It’s somewhat of a combined effort between all the island chapters. I’m thinking I might just join them for a bit of a ride, up to Ladysmith and the Timberland Pub (that’s where it’s being held) and if I can hang around long enough I might even ride back with the group, otherwise I’ll do as usual and take off home alone. I don’t ride with these guys all that often anymore but I am still a member in good standing, might as well stay acquainted.
.

Danged if I didn't manage to miss the show and shine. What a bummer. missed it last year as I was laid up with a broken foot and missed it this year due to unexpected complications. Next year????????

So, now I'm dealing with a computer issue. New computer with dual core processor and it suddenly stopped accessing the internet. Would do everything else and even access the other computers on my network but no internet. Apparently TCP/IP or whatever has failed. Had to drop an external card in to get back on, now I have to contact HP for warrantee. It never fails. I must say though that over the years I have experienced few failures of the electronics side of things and this at least has happened during the warrantee period. I just know they are going to have me do all manner of reinstalls but I already did that and I have to say I am tired of having to restore everything back to the way I like it. Almost tempted to leave it as is but not quite that tempted that I will.

One week tomorrow and we will be on our way to Alberta. Sure hope the weather out there turns better than it has been. Don't really need more experience riding in the rain. Think I will pick up a cover for my Harley so that when it is parked outside of the motel/hotels along the way people won't be able to see what it is though I will have it chained up. I think we will be looking to chain all three of the bikes together. We did that last trip and it seemed to work out. At least nobodys bike got stolen.

A cover will help to ensure that my sheephide saddle cover remains dry too, an important consideration.

Look out Alberta. We’re on our way on the first boat. Forecast looks decent if not great, some rain in it but should be mostly ended by the time we reach there. Bike is loaded and pretty well ready to go, Tank topped up, oil changed, tire pressure checked, boots water-proofed, just counting down now till 5:45 am. Could have used Blues2 cruise's milk crate I'm thinking but maybe the blue would clash with my black ride.

I’m thinking I’ll keep a bit of a daily diary just for laughs, might be something interesting along the way. Got the digi-cam and a spare set of batteries not to mention a huge memory card good for 240 snaps. If I need more I’ll just have to buy another card . (Who ever said that digital photos were cheaper LOL)

Sure hope I don’t fall asleep on those long straight stretches of highway that I recall. Ha. Ha. I think we are heading up via the Yellowhead then back through the “Saskatchewan Crossing” to number one. I wonder if I got that right? Oh well, no matter to me, I am mentally challenged and don’t have to be back to work at any given time.

Won’t be online for at least a week I’m thinking.

Have an awesome ride. I look forward to your "trip report" when you get back.

Back in town after a great trip. Wonder why I have to keep logging in to the site? Never did before.

Anyhow I think the trip will have to be posted in installments as it's just naturally gonna be rather lengthy.

Here's what I have so far.

June 8th. Wish I could say that the day dawned clear and sunny but not so. I pretty much beat the dawn but the fact that the skies were solid pewter in colour may have had a bit to do with that. Ken picked me up at the door as he had to pass right by my house and together we hit the trail expecting to meet up with Don at the terminal. I guess our internal clocks were fairly well synchronized as Don pulled in behind me on the way to the ferry terminal. Ken had the lead as he is an employee of BC Ferries and drives the route every day. Ya gotta think he might know the best speed to travel and any other possible shortcuts.

We made the first boat of the day. I have to say that the cars were lined up pretty good when we arrived at the terminal but traveling by motorcycle has an advantage when it comes to ferry traffic and we loaded first. Only one other rider in line at the time. Four bikers. We stuck together and wolfed down the equivalent of the ferry corporations defunct sunshine breakfast. I had already eaten some cereal before leaving home but managed to put away some of their succulent eggs (that had an amazing similarity in appearance to yellow yogurt, not that I have ever seen yellow yogurt).

From the ferry we took number 10 through Langley and eventually to number one. Isn’t it amazing how people always claim to know a better way to get to a destination and when you give them the lead, the route they take is the same old one you usually use. Don had the lead and though I was expecting to be shown a different road through to the trans Canada it didn’t happen.

You know those pewter skies I mentioned earlier? They got darker as we progressed east. By the time we left Langley, serious rain had begun. That rain dogged us most of the way. I had already told the guys that I would travel at my own speed and if they wanted to push hard I’d be somewhere behind bringing up the rear. Keeping up wasn’t really a problem but visibility was. I was wearing a new helmet for this trip. Rather then use my old ¾ I had a new full face with a flip up front. At first I didn’t have a problem with fogging but after we stopped at Chiliwack for a pit stop the doggone thing just wouldn’t stay clear so all the way to Hope I struggled to see.

Here again I thought Don knew the route as he had planned it and talked the talk like he knew it as well as the back of his hand. Not so. We had to make a U-turn and head back because we passed Hope and none of us had fuel capacity to make it to Merritt, at least not over the Coquahalla (sp?) highway and as much as I wanted to do the Frazer canyon, Don was insistent that we take the supposedly quicker route, claiming that it was 1 ¼ hours longer through the canyon. I tell you that’s bunk, but compromises have to be made when traveling with others so you compromise.

The Coquahalla had some surprises in store but they didn’t come all at once thank goodness. First was the blinding fog near the tollbooth. Now that’s not something you get to drive in every day. Your afraid to go too fast because you have no visibility and you hate to go too slow because you could get run over, and Mr. Sportster don’t have four way flashers. We didn’t have any cars pass us nor did we pass any so I guess everyone was experiencing the same feelings as we though the cagers were at least a bit more comfortable I hope.

At Merritt we stopped at the information center just off the highway. That made for a nice break. This was where I started to get the inkling that Ken was a methodical individual and as it proved to be for the entire journey, he would be the one we were always waiting for each morning, noon and after every break we took.

I had lead from Hope to the tollbooth and Ken took over lead from there. Of course he didn’t know how to get to the info center so I passed him and showed the way. It’s a very nice info center and we surely needed a break. Don doesn’t get past many washrooms – ha ha – it’s and old man thing I guess. At least I never have to worry about it myself as long as I’m traveling with Don.

We didn’t fuel up at Merritt as we all had plenty for the next leg to Kamloops. Now the Coquahalla threw more heavy weather at us including hail. Let me tell you it’s a nice feeling to have on a good covered helmet when you encounter hailstones blasting out of the sky. By now I was running with the visor cracked open slightly to allow better circulation and provide visibility. I’m wondering if perhaps my beard blocks airflow and contributes to lack of circulation. I think it does.

Don claimed the rain even froze to his visor, but I don’t think so. I can vouch for the fact that it was bloody cold though.

When we crested the summit and started down into Kamloops, the rain stopped. I always liked Kamloops and that’s just one more reason to like it. It is always warmer there. I keep telling my wife to watch for a position in Kamloops and put in for a transfer, but she doesn’t……….

546 kilometres from home we pulled into Clearwater looking for lodging. Our hope was to find a motel room with two beds and a cot so we could share the cost. What we did find was an entire house for $120 for the night. We each had a bedroom to ourselves, and best of all, covered storage for the bikes. As it turned out, it poured all night and quit around 5:00 am. We’re all used to early mornings and wanted to get on the highway early but somehow it wasn’t until 8:30 that we got on the road. Once again I was in the lead as I got too hot standing around waiting for Ken so I pulled out and just putted along until they caught up with me.

I checked the oil but the bike hadn’t used any. It never does really, unless you call about a 1/4 inch on the dipstick between changes as using oil.

Saw a huge bear along side of the road at Blue River. It was a black but he sure had size enough to be a small grizzly.

At Valemont we stopped for fuel and Jasper we stopped for lunch. When we got to Jasper, Don was in the lead and he took the westerly approach into town. When we went to leave I headed out to the East and though I waved them on, they turned and headed back west to exit where we had entered. That cost us a good twenty minutes until we got back together because I waited for them at one end of town and they waited for me at the other. The funny thing is that they know I am familiar with Alberta but I guess they didn’t realize that like a gopher burrow, Jasper could have more than a single entrance/exit.

The weather wasn’t too bad at Jasper, a little break from the steady downpour we had been experiencing, not sunny but at least no rain for the time we were there. The rain commenced again before we got out of the Park, somewhere near the boundary. We needed fuel at Hinton and Ken did a bank stop. Along the way he had been watching for a Royal bank to catch the machine and withdraw some funds. I found out later that his wife works at the Royal here in town and he had instructions not to use any other machine then the Royals, as it costs about a buck and a half if you do. Hmmmmmmm.

I had warned the guys about Edson. I don’t think they believed me but when we arrived there my words proved true. Edson is one of the dirtiest places I have ever been. All the vehicles are two-tone, the top being one colour and the bottom being the colour of mud. The streets, though paved are always layered with mud tracked in by the traffic I guess. Enough said.

Found a motel that appeared to be a small one at first glance but took up about a city block and then some as we found out. I broke out the camera soon after arriving to snap some photos of the clear blue sky, just to prove to myself later that they actually do get sunshine east of the Rockies. Fortunately the sky stayed clear, as I had no bike cover.

Went to Canada tire just down the street (in Victoria) and asked if they had motorcycle covers. Right. The first person was new there so he had to ask. The “experienced” idiot that he asked said no way, they didn’t carry bike covers, so I passed and hoped we could find “dry” shelter each night. Ken told me they were full of horse biscuits as they had lots of bike covers and today I looked. Sure enough --- bloody twits that work there. Glad I’m not in business any more and don’t have to concern myself at losing sales thanks to stupid sales staff.

To be continued ................................