Day 7
Day 7 had some of the best riding of the trip.
Woke to rain. I knew there were some mountains around, I had caught glimpses of a snow-capped peak to the northwest, and I hoped to see it this morning. But no luck.
And a couple mosquitoes. Only now do I feel safe to say out loud: This was a pretty bug-free trip! I've done Ontario in early June and was mercilessly attacked by mosquitoes every time I took my helmet off. This trip bugs were not an issue. Never used any bug dope. This is the only morning they bothered me at all.
Checked out the Frasier River. If I wasn't so tightly scheduled I might have spend another night up here, exploring a bit.
But, with rain gear on I headed south. I was leaving the most remote point of my trip. It was just rain and clouds for the first couple gas stops. No point to it, just a utilitarian road surrounded by beauty I assume that I could not see.
Finally the weather broke and I had blue sky. It seemed like there was weather building behind the mountains ahead, so I left my rain gear on.
I'd been playing hopscotch with this group of patched HD guys on a group ride all morning. I'd pass them when they were gassing up, they'd pass me while I was gassing up. At one point I realized they had caught up to me. I hit the breakdown lane and waved them past, and I got a bunch of thumbs-up in thanks. I followed them for a while, actually enjoying the sound of their pipes. They rode in tight formation. Kinda cool.
Behind us was a pickup with a trailer. Suddenly at a piece of confusing road, turnout and a left-turn lane, the truck behind me crosses the double-yellow and passes me and forces his way in front of me. Jerk. Turns out it was their chase vehicle. Then behind him an HD orange pickup does the same thing, willing to kill me to be close to his friends. Gave them a long and clear middle finger and hung back.
Later in the morning they were gassing up at the same station I was at. I kept my back to them, I didn't need any hassle. I was still ticked though. This old lady came up to me and asked what their patches said. I told her I had no idea. She acted surprised, "you're not together?". I told her no, they wore patches which meant they were just learning. I was an experienced rider and got to ride without a patch. Heh.
I took a long gas stop, enjoying the sun, in this tiny town, Barriere. Met the town dog. Read all the notices on the wall. A guy told me about the severe thunderstorm warnings for that night. Which surprised me. Not because there might be storms, because I'd already learned in the mountains people didn't seem to know or care much about forecasts. Because every mountain seems to make it's own weather. And what is happening here seems unrelated to the weather a couple miles down the road.
I had scoped out a cutoff around Kamloops planning for the trip on Agate Rd. I'm not sure it qualifies as a Great Motorcycle Road, but I was so happy to be on it. It was a proper secondary road maintained by the local county or whatever. Just like I love at home. Narrow and rural and towards the end pretty curvy. In my rearview mirror I saw a bike a bit back. It's not that I was racing, but he wasn't going to catch up if I could help it. And he didn't.
I'd been in some nice areas, and had found a couple decent stretches of road along the way, but there was a lot of straight utilitarian road too. This felt very good.
Then onto some dirt, which was also nice.
The lake had these rafts of logs corralled in booms along he edge of the lake here-and-there. Wasn't sure what that was about.
While sitting on the dirt road there, taking pictures, and still happy to have warm sunlight, my helmet rolled off the seat and hit the dirt. And the shield broke off. And I realized both baseplates had broken in the process. There was no fixing it without new plates, I'd be riding without a shield for a while.
The importance of taking care of my gear was dawning on me. And even at that, when you get into weeks of travelling, stuff was going to break. This deal with the helmet was my fault, I shouldn't have put my helmet there. I usually put it on the ground or on my rear mirror so it doesn't hit the ground. But I had lost the top button of my riding pants already. One of the tabs that holds my Airhawk seat cushion to the seat was slowly ripping off. Little stuff like that.
I could get away without a shield for a while, but not for the rest of the trip. This was going to cost me time.
I made it down to the hardtop and headed east, not sure of my plan. There were some big towns, I guess I'd just search them for motorcycle shops. When I got to a spot with wireless I could do a search, but I didn't have cell service in Canada.
I saw some signs for a motorcycle museum ahead. Arg, what to do? I did not want to spend time looking through a motorcycle museum. It was already going to be a long riding day, I didn't have time. And I'm really not a hardware guy. I like riding and exploring, but I'm not really into the details and nuances of the pinacles of the motorcycles that have come before.
But then again, I knew if I put myself in the middle of a bunch of motorcycle guys, I would get help with my helmet. Because that is how motorcycle guys roll.
So I stopped at the Dreamcycle Motorcycle Museum, which I highly recommend. The owner sketched out where three different dealers were down the road. I gave him a few dollars for admission, and checked out the bikes.
I may not be a hardware guy, but these things were sexy and cool and fun to see.
As I was leaving, out in the parking lot, a guy on a black Thunderbird Storm rode in. Steve. We chatted and talked bikes for a while. This is a man who loves his Triumph. He said he might have a helmet at home with the pieces I needed. I think I said no once, I needed to get down the road. (What is the chance it's the right helmet?) But after further consideration I said I'd follow him down to his house on the lake. Man, it was a nice community, and he had a nice house. A beautiful big lake with boats everywhere. To his credit, the helmet was an HJC, just like I needed. But the baseplates were the wrong ones. He offered me a beer, and in an exercise in extreme self-control, I declined. He showed me his Triumph bar downstairs. Just a ton of Triumph memorabilia on the walls, some nice watercolors of bikes and so on.
I think if I had let it happen I would have spent the night there with Steve and wife. Drinking and laughing. Maybe a couple days. As it was, I didn't have days. Steve pulled out a map and showed me some of his favorite roads. He said "if you had time you could go this way", and I decided to go that way and get in a bit late. I wasn't going to ignore someone's favorite road. Steve gave me the map. Motorcyclists help each other out.
I found Alpine Motorsport down the road. They didn't have the baseplates I needed in stock, but they did a cross-reference check and pulled the plates off a helmet they had for sale. Sold them to me at what couldn't have been much more than cost. They did me right, and it was appreciated.
Then I got on Great Motorcycle Road #3: Salmon River Rd from Salmon Arm to Vernon. Then a nasty slog through the traffic of Vernon. Then right onto Great Motorcycle Road #4, I think the favorite of the entire trip: Rt 6 from Vernon to the Needles Ferry.
My only regret is running through that section of Rt 6 too fast. Well, not that I rode too fast, but that I didn't stop often enough. I could have made a day out of that road. I rode in-and-out of rain squalls. Getting wet and drying out. Eventually I stopped to put my gear back on. I looked back to see a big healthy looking coyote slinking across the road.
Coming down the mountain to the Needles Ferry was plain fun. Just quick, tight corners one after the other. Took some work to keep my focus. My brain was tired by the bottom.
This ferry doesn't have a prop. There are cables going across the lake, and wheels on the boat that pulls itself across on them.
The Ferries are free up there in Canada, gawd darn socialists. I made them take my money.
Got to my motel late, got my key, and ran back into town before everything closed. Got me some fish and chips and a martini from a damn cute waitress. Ate with a guy on a Triumph Tiger camped in town. He worked for the government counting how much timber they sold, to argue with the US about how much timber they sold, to work out some trade agreement detail. He told me those logs corralled on the lake were waiting to be transported. They still move a lot of timber in BC across the water like that.
I ordered a second martini, but a big storm started moving in. I swallowed it fast and paid my bill and sprinted to my room.
Back at my room I hung my tent that got soaked a couple nights ago in the bathroom. A crazy big gale came roaring through and dumped a ton of water. I was happy to be under a roof and felt bad for the guy on the Tiger in a tent.
Watched too much television, then to bed.