Day 22

August 10.  Home!  About a hundred miles out, it started to rain.  Of course!  I didn't bother with raingear, since there was only a couple hours left for the whole trip.  I think I missed the worst of it, but there must have been some nasty winds along the way, what with all the road debris.  And there were some flooded roads along the way.  When I got home I learned there were tornado and flood watches in effect.  But, hey, a fitting end, right?

337 miles today, bringing the grand total for the trip to 10,299 in three weeks and a day.  Not bad for an old fart, don't ya know....

Day 21

August 9. I bet not too many of you have ever had what I had for breakfast this morning at Paul & Carla's B&B. Venison sausage! Outstanding! I told you this was a great place to stay.

After breakfast we tended to the bike, getting that last oil change in. And while we were doing that, it started raining. Such a rare event on this trip, rain. So on goes the raingear, yet again, and away I go, haul-assin'. The rain had actually pretty much quit by then, but I did need the gear for the wet roads and the few remaing spritzes.

The day's riding began with a delightful tour of the interstates surrounding Chicago, always a delightful day. NOT!!! But after getting through that mess, the ride was pretty good. I80 all the way through Indiana and Ohio, where the traffic was light and so was the weather. There is of course the occasional moron on these turnpikes who wants to tailgate when you're doing 80 and match speed when you slow down, in the left lane of course, so you can't pass anybody. But all in all, a nice ride.

I went until after dark, when I started seeing lightning in the distance and decide not to push things. But I still got in 592 miles, landing in Brookville, PA.

Tomorrow oughta do it.

Day 20

August 8. Cut the day short (477 miles) when I spotted a great place to spend the night, Paul & Carla's Bed & Breakfast. Great food, great room, great prices. And they're even going to wash the bike and let me change the oil right on the premises for free!

The ride was I94 and I90 through Wisconsin to Rockford, Illinois. Wisconsin is nice, but the ride was a little tedious, as the drivers hereabouts seem to think the hammer lane is for stargazing. Oh well, we haul-assin' for home and ought not pay such incompetents much mind.

Day 19

August 7. Another great day! And a couple of firsts. The first first is that this is the first day since the day I left that I haven't started with chaps and/or long johns. The second first is that I added another motorcycle state to my list, North Dakota. Even after all of my trips to Sturgis and points west, this is the first time I've ridden in ND.

Fantastic weather all day. Decent scenery, especially a little badlands in western ND that I didn't know about. Got off US 2 onto US 85 (which was to have been my ride to Sturgis), but hopped on to I84. An Interstate, you exclaim. Isn't that blasphemy? Not so. We're haul-assin' home don't ya know. (Some place up here talks like that, but I forget which.) Besides, in ND, at least, I84 is more like a country road than a freeway. Very little traffic, same view of the countryside.

Just didn't want to get off the bike. Made it all the way across ND to Alexandria, Minnesota (632 miles). Finally had to get off when it got dark. But the evening was just one of those perfect motorcycle times: cool, sweet smelling, and one of those sunsets that turns the grass and trees yellow.

The only bug in the day was when I went looking for the Harley dealer in Manadan, ND. A little tricky to find and when I did, I turned in the wrong parking lot. I overcompensated trying to do a U-ey, and plunk, down went the bike again. Four years I've had this beast and never dropped her. Now, twice in two weeks. Must be getting old. Time to start trying on trikes, maybe?

Day 18

August 6. Another great day. After a few more mountains and getting through the tourists around Glacier Nat'l Park, I ran almost all the way across Montana on US 2. I love riding the prairie as much (maybe more) than the mountains. You're humbled in the mountains with the earth's majesty, and in the plains by just how big it is and you realize that you could ride it every day for the rest of your life and only see a part of it.

Great weather: started out a little chilly, but ended up in the 90s (never thought I'd thrive on heat), sun all the way. Nothing weird happened. No Chinese insults. Ended up in another great hotel.

On the prairie you can just open 'er up and eat the miles, 619 of them to Wolf Point, Montana. From here I start the run for home. See you all in a few days.

Life is good.

Day 17

August 5. There have been days this trip where nothing seemed to go right. Well, this was one of those almost perfect days where just about everything seemed to go perfectly right.

The HD shop opened at 8:30, so I got there at 7:45 to make sure I'm first in line. About 8:10, a guy on a dresser pulls up out back (at what turned out to be the service entrance). I scoot over there and ask him if he's a customer or mechanic (so he knows I'm there first, either way) and low and behold, it's the owner. I tell him my story, he says bring the bike around, and within 5 minutes someone's working on the bike. I'm out of there at 9:02! When was the last time something like that ever happened!

And the weather was perfect, cool in the morning and warm enough in the afternoon to take off my jacket. The ride was fantastic (all 529 miles), especially the afternoon and evening I spent in Jasper and Banff parks. These parks should be on your bucket-list of rides.

Here's what you guys are missing:


And here's the proof that I was there:


Because of the late start, I pushed into the evening (actually until after 8:00), passing up some rooms at several hot spring resorts, that looked awful expensive. I finally got out of civilization and found a roadside family restaurant where I asked about motels. Oh no, they said, the closest motels are two hours down the road. Had I done it to myself again.? No I hadn't! 25 miles down the road, in Skookumchuck, BC (honest to god, that's the name, even though it sounds like a possible third option to the old swallow or spit debate), there appears a campground/motel. Ooo, we've been in this movie, haven't we? I envision another muskrat hole. But no! The motel is a strip of 6 rooms in a brand new building, one of the best rooms I've had, certainly better than any of the chains I've stayed at. And they have wireless Internet, so I can rub it in!

Life is good!

Day 16

August 4. Nothing to report. Took advantage of having to wait for the Harley shop to open by going for a run, washing the bike, that kind of stuff. The bike is filthy. I got the crust off, but it's going to take a couple of days to get it back in shape. There is asphalt and road oil burned on to the pipes. But it comes off with a rag and elbow grease. It's just not going to come clean in a spray car wash.

Great weather predicted for the next week, all the way to the Midwest, so with any luck, I'm done with the rain gear and seven layers of clothing. Or at least both at the same time.

Day 15

August 3. Oh my. Last night, at the Hilton, I noticed that my back tire was getting pretty thin. I need a new one. But distracted by all that luxury, I forgot to look up a Harley Dealer and didn't remember until I was well under way, actually 80 miles past Prince George, BC, where there is a dealer. I got out my tour guide and the next nearest was close t0 500 miles away, through Jasper National Park (all mountains). Now, the tread wear lines are showing (I never had a tire get that bad). So I say to myself, "Self, you better get your ass back to Prince George." I do (so that means 160 wasted miles). But the Dealer ain't open, even though the book says they work Sundays. Hey, they ain't even open tomorrow! Turns out this is "Long August Weekend," a special Canadian holiday, where lots of places shut down for three days. Life can't be that interesting when you have to have a holiday because it's August.

While I'm pondering options in the parking lot, another rider comes up and is also disappointed that the shop isn't open. Turns out he's a traveler too, but from Alberta, not so far away. He looks at the tire and says he'd keep going, just stay out of the rain (like that's a choice). Then he says there's lots of people to help you out if you get in trouble. Yeah, like when you drive over a cliff, because the back tire blew they can put your body parts in plastic bags and carry them up the mountain.

I ask him what his problem is. Front brake caliber is leaking brake fluid. Not good, I say. Naw, he says, I don't need the front brake, he says, as he rides off. I decided to ignore his advice about pushing on.

I've checked into a hotel (somewhat better accommodations than last night), prepared to wait until Tuesday to get a tire. I got some clothes washed and rested up a bit. I found a motorcycle shop that works on Harleys. I'm going to call him tomorrow to see if he'll be open. (Hope he's not another Nick.)

The real shame of this is that it's sunny (all day) and in the 70s, the first nice day for a long time now. And with this extra delay, I may not make Sturgis. Oh well. At least I got in 271 miles of good ride.

BTW: The next room after last night's find was a hundred miles down the road. Good thing I took it.

Day 14

August 2. Is it worth the cold and the rain? I think so. Here’s what I woke up to this morning:


This was a sandwiched day. It started out in mountains and sunshine. But as I rode, I started getting little spritzes of rain, then bigger spritzes, and after a while, on goes the raingear. Just in time for pouring down spritzes in buckets. But then later on, the sun came out again, just about the time I was leaving the Alaska Highway to head for Jasper Park in Alberta. And what a ride that was, a curving ride through hills and along a wide river. One rest stop overlooked a broad valley, with hills off in the distance. A great motorcycle ride. And we finished back in the Canadian Rockies.

Due to misreading the map at the end of the day, I had to take a room on the road I was on or detour 20 miles to the next down. Here’s where I ended up.

At the back of this lot:

The first thing I noticed entering the room is that the bed only had a mattress, laid right on the bed frame, no springs. There was no TV hookup, but there was a TV. I was entitled to one DVD to watch that evening (I declined, being too tired). The bathroom mirror was leaning on the wall, on the floor. There were no pillow cases, but when I asked, the owned got me two pillows with decorative covers. "I don't want something somebody has slept on," I objected. "No no, these clean. No use." (Why have all the cute characters on this trip been Chinese?) There was no soap. The place was mustier than a fruit cellar.

But the water was hot (even though it took me a few minutes to figure out the hot and cold faucets had been reversed, and the heaters worked. And they had given me a complimentary bottle of water (which did prompt me to ask if the tap water was safe to drink: "Oh yes, very good").

I slept better than I had since I left home. Go figure.....

Day 13

August 1. Lousy start. Great finish. I got a late start this morning because I wanted to stop by the Harley dealer and get a T-shirt (so I can just walk around in it, all casual like, and astonish folks with where I've been). It didn't open until 9:00, so I stayed up late, planning to sleep in and lazy around for a while before packing up. Except one of my earplugs fell out and a heavy equipment barn outside my window started backing out their rigs at 5:00 am, along with that really annoying beep, beep, beep--beep, beep, beep. Like there's anybody who works there wouldn't recognize the sound of a big whatever-it-was moving toward them! Anyway couldn't get back to sleep, so just lazed around a lot longer.

Now it was supposed to be raining early today, but it wasn't when I packed the bike. But it was when I came out to get on. Oh well...

Over at the HD shop, I met a couple of guys on their way to Alaska, who, of course, asked about the road conditions and weather. It was kind of fun to watch them transform from eager, happy human beings to devastated semblances of themselves.

So I left in light rain, but without my rain gear. And actually ran out of the rain (or most of it--a bit drizzly for a while). But it kept getting colder! So I had to stop to put my rain gear on just for another layer of warmth. I had on a T-Shirt, with an insulated long-sleeve undershirt over that, with a long-sleeved jersey over that, with a heavy denim shirt over that, with a cut-off sweatshirt over that, with a lined jacket over that. And I still was freezing!

I was sleepy from getting awakened too early, and really chilled. So I stopped in Watson lake around 2:00, ate some sandwiches I'd packed and went and found a picnic table in the Signpost Forest (more below) and lay down and napped for a half hour. When I woke up, the sun was out, I was alert, and life is good.

Altogether 495 miles to Toad River, BC (honest to god, there is a Toad River, a town of 75 souls--and they have wireless Internet in this little dinky motel a hundred miles from anywhere!). And the last half of the day was fantastic. Riding back through some of the mountains I'd come up through, but looking the other way was like seeing a brand new place. Great riding, great scenery, great weather. Hey, it's not about how many days it rains--it's about how many good rides you squeeze out of the trip.

The Signpost Forest is one of those things that sounds really dorky, but is actually kind of cool when you see it. About an acre or so of 12-foot posts stuck in the ground where people nail up their license plates, city limit signs from back home, street signs from all over the world, and just about anything else they can nail up. I didn't even stop on the way up, but it was the only thing resembling a public park in Watson Lake and a convenient place for my nap, so I went in. I'm glad I did.

Day 12

July 31. The only thing to say about this day is that it was just plain strange. You can guess the weather when I left this morning, cold (30s), rain, and fog. After 2 1/2 hours of riding, I stopped to get gas and they had a thermometer and the temperature was all the way up to 41! This was in Tok, the town where that monster 8 miles of bad road started. It goes north from the very edge of town, but because I had taken the Anchorage circle route, I came in from the east and missed it. Turning south, I saw that "Construction next 47 miles" sign and said to myself, Clear sailing now. That long stretch, if you remember, had varying lengths of graded down temporary dirt and gravel roads, as work crews prepared to repave those sections.

But here's the thing--four days of rain turns temporary dirt into permanent slime. And oh boy, is it hard to ride on. There add to be 20 or more of these quagmires and two that were 3 and 4 miles long. I was stopped right by a flagger who told me that even the construction gang's pickup trucks were having trouble getting through. On the second one I could see the oncoming vehicles with a motorcycle right up front. When they started to move that bike started fishtailing within two seconds and down he went. They got him up and he managed to get himself down the road. When I could see him, he was on a Goldwing, with a passenger and a trailer. Pretty dumb, huh?

The pilot car driver waved me to the front of the line. They were putting bikes up front, not to be nice (though it was) but to keep an eye on them so they could get them back upright when they fell over and not hold up the line. He told me to follow him and he'd show me where to go. But hey, I made it through no trouble, except I just about shit myself every 30 seconds or so.

But I made it through the whole 47 miles with no incidents. And on into Canada. (BTW: There is a declared state of emergency in Alaska because of the flooding!)

Here's what your bike looks like after 47 miles of bad road.



So things are moving along now and then I run into this long line of vehicles, stopped with a cop car up front. After a long wait, we started moving, the cop leading the column. When I get up to where he had had the line stopped, there was another line of pickups on the right shoulder and across from then a hundred yards or so of young men (and not so young men) all holding rifles and shotguns. Later I met up with another biker who had asked the cop what was going on. Turns out it was some kind of native American funeral ritual. Some young man had got killed along that stretch of road (how I don't know) and they were shooting off the guns as tribute or something.

I had gone through this section on Sunday, when there were no construction workers present. Now, there was about 5 major project underway along the route.

Then I saw a grizzly bear. I did not even slow down for that guy, a glimpse of one of the beasts in the wild is enough for me.

Now try this on. I needed to take a behind-the-tree pee break. When that happens I look for a sideroad or pulloff so I can get the bike off the road. I found this little dirt road that led back into the woods and through an open gate. Perfect! I went up to the gate, but not through, and found a tree. There was a sign on the gate saying that this property was protected 24 hours a day by camera surveliance. I'm fine, I say, I'm not going in. So I finish up and am adjusting my clothes, when here comes some guy on a miniature skiploader, scaled about the size of a lawn tractor. I don't pay him no mind, but just start walking back to the bike. He drives right up to the gate and stops the machine and just stares at me. I look back a couple times and he just sat there glaring. I must have been some kind of big threat, but how he knew I was there is beyond me. There wasn't any camera out there, so there must have been some kind of motion sensor.

Now, he isn't making any moves, so I figure I can piss him off a little by taking as long as I can to get my gloves and helmet on. And then I slowly get on the bike and sit there for a bit. Then I wave to him, but he don't wave back. He just sat there looking madder and madder. What did he think I was going to do, pack up his farm and bungee it to my fender rack?

In spite of all this delay, I made it to Whitehorse, Yukon, after 520 miles.

Finally, it is going to be cold here again tomorrow, but after that back to the 70s, just as I leave the area. And the long-range forecast calls for 70s and 80s here for the next week.

Day 11

July 30. So far there have been rainy days, cold days, rainy and cold days, and foggy days, with a little wind every once in a while. This day started out cold, foggy, rainy, and windy. I thought you couldn't have fog and wind at the same time, but I'm telling you, you can. At least in Alaska. But the fog lifted pretty quick and the wind died down and I got to Denali, with only light rain. I didn't go for the bus to the mountain, because it would take the entire day and you wouldn't be able to see it anyway, because of the low clouds. So I rode the part of the park road that you are allowed without a permit (about 15 miles in and back). And it was fantastic. Denali is an amazing place. Mountains, tundra, rivers. Saw another moose, a bull this time.

So said goodbye to Denali and headed down toward Anchorage. And what to you know? The sun came out and it warmed up, into the high 60s. Not the 70s or 80s they're supposed to get up here this time of year, but I'll take it. Even had to put my sunglasses on, something that hasn't happened for several days.

Just above Anchorage, the Glenn Highway branches off the Park Highway and heads back to Canada. The lower Glenn Highway has got to be in the top ten motorcycle roads in the country. More mountains, a glacier, and just perfect winding roads.

I stopped at a little pull off to fix a tuna fish sandwich and take a break. Where I had to pull out, the exit was up hill, the road down hill and sharp to the right and then there was that sandy gravel, and well, down went the bike. Pretty embarrassing. A couple of guys stopped to help me get it back up and I was on my way. But now I can't make fun of friends who've dropped their bikes. Oh well....

So I'm chugging along figuring I'll make about 650 miles, what with all this sun, but then the sky blackened and there I was, right back in the rain. This road is circling back to the North, and it ran right back into the rain I'd just got out of. So I found a room, sort of. It's in a "lodge." Bathroom down the hall. No heat. (If you want heat, leave your door open, there's a register in the hallway.) No TV, but there is a common TV room. Sounds like it sucks, but it's actually kind of neat. As long as nobody else books in, that is.

But I did manage to get to about 100 miles south of Tok, Alaska (where I'm at doesn't have a name) and got in 529 miles.

Day 10

July 29. Taking a down day. Went to the HD dealer and got the oil changed. Took an hour and a half and then they offered to wash it for free, so I said OK. Turns out it's some kid getting practice. Took another hour and a half, and was dirtier that it usually is before I clean it. But the kid was so proud of himself, all I could say was good job. Plus it was a lot cleaner than when I took it in and the price was pretty good.

I met a couple of guys there who had brought in their Beamers for emergency repair. (This shop is a combo HD/Victory/BMW/Honda/Polaris dealer.) One guy was from Michigan. He had some kind of electrical problem. The other was from Daytona Beach and his bike wouldn't even start. Cost him $600 to get towed about 100 miles. While we were all sitting around telling lies, in comes a woman on another Beamer. Hers wouldn't shift.

Even given the high ratio of BMWs to Harleys you see on the Highway (we cool guys just say "The Highway" instead of "Alaska Highway), isn't it odd that all of the bikes coming in for repair were Beamers? And odder that those guys were shocked that I'd crossed that nasty stretch yesterday on a Harley. Yeah, but aren't your Beamers being the bikes repaired?

Saw something I'd never seen before in the service area: A Hell Angels full dresser. You could tell whoever owned it was a real badass though, because he had a rack for a radar detector attached to the handlebar.

I'm to the point where I'm making up itinerary on a day-by-day basis. Yesteday I had decided to bag Denali because of the weather, but now I think I'll give it a shot. One benefit would be that getting back from there avoids that 8 miles of bad road I talked about yesterday. It's going to rain the next four days no matter which way I go, so why not?

Day 9

July 28. Whew! What a day! After a cold, cold start (30s), I made it:



But after that... Well.

That gnarly piece of road that young fellow said lay up ahead wasn't really that bad, just some patches of asphalt and chip seal. And the Yukon side wasn't bad at all. Then there was the Alaska side. Not bad, until the fog hit. I mean fog like cotton candy. But by now there were stretches of road that they call "Pavement Breaks," as in "Pavement Break Ahead" on a day-glo orange sign. What that means is that they've ripped up the pavement to get rid of the frost heaves and either laid down gravel or just not, which means you got dirt. Now, these really aren't bad, except when you can't see them coming because of the fog! But that passed and the road got pretty nice, until there appeared another kind of sign: "Road construction next 47 miles." This was just more and longer stretches of "Pavement breaks." But kind of wore me down, especially when it started to rain! But then, again, this wasn't really all that bad.

Here's what was bad. After an hour of hard rain, comes another sign: "Road Construction next 8 miles." Shit, I say, I just did 47 miles of bad road, how bad can 8 more be? Wrong question.

On this stretch, they'd skimmed off one layer of old surface and left an even older one exposed. For the whole fucking 8 miles! Think 8 miles of potholes, one after the other and stretching across the lane. The bike was bucking and bouncing around like an epilectic with his shorts full of hornets. And every once in a while, there would be a sign that said "Road Construction Ahead." Like what the fuck are we in now if there's construction up there. But that only indicated actual work being done, like backhoes swinging in front of you and graders and pointer cars.

Worst stretch of road I have ever been on, or ever hope to be on. But I got to ride every fucking inch of it back the other way!

So after that (it did pass), the rain really started coming down, all the way to Fairbanks (where I somehow landed after 448 miles). At one point, trying to look on the bright side, I thought to myself, At least there isn't any wind. You guessed it. About 15 minutes later, there comes the wind. As a test I thought, At least it isn't snowing. It didn't snow, so I'm pretty sure the wind was a coincidence.

I was planning to check into a hotel and get to the HD dealer in the morning for an oil change, but as I was looking for a hotel, shazamm, there was the HD building, so I stopped there first. And they wouldn't do it. Booked, they said. I tried to convince them otherwise, but no go. Have to go back in the morning. So of course I was all pissed off that I'm going to get what I wanted in the first place. Funny how 55 miles of bad road and a day in the rain makes you cranky.

Day 8

July 27. Up until today, I've had cold days and rainy days, but today was the first cold and rainy day. Low 40's, clouds, and rain in the first part of the morning. Then it cleared up and I was just cold. But I made it 448 miles to Destruction Bay, Yukon. It was worth every shiver and every drop of rain to see mile after mile of this:




Not that the day was all gutting-it-out. A couple of other cyclists (1 coming back and the other going north) landed at the same gas station as me. We compared notes on road and weather and where we'd been and where we were going. Anybody up here is serious. Bikes of all kinds, mostly Japanese tourers and BMWs, but a Harley here and there. We make up a kind of fraternity of old guys who should know better.

Then there was the little Chinese girl who waited on me at a "Western/Chinese" restaurant. (I had a hamburger, because anytime a Chinese establishment books its hometown cuisine second, you pretty much want to shy away from that side of the menu.) Anyway, when she was taking my money, she said, "You smell like Fruit Loops." I almost snapped back, "Oh yeah? Well, you smell like fish guts!", when I realized she was probably smelling my lip balm and didn't mean anything by it.

Then there is here, the motel in Destruction Bay. When I was checking in there was a very old, very drunk lady trying to buy some groceries, but had trouble either remembering or actually punching in her debit card pin. She asked me a bunch of times where I had ridden that motorcycle from and couldn't remember New Jersey. She finally settled on Ohio, so I said "Yepper, that's where I'm from." Then she asked if later on tonight I wouldn't mind stopping down to her room at the end of the hall and take a look at her acrylics. Hey man! I still got it!

Day 7

July 26. This has to be up there as one of the best half-dozen days of motorcycling I've had in my life. The Canadian Rockies rule!


Pretty nice roads for the first part of the day, even in the mountains. And good enough roads after that. Big sweeping turns, not too many tight curves around hills. Some construction. (And that pesky gravel, again.) A shorter ride because of the sightseeing and the lower speed: 329 miles to West Haven, Yukon.

I talked to a young fellow on his way back with a crew, all on off-road BMWs (very strange), who said that the road the rest of the way was pretty good except for some "gnarly" stretches 50 miles both ways from the Alaska border. I'm not sure whether that is encouraging or not.

The bike is holding up well. On some days it's been burning a little oil, and I think it has to do with running regular gas. There are long stretches here where that's all there is, so it is what it is.

Lots of wildlife along the side of the road. Saw elk, buffalo, a bear, and some mountain sheep, all just moseying along, not a bit skittered by the bike. I stopped for some, but only slowed down for the bear. I didn't want him getting amorous with my motorcycle.



And a final photo, just to rub it in.

Day 6

July 25. Unbelievable day! I left really early, so I could start looking for a room after getting some decent miles in. It was in the low 40's at 5:30, and took until mid-afternoon to warm up, but I had enough clothes and was comfortable. Finally ended up in Fort Nelson, BC, after 557 miles, where almost every room is vacant. Go figure!

This whole country up here is beautiful. The day started in farmland, went through bigger and bigger hills, until you could finally see mountains off in the distance. I'm in the northern wilderness at last. There are long stretches where there is road and sky and forest, and that's it!

I ran into some construction, mostly chip-seal patching. It looks like those headlight guards will be useful, after all. Every now and again, there is a sign that says Loose Gravel. They should change all of those signs to say, Loose Gravel, Right Fucking Now! Because that's where the gravel is. But after a while, you just treat all orange road signs as the enemy, and slow down for them all.

And here's the 1,000 words:

Day 5

July 24. I'm actually posting this on Day 6, since I had trouble with the hotel's Internet connection last night.

But Day 5 was amazing! From Saskatoon to Whitecourt, Alberta (447 miles). Alberta is a beautiful--rolling farmland with miles on miles of canola fields. I tried to capture the scene (see below), but it's a bit washed out. What you can't show in a picture is the smell of the canola and the miles of wildflowers. It filled the air, so the ride was not only scenic, but fragrant, a long, long way from the sensory attack that is the Ohio Turnpike!



I finally found out why it's so hard to get rooms up here. It's not the tourists, it's the work crews. The clerk at last night's hotel clued me in to that and sure enough, when I left this morning, every hotel in town had contractors' trucks and all kinds if heavy equipment parked outside.

So about that scarcity of rooms. This was supposed to be a "budget" hotel, but they only had two rooms left, one with bunk beds and the other with a jacuzzi, same price. Hmmm, let me think about that for a while, I said. OK, the jacuzzi. Here's what 99 bucks gets you in Whitecourt:

Day 4

July 23. Where do I begin?

I'm writing this from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (which sounds like a line from a Daffy Duck cartoon) after 655 pretty interesting miles (interesting, not necessary all pleasant, miles).

The weirdest part of the day: I planned to stop at the HD dealer in Winnipeg to pick up a quart of oil. As I was approaching the city, this very pretty girl pulled up beside me in her beat up old car and gave me a big wave and smile. Not that weird. Chicks dig big Harleys. But when I got up to the service road for the dealer, there she was again, with her 4-ways on, just sitting on the shoulder. She followed me into the parking lot and got out to tell me that she'd seen my NJ tags and figured I was headed for the dealer and she wanted to make sure I didn't miss it.

Then she told me about how she used to have a Honda, but it got stolen, and she hasn't gotten a new bike because she broke her neck on her way through the windshield of her boyfriend's car after he ran into something while he was driving drunk, and now when she sits a bike for more that an hour or so, her head feels heavy. Funny, mine too. But in hindsight, she wishes she'd taken the money from the settlement and bought a Harley. Bet her boyfriend is pissed off.

After all this talk, she offered to go get coffee for me and another fellow who was waiting for the place to open so he could get an oil change. A very nice thing to offer.

Now, this girl had on a Hooters halter top, but she didn't fill it out very well. I could tell she was trying to get me to ask if she worked there, but I just couldn't, because there was no way, given her particular gifts. I suspect she is a Hooters aspirant and was afraid the conversation would get around to whether she had a shot at landing the job and I just wouldn't have had the heart to tell her that if she could get past the physical handicap, the fact remained that she just wasn't smart enough to be even marginally qualified. I just couldn't hurt her feelings--she was just too kind and sweet.

So the ride: From rolling hills in Ontario, all the way through Manitoba, which is flatter that that girl is up top. Manitoba is kind of like Kansas, except instead of being brown and hot, it's green and cool. Pretty neat place actually. Then more than halfway through Saskatchewan where we're starting to see a hill here and there.

What about the weather, you ask. After late morning, rain on and off all freakin' day. Every once in a while the sun would come out and I'd get tricked in to doffing some piece of garb that I would have to put back on again, like 25 miles down the road. Finally, the sun came out altogether, the road was completely dry, and so I stopped for dinner and got out of all that gear. When I left the restaurant, the rain was coming down the hardest of the day. Oh well....

The next three days are supposed to be clear. I should be pretty close to AK by then.

Day 3

July 22. Great day! Got a late start because of all the cleanup I had to do from yesterday. Everything (almost everything) was dry, but I had to refold and repack it all, this time in a way less likely to result in soggy underwear in the event of a hard rain.

While I was loading up the bike, a whole bus load of Chinese tourists were getting ready to saddle up. They were chattering away like a flock of grackles. One guy was doing his Tai Chai exercises in the parking lot. All in all the whole thing made me think of what the public ward room in an asylum for the convivially insane must be like.

What a ride! 503 miles finally landing me in Kenora, Ontario. Again with the last room at the inn. This is getting a little nerve wracking.

Canada route 17 (King's Highway 17) is now one of my favorite roads. Beautiful views off the highway of Lake Superior, deep blue as can be. Here's what you guys are missing:




It was cold when I left this morning (long underwear and chaps cold). The chaps stayed on until early afternoon, the underwear all day, and it was late afternoon before it was comfortable without a jacket.

Some construction, including a long stretch of temporary gravel. The headlights were intact afterwards, so either the guards worked or didn't get hit.

Tips and tricks. When they say take bug spray to the North, take it! I wouldn't have been able to get these pictures without (gnats big as house flies, I swear to god). And take a helmet with a face shield. I did by accident (a funny story I'll tell you all when I get back). And I'm glad I did. Big things keep hitting me in the face, big ugly things.

Once last neat thing. Saw a big dead moose along the side of the road, biggest mess of road kill I ever saw. I was going to stop and get a picture but when I started thinking about the size of whatever scavenger would take to that size meal, I decided to pass.

Day 2

July 21: The good news is that the sandpaper-grip rubber gloves I picked up at Tractor Supply work really well. The bad news is that this afternoon I really needed them to work really well. While I was waiting in line to get through Canadian customs, it started to come down hard. Fortunately I had my rain gear on because it had been sprinkling off and on all day. By the time I got into Sault Ste Marie, it was raining so hard the streets were flooding (just about up to the floorboards), so being a smart guy I pulled over. And then being not so smart, went back on my way. When the sun finally came out, I shed the gear and of course ran into more deluge. Just about all my stuff is wet, but drying nicely in the last hotel room in Marathon, Ontario.

But what a ride! 597 miles altogether. Rode US 23 along Lake Huron. I75 was like a country road, I pretty much had it to myself. Then CA 17 along Lake Superior. Just really nice scenery. And then there was the bear that ran across the road in front of me. And then the bears in the back behind the hotel. (The clerk suggested no one go out back.)

Even the Ontario cops that made sure to pull in to the gas station across the street to remind me that Ontario has a helmet law were very nice. And yeah, I saw them--I was just too tired to walk back up to the room for my helmet. Oh well...

BTW: That last tank of gas was $6.63 a gallon! America is next!

Day 1

July 20. Left at 7:00, made it to Flint, MI (695 miles). Would have made it farther but rain held me up early in the day and it started in again as I made it to the Flint exit, so I just got off the freeway and found a hotel.

This was a get-the-fuck-out-of-Dodge day, all interstates and freeways and not very interesting, but US 23 in Michigan doesn't totally suck.

Gas today totaled $100.00, more than my room plus all of my meals!