SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2011

Winthrop, Washington to Vancouver, BC

247.9 miles/3,129.1 miles

Last night was the coldest of the trip, and we woke up to ice on the seat of the BMW - BRRR!  Up early -we were the only campers within sight that were up - we started to pack up the tents and everything else onto the bikes.  After using the nearby restroom, we heard a loud hissing sound and, looking for its source, we saw a balloon being filled with hot air for an early morning flight.  If it's cold on the ground, how cold must it be a couple of thousand feet in the air, we wondered?!

The Balloon Takes Off.........

........Ever Higher in a Cloudless Sky

Al, Up Uncharacteristically Early

A couple of days ago, I had commented to Al that, for all the RVs we've seen, we hadn't come across a single Airstream, that one-time ubiquitous, sausage-shaped, aluminum camping trailer, first built in the 1930s.  This morning, at our last campsite, I saw one parked across the way, and went over to chat with Art about his Airstream.  

Art lived in Alaska for fifty years, and now lives in northwest Washington, and bought his Airstream two years ago, and goes everywhere with it.  I said that I remembered reading about Airstream caravans that traveled in a very orchestrated manner, all over the U.S., and Art said he saw them frequently in Alaska,  during the summer months.  As a large group, they would arrive at a particular spot, and form in a large circle, similar to wagon trains of the 1800s that we have all seen in films.

Art With His Airstream

Today's highpoint - the last ride day for me - was going through the spectacular Northern Cascade Mountains, and we delighted in the rugged mountains.  I found it quite difficult to negotiate the winding road, mesmerized as I was by the stupendous views, both up and down, so we pulled off frequently to take it the views.  We each had on pretty much all the clothing layers we could possible put on, and were glad to have them - including winter riding gloves.

As we climbed up from the lower elevations on the east side of the mountains, we began to pass various bicyclers, amazed at their strength and endurance.  At one point, much further up the grade, we pulled over for a View Stop and saw that there were support vans for the bikers in the pull-off, and I walked over and talked with one of the riders, Patrick, for a few minutes.  


All the bikers we had seen were part of a single group who, yesterday, had covered the same road, west to east; they spent one night on the east side of the mountains, and were now on their way back - 68 miles and 6-7 hours each way!  We decided it wasn't the time to complain about our little aches and pains from riding motorcycles.  Given our frequent stops, we saw Patrick at another rest stop further up the mountain.

A Mountain Pull Off

Bike Riders Up the Hill

Tom at the Pull Off

Patrick, the Bike Rider

Further along the upgrade, I had dropped back a few miles from Al and Tom, stopping here and there for photos.  As I continued up, unbeknownst to me, Al and Tom had stopped and were taking photos of me riding up the hill.

Joe, on the Way Up

The......

......Many Views.....

......Through the Mountains

Once over the pass, we had less snow immediately around us, but the vistas were no less compelling.

Al's Bike, with Tom, and Mountains....

....Mountains.....

.....Mountains.....

.......and More Mountains, Our Constant Companions

At a stop to view a roadside waterfall, I walked back to the bridge to get a photo, and I met John Pakele, a native Hawaiian, and his family,  who are from the northwest corner of Washington.  John, a motorcycle enthusiast himself, asked some questions about the bikes, where we had been, etc., and I promised him that, once home, I would send him the link to the blog.......for inspiration, John!

John Pakele and His Family......

.....Who I Met While Viewing a Roadside Waterfall

At a later rest stop, overlooking Diablo Lake dam, we met John, with his unusually decorated Harley, with The Hulk peeking out from his fender and side panel.  He also had a small pig mounted on the top of his tank, the only thing left from his previous bike, which he totalled in an accident.  John's bike had an amazing paint job, which glitters in the sun and changes color as you move around it.

John and His Harley......

...With The Hulk.....

....Peeking Out......

...and the Mounted Piggy Perched on the Gas Cap.

Al, at the Diablo Lake Dam Overlook

Prior to our stop at the Diablo Lake Dam Overlook, we had gone further down the road, into the small town at the base of the dam, created for the staff and families that operate the dam at the west end of the lake.  Although we rode around the few streets of the community, and saw trucks and cars parked in the driveways, flowers in the windows, and a playground for kids, we didn't see a single person1970.  Then, when we saw the phone booth, and I checked and realized it was functioning, we knew we were in..........The Twilight Zone!  We hightailed it out of there, not even stopping to warn the couple who were innocently walking in with the cameras around their necks as we rode out, past the unmanned security gate.

The Pleasant Town....

..........with no People

Once we were through the mountains, we continued west on Route 2 until we came to Route 9, north, taking it to the town of Sumas border crossing, which, thankfully, only took a few minutes.  From that point, however, our thankfulness quickly evaporated as virtually the entire, remaining distance to Vancouver - another 40+ miles on Canada Route 1 West, was one, continuous construction zone (AHHHH! ARGGGG! #@!!#!!), with agonizing (our wrists!!), stop and go traffic, for two and a half hours!

When we finally arrived in the city, in the middle of Vancouver, in heavy traffic, in a somewhat sketchy part of town, Tom's motorcycle just stopped - overheating from the continuous stop and go finally taking its toll - and we pulled over to the curb for 15 minutes or so, while the local denizens gathered around us, allowing enough time for Tom's bike to restart and, finally, make it to our apartment on the west side of downtown - for me, 3,129.1 miles (and 54 miles per gallon) after starting out on The Al, Tom and Joe Big Motorcycle Adventure, ten days ago.  It was certainly all that and more!

Once off the motorcycles and in the apartment, we took a short walk with Rachel to a nearby restaurant, eating outside, under the trees, enjoying the gratifying quiet and the company over dinner, accompanied by a cool breeze.

I enjoyed every minute of The Big Adventure with Al and Tom, my boon companions, greatly appreciating our Camaraderie of the Road, happy to be along for the ride with them, and thankful that we had such good weather for virtually the entire trip.  We looked out for one another,  saw a lot of the country, managed to see some friends and family along the way, and shared some time and conversation with a wide cast of characters that we met in our travels.

Al, Tom and Joe
The Three Road Amigos

At this point I have asked Tom to recount his and Al's adventures starting with there departure from Vancouver on Monday morning, June 27, which he does with great gusto (and some photos).  Tom also felt compelled to provide the readers with a bit more detail regarding our arduous passage to and through the city of Vancouver and, finally, up to our apartment.

Where Tom Provides a Detailed Description of Our Harrowing Passage Through the City of Vancouver

I will attempt to resume the narrative where my good friend Joe left off, oh, perhaps recapping our arrival in Vancouver a little differently from my point of view.  Forgive the dearth of photos, especially of the most interesting parts, but I just didn’t think of taking pictures while events were unfolding (overheating, customs check, high-centering etc.)

The day we crossed the border from Washington state into Canada was one of the few very warm days I recall from the trip. How many were there, guys, two?  Imagine that!  End of June and not really summer weather yet...until  that day (and maybe one other), and it was quite warm.  As Joe mentioned, our 70 km trip from the border-crossing point to Vancouver was one long line of murderous stop-and-go traffic. I pulled the clutch lever so many times I thought something was probably going to wear out or break. The V-Strom’s heat gauge showed three bars the whole time (two is normal running temperature). I knew this was not good for the bike, but what could be done?  

We kept at it until we reached Vancouver, then, when we exited into the city, we were able to pick up some speed to cool the bikes down.  I particularly remember crossing a bridge and looking down onto the water. However, once into the city center, stop-and-go traffic resumed and it was hotter than out on the freeway. As we were making our way between stop lights (there were an awful lot of them), the Suzuki suddenly quit without warning. No coughing or sputtering, no sounds of metal against metal, just STOP.  I shifted to neutral and coasted to the side of the street.  After some hand-signalling and yelling over the din of the city, I made it understood to Al and Joe that my bike had simply quit. Overheated, I thought, and I needed to let it sit for a few minutes and cool off.  That understood and accepted, all three of us sat there a while and observed the local denizens.  

After a few seconds I saw we were stopped on something akin to the American “skid row” with bums, drunks and dopers milling around. I think most of them were so out of it that they didn’t realize I was stranded on a broken down bike, otherwise, I figured, they’d be trying every possible angle to get money out of me or to otherwise somehow take advantage of my vulnerable position.  As it turns out, we didn’t attract that much attention and they pretty much kept their distance except for one pair, who, when they weren’t scuffling over something they had spied in the gutter, staggered my way.  One said something to me in what sounded to like English with the French Canadian accent, but then I’m mostly deaf, had my helmet on and hearing aids turned down, so who knows what it was he said or what language he said it in?  

In any case, I merely acknowledged it with a nod and a weak smile and continued appearing as if I were simply parked there enjoying the ambiance, as Al likes to say. This response satisfied my visitors fully, and they ambled off into the crowd.  Happily, a police cruiser arrived, hooted its siren briefly, and the cops inside began a conversation with one of the locals. I imagined he was their informant giving them the lowdown on the latest dope dealing going on in the area. What better cover than to hold their clandestine conversation right out in front of God and everybody?  In any case, the presence of the heat lightened the ambiance (as Al likes to say).

Finally, after about 10 minutes, I decided to give it a try, and the engine came immediately to life with two bars showing on the heat gauge. This qualified as a relief.  We continued down the street, now only a few blocks from Joe’s apartment, but I commented to Joe that I wasn’t sure how the Suzuki was going to behave from here on out since the heat had climbed back up to three bars right away.  As it turned out, the bike continued in fine style all the way to Joe’s parking garage where Al and I parked on the upper level, while Joe continued down to what I assume was his assigned parking spot.

Arriving at Joe’s apartment with the gear we needed to clean up and overnight, we were greeted warmly by Rachel, who made us feel at home and promptly served up some cool drinks and appetizers. We spent some time recounting our adventures and admiring the apartment and the gorgeous view the Lafo’s have of the harbour and nearby park, and then it was suggested we go out to eat at a respectable restaurant.  I was able to scrounge up a white shirt from one of my side cases to lend a modicum of respectability to my otherwise decidedly scroungy appearance.  The shirt was clean and I had packed it not to wear to nice restaurants but to ward off the scorching desert rays should I get caught riding in mid-day under the Nevada sun (Note: I generally wear a T-shirt when riding in NV. The method is to put the white shirt on over the T, leave it open in the front to catch the breeze but fasten the cuffs so my arms do not burn.)

 The restaurant meal was fantastic. The waitresses were charming. The hosts were generous. The company was witty. The evening was comfortable. The neighborhood upscale.  And, well, the ambiance was perfect.  Thanks once again to Joe and Rachel for the treat.

Back at the apartment, we showered, talked, enjoyed Rachel’s wonderful chocolate chip and ginger (three kinds of ginger!) cookies and eventually sacked out.