Ups And Downs And Run Arounds

Here on the border with the US I am taking some time to look back and forward. There are still a little over 2,000 miles between here and my likely home base for the winter. There are still stop offs of places and things to see, some people to visit, and a large chunk of land I have to cross that I’ve seen way too many times. There are worse things than trying to plan a trip through boring or familiar terrain, but it still requires planning.

Let’s catch up from my return to the mainland though, eh? Vancouver Island was great — I spent more time there than I had expected — but all things come to an end. I grabbed the return ferry and kept myself busy drinking coffee and wandering the decks. the 1.5hrs goes by quick, as there are several island channels and distant mountains to look at as the ferry makes its way back to southern Vancouver city.

It was a fight getting through the city itself, as there are many bridges, a lot of construction, and clearly they have traffic issues they are well behind on addressing. Once I made it through, Hwy 99 was there to take me north. The destination was Kamloops, but I didn’t need to get there for about four days.

97 rides the coast for awhile thanks to Howe Sound, which 97 follows up to Squamish. The weather was certainly acting like fall was here, but there were very few trees changing colors in preparation; it was more like a typical Pacific-Northwest day of clouds and sporadic rain. It eventually got heavy enough to put on the rain gear, and the roads were wet enough to give me some rear-wheel spin as I tried to exit switchback corners.

It was mild though — unnerving and annoying but not exciting or scary. It slowed me down though out of an abundance of caution, yet that caution meant I had to keep my attention focused and not enjoy the views afforded by a slower pace. On the plus side, the weather began to break as the terrain began to turn to desert.

Yes, Canada has desert. With about a one hundred mile wide mountain range between the coast and the flat land, most of that Pacific wetness is stopped in one valley or another. That means when you get back down to lower altitude, there’s not much moisture and plenty of flat land to get heated by the sun. It’s still more green and full of Rabbit Bush and sage than deserts closer to the equator, but it was nice to see a more healthy desert than the sun baked plants I see struggling most of the year in the Mojave or Sonoran deserts.

Cache Creek village itself is seriously small, surviving for basically the same reason it has always existed: it is at a crossroad. That means hotels, eateries, fuel, and repair facilities are the bulk of the economy. Ranchers still operate in the area, but the town exists because of trading companies and miners moved through the area in the mid-1800’s and the Trans-Canada Highway moves through the area.

I got there late enough to watch everything close except the A&W and some 24hr gas stations. I at least got my room key and found a small diner at a truck stop that was just about to close, but had enough time to make me a simple dinner before they shut down.

Back at the room it was a real step back through time, but more like the 1980’s than the 1880’s. Despite being dated and a bit worn out, it was clean, everything worked, and the bed was comfortable. I used the wifi to find a budget motel in Prince George to the north and slept the night.

To Prince George

Cache Creek is where 97, 99, and 1 all meet up, but it’s 97 that runs up toward Prince George. Not that I had any interest in the city itself; it also exists largely from being crossroad. PG was just sufficiently north for me to then go south on a different highway, letting me arrive in Kamloops on the right day without riding the same road twice.

There was nothing to report though as far as the ride up. It got a bit colder, it got green again as the evergreens took over from the sage brush, and a few ponds arrived. Those ponds started becoming lakes, and the lakes begat some marsh land. The amount of trees changing their leaves increased, but they were either single trees or stands of very young trees.

PG is a bigger town than Cache Creek, but that didn’t seem to be be working in its favor. Homeless people were in line with a much larger city, there was an abundance of liquor stores, and the place had a desolate feeling. Where were all the people?

Despite this, I stayed an extra night, mainly because I was getting sick of being on the road. No matter what you do, the novelty will wear off; when I’m on the road 4mo I want to stop packing/unpacking my things, and when I’m stationary for 4mo I wish I was back on the road breaking up the daily grind. Right now the road is the monotonous thing.

One exception is when you meet interesting people. Across the street was a proper hotel, and their bar had a prime rib special. It put me in touch with Ernest, who was a German living in New Zealand. Retired now, but full of world travel stories from his work. After things died down an attractive young woman came in and it turns out she was a journalist researching a story.

We chatted about writing, deadlines, politics, and the differences between our countries. Before I could get any flirty banter going though, someone else entered. He was wearing an Indian Motorcycle jacket, and was also a First Nations person: an Indian riding an Indian. That shifted the conversation since she was in town writing about a missing indigenous woman and he was in town to talk to a lawyer about a land dispute.

The conversation was at least interesting, because they closed the bar on us and we moved outside. Questions about motorcycles took a back seat and I learned a lot about the struggles of the native Indian bands these days and historically. It was depressing in a sense, but also nice to know a lot of people are working on righting historical wrongs without just writing a check, which doesn’t actually solve systemic problems.

The Beginning of the end?

Turning south — in a way at least — marked the homeward journey. I don’t really have a home, but the US/Mexico border is as close as anything. Most of my stuff is there in one place or another, I have friends there, and it acts as a staging point for my different journeys.

As I said though, I have several thousand miles to go and I’ve already been all over the country this year. It doesn’t feel like the end, but I find I’m looking further ahead than just 2-3 days. First up was Kamloops though, where I could meet up with my friend Brock Smith.

Within 10min of leaving PG it started raining. I was heading southeast on Hwy 16, where the lower parts are usually around 2,500-feet. With mountains on both sides I was hoping the valley would warm up, but it was too narrow and too high, so once the rain worked through my boots and socks, things got uncomfortable.

Around the Sugarbowl Mountains, past Celtic Peak, and a quick turn onto Hwy 5 at Red Pass Junction. The roads dried but my boots didn’t, and despite slightly lower altitudes, things were cold. There were even more amazing snow-capped peaks, but while they inspire a sense of awe they also make it easier to feel the cold pushing through your bones. I changed socks and put on 2 pair so if the 1st pair soaked up water from my boots the 2nd pair would still be dry.

It was an improvement but not a solve. I made it to Kamloops though with plenty of daylight and made it to Brock’s, who owns Metalmorphasis Fabrication. We had been Facebook friends for probably 15yrs before finally meeting up in person earlier this year. He and I have insanely parallel lives despite being from two different countries.

In childhood Brock lived in the US, in the same town I grew up in, a few blocks away. He had moved back to Canada before middle school, or we would have gone to the same middle school, as we are only a year apart in age. His father was a founder of Champion Sidecars, so he knows the same people I do from both the road-going and racing world of sidecars (I raced sidecars for over ten years and do a lot of sidecar work for the Veterans Charity Ride, who are sponsored by the current owners of Champion).

I think we became friends on FB because he saw me as a suggested friend due to Pikes Peak. He had built parts for Dave Hennessy, who tasked me with being a sidecar co-pilot in the 2009 event, then rented me the rig in 2010. I eventually brought a Formula sidecar to Pikes as the pavement got closer to completion, and set the record the last year of dirt and first year of all tarmac. I managed to reset the record in 2016 and am likely to have it for awhile since they don’t allow motorcycles in the event anymore.

Now is where I should show a pic of me and Brock but my hidden talent is I always forget to take selfies with people I interact with. But Brock did introduce me to some decent quesabirria tacos and craft beer. Canada is not as “proud” of their craft beer so its actually affordable (unlike the US), but like the US they are too proud of their tacos. Big taste, big price.

However, their churros were like heroin with sugar on top — literally the best I’ve had anywhere, anytime, including Mexico and Disneyland and even my favorite food trucks in So-Cal. No pictures of those, as we tore through them like wild animals.

I did get pictures of Brock’s work though. While there I told him how my trailer receiver had been bent on my very first trip in 2022. Bending it back did no good, as the metal had been fatigued and would just bend again: it needed a gusset. Brock turned it up to 11 and added massive gussets that he laser-jetted “speed holes” into, then hit the whole piece with rattle can and Rhino-liner type textured spray.

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We also fixed the fenders on the trailer. They were only held on at the front and back, at their lowest points. Double-stick tape held the top. As you can guess, the tape eventually gave way and the bouncing of the road started to bend — then crack — the mount points.

So Brock welded a little aluminum plate to fix the crack and strengthen things, while we also drilled two more holes in the top of the fender to secure things. One would have been enough (these are aluminum, do very light) but I’d rather over-do it.

Here’s looking into the back of the right wheelwell, where the plate needed made:

After a few days in Kamloops it was time to cross the border, though as I said already, I didn’t make it. Mother Nature was the decider though, so don’t expect a story of me running from the border guards or being hauled off to a secret prison. Still, it’s a story worthy of its own post, as there is a lot to share for only a single day on the road, so we’ll leave it until next time.