I cannot match Paul’s erudite wordmongering but I need to contribute so here goes, consider this the dog howling to his masters symphony if you will.
Day 1
SF to mad river.
Up highway 101 in the dark and cold, through the mist and the mountains, stopping for coffee and American breakfast in amongst the forest giants.
Turn off onto the highway 36, so many bends, can’t remember how to ride, run out of road and tense up, then up and down the road 3 times looking for Paul’s secret campsite restores confidence, shoulder into the corner, soft hands and relaxed arms, turn with the body.
Mad river is so cold, and I missed the otters because I had the topbox key upside down.
Stags and fawns and blackberrys. Huge pork chops then up at 4 am to watch the stars, so many stars and a shooting star and a satellite and the star that wouldn’t stay still. 315 miles.
Day 2.
Highway 36 is like a never ending rollercoaster, tops of trees visible out into space, stone under the front tyre is a sphincter tightening experience, triples howling through the valley then onto Bowman and overtaking the sherif, who pulls up next to me at the pumps, but says nothing, and I didn’t know.
On to Weed, overlooked by snow covered Shasta. Another American breakfast, enough now. Iced tea, nasty.
Blast up through the Norfolk broads to Klamath Falls, iced coffee, hot recalcitrant gearboxes and people who don’t understand the word trousers, especially not waterproof ones.
Long straight roads up towards Crater Lake and the diamond lake, meatballs and chewy rice, more bats than birds and slutty ducks. 338 miles.
Day 3
North York moors, 32542 to 32879. 337miles today, cold cold morning at 80 mph along the long straight road, fab feeling as the sun finally starts making a difference, the trip is a succession of gas stations, mostly chevron, all with interesting snacks and oddments for me to peruse.
We hit the freeway after a mcdees coffee and a mad old bloke who tried to tell us about riding horses over the prairies, Paul was not impressed.
80 to 90 on the freeway eats up the miles and soon we are riding over the high plains on the way to Biggs junction and crossing the Columbia river into Washington.
Stopped for a burger at Linda’s maybe, wasn’t Alices anyway. I bought a wooley hat, seems so silly when it was sooo hot, like 35 degrees or more.
Over the bridge over the river and swoopy bends back up onto the high plains, which looked just like the North York Moors, same colour and look to the vegetation but with snow covered peaks in the far distance.
The campsite for the night was a bit smelly and dirty but it was free and right on the river, after a cooling dip Paul went back into town for firewood and food. Yummy bbq lamb.
The night was cruelly interrupted by first some home boys who decided to use the campsite right next to us, despite the fact Paul was using it and there were plenty of free spaces elsewhere, then the loudest longest train in the world which also decided to jam its brakes on right next to us. Then more trains and a helicopter, with a fucking searchlight!
Day 4
Cold early start with coffee you can chew then onward to Canada, 280 miles but I made a longish diversion. First was a lovely swoopy run along the canyon next to the river.
Then my diversion, silly Chris, thought Paul was following but it was a truck with one light, back we go, then more highway 97 for a fantastic run up over the mountains and rollercoaster ride back down the other side, all at 50 to 90 mph through the trees and valleys, over bridges, wide roads with just us cos we left all the slow trucks at the road works.
Breakfast was eggs benedict, California style with avacado at the In and Out.
Then lots of freeway to the highway to the Canadian border, and with that I have already forgotten today’s other highlight, riding alongside the Columbia river, so pretty, beautiful houses and orchards and vineyards, all with the wide river running through, stunning.
Border guard was more interested in telling me about her recent trip to London than checking me at all.
Eventually found a campsite, bitey flies and funny little birds running around. Huge cliff with deer on it. Cooked chicken. Lovely shower. Guy with a gold wing and trailer, is it even a bike Ken?
Day 5
Up at stupid o clock again, coffee and take down camp then push the bikes out of the deep kitty litter and off we go, Paul has a spanner on his dash but we reckon it is just where he has fucked about with the service settings.
This morning was hard cos it was mostly through cities with lots of rush hour traffic and my poor wrist got very sore nursing best beloveds gear box.
Finally out of the cities and into scenic Canada, seems like a more astounding view round every corner, azure lakes, huge craggy ice dotted mountains that seem to hang over you. The roads have beautiful sweeping bends and I am getting more confident on the Sprint now so it is not so scary, but I still don’t like the bends with huge drop offs, they make me freeze up a little.
Over Rogers pass through thick pine forests on mostly excellent roads with plenty of passing lanes, back up to 70 to 90 mph, seen a couple of cops pulling people over but not a great police presence.
Then the best bit of the ride so far, after dinner in golden, 30 odd miles of jaw dropping mountainous beauty on both sides, drop in to Field for local information then up to Takakkaw Falls, the highest waterfall in the Rocky Mountains. Back down to the main road and and a nice little campsite, even though it is next to a main road and another railway line.
We have broken out the bear spray, apparently this is when they are at their most active trying to put in weight for winter.
Day 6
286 miles 1872 miles running total.
Just the most amazing ride along the icefield parkway, what to say, astounding slabs of time wrenched out of their beds and thrust up at 45 degrees then sliced and furrowed and blasted by forces of fire and ice and gravity but mostly time, unimaginable eons creating the most awe inspiring spectacle of rock and ice.
So many trees and retreating glaciers, mount robson with its horizontal layers,
how did they stay horizontal whilst the rest of the land was twisted so?
Snowy peak hidden in cloud, behind a gas station and a gift shop. Gravel on the road and a misstep from the back tyre.
Bought rubber gloves for the rain from Home Depot.
Jasper, surrounded by distant mountain peaks.
Our camp in the trees next to the lake, lots of frogs and so many tadpoles when we did the washing up on the sinking jetty.
Kev gave me my first beer of the holiday and Paul his first cigar. He told us not to worry about bears, told us he’d just been on a walrus hunt with the Inuit.
He was a fisheries inspector.
Day 7
33784 to 34101. 315 miles
100 miles before breakfast in Prince George. Yummy pancakes and chippy things and sausages and bacon and eggs and maple syrup.
This was in the family restaurant we were not meant to find after 3 so called locals told us there were no cafes in town and we would have to go on out to the burger joint on the freeway, we found are cafe after passing at least three others in the middle of town.
Then an extra sleeping bag from “Surplus Herbies” to stop me shivering at night.
The 100 miles before breakfast were a blast, didn’t see another car for almost 100 miles.
Warmed up with lots of coffee at breakfast then finally the sun warmed us up on the road to Chetwynd, another 200 miles of sweeping bends and fun RV’s to overtake.
Another free campsite next to another lake, Big Lake this time rather than Lasail. Speedboats on the lake and throwing the squealing girls overboard then trying to drown them in the wake.
Beef burgers in mushroom buns with blue cheese and tomato’s.
Our neighbors were two hunters and their two dogs.
Day 8
34101 to 34449. 348miles
Very damp dewy morning next to the lake. I was up first for a change after a cozy night in my two sleeping bags.
Everything put away damp and dirty then a blast along the chilly highway 29 to fort St. John. Another fantastic road with lots of fast twisties but also some nasty bumps and some slippery overbanding.
Breakfast at the awful Humptys, some fried potato with meat on top and covered in the most disgusting gloop, supposed to be cheese sauce. Also the worst coffee so far on this trip, worse by far than Paul’s chewable breakfast coffee, which may make u wince but also wakes you up like a speed bomb.
Then a 250 mile blast into autumn, and a black bear by the side of the road!
I recorded a 6 mile straight, from one side of the valley to the other, came up over the hill and it stretched out in front of me to the horizon, so checked the milometer and pinned it (covering the back brake just in case) and 6 miles later I disappeared over the horizon. The trees are turning up here, I stopped and took off my lid and pulled out my ear plugs and took a few steps into the forest, it smelt fantastic, it was so quiet and the air was so clean.
Back in the Sprint to spread a line of high octane pollution up to Fort Nelson.
Checked into a motel 6 spread the tent out to dry and turned the heating up full.
Wrong pizza and crappy hot wings next door. They even gave Paul the wrong drink!
Then wash all the stinky clothes whilst I pop in the pub to sample a couple of the local brews.
Had a Crossroads ipa from Prince George and a Beeman honey brown lager, bit like Newcastle brown.
Hot shower was fucking great too!