Boney's 2009 motorcycle extravaganza!

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Arriving safely in Sonora we go straight to the Miner's Shack for some grub.

 

 

If you're looking for breakfast, they have it. It's pretty good too, but nothing fancy.

 

Tatonka:

 

Outside:

 

 

[barryNmarin]

Yep, breakfast was delicious and filling and its a good thing because we were in for a loooong day.

 

 

It would be another 7 hours before we stopped to eat again but we were too busy riding and smiling to notice.

 

[BabyCow]

Classic! Watch out for Richard's sudden turns - blinkers (turn signals) are optional. From experience I found that it is best to see which of his cheeks (the ones he sits on) are showing for which direction he may go next.

[Twisties]

[Jacqueline]

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Classic! Watch out for Richard's sudden turns - blinkers (turn signals) are optional. From experience I found that it is best to see which of his cheeks (the ones he sits on) are showing for which direction he may go next.

 

Indeed. He has a habit of dropping anchor seemingly without notice every time his radar detector makes the slightest peep.

 

In Barry's picture here:

 

We are indeed turning left. A little ways up the pass we got stuck behind a big line of traffic who all got caught behind a cattle truck that was crawling up the hill. When it pulled over into the turnout, the super slow pickup pulling a horse trailer eveidently missed the message and didn't stop too. So we didn't really go any faster.

 

Rather than running the line on the wrong side of the double-yellows like someone on a 1300ST did, we decided to take a break at the overlook.

 

It was very scenic:

 

Here's that "tom is pregnant" picture again.

 

 

After allowing time for the traffic to get ahead of us, we set out for the pass.

 

 

Eventually, after many twists and turns, we make the pass. There's lots of people there too. I guess they all had the same idea we did.

 

 

It's 11:30 and we've knocked one off. 6 to go.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

 

Click for two minutes of video

[barryNmarin]

As you can see the weather was just picture postcard perfect. Here's a couple of shots I snapped from Sonora Pass. There wasn't much time for serious photography or sightseeing but we managed a few decent snaps

 

 

 

And heres a little history of the pass:

 

[BabyCow]

I am so sorry I missed riding that cause it was still closed. It looks very special and scenic

[TEWKS]

 

Click for two minutes of video

 

 

Smooth!

 

 

Pat

[Jacqueline]

I am so sorry I missed riding that cause it was still closed. It looks very special and scenic

 

Mick... you (and Paul) will have to come back when you can ride it. You have a place to stay, anytime.

[StuGotz]

Good stuff, kids.

 

Boney, ya gotta make the dualsport trek to Donnells...18 miles on the edge of the canyon. Take the Beardsley road to get there. When ya get there, you have the entire reservoir to yourself. Walk the 288 steps down to the 36in outflow on the face of the dam. Put your hand against the water and feel the force. (luke)

 

You can back out towards Hwy 4 and Camp Connell.

About 70 miles.

 

MB>

 

[BabyCow]

U will be one of the first to know next trip.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Off the east side of Sonora Pass we go. This is the steep side, and in a place or two the longer vehicles kick shoulder gravel up onto the road. Down past the Marine's Training Center we turn north up Hwy 395.

 

There's lots of construction on 395 right now, and several places where it's down to one lane.

 

 

 

395 in this area is considered the "high desert." You'll notice that the landscape has changed significantly. This part of the state is in the rain shadow of the Sierras, where most of the inbound moisture is dumped before reaching here.

 

 

The recent reports coming in from riders in the Sierras was that Monitor Pass got a heavy helping of tar snakes just before they opened it this spring. The reports were accurate, and we tapered off the pace a bit, to keep the slipping and sliding down to a minimum.

 

At the top we met a couple of bicyclists who were training for the Death Ride. One was all happy and smiles, the other not so much. The happy one offered to take pictures for us, so we handed over the cameras and thanked him.

 

 

This seems like a very popular place with the bicyclists. We even found evidence in the bushesd that they stash stuff up here for themselves ahead of time.

 

 

It appears the owners of this cooler had already been here. I was considering eating the orange and leaving a thank you note, but decided against it.

 

 

The west side of Monitor Pass wasn't any better. For me at least, Barry took the lead and apparently wasn't affected by the tar snakes- or maybe he didn't mind them. It took me to the intersection at 88 to catch up (where Barry was kindly waiting.)

 

 

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Good stuff, kids.

 

Boney, ya gotta make the dualsport trek to Donnells...18 miles on the edge of the canyon. Take the Beardsley road to get there. When ya get there, you have the entire reservoir to yourself. Walk the 288 steps down to the 36in outflow on the face of the dam. Put your hand against the water and feel the force. (luke)

 

You can back out towards Hwy 4 and Camp Connell.

About 70 miles.

 

MB>

 

Thanks for the tip. I'll look into it.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Markleeville is so small, that if you blink you'll miss it. I hardly had time to push the button on my little camera before we were through it.

 

 

The north toward Lake Tahoe. On the way we bag Luther Pass.

 

 

That photo was tricky because Luther Pass is heavily travelled and the corners in both directions are somewhat blind. I sprinted as best I could in my riding boots, and luckily didn't even get to flirting with roadkill.

 

Up in Meyers I think it is, we stopped for gas. Topping up our tanks, Richard comments that he's still got 200 miles left in the tank according to the computer. Then he says, "I really really LOVE this bike." That's a quote because that's what was said...

[Jacqueline]

Up in Meyers I think it is, we stopped for gas. Topping up our tanks, Richard comments that he's still got 200 miles left in the tank according to the computer. Then he says, "I really really LOVE this bike." That's a quote because that's what was said...

 

Why do I get the feeling that's not the end of the story when it comes to that quote

 

Great stuff .

[barryNmarin]

The west side of Monitor Pass wasn't any better. For me at least, Barry took the lead and apparently wasn't affected by the tar snakes- or maybe he didn't mind them. It took me to the intersection at 88 to catch up (where Barry was kindly waiting.)

 

 

 

 

 

Well thanks for throwing me a bone, (Boney) but the real reason Boney had to catch up was that he was messing around with his video camera and I took off before he was ready. It had nothing to do with tar snakes athough they were definitely present and we all slowed down a bit as a result.

 

Here's Richard contemplating his deep abiding love for his reliable GT

 

[azkaisr]

I wish I could have rode with you guys

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

I wish I could have rode with you guys

 

We all wish we could have been in Ouray too.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Echo Summit is just up the road from South Tahoe. It's also a busy highway, and the sign is in an inconvenient spot for pictures. A U-turn or two and we were in position to get the shot.

 

We didn't stay long and were only off the bikes long enough to get the shot.

 

Rocketing down the west side of Hwy 50 my bike turned up the bad man's number; 66,666 miles. I took a picture, and it came out bad. Is that a sign?

 

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

The next part of the ride goes off the beaten path... almost as literally as it is figureatively.

 

Many of us have driven/ridden Hwy 50 hundreds of times. After all, it's the main pipeline to some of the best skiing in NorCal. On top of that, until the advent of the Indian Casino, it was the closest gambling, and it still leads to Lake Tahoe, which rates high in my book.

 

It turns out, that at mile marker 42, there's a road that runs south and over a little-known pass into the National Forest and beyond. It's Packsaddle Pass Road, and it is essentially unmarked. (Barry points out that it's on his AAA map. "Who needs a GPS?" he asks.) Still, without knowing where to turn, it's an easy miss.

 

Just a little west of Lover's Leap and Strawberry, we turn into the 42 Milestone Tract and quickly find our road. This is a Forest Service Road which usually means little maintinance, no paint, and encroaching shrubbery.

 

We were not disappointed:

 

The road wanders up the hill following topography for a few miles until you come to the pass, which isn't obviously marked. If you look around a while though, you'll find the sign.

 

 

Following Packsaddle Pass Road south, we connect with Silver Fork road, and eventually with Mormon Emigrant Trail and head for Carson Pass.

 

Two minutes of video from Packsaddle Pass road.

 

Silverfork Road is named such because it is the access to the Silver Fork of the American River. There's camping and fishing here. I may have to come back and stay.

 

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Hwy 88 is one of those Alpine-like roads. It twists among the lakes, pinnacles, rocks, spires, and avalanche hazard areas for many miles. It is in the top 10 of my favorite roads, and would be even higher if it weren't for it's heavy dose of tar snakes as well. I'll have to dig it up, but I've got Richard on video being upset by one running parallel to the direction of travel that gave him a good shake-up.

 

Barry learns to trust his Gorillapod.

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

So now we're many hours since last grub. I've been sustaining myself with cold BBQ chicken drowned in a 5 minute BBQ sauce from last night. It's been keeping the edge off, but it's time to eat.

 

Lucky for us, Markleeville is between us and the next pass. Conveniently, when we run this loop, we pass through Markleeville twice where there is both food and gas, and still never cross any of the passes more than once.

 

We opt for the Deli and their outdoor seating. They close at 4:00, and we walk in at 3:45. On the porch we're accosted by two BMW riders and a Harley rider who were betting that we were German, basing their mistaken assumptions on the fact that we're ATGATT. The folks at the Deli are happy to see us, more than willing to serve us so close to closing time, and even stayed open late enough so that when we were finished eating we could get a scoop of ice cream like had been discussed (between us) before ordering and had been overheard by them. Classy. (how was that for a run-on sentence?)

 

 

I've never, ever been over Ebbetts Pass or up Hwy 4 past Angels Camp. For the geographically challenged, that's not far. Highway 4 over Ebbetts Pass is not much wider than Packsaddle Pass, again without paint, but in much better condition. It is also my new favorite road. While eating lunch Barry had mentioned that the pass is marked with a sign and a cattle guard. He wasn't joking:

 

Here's the money shot:

 

 

A little fun stuff from the east side of the pass. Sorry about the bugs, I forgot to clean the lens:

 

The west side of Hwy 4 is 45 minutes of joy. Fast, smooth, and beautiful scenery.

 

We rode all the way down to Angels Camp where it's still very hot and where we follow Richard into a gas station for an unscheduled stop.

[barryNmarin]

Ok, I'll toss in a few more shots beginning with Packsaddle Pass. There were some great vistas when there was a break in the trees but the road is narrow and twisty so you better pay attention. I would have missed Packsaddle Pass if Boney hadn't stopped. I guess the GPS may be helpful after all.

 

 

Here is some of that encroching shrubery which Boney was talking about:

 

 

Richard and Boney overlooking Silver Fork Creek:

 

 

Ebbetts Pass is also easy to miss because the road cries out to be ridden fast and you are over and gone before you realize "Oh crap, that was the pass!!"

 

 

OK, as we are going down the hill to Angels Camp, I noticed that Richard and Boney are dropping farther and farther behind but I don't know why. What did I say? What did I do to piss them off? Anyone whose ridden with Richard on their 6 knows he can offer an opinion on the status of the wear bars on your rear tire. So when we arrived on the outskirts of Angels Camp I motioned him into the lead and he immediately pulled into a service station. Here are a couple of shot from that stop:

 

 

 

As you can see, Richard is not happy and the love affair may be over. I'll let Boney or Richard pick up the tale here......

 

 

[StuGotz]

Les see.....

 

water jug

paper funnel

boney lookin' like fu manchu

richard's single finger salute

 

and a water cooled? GT...

 

can't be fun.

 

MB>

[barryNmarin]

Les see.....

 

water jug

paper funnel

boney lookin' like fu manchu

richard's single finger salute

 

and a water cooled? GT...

 

can't be fun.

 

MB>

 

 

So Mark, you think Richard was saluting me? I thought he was just throwing down a gang sign of some kind!!!

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Good stuff, kids.

 

Boney, ya gotta make the dualsport trek to Donnells...18 miles on the edge of the canyon. Take the Beardsley road to get there. When ya get there, you have the entire reservoir to yourself. Walk the 288 steps down to the 36in outflow on the face of the dam. Put your hand against the water and feel the force. (luke)

 

You can back out towards Hwy 4 and Camp Connell.

About 70 miles.

 

MB>

 

The dam was gated and locked.

I considered going around the security devices, but didn't really feel like explaining myself to anyone should the occasion arise.

 

[Bob Palin]

Fantastic riding country, miss that, but not the cities.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Just got back from a little trip. Here's the tracks of where we went once we crossed the border:

 

The total ride was about 2700 miles (on the 640 Adventure).

 

I'll post up pics and a report in a little bit.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Originally, I was trying to get time off for JohnLt's Great Divide Ride. The closer it got, the more I realized that the time I was able to get free didn't match up with the part of the ride that I wanted to do most. Add 3 days of pavement slog on the knobby fitted KTM and things just weren't coming together. I bowed out.

 

I thought maybe I could make the UN. That came too late. There was no way I'd make it home in time.

 

I was left to my devious ways of making up a ride from nowhere. So I did what I always do when in this situation, I called my great friend and riding buddy Luke. Conveniently, he rides a 640 Adventure also, and we enjoy the same types torturous adventures. I asked if he had any ideas and he said "let's go north." Remarkably he had a set of waypoints and routes he wanted to ride, so off we went.

 

For the record, I didn't ride from CA. I tossed the KTM in the pickup and made the 600 mile trek to Luke's house in the airconditioned and cruise controlled world of a pickup that can make mincemeat of multiple 1000 mile days if necessary. After 10 hours on the road, I arrived fresh and ready to ride out the next morning.

 

Setting out:

 

Today was going to be all pavement, but that would put us in place to get right into the dirt in the morning.

 

Lunch at Gertie's Grill:

 

Random rest stop photo somewhere in northern Washington where we discussed the wonders of KTM with an Austrian national on his honeymoon:

 

Crossing the border was a bit interesting. The Canadian Border Guards were all "Rules and Tools" as we would say in the fire department. Neither of us could get a smile or non-scripted comment from any of them. Oh yeah, we both got sent inside for further investigation only to be sent on our way with nary a smile or a "welcome to Canada." I was wondering what kind of the reception we were going to get elsewhere.

 

Downtown Vancouver:

 

"How'd we end up here?"

 

From Vancouver we rode up 99 toward Squamish, Whilstler, and eventually Pemberton. After a little looking around, we found camping at Naim Falls Provincial Park.

 

We were arriving in the middle of a hot spell. It was hot to the point where I didn't even take my sleeping bag out of the stuff sack. I slept in my riding clothes and at some point in the night pulled my coat over me. That was all that was needed. With the heat though, came fires. Lots of them. In the next few days we'd realize their scope.

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

The following morning we went down to the Pemberton tourist information centre. The gal behind the desk tells us that all the forest service roads we wanted to ride we indeed closed, just like the electronic signs stated along 99 on the way in yesterday.

 

We adjusted the plan to go to Lillooet where we would turn north and catch back up with our intended route.

 

We set out and found that the smoke was heavy in some places, and not too bad in others:

 

 

Since Vancouver, we had ridden nothing but sweepers. These were the ultimate hooning roads. A couple hundred miles of wide fast turns on good pavement that could be done on the knobbies our bike were shod with, but not like I wished. I think that I'll have to bring the RT back sometime. Since Vancouver is getting the Winter 2010 Games, they've obviously been pumping massive amounts of money into the infasctructre- the roads included.

 

Over in Lillooet we discover that there's a fire in the valley just above the hill, and the town has been evacuated. We stop for a bit to eat and to consult the maps.

 

Here's a bit of what was going on around us:

 

 

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFPKNs0OeZM

 

 

 

If you've ever been to Scotty's Castle, you'll recognize this, only on a grand scale:

 

I'd never seen a Pelton Wheel so large. It must be 8 to 10 feet tall.

 

This little bugger was on by camelback and wouldn't fly away on his own, but he was gone by the next stop:

 

We stayed on 99 to Pavillion, then cut off on the forest roads. This one cut up over the hill toward Clinton. Along the way we turned north again onto Jesmond Road. Following it through the Canoe Creek Reservations and then past Gang Ranch and all the way up to Highway 20 at Riske Creek.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No matter how far you've gone, you're never lost in Canada:

 

We bumped into a guy riding around an old XL600. He was a dude out riding loops from a base camp a ways away. It was late in the afternoon and he had a hundred or so kilometers to cover. No problem, really, since the sun doesn't even set until 9:00.

 

A Riske Creek we searched for the reported gas station and found it on the Tooley Reservation. Gas is cheaper here, since there's no taxes- but all you get is 87 octane. It's fine for messing around, but my bike gets unhappy about it on the paved uphill grades.

 

So, like I said, it's getting later in the day and we haven't decided where to camp. We ask the guy at the gas station. He points us up the hill to the gathering place his people use. "No one is going to be up there. You might as well use it."

 

So up we go to a fenced area complete with a carport. Well, we're pretty sure it's not a carport, but we used it as one anyway.

 

Word is Highway 20 is closed at Alexis Creek due to fires. We're headed that way, but not for a few days. We decide to press westward to see what the situation is and change plans as needed.

 

The smoke blowing in from the fires makes for a great sky.

[TEWKS]

Good stuff Tom! Cool helicopter vid.

 

 

Pat

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Good stuff Tom! Cool helicopter vid.

 

 

Pat

 

Thanks. It's amazing what those things do.

 

I forgot to include the map for day 2:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6760

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

The third day's map looks like this:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6761

 

We backtrack a bit on the very well groomed forest service roads then loop south-east to Big Creek then north-west to Hanceville for a stop at Lee's Corner to top up the gas.

 

 

No really, you can't get lost:

 

What we're discovering is that the Forest Service is serious about their roads. Canada allows a lot of logging in their forests, and many of the roads we're covering are suitable for a fully loaded 18-wheeler. Some have had calcium put on them, and others are dusty as heck, but you can be sure that a safe, stable, minimum motorcycle speed is somewhere around 100 to 110 km/h so long as you stay out of the soft gravel that piles up on the outside of the corners.

 

We make it to Hanceville and stop for gas. Along the way I've realized that I don't have my rain pants with me. That could be bad. We use the public computer to check the BC web site for fire activity. From what we can tell they're all west of where we're headed today, and we might have to make changes to the route in a day or two. Alexis Creek has been evacuated and that is where we are planning on coming out in two days. I pick up a cheap set of PVC rain slickers for the pants, and give away the jacket to one of the patrons we'd been chatting with. He thought I was being generous when in reality I didn't want to carry it. I already had a rain jacket packed.

 

Blasting south-east again, we cover the 110 km to the next junction in just about an hour.

 

As we approach the turn-off, I noticed how high the rivers are. Actually, they're not just high but they're flush with blue-green raging glacial run-off.

 

We turn south at the Taseko River and head down a smaller and not-so-fast road to the east side of Taseko Lake. The road parallels the river for a while then at Beece Creek it turns east and follows the creek up the hill, becoming ever smaller until it's just the width of an ATV.

 

After about 25 km we come to the ford:

 

A critical decision must be made:

 

 

The decision wasn't too difficult. There was no way we were wading into a roaring river filled to the brim with ice-cold glacial run-off when you couldn't even see 20cm into it.

 

The maps show a couple of ATV trails that climb the hillside and link with another road which traverses Beece Creek further up. We don't have much hope that it will be any better but having a look never hurt anyone.

 

Up we go:

 

 

Until the inevitable happens- one bike gets buried in mud and there's no where to put the other on a stand:

 

After much wheel spin and sweat generation, we get the bikes turned around and head off to another ATV trail. It heads off into this glen then ends.

 

We turn around and start thinking about places to camp. There's a road to a lake back the way we came. More exploration is in order. After not too long we're at a campsite that's obviously set up for hunters. We establish our accomodations and prepare for rain. The clouds have moved in and they're dark.

 

We're camped on the edge of Wasp Lake. As far as we can tell, we're the only people up here. After another wonderful freeze-dried dinner, we hang our food (hopefully) out of bear's reach and hit the sack at nightfall.

 

After dark, it's quiet. Not crickets and a breeze in the trees quiet, but hear your own breathing quiet. There's not a sound out there except for the occasional rodent or insect. Then, my brain starts playing tricks on me. Suddenly, every noise is a bear creeping through camp or trying to get at our food. I struggle to sleep knowing that my imagination is having a field day, but I can't. Eventually, on the quietest night I've had the privilege of experiencing in years, I have to put in ear plugs.

 

[barryNmarin]

This is great stuff, Boney, keep it coming. I'm so glad you didn't try to cross that river! This story might be over already!!

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

So, day 4 comes along and as the sun rises it starts to rain. First it's a light rain, then not so light. Finally, it's coming down pretty hard. After delaying climbing out of my sleeping bag as long as possible, I face the music and get up to move under the tarp. Before long Luke joins me and we venture out into the rain the get our food out of the tree. Our hanging bags stayed pretty dry inside.

 

We dilly-dally for a long time, eating breakfast and making a few cups of hot coffee. Finally it dawns on us that the rain is a fixture today and we'd better get started. After packing the bikes in the rain, and donning our rain gear, the rain stopped. Just in time for a 12-noon start.

 

Here's the map:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6762

 

Inarguably our shortest day of riding, it was also one of the most difficult.

 

We do a little exploring up the road, looking for the ever elusive trail that is supposed to connect nearby. We never find it, but we do find the remains of a ranch-come-hunting camp at the next lake.

 

So we ride back down the ATV trail and backtrack all the way back to the main road in the area, where there's a bridge to cross the Taseko River. Playing it by ear, but still wanting to accomplish anything, we head down the west side of Taseko Lake for another questionable road to the top of a peak.

 

Along the way the recent weather provides us with some fantastic scenery:

 

As a side note, the map book we have shows a road to both sides of the river right at the lake. We thought maybe there was a bridge there, since the roads appeared to line up. You can see in the picture that the "bridge" is actually a boat. And there didn't appear to be an engine in it.

 

We turn off on the side road and start heading up the hill a little ways:

 

Soon we come across a small but sinister looking puddle. The water was dark muddy brown with bits of pine needles and bark floating in it. There was just enough to give us some concern.

 

We've both been fooled by this type of puddle before. It looks shallow and harmless, but once you're in it, it's deep and slippery as snot on the bottom. No way we were chancing it without a little recon:

 

As luck would have it, the puddle was only 12-15 inches deep and solid on the bottom. In we go:

 

 

Around the corner the road gets steep and it's quality deteriorates. Narrrowing to the width of an ATV with a drop-off on one side and a steep hill on the other, we were blessed with loose baseball size rocks on a steep grade for several miles. My mood shifted with the progress I could make. When I got stopped (or had to stop before tossing the bike over the edge) then had fits of wheel spinning and poor direction control trying to gain momentum, I couldn't understand what it was we were doing here. Then, after gaining momentum and sliding as far forward on the seat so the front suspension would compress when it hit rocks instead of deflect toward the edge of the road I was ecstatic. Luke and I took turns trading the lead as one of us would get stuck then the other would gain momentum and ride past.

Here's a flat spot in the road:

 

 

I don't know how long we were at it. Near the top I come around the corner and see this:

 

Luke appeared stuck. His wheel would spin, then stop. He'd rock the bike back and forth then stop. I put my bike on the stand and waited for the "help me get my bike outta this" signal or for him to move up the hill. Eventually he turned around and came back down to where I was.

 

Looking the other way I saw this:

 

 

Close enough to the top, we ditched the bikes and set out on foot.

 

Looking over the edge, we could see where we had just come from:

 

Where we had camped the night before (Wasp Lake):

 

And where we would have ended up yesterday, if we could have crossed Beece Creek:

(down there, by the clouds resting on the mountains)

 

Self Portrait:

 

I should take time to mention the rain pants. I put them on first thing in the morning to stay dry. The first time I kicked my leg over my bike they tore open. Great. I fixed them with Duct Tape, but as you can see, they kept ripping. Lucky for me the little rain we encountered for the rest of the day was light.

 

Coming down wasn't much easier, but it was faster:

 

We backtracked again to Big Lake to camp. Our route the next day was still in question and we didn 't want to go further into the forest without making plans.

 

Camp:

 

A nice big orange Moon showed up just after sun down.

[SageRider]

Caught up with this thread for the first time in a while.

Great photos and stories!!!!

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Where are we now? Day 5?

 

Map: http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6763

 

The morning brings a bit of frost on the bikes and tents and some nice tule fog on the lake:

 

The original plan for this day was to loop down by Chilko Lake and then up the road to Alexis Creek. Our last check from 2 days ago informed us that Alexis Creek is closed and evacuated. Without an update, we can't count on the situation having improved. Also, while pouring over the maps last night, we concluded that there was not enough time to ride everything we had hoped, and we had better sort out the stuff that we think are highlights and perhaps skip over the rest.

 

The modified plan today is a loop down past Chilko Lake then up the 4WD road and back, circling back to camp where we'll pick up our stuff and head on to Quesnel.

 

We sprint down yet another fast and wide forest road enjoying our unladen bikes' ease of riding

 

 

Along the way we stop at another First Nation gas station. (Indian Reservation- but they're not called that.) This is useful since we burnt up quite a bit of gas yesterday, and without the top off we wouldn't be able to make the loop.

 

Down along Chilko Lake we turn north on the 4WD road and start to tear it up. The road is in reasonably good shape, and it's fast.

 

 

 

Not too far along we come across a bunch of guys from Kamloops who are out riding the same area, but overnighting in Cabins and Lodges along the way. Certainly not the budget method of travelling, but if you're tired of sleeping on the ground or "too old" as they told us, it's certainly an option.

 

The views along the lake were good, but clarity of the sky is still hampered by smoke.

 

More self portraits:

 

We wind around the lake then cross over to another who's name I forget. Heading back north-east-ish we begin to look for our road that will make the loop.

 

 

The first try we come across something that we absolutely had not seen anywhere since we'd been in Canada.

 

The next try, down a small two-track led us to a German family's geodesic dome summer house. Sorry, no picture of the house.

 

They told us that the only road they know of is flooded. As we later find out, the road was flooded by beavers and their never ending endeavors of dam building. The couple also told us that Alexis Creek was open. Great news, except that we don't have our stuff with us. We backtracked all the way back to camp, picked up our stuff, and hit the road.

 

Upon reaching the highway, we hightailed it for Quesnel. Although we did have routes that would take us there on the forest roads, we weren't sure we'd have the time.

 

Arriving in Quesnel just before sun down, we grabbed a hotel, took showers (the first in 6 days!) and did some laundry. We also went out to eat at the local pub, treating ourselves to a meal that we didn't have to make ourselves, or reconstitute from some freeze-dried state. Yum.

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Day 6 starts with some important business.

 

Not only must we replenish our food stocks, but I'm looking to trade in my yellow ventilated rain slicker for some real rain pants. Also, Luke's warm clothes are not quite warm enough, so he's going to pick up something.

 

When you're on the road there's always one place that has what you need:

 

With the clothing issues straightened;

 

We head over to the grocery store:

 

A real breakfast even!

 

A cursory once over on the bikes reveals a bit of an oil leak on Luke's bike. It's not critical, but we'll watch the levels more closely:

 

Map:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6764

 

Vanderhoof is the next stop. We'll fuel up there for the next leg. Following some directions for a couple of locals at the pub last night, we head off into the forest on a strikingly familiar road. All the big ones are starting to look the same:

 

Very few navigational decisions were made so far that required more than a look at the signpost:

 

 

We stop briefly in Vanderhoof and the smoke from a nearby forest fire is thick and heavy right in town. I ask the gas station clerk about the location of the fire and she asks, "what fire?" Nevermind...

 

We set off for a campsite that seems within reach and blast down more of the wide smooth roads. We arrive to find that it's right next to some raging rapids.

 

Consulting the map again, we decide to push on. There's a lot of ground to cover for the next day or two and we'd like to get a jump on 'em. We're looking for Ootsa Lake.

 

 

We find it and it's huge. Riding along the edge of it for an hour before finding the campsite. Ootsa Lake was created by Alcoa so they could build a hydroelectric dam to power their aluminum smelters. They also provide free camping in a nice campground, free firewood, the cleanest pit toilets I've ever seen, and purified water. There's an open fire ban in British Columbia so we won't be making use of the wood.

 

Ootsa Lake is HUGE.

 

 

Luke concocts some crazy stew for dinner. It's our first night out from the store, so we've gone so far as to bring cans of food. This is Thai-coconut-spinach-crab-mushroom gruel. It's really good, even though it doesn't look it:

 

We're hanging out down by the shore and realize were getting the over-the-head-swing-the-arm wave-in from a family over on the edge of camp who have a trailer. We go over to be friendly, and our friendliness is eclipsed by theirs.

 

Not only do they have a flat screen TV on satellite, but they've got all the Old Milwuakee beer (with the pin-up girls on the cans, no less) and whiskey a person could think to drink. We stayed up late hanging out. Way...too...late...

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Day 7:

 

"What day is it?"

"7"

"Yeah, I know but what day is it?"

"I don't know. But it doesn't really matter, day 10 is the ferry."

"Day 10? That's like 3 days from now?"

"Yeah."

"We'd better figure out what we want to do, we're running out of time!"

 

Map books are consulted. GPS's are consulted. Priorities are made. Routes are eliminated. More routes are eliminated- in fact, entire destinations are deleted from the plan! We're running out of time!

 

Map:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6765

 

We pack up pretty early for our normal routine and we're ready to hit the road. Today includes Telkwa Pass- a serious unknown. Nobody, and I mean NO-BODY, has intel on this road. We're going to have to find out for ourselves...

 

But first, old steam tractors:

 

Cautions about traffic:

 

More blitzing the locals:

 

...and not getting lost:

 

At the end of every road, just after the pavement starts, lies a mill:

 

 

We were told by our gracious host last night that some of the most profitable and busy logging companies in the area are doing nothing but slavaging the lake and the trees killed by the bark beetle. All their wood is already dead- and they're making a killing.

 

We come out onto the pavement in Houston and head straight for Telkwa.

 

Across the street from the gas station in Telkwa there's a couple of adventure type bikes hanging out. They even have the ADV sticker on them. I knock on the door and no one is home. But before we leave, they arrive and we meet on the lawn. They're a couple of locals who like to ride, but know only that their friends took ATVs over Telkwa pass and wouldn't ever try it on a mountain bike.

 

That's a start anyway. An ATV can make it, but a MTB, maybe not. It must be rough.

 

We set out, after thanking our new friends for the info (and politely declining the offers of espresso and such) and tell them we'll be back if we don't make it.

 

The road starts out just like every other forest service road. Fast and wide. Up in the hills the clouds start to collect but there's no evidence of rain.

 

In Canada, they don't close forest service roads- the "deactivate" them. What this means is that they make changes to keep erosion down to a minimum, like channeling the hills to drain water, and tell you to use them at your own risk. Technically, even though this road hasn't been traveled in some time, we could use it. Very cool.

 

The end of the logging road looms, and the rest is indeed, ATV country.

 

The road exists for two reasons. First, to service the natural gas pipeline that passes through the mountains, and second, for the power line that follows almost exactly the same route. If you look at the map link above, you can see the wide swath cut for the power lines.

 

The trail climbs some steep, rocky, and loose hills but never becomes more challenging than the old mining road from a few days ago.

 

 

For every down, there's twice the altitude gained in ups until finally we pass the part my GPS labels as Telkwa Pass. I'm thinking "hey that wasn't so bad."

 

Near one of the lakes in the valley some hunters had set up a tree house. I'm sure it's to separate them from the bears.

 

The trail descends slowly through the valley. Steep on both sides to the point of avalanche debris fields and massive escarpments, we find ourselves in a narrow canyon with a small string of lakes.

 

 

The trail? Well, it's not too bad, all things considered:

 

 

 

 

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

There was a ton of water crossing the trail. It seemed like a water crossing came every kilometer or so, some of which were more like riding in the stream. In case you were wondering where it all came from, it came from here:

 

and here:

 

One last obstacle:

 

Then road road opened up and we didn't have to sweat the difficult riding again. We had traversed the 40 kilometers of trail successfully.

 

We dropped down into the town of Terrace, fueled the bikes and set out looking for camp.

 

Up the highway to New Alyanish we ride into another squid's paradise. Fast smooth pavement that winds along the side of Lava Lake for miles. I would have stopped to take pictures, but I was having way too much fun exploring the squishy edges of my knobby tires.

 

Up at the Provincial Park we scout a campsite and decide that it will be cold and shady, if not raining in the morning. Moving on to another forest service road, we blast toward Highway 37 and a couple of potential camp sites.

 

Don't take the Lava, eh:

 

We scout a couple of "recreation area" campsites to find one extremely close to the highway and another so densely populated with tress that there's no place to put down a tent. Another map consultation puts us back on the highway headed north. It's a good thing the sun doesn't set until 9:30- we may need all that time.

 

Another hour up the road and we come to Lake Meziadin Provincial Park. They even have a tent site available! After one of our longest days, one in which we both felt like we were "in the groove," we set up camp and hit the sack.

 

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Day 8:

 

We wake up to a dark sky and threatening clouds. After a quick cup of coffee, we set up the tarp so that we've got a little shelter over the table.

 

For most of this trip, every time we prepped for rain, it stopped or never came. Toady is different. It starts raining and keeps it up for some time. Riding in the rain becomes inevitable. We've made the effort to push this far north, we're not going to skip out on the rewards because of a little rain.

 

With a late start we head over the pass and down the valley toward Hyder, Alaska.

 

Map:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6766

 

It's raining pretty hard and the temperature keeps falling. I keep my camera bundled up as much as possible, so there aren't many pictures along the way.

 

Rounding the corner, we come upon the Bear Glacier. We stop long enough to get some pictures and take in the vast scale of this piece of ice, then move on.

 

We stop for gas in Stewart, BC and I put 26 liters in my 28 liter tank. Yesterday's sprint from Terrace to our campsite was longer than it seemed, apparently. Including this morning's ride we're about 270 miles from there.

 

Rounding the corner as the road clings to the waterline of a ridge that falls into the inlet we pass from Canada into Alaska. There is no border guard. The only way out of Hyder on wheels is back the way we came. This is the southernmost town in Alaska that can be reached by road.

 

As you can see, the cloud ceiling is low and the rain continues to fall. We ride slowly through town taking in the sights. Most of the buildings are very old and some of them haven't been well taken care of. There's an RV park and campground, neither of which I'd want to camp in while it's raining. I'm glad we stopped where we did last night.

 

After passing through town we head up the road to Fish Creek. This is where the Salmon come to spawn.

 

The funny thing about Salmon, is that when they're done spawning, they die, littering the shores of the creek with dead, stinky fish. This of course attracts Mr. Grizzly. Or in this case Mrs. Grizzly.

 

 

Now before you get all excited that we were out there getting all National Geographic on ya'll, I have to say that we were perfectly safe up on a cat walk. This place is pretty popular... can you imagine if all these people were clamoring around on the ground and in the creek trying to see a bear that had come down to eat? They might stop coming for the fish and eat the people instead!

 

When the bear wanders off we decide to go take a peek at the Salmon Glacier. Unfortunately the road is closed to "unauthorized vehicles." They've even got a gal standing out there with a STOP sign in her hand. She turns us around and says that we can get on a tour to go see it. After investigating, it is discovered that the tour is $50 and they pile everyone into an old school bus. Someone please tell me why we couldn't ride our bikes up there again?

 

Back in town we come across another 640 Adventure rider. He's from Idaho, and he and his wife are finishing up an 11,000 mile ride around Canada and Alaska. He's a great guy, and now we have friends in Idaho to ride with. Maybe a trip there next year? We likewise extended the welcome mat for them, when they're in our area.

 

A bit more exploring reveals the marina and boat ramp. It's on a little island serviced by a one-way wooden bridge:

 

Out on the end, the scene was surreal:

 

 

Back in town, I stop by the Post Office. I like to mail postcards from out of the way places so I can get the post mark. I walk up the ramp and see that the office is closed. "That's odd," I tell myself, "it's the middle of the day." I scan the office hours posted on the wall and they should be open...except...on...Sunday.

 

It took me a moment to make the connection. It must be Sunday. Until now, every day was just a countdown to the ferry for which we have reservations. The day of the week held little importance until now. Not to be deterred, I went to the General Store, bought postcards and stamps, then came back and dropped them in the mailbox. It took one week for them to arrive.

 

I tossed my camera back in the waterproof pocket for the ride back to camp, where we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around under the tarp drinking hot chocolate. The rain never let up.

 

Tomorrow we start the ride home. Remarkably, I'm 4 days of travelling from there. 1 short and 1 long day of riding, 1 long ass ferry ride, and another long day in the pickup.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Day 9:

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6767

 

We pack up in the rain. The tents and tarp are soaking wet, but there's nothing to be done about it. Having decided to stay on the highway today, it's going to be a wet slog to Prince Rupert. The forecast is for showers in the afternoon, so maybe we'll get a reprieve.

 

We head south on 37 then west on 16. We're passing through Terrace again, but coming at it on a road we hadn't yet ridden, and leaving on yet another "new" road. We ate a nondescript lunch while in Terrace and kept the wheels rolling west. Might I suggest that this is yet another great place for riding? Yeah, I might... but don't let anyone know I said so.

 

(It was raining for most of the ride, so the camera stayed put away.)

 

Upon arrival in Prince Rupert, we go searching for a motel. I'm a big fan of the park-in-front-of-your-room Motels, not the "common interior hallway" types. Keeping my bike and gear close, and not having to carry it all over the place is the preference. We only find one.

 

It's a funky little place with a, uh, rustic charm about it. The parking lot looks pretty crowded so we inquire about a room. As luck would have it, I think we found the cheapest place in town... $80 Canadian for a double room with 2 queen beds.

 

While parking and unloading some of our gear I can't help but notice the neighbors, who are vacuum packing sides of Salmon- and they're HUGE.

+

 

They've been on a several day fishing vacation and are not short on catch. Just as we're about to leave for Pizza, they ask us if we're going to stay for dinner. LetmethinkaboutthatYES! You'll notice the big burner and pot in the above picture? That's for the crabs. I don't have a picture of the BBQ, but there's one of them too.

We ran to the store and picked up some beer for the ferry, whiskey to go with dinner, and some cigars for one of our new friends.

 

We get back and we're just in time:

 

You don't see the crabs because we ate them practically right out of the pot. The leftover meat went into the pasta sauce. 3 different kinds of BBQ Salmon and a Caesar Salad. (And whiskey and wine!) We sat around telling stories for hours. The more we sat (and drank) the better the stories became and the more animated they were told.

 

Off to bed, way too late again. Mind you, the sun was setting at about 9:30, so if you stay up a couple hours past sunset, it's getting pretty late.

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Somewhere over in the corner of the room my phone starts ringing it's alarm tone.

 

Through the haze of an inadequate amount of sleep and too much to drink last night I can tell that it's still dark outside.

 

I find the offending phone and hit the snooze button.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

9 minutes later the alarm goes off again.

 

Day 10 starts with an early morning cup of coffee from the kitchenette in our room and an easy slow ride through town to the ferry terminal. We have reservations for the ship to Port Hardy and we need the check in about 2 hours before the 7:30 am sailing. This isn't a ferry you want to miss. It only runs every-other day.

 

The route:

 

Ours was going to stop in Bella Bella, adding an hour to the ride, making the landing in Port Hardy at 11:30 pm.

 

Here's the lineup on the tarmac:

 

Lots of hogs, and all very nice people. Lukily, there was a coffee cart that had strong coffee and muffins. I needed every bit of caffeine I could get.

 

Strapped down on the ferry:

 

We were supposed to use the chock to block the right side of the bike, effectively eliminating the suspension when they strapped it, but the center stand kinda negates that. We just blocked the wheel so it couldn't come forward off the stand.

 

Gone fishin'

 

Somewhere along the inside passage:

 

 

Arrival in Port Hardy can't come too soon for me. Sitting around on a boat after 9 days of riding was a bit difficult for me. I did take a nap, read an entire issue of New Yorker, eat tow meals, drink a couple of beers, and walk the decks several times. It's just that I felt a bit cooped up.

 

The first few cars unload off the ferry and that was like pulling the plug. All the bikes fired up and spilled out onto the gangplank whether they were ready for us or not. Several miles later we were checking into another hotel.

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Day 11 is our longest day yet. We're in Port Hardy, on the northern end of Vancouver Island, and we're supposed to be in Portland tonight. It would be a long day even if we didn't have to ride a 2 hour ferry in the middle of it.

 

Yep, it's a port:

 

Okay, that's enough fooling around- gotta go!

http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6768

 

Figuring the mileage and timing, we take a few minutes to fill our gas tanks and put air in our tires. There's no dirt left, so there's no point in running lower pressures. The clouds are broken but it's cold. As we wind our way down the island we go through several micro-climates, several of which are socked in with fog so thick it might as well be raining.

 

With 5 minutes to spare at the ferry in Nanaimo we wick up the speed and keep our heads down. For every twelve miles we travel, the GPS says we're gaining one minute on the expected arrival at the ferry. Keep this up for two hundred miles and then some, and you get a full 20 minutes back. (We lost three to a clothing adjustment and bathroom break.) As luck would have it, the ferry schedule online is wrong, and we have an additional 30 minutes.

 

The ferry loads and were off for Tswassen (silent T.)

 

There's an older couple of the ferry that are touring the Great White North on the road. He, astride an older Gold Wing with trailer, and she, following along on her Vespa GT. It's the little red bike in the corner of the picture.

 

The final sprint for the border (and cheap gas) is interrupted by a low fuel light. Having about $23.43 Canadian left, I spend it all on gas and now won't need to change money.

 

The wait at the border is 45 minutes:

 

The "Unity Arch" crossing:

 

I suppose you could say we were in a DMZ right there between the Canadian entrance station and ours....

 

The border guards were in a good mood and joked with us as we passed through. One guy wanted to look in my saddle bag, but when he opened it he found out it was spring loaded full of smelly clothes. "Now I've done it" he says as the lid pops up. Nothing a couple of jokes and some stuffing of things couldn't fix.

 

In Bellingham we stop for dinner and gas:

 

Perhaps we didn't even stop again after that. I don't remember. The last couple of hours were in the dark, after which we arrived safely back at Luke's place in Portland (well, Beaverton to be exact.)

 

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Luke poured me a cup of really strong coffee the next morning and I sipped it as I loaded the bike into the truck. With a 600 mile drive home, the trip is essentially over.

 

We'd seen so much, and ridden so far... Only to remember that we cut out so many places along the route.

 

I'm definately going back...

[skinny_tom (aka boney)]

Equipment notes:

 

I bought a new tent for this ride. My 23 year old North Face VE25 is a bit too big for packing on the motorcycle, and my other tent is a floor-less tee-pee. On a whim I stopped by the North Face Outlet in Bezerkeley and found the tent I carried on sale for $125 OTD. It was worth every penny when it started to rain. One of the key factors was the large vestibule where I could leave my dirty boots and still find them dry in the morning.

 

There were two places we went where having a smaller bike would have been nice, and a bigger bike would have stopped us. Even just unloading the gear from the bikes would have been beneficial, had we the ability to come back the way we came. In the future, trips like this might be better planned with a "base camp" for a few days and plan big loops from there. For the most part I think the 640s were a good size- we could hustle them through the rougher sections and they still kept up on the highway.

 

Luke and I both bought new tires for this trip, and as it turns out, we both bought the same set; Dunlop D606 front and 908 Rally Raid rears. After around 2500 miles the rear tires are showing wear but the blocks are still square. The 908 is a really stiff tire, and it makes me wonder if it's not made for even heavier bikes than our loaded 640s. The tirees are 3-ply nylon with an additional 2-plies of aramid (Kevlar) on the tread. They were super stiff and super hard to spoon on, and when I checked my pressure in Port Hardy, I found that it had 10 pounds in it. I don't have rim-locks, it never spun on the rim, and if you go back and look at some of the pictures, you'll see that it didn't really look low. The 908 also took some getting used to. Initially it tracked every parallel grove of every surface we rode. As it wore, that eventually went away. The 606 front is perhaps the finest tire I've put there, though it will clearly wear out sooner than the 908 rear. We were both running heavy duty tubes and neither of us got a flat.

 

Gas... If you can't carry at least 5 or 6 gallons depending on your gas mileage, don't go. Many of the reservations had gas stations, but you can only get 87, and they're still a long ways apart.

 

My 640 has the Hepco Becker rack. It's been welded twice on the left side where it's been prone to breakage. It's a design fault, but I'm not sure how it could be better other than to just be more robust. I had it buttressed before I left, and it's certainly not going to break there again. The aluminum boxes though... In the past I'd had problems with the aluminum rubbing off on everything. So this time I stitched together a couple of liners from rubberized cordura. They worked fantastically, but it still doesn't stop stuff from getting pulverized inside them as you go bouncing down the dirt roads.

 

Don't use el-cheapo PVC rain slickers for motorcycle rain gear. Find a good reinforced nylon set- preferably one where the pants are "bibs." You won't get water down the back of your pants that way.

 

100,000 miles plus on the Combat Touring Boots. There's nothing else to say.

 

When we got to Canada, it was hot. I thought that I had brought the wrong riding gear. Instead of my riding jacket (with pads built in) I was thinking that I should have brought a pressure suit and jersey. When temps came down to normal, the riding jacket (with vents) was just right. As the rain came in, I still needed to layer a fleece underneath.

 

I'll post up more if I think of anything.

 

[g_frey]

All I can think of is what would happen if I went over the edge on that trail. I usually ride alone and the bike is heavy enough to cause serious damage to me on the way down. Basically I just too old to do that stuff anymore and I am not sure that I would have done it when I was younger either.