Best Laid Plans, Really Great Roads…and Thanksgiving

I had a plan.

Really.

I did. I formulated it almost two weeks ago.

For the Thanksgiving long weekend, I decided that I was going to go on one last long-distance motorcycle adventure before the season rolled to a stop….drew to a close….came to an end….

You get the picture.

I have not yet gone on a long distance ride in an easterly direction. So, naturally, I decided that I was going to ride to Gaspe. And to the Bay of Fundy. And back. In three days.

I wisely booked the Friday of the long weekend off, allowing me to be back home on Sunday evening, and giving me a full day of rest on Monday before returning to work on Tuesday morning.

I planned on leaving early on Friday morning, and riding all the way to Gaspe – or as close as I could make it – before once again – and for a final time this year – setting up my Hennessy Hammock and sleeping in the great outdoors. I would then spend Saturday touring the area, getting side tracked at every available opportunity, and eventually begin the ride home either late Saturday afternoon, or early on Sunday morning.

The weather forecast, when I originally dreamed up this cockamamie scheme, was lousy. Rain, and highs of 7 or 8 degrees were what I could expect, according to the most maligned of public whipping-posts, the weather forecasters, of two weeks ago.

I was not to be swayed. Every time that a friend or colleague asked me what my plans were for the long weekend, my reply was a grin, and ‘riding to Gaspe – you?’

A ‘good lord’, and a shake of the head was the response that I most often received.

I think that a good many people may perceive me to be slightly crazy.

And that’s okay. Kind of gives me a little leeway to, well, be a little crazy.

The weather forecast, as you are not doubt very well aware, changed. As it sometimes does. And quite drastically, too. Highs of 20, 21, and 23 degrees. And lots of sunshine.

Thank you, oh wise weather sage, for being so wonderfully, beautifully wrong.

So. A good plan. A researched route. Likely fuel and food stops laid out. Weather that was too nice to even wish for. A finely tuned and eager steel steed with a freshly changed oil and filter.

Why, then, are you reading this now? As early as Saturday night?
“He must be blogging from his phone”.
“He decided to bring his laptop and is sitting in a Tim Horton’s somewhere north and east of Quebec City”.
“He decided not to hammock-camp after all”.

No. Nope. And unh-uh.

As is so often true, and as Robert Burns so cleverly penned, the best laid schemes, of mice and men, often go awry…

And though my plans most certainly did change, I cannot say that I am disappointed. Nor left wanting. For I was needed here. To be a friend. And to offer company, distraction, humour and understanding. As the case may be.
You see, Susie continues to valiantly – and successfully – wage her battle against cancer. She has had 36 chemotherapy treatments. Yet she is still able to soldier on, wear a smile, offer a kind word, and quite nonchalantly tell you that she is going to be fine.
All the while, friends who are also suffering from this despicable disease are dying around her.
And so it was that Susie found out, early Friday morning, that she had lost yet another friend and fellow cancer-fighter on Thursday evening.

The Gaspe adventure became very unimportant, very quickly.

I spent all of Friday with Susie. Watching. Listening. Learning. And thanking God that I am able to be ‘that person’ for her.
By days end, we had joined with my other best friend – James – and headed off for that ultimate form of distraction – a Hollywood blockbuster and butter-soaked popcorn.
Tom Hanks does not do bad movies. And ‘Captain Phillips’ is on par with his best. An excellent film, full of tension, that keeps you interested right up until the closing credits.
It was a great end to a wonderful, though at times emotional and heavy day.

Driving home, I figured that I could still squeeze one heck of a long ride out of the long weekend. Maybe just not all the way to Gaspe.

How about Val D’Or?

Yeah. Why not? Seemed logical to me.

And then I received a phone call from another friend, sharing some of her recent good news and asking me what my plans were for Thanksgiving. To which I replied that I had no set plans, other than taking a nice long motorcycle ride.

At which point I was invited to Thanksgiving dinner. On Sunday. In Cornwall.

A pretty lady. Turkey. Stuffing. Need I say more.

Yes – I admit – I am shallow as a puddle at times
.
So I arise bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, all set to head out on the road to Val D’Or – which, not coincidentally, happens to be the birth place of my father – and I started thinking about all that I have to be thankful for.

An hour later I was on my bike, heading to Chesterville, to be with my mom.

I stayed through lunch, repeatedly bugging mom to eat a little more of this, or finish the last two bites of that, living my childhood all over again, yet in reverse, and realized that this was always going to be part of my Thanksgiving weekend. Even when I did not yet know it.
We had a great visit – and I am going to do something for which I will likely get a smack – and post a pic of my beautiful mom, right…..
….here.I love you mom.

As you have already gathered – my riding plans changed yet again. And this time, I got smart. I did what has always worked for me in the past.
I made no plan. Picked no destination. Checked no maps.
I just filled up the tank, and followed my front tire, allowing the bike, and whimsy, to take me on the adventure that I was meant to ride.

And oh, what a ride it was.

I headed across the river, into Quebec, and followed the 50 to Montee Paiement. I had not travelled this route yet this year, and Montee Paiement always brought a smile to my face and a twist to my wrist last year, so off I went, scooting along her curves, over her hills and through her valleys.

This is a route that is definitely not for the faint-of-heart, or brand-new-to-riding type of motorcycle rider. The asphalt is old and cracked. There are potholes. And bumps. And lots of road-snakes. But man oh man what a ride. Montee Paiement ends at the 366 – a route that I absolutely love, and have written about prior – so it was with a smile from ear to ear, full of anticipation, that I swung left and headed north on Route du Carrefour. The asphalt is smooth. The curves are frequent, but not overly technical, and the hills come at you like whoop-de-doo’s on a motocross track. Add in the blazing colors of the fall foliage, the just perfect temperatures and the warm golden glow of the autumn sunshine and you will begin to understand how easy it is to lose yourself, becoming one with your machine and the road and all that surrounds you, dancing the beautiful dance.

In no time at all I was at the 366 / 307 junction. And this time, instead of heading south on the 307 as I usually do, I headed north yet again. On a route that I had only been on once before. The 307 north, Route Principale, is another wonderful motorcycle road. It will challenge even the most seasoned of riders, and the scenery through which the ride takes place is breathtaking. The one and only time that I had been on this route previously had been during a group ride to Paltimore earlier this season. I vaguely remembered some of the sights along the way, and vividly remembered some of the pucker-inducing curves – yee haaaa!!!
I rode on past Paltimore, all the way up to Val-Des-Bois, stopping intermittently to snap a few pictures, and feeling absolutely at peace again. At Val-Des-Bois I crossed the steel trestle bridge and opted to ride the 309 back down to Gatineau. Which turned out to be a perfect choice, as the 309 is every bit as scenic as the 366 – 307 run is, yet it is far less challenging. The curves are long and sweeping, and the hills are likewise long and shallow, as opposed to the staggered hairpins that are the order of the day on the 307.

I highly recommend this route to everyone who rides. If you love riding your machine and challenging the road, the bike and yourself, then the 366 north to the 307 north to Val-Des-Bois is a must ride. And if you really like ‘em twisty and hilly, get off the 50 at exit 145 and ride Montee Paiement to the 366. You will not be sorry.

In the end, I only racked up about 350 kms – including the ride to see mom – but as it turned out, it was exactly the ride that I needed.

As I am often apt-to-do, I snapped quite a few pictures along the way. Most can be seen right HERE if you are interested.

Now, I have to make my dinner. Pulled pork sandwiches. Home made baked beans (thanks Al). Cole slaw. And bakery apple pie.

That and Netflix sounds like a perfect end to an amazing day.

Oh, and one more thing.

Fuck cancer!

Thanks for riding along,…

A Passage in Time

 

When I woke this morning it took all of 10 minutes for me to decide that I was going to stay another night in Merritt.

The motel that I am at is costing me $55 per night. Provincial camp grounds can be as much as $42. The weather man is calling for – yes – cold and rain all day. I will let you do the math.

I went down to the office – paid for another night and gave the owner the requested $6 to do my laundry for me.

That set me free for the day. So. What to do.

A quick glance back over some of the route and sights advice that another rider, Dusty Boots, had given me allowed me to realize that I had missed something yesterday.

It seems that the small town of Hope, BC actually has some real history behind it. As well as some Hollywood history.

In the early 1900’s, in a quest to keep American railroad companies from monopolizing a Canadian raw materials and minerals market, a bold engineering feat saw the creation of the Kettle Valley Railway Line – and with it, the Othello Tunnels. Abandoned decades later, the old KVR now stands as part of the Trans Canada Trail through this part of Western Canada / Southern BC. There is a lot of written material about this incredible project – this article here is the most well written that I have read.

What the article cannot convey to you, the reader, is the almost prehistoric-like setting that the Othello Tunnels rest in. The trees are covered in a fur-like moss from root to branch-tip. The ferns grow to incredible heights, and the lush green foliage is alive with the sounds of birds and small creatures, their animated sounds at times muted by the roar of the Coquihalla River as it smashes it’s way through the Coquihalla gorge and canyons. I have never seen such vibrant greens in any forest that I have walked – this place is lost in time, a virtual boreal rainforest where one almost expects to hear the screech of a velociraptor, or the roar of a T-Rex.

It is a place that we have not yet destroyed. More, it is a place that we have come to admire – yearn for and bask in. A place of energies. And of healing. Of mysteries and mysticism. And stories. Ah, the stories.

Another of these being, of course that this is also the location for most of the filming of the first Rambo movie, titled First Blood. Many films have been shot on location in Hope over the years, but First Blood has given the town it’s spot on the map, and it’s pet name – RamboTown.

I wanted to walk the original steel bridge from the beginning of the movie, where the sheriff (Brian Dennehy) drops John Rambo off and encourages him to keep on walking – but that piece of movie history is gone. Demolished in 2011, it has been replaced by a span of no character, and no charm.

I took a picture of the original pilings – all that remain of Rambo’s bridge.

All that remains of Rambo Bridge.

The above mentioned Othello Tunnels also have a Rambo tie-in. It was on the sheer face of tunnel number 2 that Rambo is seen clinging for his life as the camera does a long, slow pan of the gorge and it’s deadly resident, the Coquihalla River far below. This two-fold piece of history has made the Othello Tunnels a bit of a tourist hot-spot. People come to relive John Rambo’s heroics, though only viacriously – and leave having learned about the real life heroics of engineer Andrew McCulloch.

Once again – lives enriched.

My trip to and from Hope necessitated travelling through the Cascade Mountains once again. The highest elevation on the Merritt to Hope route is at the Coquihalla Summit – 4081 feet. In the pouring rain, at 6 degrees – it was frigid. It was also breathtaking. The clouds were surrounding me and I swear I could smell them – I was reminded of a childhood thought – that heaven must smell like clouds. I now know what clouds smell like. And maybe heaven too.

Scientists are predicting an astral event over the next few days. Apparently there is to be an incredible display of hydrogen fusion in a star 7 light-years away from earth. The heat rays produced by this nuclear event are predicted to cause a warming of the areas that I am about to travel through.

Here comes the sun.

Todays pictures – some of them are truly wonderful – can be seen here.

Put away the rain gear for a couple of days. Put on your denims and your leather vest.

Things are about to be turned up a notch.