Happy Birthday Mom...

There was a lot going on for me today. A myriad of thoughts, and emotions running through my brain and my heart.  

Today is my mom’s birthday. And I really miss her. She headed off on the next stage of her adventure – whatever that may be - a little less than a year ago.

And I have found myself missing her every day since. 

 

See, I am not entirely clear, even in my own thoughts, about what I believe happens after we leave this earthly existence. I just know that I do not believe it’s over.

And with that belief, I am able to feel mom close to me whenever I need her. And that suits me just fine.

So happy birthday mom. Whatever you did today, I hope that you enjoyed it.

But truth be told, my mom was not the only woman on my mind today.

No, this morning and early afternoon was reserved entirely for the new lady in my life, named Suzi (yes, as a tribute to my dear friend, Susie)

I picked her up from the dealership where I get all of my maintenance and repair work done – Motor Sports World – yesterday evening. The mechanics had completed her safety check, installed new rubber, chain and sprockets, and given her a clean bill of health.

And today was the day where we got to know each other a little better.

I spent a few minutes bolting on her Ontario licence plate, as well as an aluminum skid-plate, at 0730 this morning, and by 0815 we were gallivanting down River Road towards the Tim Horton’s in Manotick where I was to meet up with my buddy Jason.

We were going to go out and spend the day in the Limerick Forest, a favorite riding area of mine.

You may recall reading that Big Ethel and I have spent quite a lot of time riding in the Limerick – there are even a couple of videos out there in YouTube land I believe, but in truth they are pretty boring.

Today, however, was anything but.

Now, understand that Jason is a friend of mine. We have ridden together on a several occasions and I have always enjoyed it. Jason is a good rider, but he is not a dangerous rider, so I felt very secure in having him lead the way while my new mount, Suzi and I, followed his track.

Ya, my opinion of Jason began to change rather quickly. I guess he decided that trial-by-fire was the only way to go, because less than 100 meters after entering the Limerick forest on a two-track, atv-type trail Jason had veered off into the woods on a single track rut through trees barely wide enough to allow my handle bars to clear.

Muttering under my breath while doing my best not to lag too far behind, I finally decided to just relax and let Suzi do her thing. She is, after all, a much more nimble – and svelte – machine than Big Ethel is. Almost 200lbs lighter, with an off-road setup and almost 11 inches of ground clearance, Suzi is able to do a whole lot of things that Ethel just can’t. But then, that is why I got her, after all.

I began to get comfortable with the terrain – and Suzi – quite quickly, and before we had completed a second circuit through the bush loop I was able to keep up with Jason quite well. I stopped calling him very rude names under my breath, and began really paying attention to his line and riding style, deciding that the old axiom rings true.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

Well, approximately 4 hours later, I was done. Wiped. Spent. Exhausted. Wore-the-fuck-out.

I had discovered on a couple of different occasions just how much easier Suzi is to pick up than Big Ethel, and found myself very happy with her mannerisms and capabilities – though let’s be honest, it is my capabilities that need work – I cannot even approach all of the things that Suzi is very capable of doing.

Yet.

Today’s ride was an amazing introduction into the world of true dual-sport riding for me. And I have to say, I absolutely loved it.

I am going to practice as much as I can over the next few weeks, and then Suzi and I are off to the Fundy Adventure Rally where I will attempt to really stretch her legs, and see what she’s got.

Big Ethel, I mean no disrespect. You are still my #1 dance partner – Suzi will never compare to your moves in the twisties.

And mom, I miss you daily, and love you with all of my heart.

Happy Birthday.

             

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,…

Riding, rally, and time travel…

 

Friday morning was so much nicer than Thursday morning. I was up early enough to watch a glorious sunrise over Lake Erie, enjoyed a breakfast of French-toast and coffee at the Sunset restaurant, and leisurely made my way further west along the waterfront trail. The ride from Turkey Point to Long Point is beautiful. A quiet little two-lane full of twisties and small dips and rises, it is a few minutes of pure riding pleasure.

All along the lakeshore, the scenery is beautiful, and one could easily spend a day exploring some of the small towns along the way. Port Rowan, Clear Creek, Port Burwell, Port Royal, Port Stanley, on and on traveling through some of the most scenic and picturesque little towns you are likely to see anywhere.

The locals told me that the ride from Turkey Point to Sarnia is roughly 2 1/2 hours. Being very good at finding the longest distance between two points, it took me closer to six. And I loved each and every minute of the ride.

I finally pulled onto the 402 from Port Stanley and headed toward Sarnia, thinking that if I did not hit the big highway I would surely end up traveling the more scenic waterfront trail until sometime in November, and well, I had to be at work on Tuesday, so...

I headed up the 402 and pulled off when I saw the sign for Grand Bend. A few people had mentioned that this was one spot that I had to stop, the scenery being quite exceptional in the form of bikini wearing sun worshippers. So I decided to make the detour,....

A few minutes of riding up highway 21 brought me up behind another pack-laden rider. Naturally assuming that he too was headed for the CMC Rally, I fell into an easy-paced staggered position to his right and carried on.

When we passed the sign indicating that the town of Forest was a mere 24 kilometers away I realized that my being distracted by thoughts of sun-bronzed beach babes had actually caused me to get off the 402 precisely where I needed too. See, the rally that I am attending, while hosted by the 016 Sarnia chapter, is actually being held in Forest.

And then, synchronicity being what it is and all, I pulled up alongside my fellow traveller at a stoplight and was greeted by the broadly smiling face of ‘Pusher’ – a fellow member of the Ottawa 016 chapter – with whom I had just had dinner at a meet and greet 2 weeks prior.

We cruised into the sleepy little borough of Forest and found our way to the fairgrounds, where perhaps 40 or 50 members were already lounging around fully equipped travel trailers, motor homes, RV’s and a few tents. We registered, shared some traveling stories with new friends, and then took to taking care of our own lodgings for the night. Pusher headed off to Sarnia, and I went to a local pharmacy to introduce myself to Debbie.

See, the CMC is a family oriented riding group of approximately 5,000 members across our great country. And family is always there to help...

In this particular instance, a couple of members from the host-chapter, the 016 Sarnia, opted to open their home to anyone who needed a placed to rest travel-weary bones. And I, being no fool, opted to accept their gracious offer.

Debbie and Ewen were spectacular hosts, offering a warm bed for the night and a hot shower in the morning as well as entirely enjoyable camaraderie and conversation. Ewen rides a beautiful Triumph Bonneville, and we managed to get out for a short scoot together, if only from his house to the fairgrounds where the rally was held. I truly hope to be able to return the hospitality one day!

I went back to the rally for breakfast Saturday morning – mingled with a bunch of my fellow Ottawa 011 members and several new friends from other chapters – and then....yes, it was time to go. I had remained virtually stationary for long enough – and Manitoulin Island was only a few short hours away.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind tour through the Georgian Bay – Manitoulin Island area, and I cannot stress this enough: if you have not yet had the opportunity to ride Manitoulin Island and to sail the Chi Cheemaun ferry, find the time to do so. The ferry acts as a sort of time-travel machine, taking you back some 20 years, and allowing a glimpse of what life was like at a slower, less digitally-enhanced pace. Manitoulin Island is the living definition of ‘laid-back’, and visiting her by travelling her arteries on a motorcycle was an experience I shall fondly remember, and repeat as needed.

I spent Saturday night camping in my Hennessey Hammock at a small but extremely well appointed camp ground that is less than a 1000 metres from the ferry landing, staring up at the most brilliant carpet of stars I can remember seeing since I was on the Mediterranean Sea, oh so many years ago. A hot shower at the campground, and a delicious breakfast at a small diner directly across the street set me off on a great start to an amazing day of riding. I covered the island, seeing all of the recommended bays, inlets and overlooks, and then headed north towards Espanola at about 2:30 in the afternoon.

Hennessey hammock camping

The ride home was a sort of ‘remember when’ all of its own, as I had made the same run last year on my way back home from the Rockies. Espanola – Sudbury – North Bay – Deep River – Pembroke – Arnprior – Ottawa, all in a little less than 7 ½ hours.

Some pics from the rally can be found here.

And pics from the journey are found here.

My apologies for taking a week to get this post up – I was riding when I could have been writing...

As always – thank you for riding along...

On public speaking; whimsy; and dancing the twisties…

The weekend of May 11 and 12 was a rainy, cold, no-riding weekend. We will not talk any more of that.

I did, however, buy mom some mum’s, and I visited with her over lunch of Wendy’s take-out. Mom and dad are both in a retirement residence now. Mom is thriving. Dad is dying. And so the story goes… 

On Wednesday, May 15 I was invited to speak at Algonquin College in front of a class currently studying in the Trauma and Addictions Recovery program. I am currently studying in my final course of this 22 course program, and I have enjoyed it thoroughly. So when one of my past teachers invited me to come and speak in her class I readily accepted.

Boy, I do love to talk, lol.  Starting at 6:00pm,I had planned on speaking for about 45 minutes, then answering questions for another 15 or 20 minutes, and being back home by 7:30pm.

Heather laughingly pointed to her watch when everything appeared to be winding down and chuckled, “see, I told you we would keep you until 9:00pm”
I really do have to focus some energy on turning this whole public speaking thing into a regular part-time gig. I am consistently vitalized by the experience.

This may sound strange – and out of context it would sound rather baffling – but I am so thankful to be an alcoholic and a drug addict. For I have realized gifts, and blessings, that so often go untapped. Un-awakened. Under-utilized. Unnoticed.

We truly are the lucky ones, those of us who have lived to tell the tale.

And then, quickly as that, the weekend was upon us. And a long weekend to boot. The weather forecast for Saturday was brilliant, and that was all that mattered.

A bunch of members from the riding group that I joined two years ago – the Canadian Motorcycle Cruisers, or CMC , Ottawa chapter - the 011 – had organized a ride to Mont Tremblant in the Laurentians for lunch, with a spectacular opportunity to dance the beautiful dance along highway 327 on the way back to Ottawa.

 A ride not to be missed, to be sure. We met at one of our regular points of departure – a Tim Horton’s in Orleans, and by mid-morning we were riding in formation along highway 148 in Gatineau on our way towards an exceptionally great day of riding, camaraderie and laughs. We ate lunch at the resort at Mont Tremblant – a couple of pictures are included below, and a link to the rest on my Photobucket page is HERE – and as always we had a great time, with a couple of really random moments, such as a group of young college girls – one a bride-to-be – approaching our table and asking if someone could get her a blow-job. I am afraid the rest of that story must remain on the mountain.



Ahem.

Sunday was another cool and rainy day. So I did what anyone would do in my situation, and spent 6 hours rendering and editing the video that I shot during our ride the day before.

If you are interested, you can watch it HERE.

Then, having completed that task, and wondering what to do next – it was still pouring rain, you see – I decided to start researching the painting of my bike on the internet. And before long, I was outside shaving the ‘American Classic Edition’ emblems off of my gas tank.

I have a new inspiration.

She is known as FLAT BLACK.

Rattle-canned, no less.
I plan on starting this project in earnest sometime this week. I will post photos and info as I go. I just hope that at no point do I scratch my head wondering what the hell I was thinking on that cold, rainy Sunday afternoon.

And finally, yesterday, the holiday Monday of the Victoria Day long weekend, several members once again got together to ride. We had originally planned on heading out to Westport – always a great ride – but plans changed, as they are so often apt to do, and we instead headed into Gatineau. We rode the 105 up to Wakefield and stopped for lunch before continuing on up to Paltimore. And I have to say, the ride was amazing. I was re-introduced to a dance partner that I had not danced with in two years – Rue Principale 307 and chemin du pont in Paltimore. The curves were many, the twisties just right, and, to coin a song, ‘we danced. Like a wave on the ocean, romanced.’

I managed another 600+ kilometers during 2 days of riding. And writing about it makes me wish I was riding right now.

I will allow you two guesses as to why I am not.

One if you heard that thunder-clap.


Thanks for continuing to ride along. Stay dry, and keep the rubber side down.

Crepes in the Dark

It sometimes still amazes me how much can happen in as little as a week.

Especially when all of the stuff that normally happens in a week, still happens.

This one is all about surprises. The endearing gratitude that comes from realizing the unimaginable. And ‘who’da thunk-it’ moments.

I first met my friend Mona in the early part of 1998. More than 14 years ago. Two seriously screwed up individuals travelling a similar journey through the hell of addiction and all of the chaos that it entails.
And our paths crossed.

We hit it off pretty good from the beginning. A shared sarcastic, generally unflattering view of humanity. An evil laugh. Strength to roll with whatever life tossed at us. An ability to see trouble coming and generally get out of its way. Not always, but…

I was, shall we say, enamoured with Mona from the moment that I met her. I have always been attracted to a strong female personality, and they don’t come any stronger. It didn’t hurt that she was 5’ 9” of blond-ish bombshell either.

So I did what a lot of half-way intelligent men might have done in my position. I made sure not too piss her off, lol. And we became friends. Over time, really close friends. We shared some experiences that would make most of you cringe. But we also shared a lot of laughter. Something not very common in the living-in-the-sewers-of-life that crack addiction actually convinces us is plush and fabulous.

Then, years later, I gave up on ‘the life’. I was not strong enough to do it any more. I was broken and needed help to be put back together. And I was tired enough to ask for help.

My asking for help was, of course, heard by the Ottawa Drug Treatment Court. It was exactly what I needed in order to have a fighting chance. And I began what has become the most incredible life experience that I knew I could never have. Thankfully, I was wrong about what I believed I could, and could not, ever have. Because believe me when I tell you that I most certainly never believed that I could have the life that I now live to the fullest every day.

So, where is all this going, you ask.

Well. Let me tell you.

Mona, as you know, has begun to reach out for help. And I have also written in past blogs that I consider myself very fortunate to be one of the people that Mona has reached out to.

This woman knows that I love her. And she is okay with that. As a matter of fact, I think that suits her just fine. Because Mona has been hurt and lied to and beaten down before, as any of us familiar with the lifestyle have.

 Trusting is difficult.

But Mona trusts me.

And that is pretty darned special.

When Mona needs peace. When Mona needs quiet. When Mona needs safety, she has it here.

We had no plans yesterday. I asked Mona if she wanted to see her mom.

“She lives all the way in the Laurentian’s” said Mona. “It’s too far” said Mona.

What a fantastic day. I have mentioned in the past about how much I enjoy riding in the Laurentian’s. Now couple that with the joy of watching a mothers’ face light up as the daughter that she has not seen in several months walks into her arms. And the look of pure admiration and gratitude that a woman might then send your way in thanks.

It is moments like these that make everything I have ever been through – every shitty situation – every jail cell – every homeless night – all worth while.

No sooner had we walked in the door than I was instructed to take a seat and enjoy some brunch.
Homemade crepes. Strawberries. Molasses and apricot jelly. Deliciously strong coffee.We spent several hours at a beautiful mountain chalet-style home engaged in conversation and laughter.

Enjoy it I did. Every moment. And so did Mona.

Ghislaine and Phillippe, thank you for opening your home and inviting me in.

I will bring Mona back very soon. Those moments are too valuable to miss.

Mona is a little less stressed recently. She is eating well too. If mom’s crepes at 0400 in the morning can be considered eating well.

Yes, I think so too.

I love you Mona. And I am so very proud of you.

Throngs, and Thongs–PD13

 

I have never seen such a gathering of like minded people.

The sheer numbers that made plans, organized schedules, took time off of work, arranged to have bikes shipped overseas, set aside the weekend – all to take part in a one day motorcycle gathering event – is mind boggling.

The fact that over 150,000 people can all gather in one small location – most, if not all, people that can, in one form or another, be referred to as ‘bikers’ – and not have a single confrontation – not one issue, no matter how small – that required the attention of the very well represented various police agencies – is a testament to just how special this event is.

There were almost as many clubs represented by various ‘colors’, or patches, as there were different makes of motorcycle. From the family-oriented leisure riding clubs, like the club that I belong to – the CMC – to the brazenly outside-the-law clubs like the Outlaws, the Hells Angels and others – we all just seemed to be there for one reason, and one reason only. To express our love and appreciation for motorcycles, and the motorcycle riding lifestyle.

Some of the machines on display were pure works of art. Others, lifelong works of blood, sweat and tears. And most simply a representation of our personal expressions of freedom. And that seemed to be the underlying theme of PD13. Be who you are. Ride what you ride. Wear what you wear. We will accept you just as you are.

I think that mainstream society, by and large, could learn a thing or two from a gathering such as I was privileged to be a part of this past weekend.

A group of 10 or 11 of us rode from Ottawa to Brantford – and then Port Dover – together. In formation. Attentive and in sync. Like members of a really close-knit family. We enjoyed each-others company. We watched out for each-other. Ate meals together. And went in our own directions when it was time to do so. All with a smile – a wave – a kind word.

And why wouldn’t we. For as different as we all may be on the surface, deep down we are all the same. People pursuing, and expressing, our passion. Enjoying the freedom to do so, and encouraging the same.

I am proud to be a member of such a wonderful group as the CMC. It is a privilege to call you all my brothers and sisters.

Ride Long – Ride Free – RIDE.

Pictures from PD13 2012 found HERE.

Back in the Saddle Again,….

 

It’s great to be home.

I had 6 days to relax and unwind before starting work again last Tuesday afternoon. I spent most of that time with my friend Susie, attending to doctor’s appointments and just trying to be a friend during her ongoing battle with cancer.

I cannot think of a better way to have spent that time.

I learn so much about strength and perseverance from this woman. I watch her smile, and hear her laugh. And I cannot help but marvel at the way in which she is meeting this foe head-on, giving no quarter at rising to each new challenge.

I love, and honour you my dear.

It is also great to be back at work. I have been telling people that you know that you got what you needed from a vacation when you are excited to return to work. Of course, it helps to love what you do, as I do. Just one more area that I must acknowledge as a blessing in my life.

Of course everyone has wanted to hear a recap of the trip, so I have had numerous opportunities to relive some of those magical moments. I can still feel like I am right there in the middle of it as I show the slide-shows to people. I know that will eventually fade, but I am going to revel in it for as long as it lasts.

I have not yet even begun to work on any of the GoPro video footage from the trip. I will start on that in the next week or so, and hopefully have some footage posted to YouTube by mid-month.

I have a couple of exciting things coming up too. Next Thursday morning I am hopping back into the saddle and riding to Port Dover, Ontario for the Friday 13^th Bike rally.

Link to information found HERE.

There are a bunch of us from the CMC 011 heading down to southern Ontario, as well as many other CMC members from various chapters across Canada. With a population of approximately 6000 residents, this tiny little tourist community virtually bursts at the seams during PD13, as somewhere between 150,000 and 200,000 people are expected to show up, many of whom will cruise into town on their motorcycles. I have never been to PD13 before, so I am quite excited to check it out. The tentative plan is to camp at the ball-diamond / camp-ground, but there is a possibility of a motel stay – which will likely be my preference as I have a feeling that the camp-ground will be the location of a fairly large and well-attended party. Or two.

Which leads me to the other ‘exciting thing’ that is coming up for me. On Thursday, July 19, I am going to celebrate 6 years of being clean and sober. And this time, I am going to celebrate it at a meeting that is held at the homeless shelter where I work, amongst colleagues, friends – and maybe even a couple of people who are interested in change themselves. One never knows. Anyhow, I am pretty excited about this as well.

So I have caught up on some movies. Visited with mom and dad, as well as my older brother and sister. Gone on a couple of short scoots around the area – one of which allowed me an opportunity to assist a stranded rider on the 416. Seems he had checked his oil in his KLR650 before leaving Orleans – and forgot to replace the cap. When I rolled up on him as he was standing beside his bike just south of Brophy Road his pant leg was soaked through from the knee to the ankle with hot oil.

Ouch.

I gave the poor lad a ride back into town – to Goodtime – where he went about making the necessary arrangements to take care of his current dilemma. He was a young lad, and was quite surprised that an older fella on a big, loud cruiser was so willing to help out.

I merely pointed to my Madison (crest) and invited him to check us out, explaining that just about anyone in the CMC 011 would have done the same.

Have you sensed the underlying theme here.

Take a minute. Or an hour. Or even a day. And help a person out. Be a friend, in need, or indeed.

Connect. Be a part of….

I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it is.

I will touch base after Port Dover.

Peace.

And as it ends, so it begins….

I am home. The trip completed. The adventure realized. The experience lived.

The journey continues.

I have to say, this adventure upon which I embarked 30 days ago will never be more than one sharp curve away from me. I will forever be comparing a great set of Ontario or Quebec twisties with those that I danced in Alberta and British Columbia.

I will always be transported back to Golden, BC, as I watch a sunrise sparkle on the calm waters of a forested lake.

The sound of a rushing creek will bring me right back to the serenity of the Cottonwood Recreation site on the Duffey Lake Road outside of Lillooet, BC.

And riding through the Laurentians will always cause me to yearn for the majesty of the Canadian Rockies.
I consider each of these to be a blessing. For the memories that will be evoked are something that I am privileged to have, and to relive, over and over again.

The trip home was accomplished relatively quickly. I left Jasper, Alberta on Friday morning and was home in Ottawa very early (0300) on Wednesday morning. I did take some time to stop and smell the roses, as it were, however.

I have tried to give detail to some of those spots – sites – vistas that caused me pause to enjoy and absorb. One of those that I am fortunate to have taken the time to explore was the Alberta Badlands in Drumheller, AB. Drumheller was my first stop on my way home after leaving Jasper – my older brother strongly suggested that I take the time to check it out, and like most little brothers, I trust my older bro’s advice.
He has yet to steer me wrong. The Badlands are an almost surreal, straight-out-of-the-movies landscape of truly hard, dusty, desolate and breathtakingly beautiful landscape. I can certainly understand the draw – the lure that Drumheller retains to this day on that specific kind of lone, vagabond, cowboy-type of traveler. A testament to this observation was the sheer number of other riders in the area, traveling the old ‘Dinosaur Trail’, retracing the paths and roads ridden by their cowboy brethren of a time long past, yet still so near. I swear you can still hear the sound of galloping hooves coming from that rising dust trail just off to your right….

Drumheller is a place full of ghosts. Full of history. Full of a childlike sense of wonder and awe. Hell, there are dinosaurs here! And cattle rustlers. Horse Thief canyon tells that tale.

I did not take the time to check out the Royal Tyrell Museum which houses one of the worlds largest displays of dinosaurs – just one more stop for my next trip out west – but I encourage you to check out the link found HERE to learn more about Canada’s dinosaur past and the incredible displays housed within.
I have linked to my Drumheller pics in the post just prior to this one – no need to link again. I just thought that Drumheller deserved to be shared a little more in depth with you.

From Drumheller I rode on through to Regina and spent Saturday night there. In the morning I decided that I wanted to try to get to Ontario by Sunday evening, so I rode pretty hard through to Kenora. I stopped near the Manitoba / Ontario border and took a couple of pictures of the canola fields – bright yellow flowers for as far as the eye can see – and then again just inside the Ontario border to get a snap of a yet another beautiful sunset. I should mention that during the last 20 kms of the TransCanada in Manitoba, before entering Ontario, I must have seen at least 11 deer. It was unbelievable how many of them were standing in the ditches, or up on the rises on either side of the highway. You can bet I adjusted my speed and notched my ‘alert’ level up.

This heightened level of alertness served me well. I saw yet another black bear and two moose before deciding that it was just plain foolish to continue riding in this part on Northern Ontario at this time of the evening / night. I pulled into Kenora, got a room and called it a day.

The next morning I hopped back in the saddle, knowing it was going to be another long one, and set out to ride.

I finally called it a day in Marathon after seeing another abundance of wildlife that is not only beautiful, but far too menacing for a man on a motorcycle. Another black bear, 2 more moose and more deer than Gary Larson ever drew in his incredibly intelligent commentary on the human condition, the Far Side.

I guess the name of the town inspired me for the last leg of my journey. I left Marathon on Tuesday morning, and after 17 hours in the saddle I crawled into my own bed here in Ottawa at 0300 on Wednesday morning.
And it felt good to be home. To sleep in my own bed. To awake with no destination to travel towards. To remember.

There are more stories to come from this adventure of mine – I have not yet covered it all, and I will attend to that as time, and mood, permit. I think I will spend the next little while just letting it all settle, and sharing stories with family, friends and co-workers. I am certain that each time I speak of this trip, and the 13,000+ kms that I covered, I will remember new things to add to future blog posts. One thing that I already know that I will eventually get around to will be a sort of ‘best of’, offering tips, advice and shared experiences to future vagabond adventure riders. I learned quite a lot about long-distance traveling recently – as one of my trip advisors told me that I would.

For now, I would like to thank a few specific individuals for their assistance – advice – input and friendship:

Dusty Boots – while I could have done this trip without you, it would not have been nearly the same, nor nearly as incredible. The time that you took to put together maps, recommend gear, point me to campgrounds, advise on routes to avoid, and more importantly on routes that were ‘must ride’ – was time well spent my friend. The success and enjoyment – even fulfillment – that I have come away with are largely gifts given freely by you, to me. So thank you, good sir. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all that you did.

DrMucker, Scotty-004, Pathfinder and the rest of the gang from the Vancouver 056 – thank you for a wonderful meal, great conversation, and making an outta-towner feel like he was right at home.

Loki, Dirtymech and the crew from the Calgary 022 – the ride that you took me on to Braggs Creek was a fantastic introduction to what I was to come to experience throughout my adventure – great roads, incredible scenery, and truly wonderful people. Thank you all once again.

Sophia – I know I have already said it, but I have to say it again - thank you so much for putting me up – and putting up with me for my week in Vancouver. You were an amazing host and a great tour-guide – as well as wonderful company. I am grateful.

To the crew from the Ottawa 011 who offered travel suggestions, advice, encouragement, and who faithfully followed my blog – including RoadDawg and brian2tall – thanks guys. It meant a lot to know that you guys were enjoying the trip as well.

Stickman – thanks for joining me from Sault Ste. Marie to Calgary, as well as for your hospitality. I hope that you enjoy the boots brother.

I am certain to have missed a few names, and I apologize for that. Please just know that I truly did, and do, appreciate all that everyone has done to help make this dream a reality for me.

Before I sign off, I did take the time to put together a couple of slide-shows that I uploaded to YouTube. I have given the links to these, as well as the remaining pictures from the journey home, below.

Regina to Ottawa pictures HERE.
Slideshow #1 – If God Made You HERE.
Slideshow #2 – The Meeting HERE.

There is more to come, for as I indicated in the title – the journey continues. So take a break. Stretch your legs. Shake some of the highway out of your bones, and the road-dust from your hair.

Just be ready to ride again at a moments notice.

Ride safe, brothers and sisters. But RIDE!

Shed a tear: Leaving the Rockies

 

You know, even spending the vast majority of this trip riding my heavily laden motorcycle in the rain, in full rain gear and generally poor visibility, was not enough to dampen my mood; my smile; my spirit.

That changed a little on Friday morning. In the bright sunshine. In the most beautiful place I have ever rested my soul.

I can honestly tell you that I felt a profound sadness while watching the Rocky Mountains grow smaller in my rear-view mirrors.

I shed a tear leaving Jasper Alberta.

Leaving, sadly.

It felt like I had found my life partner – my mate – my lover.

Only to have her wrenched away from me by duty and obligation.

For the first time in almost 6 years I wanted to say ‘screw it all – I am going to do this……’

Fortunately, the old Joe no longer has the power that he once had and was not able to win over the Joe that embarked on this personal quest.

The idea of staying out west, while romantic, novel and adventurous – never really took hold. This trip was about finding something. I had no real idea what that might be prior to straddling the saddle on May 31 and heading to North Bay on the first leg of the journey.

I have a clearer idea now. Clear enough that I was able to continue to do that which I have been doing quite well for quite some time.

The next right thing. And for me, that meant completing the journey. And of course, heading home.

Saying that, and knowing it – did not make it any easier. At least, not until I had some time to think about it. And about what I have found.

So what did I find, you may ask. Well, it is not easily put to words. And some of it is just for me. But I can say that I found a stronger connection. I found a deeper peace. I found some untapped resources within myself.

I found a better understanding of who, and why I am.

I found love. A very real, very tangible love for all that has been given to me, and to us.

I also found that I have something important that I have to say. And I will say it when I get home.

There may not be much more to write about this trip of mine. I am in Regina, Saskatchewan as I write this. Friday saw me ride from Jasper to Drumheller, Alberta, where I took the time to see the sites and take, yes, lots of pictures.

Yesterday, I left Drumheller and rode all the way to Regina. A couple more pictures, but lets face it – the ‘epic’ part of my motorcycle adventure is over. I will take some pictures of the lake head and environs at Superior, weather providing, and post those when I get home, but unless something truly noteworthy happens, this is likely my last entry from the road.

I have been trying to get back to Ottawa for Tuesday morning in order to be somewhere, with someone, but I don’t know if I will be able to make it before Wednesday. It certainly would not serve for me to rush. For that is when mistakes happen. And in motorcycle speak, mistakes are generally not forgiven.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you, fellow travellers, for riding along as I rode and wrote. Knowing that someone is reading has certainly helped inspire me to write. I have a ton of notes that did not make it into the blog, but I think that is because something else is growing from this journey of mine. And of ours.

Does anyone know a publisher. Heheheheh.

Link to the pictures from Jasper to Drumheller is HERE.

Drumheller to Regina can be found HERE.

Be good to yourselves. And be good to others.

It matters.

Peace.

Now, These are Mountains!

 

The Cascades were spectacular. The Coastal mountains – amazing. I found myself staring with a sense of wonder about all that was around me on more occasions than I can count. The beauty that I found myself immersed in was beyond my own ability to imagine as recently as 3 weeks ago.

And then, yesterday, I began the journey from Golden, BC to Jasper, AB.

I may never be the same again.

Golden is a beautiful place. Nestled in the Rocky Mountain Trench and surrounded by the Robson Valley, the Columbia Valley and the East Kootenay Valley, it is a small community that realizes it is a jewel, yet does not go out of it’s way to advertise that fact. Still a peaceful spot, it is a vagabond-campers paradise – largely due to the number of free, BC Hydro and Forestry Services sponsored campsites. Well maintained and frequented only by hardy, back-country style campers, these spots are generally virtually unpopulated. I never had more than 2 other campers in any of the BC Hydro sites that I used.

Vagabond Paradise

I really was in no hurry to leave this little spot in Golden, BC. The weather was the nicest I have experienced thus far, and the setting could not be more peaceful. Add to that the fact that there was a pretty major rockslide just 12 kilometres to the east of Golden that had closed the TransCanada in both directions and it was becoming easy to convince myself to just settle in for another day. Or two.

But like any mistress, the open road calls. And a man’s gotta’ answer, right?

I took my time packing up my site, as always being sure to leave no trace that I had ever visited, and made my way to the local Tim Horton’s for a pre-ride coffee. By the time I was ready to go, a group of riders coming in from Texas and on their way to Alaska for the D2D Rally informed me that the highway was open once again, with the east lanes still closed and buried in debris and traffic diverted to the west bound lanes for travel in both directions.

I headed out, sans-raingear and full of good spirit to enjoy a day of riding in the sunshine. And what a day it was.

I started this post with a commentary on some of the mountain ranges that I have travelled and enjoyed.

Yesterday I began to enter the Rockies – I mean, really enter the Rockies – for the first time.

Words like spectacular – gorgeous – amazing – awe inspiring – god-given – all of these try to give description to the grandeur that is the Canadian Rocky Mountains. And all fall short.

You really do have to see them to believe it.

I rode from Golden on through Kicking Horse Pass and up through the Rockies to Lake Louise. The scenes that I was given have been captured, as best I could, on still and GoPro footage. The stills are linked below. The GoPro footage will be up sometime in mid-July and I will link to it then. The video footage is definitely worth a watch.

From Lake Louise I decided to toss convention to the side (like I have ever adhered to convention) and opted to take a 234 kilometre side trip up to Jasper. Which is where I sit as I type this.

I may never leave Jasper.

I could live in the bush. Eat berries and nuts. Adopt a mountain goat for company.

Mountain goats on the way to Jasper.

Okay. Maybe not. My older brother pointed out that the aforementioned diet would leave me being a tasty bear-munchie.

It sure would be easy to stay though. At least until the snow flies. And then,….

On my way from Lake Louise to Jasper, I stopped for fuel at Saskatchewan Crossing ($1.75/litre) and met another long-distance traveller. Also named Joe, this fella is from Titusville Florida and is doing the southern most to northern most ride. He started out at the Florida Keys, mile marker 0 – and is riding all the way to Alaska.

We decided to ride together from Saskatchewan Crossing to Jasper, and shared a campsite at Whistlers in Jasper National Park. Joe worked as a subcontractor for NASA for 30 odd years and is enjoying his retirement on a BMW RS1200 – travelling long distance in style.

Very similar in riding style and pace, we got along just fine, and it was nice to share another portion of this epic journey with yet another vagabond rider.

So now, it is time for me to prepare to leave Jasper. I think I will extend my stay long enough to ride the gondola to the top of the mountain, then build up my resolve and hit the road. Sadly, that means that I am leaving the Rockies today.

I am certain of 2 things. One, that I will return to this mountain paradise again quite soon – maybe even next year. And two – that my entire adventure will take place here.

In the Canadian Rocky Mountains of Alberta.

Paradise Found.

Scenes from Golden to Jasper, including the Icefields Parkway, are located HERE.

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.

More than words can say….

 

I believe I may be rapidly becoming the most experienced long-distance wet-weather traveller known to man. It just doesn’t seem to want to let up.

Riding from Vancouver to Squamish, a distance of about 70 kms, normally takes about an hour – or so I am told. In the pouring rain, low clouds and heavy fog, it took almost twice that.

*Sigh*

Slow riding to Squamish.

The route is Highway 99. Known as the Sea to Sky Highway, it is renowned amongst auto and motorcycle travelers alike as being a ‘must drive’ highway.

Well, I can say that I have ridden it on a motorcycle. And that I have seen some of it’s beauty. Sensed a portion of it’s power and splendour.

Enough to know that I will return to this land of the motorcyclists’ Xanadu to experience her in all of her radiant beauty. For now, I will make do with what she has deigned to reveal to me.

I stopped at a small restaurant in Pemberton, had a coffee and convinced myself that there was no real reason NOT to keep going. So off I went again. I barely even saw any of Whistler – the clouds were that low and thick. I really wanted to ride the gondola up to Blackcomb, but it truly would have been a waste of time and money. That is, if it was even in operation. The weather was not tourist friendly, so it would not have surprised me to see it closed.

There really was no point in stopping yet. It was early in the afternoon, and the weather would have kept me inside of a motel room. So on I went.

Pemberton. Around the top of Lillooet lake. Past Joffre lakes PP. And along Duffey Lake on a section of Hwy 99 known as the Duffey Lake road.

And wouldn’t you know it. As I am riding on what is widely considered one of British Columbia’s best motorcycle roads, the skies began to clear. The fog to lift, and the clouds to recede to more lofty heights.

I was tired from all of the hyper-focus necessary during the ride to this point. But I was on the Duffey Lake road. And I could see all of it. The asphalt was even drying.

I smiled as a mischievous 6 year-old boy might when a particularly dastardly plan is forming.

Then I opened her up and rode the Duffey.

I did not get very far along her length before I noticed a sign for a user-maintained campground known as Cottonwood Recreation site. Feeling much better about the day, and somewhat revitalized, I decided to pull in and stake out a spot to pitch my tent and get back to vagabonding it. A beautiful little campground right along the banks of a furiously rushing river, I picked a spot right on the rivers edge and set-up my camp.

I then hopped back on my bike, now having time to ride the length of the Duffey Lake road all the way into Lillooet for snacks and fuel.

Wow! What a road. Everything I have been told about her is true.

It is 24 kilometers from Cottonwood Campground to Lillooet. All 24 of them are amazing. Steep grades; wicked twisties; crazy-tight switchbacks – this stretch of the Duffey has it all. And riding her in reverse, back to the campground, is an entirely different, and every bit as challenging ride.

I made it back to camp just as full dark was setting in. Only one other site in the entire campground was occupied – and as good fortune would have it the campers had a 3/4 ton Dodge pickup absolutely loaded to the hilt with nice, dry firewood. A quick introduction and an offer to buy some wood saw me in front of a roaring campfire of my own in no time – and as I am learning is the norm out here – the campers refused to accept any money from me.

Doing it right.

Beautiful campground for the night.A river runs through it.

This morning I awoke to the sound of the river. And rain. So I tucked deeper into my sleeping bag and hit the ‘snooze’ button in my brain.

I arose a couple of hours later to some light cloud cover – and no rain. Packing up my site – and being sure I left absolutely no trace of having been there – took about an hour. I bid farewell to my fellow campers and hit the road. And it was dry.

Of course, that meant that I had to ride the full length of the Duffey again. By the time I headed on from Lillooet I had travelled the length of the Duffey Lake road 3 times. From Cottonwood to Lillooet 5 times. It is not enough, I assure you.

I stopped in Lillooet on my final pass through and gave dad a call. Father’s Day and all.

I had an amazing day of riding today. From Lillooet to Hope on the Trans Canada – through the Fraser canyon, the tunnels – all of it. What an incredible road to ride. Once in Hope, I stopped at the same McDonalds that I stopped at on my way to Vancouver – exactly 7 days ago – for a coffee. And then turned around and travelled the same route in reverse that I had just travelled.

A couple of spots along the way to check out are Hells Gate – a spot where the mighty Fraser river narrows to some 33 metres and crashes through like a demon; and the Alexandra Bridge – a holdover from the mid-1800’s along the original Cariboo Wagon Road.

I rode the TransCanada all the way back to highway 8, at Spences Bridge, and then turned south to Merritt.

I have to say, little highway 8 is no slouch in the contest of great motorcycle roads either. I was fortunate to have another rider on the road in front of me – he on a nimble Triumph Tiger Cross-Country – so even though I had never set rubber on her asphalt before today, using the Triumph as my beacon I was able to blast down her length at almost breakneck speeds. A few of the corners almost took me by surprise – what we sometimes refer to as ‘puckering’ – but she gave quarter and asked nothing of me more than respect.

Yet one more road for me to ride again one day.

If it has not become obvious yet – I can no longer hold true to my earlier statements about highway 3A being the best motorcycle road in Canada. There are just too many absolutely amazing roads to ride out here. On any given day weather alone could be the extra point that garners any one road the ‘win’ over another. The Duffey, highway 99, highway 3A, highway 8, the Crowsnest, the TransCanada through the Fraser Valley, The Kaslo - New Denver – Nelson loop – they are all incredible. I want to ride them all again, and I can assure you that I will. For now, I will carry on in my travels – riding my epic motorcycle adventure for all she is worth.

Which is more than words can say.

Two days worth of pictures – from Vancouver to Pemberton to Duffey Lake to Lillooet to Hope to Merritt – can be seen here.

Hold on tight – it’s going to get even better!

Here I go again on my own….

 

Well, today is the first day of the rest of my trip. I am leaving Vancouver and heading up the Sea to Sky highway through Squamish, Whistler and Lillooet – then heading down Hwy 1 (TransCanada) to Hope for a side  trip – turning around and heading back to the Hwy 1 / 8 junction and continuing on to Merritt. I will eventually be going on from Merritt to Princeton and the nheading back in an easterly direction to Penticton, where I plan on heading north again into peach-country and on up into Kelowna.

I don’t know how far I will make it today – it is, of course, pouring rain again and cool. I would really like to take in the sights at Whistler and Blackcomb, but the weather forecast calls for rain right through until at least Thursday.

Another trip will just have to go into the old planning machine, lol.

So, yesterday was a different day altogether. The weather was beautiful – 20 degrees and sunny – which of course meant that a great ride was in order.

Never having been on a motorcycle, Sophia borrowed a helmet from her sister and hopped on the back – and off we went to visit Vancouver Island. We took the ferry from Tsawwassen to Victoria (Schwartz Bay) and then rode the scenic route along the coast before breaking off and heading up to Nanaimo, where we boarded the ferry back to the mainland.

All told it was about a 10 hour day, and it was fantastic. The views were amazing, the ferry rides were very enjoyable, and Sophia turned out to be a pretty darned good passenger.

Sophia took me out for supper afterwards to a popular Vancouver restaurant / bar known as Rogue. The food was great – and other than that one incident where our waitress dropped an entire tray of waters and drinks smack-dab in the middle of our table – the experience was wonderful. I actually went ahead and filled out a comment card commending Mel, our waitress, for keeping her poise and maintaining her cool in a situation that would have found many wait-staff overwhelmed. Well done Mel.

Of course, having an accident like that happen at our table probably worked in Mel’s favor. Sophia and I had already had far too good a day to let anything spoil it, and we found ourselves laughing about it and helping Mel to straighten things up.

After dinner we took one last walk aroung downtown, strolling through Gastown once more – my favourite part of the city – and then called it a night. We had a really interesting conversation with a young couple that we met on the Skytrain while heading back to Burnaby. The young woman was voicing her opinion over the new crime bill, and sounded discouraged that addicted offenders are now going to be facing minimum sentence periods of incarceration.

I, of course, had to toss in my two cents.

I mentioned that addicted offenders still have the opportunity to opt into a Drug Treatment Court program. The young lady gave me a kind of disparaging look, as if to say ‘big deal’ – so I mentioned that it had worked for me, and that after 18 years of crack addiction and 4 years of being on the streets I am now approaching 6 years of being clean and sober.

It was at this point that the young lady began to cry.

A soul overflowing with compassion and the willingness to help, she works part-time at a local Elizabeth Fry Society, and volunteers at the Vancouver community court. She is afraid that offenders who are in conflict with the law due to their addictions are no longer going to be able to get help.

We talked for 20 minutes or so, shared some laughs and some experiences, exchanged hugs and went on about our evenings, and our lives. Maybe just a little more enriched. I know mine is. I thank god that there are people like this young woman who are so passionate about helping people like me. Without them, I would not be writing this. And that my friends, is the god’s honest truth.

Sophia, you were a wonderful host. Thank you so much for putting me up – and putting up with me – for the last 5 days. It has been a true pleasure to have a friend show me around one of our country’s most beautiful cities and I thoroughly enjoyed your company.

And now, it is time once again to pack up my trusty steed and hit the open road. If you don’t hear from me for a couple of days it is only because I am camping in the mountains. And enjoying the hell out of my life.

Between Victoria and Nanaimo

A bunch of pictures from the ferry rides and Victoria are right here.

Ok. The bike is packed.

Let’s ride!

One Day At A Time

 

Well, today was my last ‘take it easy’ day in Vancouver. I did not even roll off the couch until sometime after 10:00am.

Oh yes – let me make sure that point is cleared up. A friend of mine sent me a ‘Quagmire’ – like text this morning alluding to my waking up with Sophia. I am sleeping on the couch.

I guess my wording in previous posts may have left the reader open to the idea that I was sleeping with Sophia, as opposed to merely at Sophia’s.

I assure you – not that you care – but it is important for me to be clear that this is not the case.

So, I got up late, surfed around the ‘net for a while, eventually showered and finally left the apartment at about 1:30 in the afternoon. I brought my rain suit with me –ah-ha, prepared – so of course it did not rain. Actually this afternoon turned out to be one of the nicest that I have experienced thus far.

I rode back downtown – snapped a couple of pics of the local emergency shelters – went to yet another mall searching for an Otterbox for my new phone (to no avail), rode down to the yacht club, and eventually made my way back to New Westminster and went to an AA meeting at a local, privately run treatment facility.

I have not been to a treatment facility meeting in a long, long time. And it was precisely what I needed.

There was one gentleman there who had just completed the in-house program and he is moving out in the morning. There were also two new, younger lads there who had only arrived this afternoon. Tonight was their first meeting at the house. They did not share much. But it did appear that they were listening. And hoping. Hoping that somehow, maybe – this might work for them too.

The ‘old-timers’ who were present – including a gentleman who works the overnights there in the house – did their best to help these new lads feel some hope. Through the sharing of some experience, and some strength.

I am honoured to have been a small part of that. At first seen as a bit of a novelty – a middle-aged guy crossing the country on a motorcycle in search of who-knows-what – I was quickly treated to hand-shakes, questions, suggestions and well wishes. As always, I was once again amazed at how welcomed any newcomer / out-of-towner is made to feel at a good, healthy meeting. And this is definitely a good – even great- meeting.

Thank you once again, my higher power. For doing for me that which I cannot do for myself.

The Salvation Army – DTES

The Yacht Club

New Westminster

Cheers,

My dogs are barking….

Today was a day of laundry. And a day of walking. A lot of walking.
As I type this I am nursing a very sore foot with a recently drained blister. The way it feels right now, tomorrow will not entail much walking. Which, of course, leaves an opportunity for riding. Something I did not do at all today. As a matter of fact, I did not even start my bike today. Something that has not happened since I put her on the road this season.
Sophia and I got up and hit the laundry-mat early this morning – a classic little Chinese laundry run by an elderly couple – him seeming to do everything wrong, and her chattering away in Mandarin, or Cantonese, or I don’t know – it’s all Chinese to me.
We were all done within 90 minutes. A quick trip back to Sophia’s to drop off our newly cleaned garments, and then we were off on an adventure into the down town lower east side – DTES – Gastown and Chinatown. Those who know me well know that I am one of those odd men who actually enjoys shopping. Walking through a crowded, eclectic district full of shops and store-fronts can occupy an entire day for me – and it did so today.
We started out by walking into Chinatown and then onto East Hastings street – the heart of the DTES. We dropped by InSite and spoke with Ashley, the young lady working behind the desk who is the point of contact for the person coming in off the street who has decided to use safely. I congratulated Ashley and her peers and co-workers for the work that they are doing – in the face of some hefty odds – to help save lives.
InSite
I have heard so many different stories, tales and interpretations of what the DTES represents and embodies. Most people have described it to me as a street full of pain and despair; of ruined lives and waiting death; of danger, horror and darkness.
I have a different take on the picture that I saw unfold before and around me.
I saw a community. One that has pulled together and does what it can to support those lost within it. Lost to us. Once within this community, I get the feeling that most ‘individuals’ feel found. Feel part of. Feel like they too, are no longer alone.
The community that I am referring to is, of course, made up entirely of the disenfranchised and the desperate. Addicted and afraid. Sickly and suppurating. Skittish and sketchy.
Those are the terms that we hear – and use – when we are trying to describe what we feel when we walk the DTES.
We forget to describe what we see.
I saw a community of men and women – boys and girls – young and elderly – black, white, aboriginal and native – doing what they can to help each other out. Pulling together to get a brother what he needs; to provide a sister with whatever it is that she is screaming to find; directing a an addict who is dope-sick to the guy who has what he needs. I saw two full length city blocks lined with the wares of gypsy marketers'-  blankets laid out and filled with objects that you and I would toss into the trash. Things we think are no longer useful. Because in our lives, these items no longer serve a purpose.
But in the lives of this struggling, hard-scrabble community, every trinket has value. Every item has a use. Every possession has a price.
The trading was brisk. Almost every blanket had an individual attending to the sales end of the exchange, while several potential buyers jostled with each-other to get that ‘must-have’ item into their own hands in order to begin the bartering banter. Money changed hands at every square. When money was not visible, cupped palms and hushed voices indicated that more illicit forms of payment were being offered.
Sophia and I walked the 6 block length of the DTES without even once being approached by a panhandler. Not one individual tried to sell us anything. No one even asked me for a smoke. As a matter of fact, the only question that I was asked was when an guy with an unlit joint in his mouth asked me if If had a lighter.
There was not a single moment when I felt unsafe. Or uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, there were times during our walk when I noticed that it was I who felt invisible. It is not a nice feeling. To correct that, I made eye contact, and said things like ‘what’s up’ or ‘hey man’ – and found myself acknowledged in return.
A lesson in humility.

Here is a link to an article about a man who also see's more in the DTES than most...

http://www.insidevancouver.ca/2012/01/18/reality-show-gastown-gamble-tells-save-on-meats-story/

We travelled from there on into Gastown. A very hip, chic, artsy part of Vancouver. We walked in and out of so many different shops that I cannot possibly remember the number or the names. And I shopped. And bought stuff. And walked more. And took lots of pictures. And discovered a city that appeals to me as much as any city ever has – and much more than most.
Gastown

I am a visitor here in Vancouver. And I feel at home. What the hell do I do with that?
Pictures from today DTES and Gastown

A new chapter; new friends; a new phone

 

The weather has turned back to cool and rainy. Surprise, surprise.

Ah well. As Steven Wright has pointed out – ‘you can’t have everything – where would you put it?’

I got the call from Carter’s Motorsports at around noon telling me that I could pick up my bike at anytime. This, of course, brought a smile to my face.

Of course, even this experience did not come off without a hitch.

Sophia dropped me off at the shop to pick up my bike. As I was gathering my gear from her car, I absentmindedly placed my GPS and my cell phone on the roof of her car, grabbed my helmet from the trunk, my jacket from the backseat, leaned in to say thank you, snatched my GPS from the roof – and 45 seconds later realized something terrible had happened.

But there was hope, right. Very little traffic had passed. All would be fine. The universe was working with me and all was about to be okay again – all I had to do was walk back up the street, paying attention to where a cellphone might land, and then…..

RRRRRRRrrroorororrororoooooommmmmmm…….a very large truck happened by.

This is the second Blackberry that I have killed in less than 1 year. The first one I lost from my outside vest pocket while riding to Pembroke last July. I had received a phone call before starting out and placed my phone in my vest instead of an inside pocket. Careless.

This time, I left my phone on the roof of a car. Careless.

So, a trip to Future Shop, an hour of my time, and a sweet-talk phone call to Rogers Customer relations allowed me to walk away with a new Nokia Lumia 900 at a very acceptable price.

Acceptable is, of course, relative. And subjective. I admit that it would have been much, much more acceptable to have been responsible in the first place, but, spilled milk and all that,….

After attending to the ramifications of my momentary ineptitude, I scooted off to the Horse Shoe Bay area of North Vancouver for my introduction to the guys – and gal – from the CMC 056 Vancouver chapter.

Of course, this is when the skies were preordained to open up and pour on me. And me, with no rain gear…….can you say lack of focus.

I blame part of that on Sophia. She takes great pleasure in being distracting. In a way that can almost be downright cruel, but I digress. I guess I have to take the brunt of the blame for my own lack of focus.

I finally made it to the Meet and Greet. A little late. A lot wet. And was really well received. 6 members from the 056 were on hand to greet the guy from out of town, and once again I was made to feel like a well known friend who had been away for a while. We went to a little Chinese food joint down the block, shared stories, ate good food, and experienced the camaraderie of like minded people interested in similar things. DrMucker and Scotty-004 are both camera buffs – DrMucker has several GoPro videos on YouTube and has inspired me in the past – likely to do so again, I am sure.

DrMucker, Scotty-004, Pathfinder and the rest of you – thank you very much. I am pleased to have met you – and hope to ride with you on Sunday.

I was not able to stay as long as I would have liked – it was already going on 8:00pm and the rain was not letting up – but I was there long enough to know that I have once again made life-long friends in a city far, far away from home. I cannot overstate what that means to a man like me, who spent so much of his life tossing friendships aside in the pursuit of darker needs.

I continue to learn that my life is beautiful, and that all I need do is remember to keep it simple.

Like taking a motorcycle ride for no reason other than the ride.

Peace.

Chinese Food with 056

Members of the 056

DrMucker