Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me...

Well at least I've lost some of that belly over the past three months!

Wow, I can’t believe that I’m now 67 years old, where did all those damn years go? I don’t feel any older, I don’t act any older and I’m certainly not going to start growing up, I’m way to old for that. As the saying goes, “Growing old is unavoidable, Growing up is optional!” So for the foreseeable future I give full advance warning that I’m going to be just as stupid as I've always been. So there!

It’s been a great birthday so far with greetings from far and wide as well as my great friends Taz and Joel popping in on Skype this morning just to add to the greeting. Sue took me for a spin in her Mini Cooper S around some of the lanes. Don’t tell her I said so, but I think she missed her vocation… as a rally driver!!! Seriously though, it was huge fun and she is a fantastic and highly competent driver… just damn fast and I loved it!

You go first... no you go first !!!
Susy with her Mini Cooper in the background

Not sure what’s planned for later, at the moment I'm sitting typing this wearing what little is left of my clothes that I haven’t stuck in the washing machine. It will be nice to leave here (albeit, reluctantly) tomorrow with a clean bag of clothes once more, the last time was in Creston with Taz & Joel and before that in Edmonton with cousin Rosemarie. Otherwise it’s the old traveller’s trick of washing them as I wash myself in the shower. It works and is certainly better than nothing and getting them dry is easy down here where it is so hot.

Yesterday I took a ride out to a biker’s haunt called Alice’s Restaurant. Now if any of you out there are country / folk fans, you may just remember in the dim and distant past a recording by Arlo Guthrie from 1967 by the same name. So of course I had to ask whilst eating my Le Mans Burger, which came first the song or the restaurant. Well as the restaurant opened in 1960 one can assume that it was the inspiration for the song, but that is pure conjecture, as being in the USA, I don’t want any laws suites dropping on my door step thank you! Sue had given me superb and very full instructions on how to get there so… yes, you guessed it I missed a turn, ended up on the freeway, went miles out of my way and ended up approaching from completely the wrong direction, but at least I finally got there. As I said at the start, it is a big biker’s haunt, that’s not to say that the food is any good, think McD rather than gourmet; I’ve certainly eaten and made far better burgers in my time ( but then that’s a lot of time and a lot of burgers…)

If the burger didn't quite hit the spot then the road certainly did. For once I wasn't fully (over?) loaded, having left my clothes, tents and a heap of other stuff back at Sue’s  They had our old friends “bends” in them and a bit like the road through the redwoods a week or so back there were more than you could shake a stick at. In fact those bends of a week back had given me a bit of practise and the day just got better as I homed in on the Tupperware Tornado in front of me piloted by it’s young Wok Jockey. I'm afraid those damn voices were back again and they just MADE me do it, honest officer, it wasn't my fault. I’d almost forgotten how well The Beast could swing the curves, but boy, she can still cut the mustard when you show her the whip and put the hammer down! Pegs a scraping I chased him through the bends and up and over the mountain. I haven’t been such a hooligan for a long time and probably won’t be again, well not on this trip anyway; as from here on east I have no planned stops other than camp grounds on which to dump my stuff… but then this stop wasn't exactly planned. As I said to Sue this morning, my idea was to camp nearby and take her to dinner in a small gesture of thanks for her kindness way back in North Dakota. That feels like a lifetime ago now. But I've ended up as the recipient of so much more kindness, as she has opened her home and her heart  to me. Please, don’t anyone ever try to tell me that it is a big bad world out there ever again. It's not it's full of lovely, kind, generous people like Susy!

Suzy at the wheel of her beloved Mini Cooper S

San Fransisco

There was only one problem with Hwy 36, as scenic as it was, it was really not going where I wanted to go; south! It was heading east, or to be more accurate it was heading east-south-east, which was OKish, but it would drop me on Interstate 5. This gave me three options; I could just run south on I5, not something I really fancied doing; I could go straight across and pick up another rode heading south, which would mean an even longer detour as well as missing a whole lot more of the Pacific Coast Highway; or I could run down a bit of I5 till I met Hwy 20 and track back roughly south-west to the PCH. I chose the latter option as being the most congenial to both my desired direction and preferred road type. 

It was a good choice! I was still encountering wild fire on the last sections of Hwy36 not the smoke had thinned out from yesterdays blanket. Turning south on I5 I soon left it all behind for the moment and made good time down to Hwy20. It was in fact marked on the tourist map Janice Had given me as “scenic” and they were bang on. Once again it was a smaller road which meandered through the hills and valleys, rising and falling though not excessively so. I could almost have been back in North Wales if it were not for the temperature. Even with the wind chill whilst riding along it was showing 36c on my thermometer. That was  hot and I was thankful that I had topped up by water bottles before leaving camp, although by the time I came to drink it, it would have been good for coffee it was that hot!

 

And you all thought I was just out on  a jolly!!!!

I had set the Sat Nav for a little place on the coast called  Albion, but soon changed that as I got closer, to head for Point Arena. Once more I got lucky, this time it was more like the Greek Pindos mountains in way it climbed and fell through a narrow tortuous route. The sun was till shinning and the ride was a joy, well apart from getting stuck at some road works for about 15 mins in the direct heat of the sun, without a bit of shade to be found anywhere. But I survived and made it back to the coast road once more where I turned left and headed due south. Campgrounds were a little thin on the ground on this section of the road but dropping down a steep hill which curved sharply to the right, I spotted a whole load of RVs and trailers parked up, so pulled in to ask if they had a space for my tiny tent. I’m sure my jaw must have sunk a couple of inches as I spotted the price list…$40 per night. I was just about to do one of my now famous U-turns when the lady in the office said I could camp on the grass, which she said would be much better for a tent. When she told me the price I asked her to repeat it, twice! $10… I really must have had my most winning smile on. It wasn’t perfect as although we were right on the coast I couldn’t see the sea at all from my pitch, but to save $30 I’ll happily walk a few yards to the beach. She also told me that there were a family in an RV that came from England and when she showed me their registration card, they came from Bakewell in Derbyshire. Andrew and Amanda as I later found there names to be had flown out with their two young boys to LA and hired the RV for two weeks. They had been on just about the route I was about to do but in reverse; even crossing Death Valley in it, though the terms and conditions specifically excluded the road. One other coincidence came from out conversation in that one of their sons has a close friends who live virtually next door to my Niece and her husband in Grindlethorpe… It really is a very small world.

36c and it was still climbing!

I was still about 120 miles north of San Francisco with my destination, San Jose, another 50 miles on. San Jose” or at least the one I wanted in California. It gave me literally dozens of others but not that one. After just one wrong turn I got to the Golden Gate Bridge, or at least the view point. As I took my first photos, four more bikes pulled in by me led by Buck an American from Pennsylvania who was showing the three others, who were from Chile, around the US. As has sort of become standard on this trip, Buck gave me his email and said that if I needed any help on the way back which around his neck of the woods to give him a call. He also took a couple of photos of me and the bike with the Golden Gate in the background. Top man and thanks for the contact Buck. I left them still admiring the bridge as I swung round onto the approach road. I had never realised quite how long the bridge is, but it is vey long. I would guess about the same as our Severn Crossing and whilst it is a toll bridge, no tolls are collected on the bridge, so there are no traffic tail backs; Severn Crossing please note! Instead they are collected automatically by number plate recognition cameras. I've no idea what they do about foreigners like myself in or on foreign registered vehicles, but I would think that is a very small amount in the grand scheme of things.

The Golden Gate Bridge just before I rode across it!

An easyish day, although it did of course include navigating through the San Francisico traffic and then trying to find Sue’s house in San Jose. The latter with Sat Nav as it refused to recognise “

I hit Interstate 280 which skirts San Francisco heading for Santa Clara, as being the closest place to San Jose my Sat Nav would pick up. As I rode the freeway I mused that it was certainly no worse than the M4  and a whole lot better than the M25 even in off peak hours! I picked up signs for San Jose and then just forgot “Bitchin Betty” and did it the old way; First I followed the signs and then once off of the interstate I stopped at a petrol station and asked for direction… And it still works! Amazingly I wasn’t too far away (about 3 miles) and so I was soon pulling into Sue’s drive and being welcomed with an ice cold tea. Boy did I need it!

The Bay Bridge. This is the one that collapsed during the earthquake

Sue, my fabulous hostess with the mostest!!

So tonight I have been given the guest bedroom in her lovely house and sit typing this whilst Sue is out on a “Girly” evening! I’m sat in the garden under the shade of a huge sun umbrella sipping a cold beer and eating some left over pulled pork and salad… It’s a hard life but somebody’s got to do it. I’m not sure yet how long I’ll be here, maybe until my birthday on Saturday (maybe not if she gets tired of my mess!) Meanwhile I’ll be trying to get to see what San Francisco has to offer and who knows I may even do Yosemite from here as it not vey far away at all.

In the shade of the Redwoods

 Tonight I'm privileged to be spending a second night sleeping beneath the canopy of the giant Redwoods. They really are every bit as magnificent as I had imagined, if not even more so! Having sorted my little brake problem yesterday morning with a Helicoil set from AutoZone and an electric drill and bits borrowed from the River City Campground host, I was indeed back on the road by lunchtime. It was not to be a long mileage day though. My plan, such as it was, was simply to ride through the Redwood State Park and just see how the day progressed. Whilst it was sunny as I left River City, it wasn't long before the smoke once more started to mask the sunshine, and the temperature dropped. Stopping in an Information centre to pick up what ever maps and info I could, I was told by Janice one of the two very helpful ladies running the place, that the huge amount of smoke being given off by all the fires had caused a temperature inversion! Well, whatever the cause it stayed below 20c all day, the coolest I've ridden in for a while. Janice also sorted me out with an array of maps covering just about every eventuality in California. I rode slowly onward through the giant trees, completely overawed by the majesty of them. I lost count of the number of time I stopped, just to stand and stare. “ A poor life this, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare” and I certainly did my share of both. 

I swung into a small car park where it was signposted that there was a footpath to “The Big Tree “, ”Jesus” I thought “ How much bigger can it be?” The answer was, a lot bigger!  The Big Tree was apparently 1500 years old. Wow, I think there were still dinosaurs roaming the earth in those days…OK, yes, I know that there are still a few of them about now ….LOL. Seriously though, it was truly gigantic, as can be seen from the statistics in the photo of the sign.

I wanted to camp up whilst still in the Redwood park, although I needn’t have worried as they run for about 100 miles down the coast, but when I eventually decided to call it a day the first shock was that the site was full. Well it was except that it wasn’t. It seems that they keep a few sites back which they give out on a discretionary basis. I was given the third degree as to how long I’d been riding, how tired was I, would it be dangerous if I carried on... This was all said with a twinkle in her eye and I guess I must have given the correct answers, not that she prompted me at all you realise, as I was given a huge site. I responded by offering to share it should any other “weary” travellers who might turn up looking for a pitch. Low and behold, hardly had I finished by dinner when two BMW F800s arrived. Justin was clearly a little puzzled as he had been told to came and find me and check out if it was OK for them to stay. So the very large pitch took on a rather more crowded appearance as Justin and Sarp (Turkish) set up their two tents alongside mine. It’s actually quite fun to share a pitch in this way with like minded people and it’s something that I’ve done several times on this trip without any problems.  This time it also worked out particularly well, as whilst I had a few beers, they also  had ice and a cooler bag and a few more beers!.

The following morning I cooked up some scrambled egg and onion for us all and we hit the road at the same time but with Justin & Sarp turning left back to the Big Tree, whilst I turned right along Hwy 1 and the coast. The weather was still very grey and cold, not at all how I’d imagined California. It even managed a little precipitation; to call it rain would be an insult to “proper” rain! However, that didn’t last long. It also wasn’t long before I spotted the two Beemers looming large in my mirrors. I waved them by; I was in no rush, whilst they had 1000 miles to cover in three days to get back to their homes in San Diego.

Under the redwood with Sarp & Justin

I rode through Trinidad, Lucern and Eureka; they sure know how to pick town names over here. I spotted a sign for Ferndale, and no, it wasn’t in the Rondda Valley! The sign made it sound interesting and historic so I turned off and headed the 10 miles which was more or less in the wrong direction, thinking “this had better be worth it”. It was! In fact it was almost like a slightly less touristy Dawson City with old timber clad buildings all beautifully restored, and with the exception of yours truly, not a tourist in sight! From there it was back to Hwy 101 until the turnoff for scenic Hwy 36, which had been recommended to me, running through yet more Redwoods (and more wild fires) for around 120 miles. I stopped short of the end and here I sit under another amazing Redwood canopy but this time the only other occupant of the site is a small slide-in RV parked just inside the entrance, whilst I have set up my camp at the far end. I’ve already lit my camp fire which is heating up nicely to cook my steak for dinner on it's grill plate.

A herd of Elk spotted just after I left camp this morning

Wow, what a mad couple of days…

I left the route planning to Bitchin’ Betty, hence I headed north from Winston on the Hwy 138 toward the north entrance to Crater Lake Park,  rather than the route which I had looked at, which was on more minor roads and entered at the South. This was both good and bad! The bad is that the North entrance was closed due to a huge wild fire! This meant that I had to carry on past the park and circle right around to come back up from the south which virtually doubled the 110 miles the Sat Nav had initially calculated. The good however is that the route along Hwy 138 or the Umpqua Hwy, followed the river of the same name along a beautiful valley, almost touching the river in places as it meandered through the mountains. The river ran over a series of waterfalls, large and small, as well as numerous rapids which I would guess must make for some great rafting and kayaking when the water levels are higher.

It also meant that as I stopped at the various falls and hiked up to the viewing points, I gained some exercise and got to talk to quite a few people. One couple that deserves a mention are a mother and daughter (I think!) stupidly I didn’t even get their names but they gave me some more tips on routes and during the conversation it transpired that the daughter, who would be around 25 – 30, was a firefighter! When I jokingly asked why she was there looking at waterfalls instead of firefighting, she said that she had just finished 17 days straight duty and was now having 3 days leave! Inanely I said “ wow that sounds dangerous!”, to which she casually replied, “ yes, but it’s great fun, I love it” Huge Respect to her. She was quite a petite young lady and other than the fact that she looked extremely fit, nobody would ever have guessed that she had such a tough and demanding job.

With so many stops to look at the waterfalls even the 110 miles took me twice as long as you would expect, but then I had to ride straight on past the north entrance for about 16 miles before I could turn south and do a complete box shape to come in  The  the southern end of the park. Whilst I have ridden through a lot of smoke over the past three months, this was some of the worst with the fires burning right up to the edge of the road in places along a stretch of about 4 miles. There were thousands on acres of woodland burning right across the northern Crater lake park. Fuel was also now becoming something of an issues, as whilst I had left Winston with over half a tank, or about  200 miles worth, I’d now ridden around d 150 miles without a sign of a gas station and the Sat Nav was indicating that the closest was long the closed road. Eventually I found a run down looking place by the main highway, filled the bike with gas and myself with water and an ice cream, both of us were, once more, happy and in harmony. It was still a fair distance to the park entrance and I arrived around 3.30pm. Asking at the gate about camp sites the (English) girl on the gate told me there was only one and suggested that I book in straight away as it filled up quickly…too late, it was full! I wasn’t worried as something always turns up so rode on around the eastern rim road.

For once all the stories that I had heard hadn't been exaggerated, the lake was stunning, and surprisingly it the roads and parking spots were not too busy. I guess arriving late can sometimes be just as good as arriving early. The water was quite still without so much as a ripple; the colour was a deep rich royal blue, quite unlike the lakes along the Icefields Parkway a couple of weeks ago, where they were also turquoise. Thankfully the smoke must have been either going straight up or more likely blowing gently in the other direction which is why so much was across the northern road. Either way, it left the view crystal clear and as I was 6500 ft up nice and cool. I visited a few of the viewpoints before I spotted a sign pointing down a side lane saying “Campground”. I turned around ( I’m getting really good at U turns now) and rode the 3 miles indicated on the board. I arrived in company with a car with a young couple in it. At first glace there appreared to be plenty of space as everything was well spread out. However, on closed inspection every numbered site was occupied. I rode around a couple of times spying out the options. There was certainly plenty of space, as I said, but most was covered by scrub and not really suitable for a tent. Then a found a plot on which there were already two tents set up (badly!) but it was a very large spot with a nice little corner by the entrance on which my bike and tent would fit just nicely. There was nobody about to ask if they minded, so I took a chance, after all it was away from the existing tents with my bike screening me still further.

I’d just finished eating my dinner when the occupants of the site Jake and Jessica arrived back. I went over to say Hi and said that I hoped they didn't mind me gate crashing there pitch. Jake replied that it was fine but that they were expecting a few other later in the evening and he didn't know how many… To cut a very long story at least a bit shorter, there were eventually 9 of us altogether on the little pitch (well little for that many!) There ages ranged from 22 to 26, and they were all work mates at the park intent on partying…. Even as I had first spoken to Jake he had thrust an ice cold beer into my hand. It was one hell of a night. By the time I headed off to bed at around half past midnight I’d drunk far too many beers, I’d “shotgunned” my first beer and taken a couple a of  “shots” with them. Oh and been fed hotdogs and freshly cooked corn. What could have been a nightmare ended up as one of the most extraordinary and fun nights of the trip so far.  So if any of you are reading this guys, my sincere thanks for a great party to Jake, Jessica, Ty, Twist, Bri, Ross, Erica, Caitlin and Risky. I'm now looking forward to welcoming Ross and Bri to the UK at sometime in the future, and who knows perhaps a couple of the others too. As I had managed to bring absolutely nothing to the party and they wouldn't even let me pay for the site, I though the least I could do the next morning was to keep the kettle boiling and make coffees as each in tern stumbled from the slumbers. So yet again it was a late start, in fact my latest yet as I reluctantly left the gang and pulled away just after 11am.

The Party Gang minus two (they had to be up at 6 for work!!!)

1st Lt. Jared Landaker's Family

I headed back to the lake but it wasn't long before the wind turned and the smoke started to cloud the view so I headed on and out of the park. But not before I had met a few more wonderful people, including the family of the pilot of the American Forces helicopter, Morphine One-Two, which was shot down over Iraq in February 2007, killing all 7 people on board. Jared’s Mum, Dad, Brother and Sister-in-law were all on a trip to Crater Lake from their home in Big Bear, California. After talking for a while and of course the obligatory photographs, I've now been invited to their home for a few days, where I'm to be taken around some of the best Californian biking roads. Wow!

I also met a couple of Harley riders at one view point and got talking to Steve and his pal. Whilst he was riding a Harley Steve actually ran a BMW dealership in his home town, which it turned out was just by Fort Bragg, the base where John and Shannon whom I met up on the Dalton Highway were based. This is the couple, riding F800 BMWs who were so helpful to me when I broke down on the way to Prudhoe Bay. In fact, it was Steve who sold them the bike that they were riding. How’ss that for a coincidence. After all I’m something like 5000 miles south of the Dalton now! So once more phots and emails exchanged and Steve has promised to contact John and put him in touch for me. When he and Shannon (nor Sheena as I called her in this blog at the time) left Coldfoot I was really too completely knackered to thank them properly and so would love to catch up. John is actually one of the elite Golden Eagle Parachute team based at Fort Bragg. Whether I’ll get up there to see him I just don’t know, but I’ll be checking my maps carefully over the coming days.

I dropped out tof the park and headed for Medford and the road through the giant Redwoods but as I ran through Medford and made a rather abrupt stop at a set of lights, the stop was rather more abrupt than I had intended, something was clearly not right with my front brake. I had already guessed what the problem was, but a quick check confirmed that I had lost one of the calliper fixing bolts which of course allowed the calliper to turn slightly with the wheel as I applied the brake. I had though that the thread was a bit suspect when I reassembled it and now it had come back to bite me. It could have been a lot worst, with the luck of the Irish, it had happened in a big town right opposite a motorcycle shop, and whilst they didn’t have any Helicoils, they knew a man that did, AutoZone. And the man at AutoZone knew of a nice little camp site just 3 miles from the shop where I will sort the problem and be back on the road by lunchtime (hopefully… So alls well that ends well! 

California Here I come!!!

Yes, That's the Pacific you see before you!

Lunchtime on my third day out from Creston and I finally arrived at the Pacific coast of Oregon. I had originally reckoned on two days but hey, what’s the rush? I’m already being told that I travel too fast by me pal Alex who is now still in Fairbanks, Alaska. But then being young he has time on his side!

It was a fabulous day’s riding through some of the narrowest and most twisty roads I have yet to ride this side on the “pond”. There were enough bends to satisfy even the most ardent “Wok-Jockey”, peg scraping became the norm as I re-learnt the art of sticking a bike into a bend… I’ve not had much practise of late! LOL . I had found biking heaven, virtually no traffic, scenery to die for (not literally, you understand), and roads that were even better than the Crowstnest Highway of a couple of days ago if that is possible.

I came across this "Ghost Town" along the way. I guess somebody had some time on their hands...

I had turned right shortly after leaving my camp at Marion Forks and whilst I missed the intended cut off the slightly more “main” road didn’t disappoint. It ran through some of Oregons famous Ski areas and as such there were mountains and hills aplenty.I rode through the quaintly named Sweet Home and  Monroe ( I wonder if that were named in honour of Marilyn!) From Monroe to Alsea was fairly straight and flat, but in best traditions it kept the best till last. Even looking at the map I was salivating at the thought of all those bends but the reality even surpassed the imagination on this occasion. Hairpin after hairpin, and yes I do mean proper hairpins, the sort that would bend some of the RVs in the middle in trying to get around them. And then suddenly the road straightened as I ran alongside an ever widening river, the Alsea, and I was there. Stretched out before me, seemingly to infinity, was the Pacific Ocean.

I headed south, along the Pacific Coast highway, a road which certainly on this first section which I rode down to Coos Bay, is way overhyped, but hopefully it will improve as I approach California. However that would have to wait, as at Coos Bay I swung inland once more heading for Crater Lake. As I had enjoyed my mornings ride so much I was still hungry for more, so set up Bitchin’ Betty the Sat Nav for shortest route… Mistake! Guess what, I was back on the gravel once more… The 80 or so miles across to Winston (Churchill?) took me close on four hours rather than the 1 ½ I had reckoned on. Oh well, no worries! I found an RV site on the edge of town and enjoyed(?) my worst nights sleep of the trip as the heavy traffic thundered past my left ear all night long. At 3am I’d had enough and stumbled from the tent to retrieve my earplugs, then sleeping soundly till around 6.45… so a relatively late start today, but at least I’ve had a nice hot shower ( in a restroom not under an tree!) and I’ve got free wifi right to my tent, so it can’t all be bad…

It looks a bit like Pembrey in South Wales...

Wednesday 19th August. Oregon

Whilst I may have had an early night yesterday, there was still a feeling of reluctance to leave my nice cosy sleeping bag this morning. The sun seemed reluctant to show its face and even when I crawled out of the tent at around 7am the sky was overcast and gloomy, in fact I thought it might rain. However, as I made tea, breakfasted and took my now customary shower under a tree a large red orb appeared. Although, by now, fairly high in the sky, the smoke, which was still hanging in the air, was diffusing the light, almost smothering it, and as I left camp at 8am the faintest yellow could be seen struggling to break free from its blanket. I just hoped that at some point I would ride clear of the wild fires but it seemed that most of Canada and the US were suffering the worst fire for many years. Nowadays they have a policy of containment and management rather than trying to extinguish them, God only know what that does to their carbon foot print! In fact from what I have witnessed so fat on my trip. North America’s whole global warming policy is a bad joke. It’s seems that it is only us mugs in the UK and a few parts of the EU that pay the huge price demanded by government to try and combat that which more and more scientific minds are saying is just the normal cyclic phenomenon of the earth; something which has gone on since time immemorial!

Anyway, enough already! As mu old dad used to say! I rode on down to the Columbia river, and staying on the north bank, away from the Interstate, I headed west right along its bank. I stopped at “Stonehenge” another American bad joke. To be fair it was meant well as it is dedicated to the fallen of the First World War. However, I would have thought they could have done better. Concrete rather than stone, about 1/3 the size of the original, although the proportions of the columns didn’t appear to have been scaled down by anything like the same amount; it didn’t align properly and all things considered, it was a very, very bad job, Bodget and Scarper at their worst!

As Joel had said the scenery was really beautiful right along the river… except for that damn all pervasive smoke which still lingered. I finally crossed the river at White Salmon and by the time I had ridden over the longest steel grid Bridge deck ever, the Salmon weren’t the only things that were white. These type of bridge decks feature strongly over here, and all I can say is that the designer was most definitely not a biker! The feeling as you ride over it is bizarre, it’s almost like riding on ice, yet it’s not slippery! Your tyres track along the ridges which are not perfectly straight, causing the whole bike to “shimmy” Nothing has ever got my sphincter muscles twitching quite so quickly!

 As I was running short of US Dollars, I’d been trying unsuccessfully to change some Stirling which I was carrying. Would you believe that in the US I was having then same trouble which I found in Europe a few years back… nobody wants Stirling anymore! I was finally offered a deal in The Bank of Columbia but at such a bad rate I might have been dealing with the Mafia, so I gave up and will sort it via my plastic.

Crossing the Columbia river, I was now in a completely new State of the Union, Oregon, having crossed from Washington State on the north bank. Oregon would see me right across to the Pacific coast which I should, hopefully, reach before camping up tomorrow night. Joel’s routing was, again, spot on; running me down through the Hood River National Park. Past Mt Hood at 11,246ft ( yes, back to ft now I’m in the US!) and along some of the smallest and twistyest road I’ve been on since Cap Breton back in May. The pine trees had taken over once more and it was like being back with old friends.

At Detroit ( no, not THAT Detroit) I was back to larger roads and I called at halt at a little hamlet called Marion Forks. Camping at a National Forest camp ground at just $10 for the night. I’d tried a few others on the way but with prices as high as $30 I’d voted with my feet (or rather wheels!) and ridden on intending to wild camp. Yet again I’m one of only a couple of units on site and I'm right at the top, so it’s just as though I'm wild camping.

The night was as peaceful as expected and \|I was up just after 6 having slept the sleep of a baby! However, whilst having my morning tea and breakfast, something high in the trees took exception to my presence and started hurling pine cones to the forest floor all around me. I suspect more of those pesky squirrels which have plagued me on many sites, but in spite of spotting the odd wavering branch I failed to get a glimpse. However, just in case, I sit typing this with my bear spray close to hand….  And now It’s time to hit the road once more!

Tuesday 18th August Departure...Again!

I awoke even earlier than usual with a mixture of excitement, anticipation and with more than a little anxiety thrown into the mix!  The sun had just popped his head over the windowsill of my makeshift bedroom, which had also served me well as a workshop during my stay with Taz & Joel. So with the sun shinning, the birds singing and John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High playing, I pack up the last few items of my kit, gathered up my bedding and headed down for my last breakfast with my hosts before heading off south. To be fair, Tax & Joel have been far more than hosts on each of my three stays with them on this trans-Canadian journey; wonderful friends, mentors, confidents and so much more. To be brutally honest, were it not for their support I’d probably be back in the UK by now licking my wounds and wondering what the hell it was all about!

It was just gone 8am when I said goodbye and climbed aboard The Beast. I confess to having a huge lump in my throat and a small tear in my eye as I said a last fond farewell and rode up their drive, knowing that this would be my last visit for the foreseeable future. At the end of their road I turned left for highway 3 west, instead of what had become the more familiar right to Creston Town.  I had ridden the Crowsnest highway east a few times, but this time I was heading west over the Kootenay Pass, the Bonanza Pass and on to Grand Forks before heading south across the US border and into Washington State at Danville. The Crowsnest is always a great ride, sun, rain or snow. It twists and turns, rises and falls with the Kootnay Pass summit cresting 1775mts after which it drops steadily all the way down to less than 700 mts over about 10 or more miles in a nice steady descent before rising once more to over 1500 mts for the Bonanza Pass. If the road is great the views and fantastic, or at least they would have been were it not for the smoke hanging in the air from the numerous forest fires burning throughout the region, indeed throughout Canada. As I came over the hill to drop down to Castlegar I was amazed to see an airport runway, one end of which seemed almost to butt up to the mountains, whilst at the other the planes would just about clear the road on which I was riding, or so it appeared!

The changing landscape as I approach

the US border at Grand Forks

Christina Lake was another spot which looked as though it would be quite stunning on a clear day, alas today it was just about visible through the all pervading smoke. Even before I turned for the border the landscape had started to change subtly with the densely pine cladded slopes giving way to a more open aspect, the hills weren’t quite so high or so severe.  Once through the Danville crossing the hills all but disappeared, or should I say, the mountains gave way to mere hills. The valley along which I was riding was flat and broad, not al all what I had become used to. That is not to say that it wasn't beautiful, it was just very different! Joel had marked in a few road on the maps that he suggested were worth riding and so I just had to sort of join up the dots. I stopped at a small roadside kiosk for a breakfast muffin and milkshake which served nicely as an early lunch. The temperature had already hit 30c and it wasn't quite mid-day yet; it was going to be another scorcher in spite of the smoke casting a veil over the sun.

 I followed Highway 21 for about 100 miles straight down to the south, crossing the Columbia River for the first time at the Keller crossing on another free ferry.  Then turning right onto Highway 2, I rode past the Grand Coulee Dam, something I remembered from a song of yesteryear which I think my sister Diane, used to play by Lonnie Donegan! As it was a fair way off my route and time was marching on, I didn’t divert to see it, although now thinking that I should have… It’s generally a rule of mine when travelling, that if I’m unsure whether to go or not, I’ll always go as I probably wont get a chance to see it again. Oh well, guess I’ll have to come back one day! Some miles on I passed a left turn which had a huge security entrance set a 100yds or so back from the road. Not a single solitary sign indicated the purpose of the road or of what lay down it. Although as I continued along Highway 240 I could see what appeared to be a town or huge industrial complex to which the road would have undoubtedly led. Thoughts of CIA, Area 51 and such ran through my mind; oh don’t you just love a good conspiracy theory. My destination for the day was to be Maryhill and a really nice campground that Taz & Joel had used and recommended, but it wasn’t to be. My restless night and the heat had taken their toll and after a little over 400 miles I was pooped. As I turned right towards Denton City, I spotted a sign for the Horn River Camp Ground. I turned into an empty site apart that is from one tent that looked as though it had been abandoned with it’s door unzipped and a heap of stuff just strewn around. I went right to the far end of the otherwise neat and tidy municipal site and set up camp. By 8pm I had dined, drank a nice cup of coffee and hit the sack; I didn’t move until the sun rose in the sky one more to signal the start of another fine day.    

And the rains came!

The eerie glow in the sky of the forest fires on the road into Idaho

After months of exceptionally hot, dry weather, southern BC finally got at least a bit of relief with the rain it so badly needed last night. It started gently around 8pm with just a few spots which then developed into a full blooded storm which was still raging when I went to bed around 10pm. Hopefully, it will at least have helped to damp down some of the huge number of forest fires which have been burning all around the area. Today we can see across the valley once more and also see blue sky instead of just smoke. For someone like me who has never had to put up with such things in the UK it’s actually been quite worrying at times. When I went across the Idaho border yesterday, as I posted before, I was told that a lot of people had been evacuated around there and that is just 10km to the south of us. Returning home via Creston, as I looked across to Taz & Joel’s place, the whole area was completely masked with dense smoke. So bad was it that I even wondered if they would have been evacuated whilst I had been away. However once back to the house it wasn’t quite as bad as it had looked from the other side, so all was good.

I spent this morning replacing the fork seal in my right front fork leg as it had started to leak a week or so back. An easy enough job if you can only get the retaining circlip out. It’s one of those jobbies with no eyes for circlip pliers so you have to just prise it out with something thin, whilst trying not to stab yourself. Anyway, with Joel’s help the job was completed successfully and is now (hopefully) leak free. My kit has all been sorted out and another rather large but not too heavy box now sits here waiting to be posted home tomorrow, leaving my panniers with a good bit more space than they have ever had before on this trip.

It’s been great having a couple of places over here to chill out in for a few days; my cousins in Edmonton and Taz & Joels in Creston, but from here on it looks like I’m on my own. Although there is still a chance of meeting up with Jim & Caroline in a few weeks somewhere along the Mississippi and I have an invite to stay in San Jose with Sue, a lady I met early on in North Dakota. There are so many things to look forward to now that I am of course having trouble sleeping, as soon as my head hits the pillow, the thoughts of the journey past and future start.    

A plan is hatched !

It’s been quite a day today in one way or another. With the Visa issue now hopefully sorted it’s been time to get down to some serious planning. It’s exactly 8 weeks until my flight home and as the Jack London credo that I proudly display on my bike states; I will use my time!

So, where next is the question, or rather was the question. The answer soon presented itself as once Joel and I sat down with the full USA map and I started marking on it the places and things that I most wanted to see. Then Joel added a few suggestions of his own favourite places and it was just a case of joining the dots… A few calculations via Google Maps just to be sure that I wasn’t being totally bonkers and I now have the outline of the route I will be taking all nicely penned in on said map. It is by no way definitive but at least I know which direction to head when I leave my lovely friends Taz & Joel’s home town of Creston, BC; south.

As the good folks at the Porthill border crossing have told me that I can have my new visa from them, in my book it makes sense not to push my luck by crossing elsewhere. So first thing Tuesday morning will see me retracing todays route down to Bonners Ferry via Porthill. From there I will follow the first part of the scenic Selkirk Loop heading… west! Yes, I know it’s the wrong direction for Halifax but if you’ve been following this blog from the start, you really wouldn’t expect me to do things the easy way would you? I’m heading out to the west coast (again!) but this time at a rather lower latitude than in Alaska, to follow the Pacific Coast Highway down to California. I’ll probably not make it to LA as I plan to swing inland to Yosemite shortly after passing San Francisco. Then it’s into the valley of death… or more precisely, Death Valley before hitting Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon etc, etc, etc.

Not sure you'll see the projected route too clearly, but it should give an idea of where I'm heading!

The biggest problem I face is not the mileage, which is actually no more that the quickest route from Halifax to Prudhoe Bay, but what to miss out! Mount Rushmore is one of the more significant casualties, but there are literally dozens of others. As I sit here even now, looking at the map, so many iconic names just jump out at me; El Paso, Phoenix, Denver, Houston, Salt Lake City, the Bonneville Salt flats; the list goes on and on. One thing that is definitely reinstated is at least a part of Route 66. The overall distance I have to cover is a mere 5500 miles, according to Google but I’m reckoning it will end up closer to 7000. The most direct route back to Halifax using mainly interstates would be 3500 miles. Given that I have already done close to 15,000 miles it should be a walk in the park and hopefully, the new tyres that I recently fitted, should go the distance and I probably won’t even need to do another oil change. All I hope is that by the time I arrive back in Nova Scotia in early October, the weather hasn’t deteriorated too much 

Visa !

Just taken the bike for a run across the border at Porthill and down to Bonners Ferry, mainly to check out the position on my US Visa Waiver which expires on Thursday 20th Aug. All the information that I have read on line states quite categorically that it can only be restarted by exiting the country to somewhere other than Canada or Mexico; Not True! I was told just to hand in my current visa as I returned to Canada, which I have now done. Then when I re-enter the US on Tuesday I just get a new one which will be for a further 90 days.

Obviously the proof of the pudding will be on Tuesday, but on the face of it all looks good so I can now think of just which way I'm going to head back and also hopefully meet up with Caroline & Jim once more for a few days....

The smoke is still very bad here, if anything even worse than last night and apparently there were people evacuated from down near Porthill border crossing last night which is only about 10km from us. Just keeping all fingers crossed that it doesn't get too much worse.

All good things....

After nearly a week of being wined, dined, chauffeured and generally pampered by cousins Rosemarie and Doris, it was back on the road on Monday morning… but not alone! Over the weekend Caroline and Jim had caught me up and were also now in Edmonton. So after a few fruitless phone calls I finally made contact with them on Sunday afternoon and we arranged to meet up at a coffee shop on the Trans Canada Highway at 10am on Monday.

My time with Rosemarie and Doris ( and Laura) had passed way too quickly. We had even managed to see Elvis once again; strange but he always seems to be in town when I arrive! It was a really good night out at the West Ed Mall’s Jubilation’s theatre watching Gracelands which of course featured a whole host of Elvis material and other 60’s songs. But all good things must end and it was time to finally bid farewell to my long lost cousins and head south (ish). Caroline and Jim were intent on riding the Icefields Parkway which I had taken on my last visit to Edmonton, but as I had turned off about half way along it I was more than happy to join them for the ride.

The giant garlic sausage at Mundare 

First downer of the day, the coffee shop was closed, so we headed off towards Jasper intent on stopping at the first sign of coffee! It was a long time coming, in fact we had to run all the way to Hinton, almost two thirds of the way to Jasper before we finally found a Subway where we thought we might as well have lunch as well. The lobster sub was good, the coffee rather less so, but then, we had been spoilt by Tim Horton’s superb coffee anything else was second best ! The Trans Canada Highway is not one of my favourite roads even though the traffic is generally fairly light. It’s just too straight and flat with mediocre views along this stretch until you get nearly to Jasper but there’s not really a lot of alternatives available. We also stocked up with groceries at the local Safeway supermarket then pushed on to Jasper for fuel before swinging left (south) along the Icefields Parkway.

Caroline at Athabasca Falls

The first campground we tried wouldn't let us stay as they had no bear boxes for our food supplies in spite of the fact that out aluminium panniers were probably stronger than the sides on an RV and…. we didn't sleep with our food right next to us. However it wasn't far to the next site which was just a couple of miles from the Athabasca falls. We soon had a roaring camp fire burning with the free wood which was on offer and with Caroline in charge of the cooking with Jim and I as her sous chefs, dinner took no time at all, starting with some wonderful Taber Sweet Corn cooked in its sheaves over the open flames. We washed it down with a couple of reasonably cold beers and just sat, chatted and relaxed, happy with a goods days ride.

We thought we had made a fairy sharp exit from the camp as we headed back along the road to the falls, but were

Athabasca Falls Pt2!

astounded to find that the coaches and a good few RVs had made an even earlier start, so the place was already very busy. I’d been there a few weeks previous but it was pretty enough to deserve a second look and a few more photos before we headed on along to the next big stop; the Icefields Glacier. On my previous visit I hadn’t bothered to join the madding crowd heading up the path to the very foot of the Glacier, but Caroline was intent on doing the hike, which whilst not over long, was quite steep, so I tagged along huffing and puffing on my little legs as Caroline just sort of glided along on her rather longer (and fitter) ones!!! It was definitely worth the effort expended just to try to get some idea of the scale of the Glacier. All along the way there were signs warning of the dangers of hidden crevasses, and telling people to stay on the paths. There was even a notice about a young boy who had strayed just yards from the path and his parents, slipped into a deep crevasse and had died of Hypothermia by the time he was recovered. Of course, all of this made no difference to the dozens upon dozens of people who thought they new better and wandered all over the place the wrong side of the barriers. I kept my camera at the ready, just in case !

Caroline & Jim at Lake Louise

 Our destination for the day was Banff but we made a quick stop at Lake Louise as we had all heard how lovely it is. Last time I was there it was all covered in a couple of feet of snow, which was in January 2014. This time the sun was shining brightly which of course meant that the crowds were also out in force. We didn’t even stay long enough to grad an ice-cream. Yes it was beautiful, but so full of people, cars and RVs that we felt no inclination to tarry. As we left I set the GPS up for Banff’s Safeway store which also happen to be a few hundred yards from the Visitor information office. So Groceries, Beers and Campsite were all sourced conveniently from one parking spot. The campsite was about 5km from the town and in a pretty location, in fact the first we tried was already full but we were directed to another just a few hundred yards further on. Once more Caroline performed her gastronomic miracles over the open fire. Starters of the last of our Taber Corn from the previous day with Pork Ribs, roast potatoes and broccoli; superb!

After diner we discussed our route for the following day which looked likely to be our last ride together as Jim wanted to run for the US border via Waterton Park, whilst I was heading to Creston and Taz & Joels place. We rode as far as Radium Hot Springs together, where after a coffee at Timmy’s, Jim and Caroline turned south whilst I headed north around the loop which would take me to Creston via Golden, Revelstoke and Nakusp.  It had been a fun two and a half days travelling with such good friends and we parted talking of hopefully meeting up again somewhere south of the border.

Lake Louise

I camped overnight at Nakusp, venue not only for the forthcoming Canadian Horizons Unlimited meeting but a BMW motorcycle meeting the weekend before it. I did think about hanging on for a couple of days for the BMW meeting but was so looking forward to getting back to Taz & Joel that I decided against it. The ride from Nakusp to Creston involved a nice twisty road through the mountains and two ferries. The scenery was fantastic with the warm sun just putting the icing on the cake. Stopping by a small lake to take a photograph, I was amazed to find thousands of tiny toads around the waters edge. There were signs asking people to be careful not to tread on them and I did my very best to comply. However as they were only about a centimetre in size and hopping around all over the place I can’t be certain that I didn’t squash one or two !!!

I arrived to a lovely welcome and just in time for one of Taz’s superb salad lunches, it was just like arriving home!

So now I have a few days to do a bit more fettling on the bike, sort out and tidy my kit and try to get my Esta extended for a further 90m days. Meanwhile I’ll get to not only enjoy the company of another two good friends but I’m told we will be going to a free open air concert on Monday evening. So it looks like Tuesday before my wheels move further than the Porthill customs post. That’s if I can find it through the thich smoke that is enveloping Creston Valley at the moment from wild fires just south of the border in Idaho… It really is getting quite worrying as we look out across the valley as we now cannot even see to the far side which is only about half a mile away. We are constantly watching the web site for any news of the fire spreading our way, but as I type this at 7pm local time all seems to be OK.

Crossing the Continental Divide!