The Great White North, eh!

[boney]

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

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

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

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

Ootsa Lake is HUGE.

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

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

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

 

[Butch]

epic.
best of barf?

 

[boney]

Dang, boney!:wow I wanna hang with you!


So, the old guy you ran across on the XL...what was that tube thing hanging from the left side panel?

Keep the photos comin'!



WoodsChick

He had a home made rack all the way around the rear of that bike. The tube is a tool tube. Notice behind the headlight-- it's an auxilliary gas tank that holds another 3/4 of a gallon.

 

[boney]

Day 7:

"What day is it?"
"7"
"Yeah, I know but what day is it?"
"I don't know. But it doesn't really matter, day 10 is the ferry."
"Day 10? That's like 3 days from now?"
"Yeah."
"We'd better figure out what we want to do, we're running out of time!"

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

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

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

But first, old steam tractors:

Cautions about traffic:

More blitzing the locals:

...and not getting lost:

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[boney]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[flying_hun]

This is very good stuff! :applause

 

[boney]

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

and here:

One last obstacle:

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

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

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

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

Don't take the Lava, eh:

 

[boney]

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

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

 

[budman]

:hail :applause :hail :thumbup

Awesome..!!!!!!!!!

:smoking

 

[boney]

Day 8:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Out on the end, the scene was surreal:

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

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

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

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

 

[NoGall]

This is teh awesome!

 

[Gester]

epic.
best of barf?

I vote YES! arty

 

[Jcrocker]

.... must...get... adventure touring bike !

 

[flying_hun]

.... must...get... adventure touring bike !

+1 It's at the top of my list too. :thumbup

 

[Map8]

This is teh awesome!

Yup. Ten kinds of awesome.

 

[boney]

Day 9:
http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6767

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

We get back and we're just in time:

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

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

 

[boney]

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

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

I find the offending phone and hit the snooze button.

 

[boney]

9 minutes later the alarm goes off again.

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

The route:

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

Here's the lineup on the tarmac:

Lots of hogs, and all very nice people. Lucky for me there was a little coffee cart in service over by the restrooms, and I could get a strong cup of coffee and a muffin.

Strapped down on the ferry:

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

Gone fishin'

Somewhere along the inside passage:

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

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

 

[boney]

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

Yep, it's a port:

Okay, that's enough fooling around- gotta go!
http://maps.innersource.com/GProject.aspx?pid=6768

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

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

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

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

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

The wait at the border is 45 minutes:

The "Unity Arch" crossing:

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

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

In Bellingham we stop for dinner and gas:

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

 

[boney]

The following morning I got up relatively early and loaded the bike into the truck for the 600 mile drive home.

Thanks for coming along on the tale.