Matt Watkins Wandering North America

I was wiped out and spent an extra night.  Leaving Monday mornign about 7 a.m. MDT.  See my GPS tracks here.

The 2010 Utah 1088 is in the books and a great puzzle and ride.

Ken Meese – 104888 (first top place finisher consecutively in the Utah 1088)
Matt Watkins – 98270 (my first Utah podium)
Ken Morton – 91382

Other FJR Riders did well including our own Bionic Pelvis with 6th place (she placed 6th in the Cal24 last month) and Reno John 9th.

Stories are going to come out for sure and I have a good one about the difference between a 2nd and 1st since Ken and I played leapfrog all day.  It truly became a single choice of taking a left to reasonable, prudent, and safe vs. a right turn to risk, unruly throttle hands, and DNF risk.  I teased him I was riding west after my choice hoping he got time barred.

…he rolled into the finish line with about 10 minutes to spare….and I shook his hand.  Bold move!

Chalmers throws a Great Event.

More details once I get home and catch of REM sleep.

Change of plans…I wanted to read the packet one way, but was corrected.  Big changes to route…trying to figure a new one.  Going first up to Snowville for a checkpoint I was hoping we could skip.  Vegas is out now for sure.  Scramble, scramble, scramble.

I had some difficulty last night with the blog.  If it has problems refreshing….go to http://spotwalla.com/tripViewer.php?id=6296 or click here.

The ride starts at 7 a.m. with first checkpoint at and my plans are generally to snag  a couple in the SLC area…perhaps Ogden area.  Then head south to the national parks.  Vegas could be part of my route as well as other stuff in SE Utah and other stuff in Nevada.  You see me headed to Vegas I’m probably pretty happy.

Please do not share any of these details with other riders or other people affiliated with riders.  All us competitors that keep our GPS tracking open want to compete fairly, but we don’t need people cribbing off us.

Known Riders with SPOT Tracking include:

RenoJohn

Flyguy405

Frogpirate (only if he gives you a password)

Broad strokes it’s to head South towards various national parks in Southern Utah, maybe wander farther South or maybe West to Nevada and then back to the barn.  Very interesting packet.  I think I see the answer to the puzzle.  Now it’s if I can pull it off.  There are at least half a dozen, “What happens if….” things that are critical to pulling it off.

Just finished my odometer check and got my shirt.  That step means I’m all approved for the Utah 1088 and now have 3 1/2 hours until the mandatory riders meeting.

Some pictures and recap:  Steve relatively unblurry at last night’s barbecue…because he moves a lot when he tells a great story.  Enthralled include Bill Newton, Joel Rappaport, and another regular I haven’t remembered the name of.

Some long-distance riders we are….we have the hotel shuttle haul us to Wal Mart for supplies.  Typical goods included beef jerky, Utah state maps, water, and duct tape.

Mario Winkelman of LD Comfort, Cletha Walstrand from St. George, and Ken Morton studying nursing.

I secured myself a guaranteed extra 1,000 points by submitting to a pre-bonus pedicure.  While I definitely didn’t have pretty toes afterwards….they were voted most improved.  Sorry for the blurriness.  Ken, cameras, and pretty young women (she same after I did by the way) are a sketchy proposition one-handed.  He did better with the video here.

http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-IMe-KnMEA4/TCT6_q8BhcI/AAAAAAAAIfc/Xc2dBqkVRns/s800/P6251194b.jpg

Just had a wonderful breakfast with Joel R. and Dave McQueeney.  I mentioned Joel yesterday and we continued on with conversation about FJR’s, BMWs, and some of the differences of the Utah 1088 compared to the IBR.  He was pleasantly surprised to find out we don’t keep fuel logs and that 7 a.m. Sunday you have to have your packet in the box…not back to the finish line by that time.

Dave is a volunteer for the rally and ridden about every permutation of ride the IBA has to offer.  Dude’s a soft-spoken legend.

This morning I’ll be going to Wal-Mart to provision a few things like beef jerky, I’ll be checking out my rear brake light switch…I think it’s intermittent, confirming I can upload data to my GPS with new Streets and Trip 2010 version, and little odds and ends.

I also see RenoJohn is making he way from Wendover for a dramatic entrance.  RJ reminds me of Jethro Clampett with a website.

There are a lot of newbies this year and weirdly I find when I hear some discussion and I am able to help it along that some get quiet as I’m saying something sagely.  When more questions follow and people pay attention it feels kinda weird, but nice.

I hope to blog a bit this afternoon and should have a couple pictures in the next installment.

Tech Inspection begins at 1 p.m. and guessing to be done about 3 or so.  It includes paperwork, checking the bike for soundness, and running an odometer calibration route.

Then a riders meeting at 7 p.m.  After that the game begins……..breath Matt….breathe.

I left about 1 a.m. from home and made it down comfortably in about 9 hours.  Stopped at a Supercuts for the annual shearing of hair and treated myself to a tea tree scalp massage.  Best extra dollar I’ve ever spent.  Perhaps it was partly the attractive young lady.

At the hotel now drinking a beer, blogging a little, and gonna take a nap before the BBQ.  Mmmmmmmmm….mud pie!

Looks like I’m the 4th to get here with Warchild first (he’s picking up a girlie at the motel), Bill Newton from Arkansas, a bike I don’t recognize, and just after me rolled in Joel Rapp0port!

Joel is of significant interest because he’s ridden multiple Iron Butt Rallies on his 1976 BMW R60/6.  I got to ride with myself in New Mexico in 2009 and it’s just a classic bike.  He has more miles on that one bike than probably all us FJR riders combined…..it’s like an appendage to him.

However, Joel is NOT riding his BMW.  Instead he rode a new ‘09 FJR out from North Carolina for his first Utah 1088….his first 24 hour rally actually.  That’s unusual, but Joel and terms “normal” and “mainstream” rarely collide.

I gave him a some FJR advice a few months ago and while I would like to pretend it was sage advice…the bike just sells itself as a flawless LD and rally platform.  Knowing the answer well beforehand I still asked , “So, you like it?”

He said with a wry smile, “Well, it has about 114 more horsepower than my old bike.  I don’t have to pre-plan passes miles ahead….I just do it…. even within the actual passing zones…..it’s FAST!”

Joel likes it!

And I think the FJR and the Utah 1088 are going to like Joel.  Watch for this particular rookie….I sure am.  In fact, maybe read up on Joel…I am right now.

The twentieth Utah 1088 is this weekend. I’ll be riding down on Thursday, June 24th to start off the long weekend with a BBQ at the rallybastard’s home, and then adopting my game face Saturday morning at 7 a.m. Steve runs a smooth operation and you always get to see some great country.

Part of getting into game mode is chopping off my hair…usually at a Supercuts with #2 and #4 clipper.

Here’s my GPS commute.

Heading North

With a four day Memorial weekend I saved up the best and longest ride of the Dam Tour for the last.  A 2200 mile loop  through some of the most picturesque territory of Alberta, the farthest north I’d ever been at the 56th parallel, and  some views of interesting critters.

Night 1 – Pasco to Rathdrum, ID (175 miles)

200 Miles of Warm-Up

I started out with a short leg after work on Thursday and jetted up to Rathdrum for a home-cooked meal ith old friends in Rathdrum (thanks Val & Mike!).  This would prove to be the soggiest part of my trip, but my Aerostich, Oxtars, and LDComfort gear kept me warm and dry.  If only I could have made friends with their Daschsund….

Mike is a cyclist too actually.  He’s original owner of a Honda CBX…which in some ways is a precursor to the FJR.  More interestingly though is that it’s a straight six work of art that is scary 70’s era fast and a collectors item he rides occasionally.  This one isn’t his, but it’s just as cherry.

Day 1 – Rathdrum, ID to Hinton, AB (625 miles)

It’s Time for Your Close-Up Boundary Dam

Up and outta Rathdrum at about 7 a.m. I began my ride in earnest and meandered through Newport and other little northeast Washington bergs, and on past Metaline to the coordinates provided for Boundary Dam.  I noted it was on the east side of the dam and tried to read the notes the ride master put together.  It was a bit confusing, but I pressed on letting Betty the Biotch guide me.

Once I got to this overlook I instantly knew I was on the wrong side of the dam, but loved the view and the mechanics of the leaning power lines.

It was a nice view, but it was the wrong view.  According to the back of my laminate I was looking to ride through a “tunnel” and take a picture from the base of the thing.  I had to unwind 15 miles to Metaline, ride up the west side, and then ride the 15 miles again to Canada later.  While it would have been a major goof in rally mode…I wasn’t in rally mode and shrugged it off.  A half hour of motorcycling ground twice is still fun!

Arriving at the tourist side I was greeted by a guard…which is increasingly common with dams post 9/11.  I said I needed to ride through a “tunnel” to take a picture and focused on the exact verbiage the ride master wanted for this dam.  He radioed some lady and pleasantly whisked me through the gate to meet up with someone at the other end of the radio.

A very pleasant, young, attractive, hard-hat wearing woman was waiting for me as I rounded what would be just at the bottom right of the picture (30 miles later).   I reiterated my need to take a picture through a tunnel and realized a couple minutes into walking…she was giving me a tour I don’t think the average person gets to do.  I chatted her up and found out she was a Whitworth PoliSci student from the area and this was a summer intern gig.

She took me past several card locked doors and a tunnel complex that was astounding.  Sounds came from everywhere and air currents swirled around.  A cacophony of bass, staccato, and gradient temperature changes in what was Man taming Mother Nature’s watery wonder of harvest megawatts.  She pointed out grates and I feel and hear deep rumbly sounds of massive amounts of water under my feet.  Other smaller pipes heading from some place to another place gurgled their contents, electrical and industrial smells wafted by.  I just felt hydroelectric power in its rawest form.

I asked politely if I could take a picture thinking there was some special terrorist rule against it, but she obliged without hesitation.  I wanted to take lots of pics, but I felt like a self-conscious terrorist.

9/11 is weird that way.

Once through several card locked doors and past even more side passages I was treated to a great view I know no other Dam Tour rider has gotten.

What a treat!  Thanks Boundary Dam and Summer Intern!

I’d like to have stayed and wandered and sure the intern would have obliged, but I did need to get on the road.  I shot one more picture that I think was what the ride master probably wanted to begin with.  Suffice to say….I covered Boundary Dam from just about every angle possible other than one from a Cessna.

Crossing the Border Into Canuckistan

Many motorcycle riders and travelers have commented that entering Canada is a wholly different experience than returning through the U.S. border and this was no exception.  I think it starts with the dual names on signs in French.  The representative of Agence des services frontaliers du Canada asked me the obligatory questions of whether I was carrying “protection” including guns, knives, mace, or bear spray (to which I answered “No”), whether I was going to leave anything or buy anything (again No), how many days I was going to be in Canada, and if I was going to meet anybody while there?

I responded “4 days” and that I “might be meeting the Mayor of Hudon’s Hope” and at the same time as I was noticing his uniform was a very cool sweater he looked at me puzzled-like about something.  “Hudson’s Hope?”.

While another rider reported about how his venture into Canada confused the crossing guard when mentioning this little village–this one perked up and volunteered that he used to live there.  But he was both puzzled about me meeting a Mayor and though 4 days to get there and back was too short a time.

When I mentioned I was a Mayor in Pasco and could ride many miles on my motorcycle it’s like we had become good friends.  He used to live in Hudson’s Hope, knew about the Manhattan Project with Hanford, and seemed genuinely interested when I offered up my laminate for his inspection.  Nobody was behind me and I think he would like to have talked until somebody did, but finally very politely waved his hand, “I should let you go…you’ve got a great ride in front of you.”

That’s a great way to be welcomed to our neighboring country of the Great White North…ayy.

Radium Hot Springs and Other Transuranic Events

While the weather was still threatening and two laner meandered to the east and north I encountered at least three construction zones with traffic down to one lane.  It was slow going and I really wanted to get to Lake Louise as soon as possible.

I hoped the ride wouldn’t be like this the whole way.

Hanging à droite at Radium Hot Springs I immediately found the West Entrance to Banff.  I nice lady spoke French to begin with and quickly changed to a heavily accented English for my convenience.  She asked for $9.80 Canadian and I plopped down a credit card…the first of what I’d do many times and never handle a single loonie while I was in the country.

I’ve also come to learn that Canadians are chatty and she asked if I had been to Banff before…and I deadpanned quickly, “37 years ago…when I was 4.  Does that count?”  She smiled and wave me on with a smile and a wave.

What is Old Is New…and New Is Old

Once into the glacier peaked edges of Banff proper I had a small stream of memories come back.  I had been here in 1973 riding “Old Blue”–a 1967 Chevy pickup with a 289 small block, 4 speed stick, and and borrowed camper on back.  It was July, but even at the age of 4 I thought the snow and glaciers was mesmerizing.  And the water was a funky color.

Fast forward 37 years and it was still a funky color.   A bluish green that you’d catch in a certain light and the picture barely does justice.

It was effervescently green.

Milky turquoise bluish green.

That funky green in a Crayola box with at least 128 crayons and nothing like any green in 24 box.

A green I hadn’t seen in so many years that I had come to the long-decided and melancholy adult conclusion that my 4 year old eyes must have imagined things differently.

But, NO!  The memories were solid.  This was a different green than I’ve seen elsewhere.

I’d learn that it was a different hue because of glacier flour suspended in the water.

Haning a left at Lake Louise I had a very important picture to take.  In 1973 it was me glued to the bottom of a canoe because Dad rocked back and forth and told me alligators were in the lake….and I REALLY didn’t want to tip over.

In 2010 it was me convincing a puffy-pants hotel valet to let me park in front while I walked down to the lake and had a tourist take this picture of me.

There appeared to be no alligators this time…..

For more Banff childhood pictures click here.

Some Great Riding….Some Concern

After eating a burger I got back on the road and watched the afternoon press into evening and sky get darker with time and moisture adding to the clouds.  One thing smacked me between the eyes as I saw an unusual overpass in front of me that looked odd….mainly because there wasn’t any exit to use it and the shape wasn’t quite right.

As I drove past the first one of about 4 or 5 I figured out it was a wildlife overpass.  Seemingly, deer, bear, wolverine, and critters big and small would find this less threatening.  I’ve always been  bit torn about the HUGE expense we go through to make things seem natural.  Hmmmm.

Farther up the road I had a little uneasy jolt as I approached Athabasca Glacier.  If this was the same place I remember as a kid….all the stuff in the picture should be covered with ice…not just the glacier in the distance.

I’m not convinced we have the science all sorted out on Global Warming…especially with the amount connected to  human activity, but I’m increasingly sure that Climate Change is valid.  I know weather is not climate, but my single 37 year observation has me a bit concerned.

The bright spot was spotting an old Bombardier snow coach on display as a piece of history.  Those I remember!

As I rode further towards Jasper with the light and traffic ebbing further into nothingness I wicked up the FJR and enjoyed the solitude.  I’d pass a car maybe every 5 miles and the sheer magnitude of the valley of Banff and Jasper was putting itself into geological context.  I had ridden 150 miles straight up one giant glacier chute rimmed with the most jagged of mountain peaks flanking me in a scoured valley.  Granite, snow, ice, water, trees, and wildlife were at their least stressed in this jewel of Canadian National Parks…and I had ridden it.

As I left Jasper I veered away from the park, up above snowline on the side of the mountain and wave goodbye.  I wasn’t sure the rest of Canada would be this breathtaking, but I had renewed some vivid memories for another 37 years.

The Innate Need for Shelter

I’m in Canada so I suppose I should try to think in metric temperature…2 degrees C…..even if I’m pretending to read the speed signs as English.  A 100 kph limit seems natural to try in the English mode and 62 just seems stupid.  In fact, 110 seems just about perfect!

Regardless of velocity in the near-Solstice daylight that doesn’t seem to ever end…..it’s 10:15 p.m. local time and it starts to rain on me.  This made the sky brood darkly and kick in my instinct to find shelter.  Even though I wasn’t that tired I just didn’t forsee spending the whole night outside riding through the night.  If I did, somehwere about 2 or 3 a.m. i’d get tired and wouldn’t be able to sleep on a picnic table because of the near freezing temperature.  I’d have to stay on the bike plugged into the electric tether and idle all night.  This wasn’t night 10 of the Iron Butt Rally after all so I decided to hotel it.

I rolled into Hinton…a thoroughly modern little city replete with car dealers and a 24 hour grocery store.  $70 for a room and I settled in for the night figuring I’d ride hard the next day and snag the WAC Bennett Dam, and make good on visiting Hudson’s Hope.

Day 3 – Hinton, AB to Kamloops, BC……..what the Hell….on to Pasco, WA too (1450 miles)

I Have This Weird Feeling

Getting out of bed and having a very satisfying breakfast including bran muffins…I came to the four decade long conclusion that these little packages are Canadians single best contribution to world continental breakfast cuisine.  I’d eaten my colon stupid with the things in Victoria in 1979 and just never found American ones quite as good.

I even took an extra for the road and started mawing on it about the time I rounded this unusual jog in the highway through Grand Cache, AB.  I was awake and my mind was starting it’s daily ritual of daydreaming, playing what ifs, and miscellaneous wanderings.

One thought that entered my mind was that all this scenery had been new to me for at least 24 hours and started thinking of what if it didn’t really exist.  What if I was really part of a giant Truman Show and my  traveling 2300 miles was actually laps on a giant sound stage somewhere in Hollywood?

Ooooh….that’s a wicked thought.

What if I had become a giant thorn in the side of set producers with my long distance antics and gaffers were franticly resetting tree and building props ahead of me to maintain the illusion of a 12,000 mile wide planet?

Mmmmmm…this is getting more interesting.

A chunk of moist bran fell off the main stem and bounced down the highway in my rear view mirror.    Would the key grip miss it and I spot it the next lap?

And I came up on another bit of construction near a coal-fired power plant.  Trucks cross the road and the flagger looks worried.  He’s talking into his radio and looking at me.

Ahhhhhhh…this feels kinda weird.

And as I ease past the construction bottleneck I see this massive electrical plant below me.  However, there isn’t one high tension power line connected to the thing!

Arrrrgh…..I am on the Truman Show.

I’d find out later when I came back home that it wasn’t actually a powerplant, but a coal processing plant for the nearby massive coal deposits.  It’s still fun to have a Saturday morning fantasy though.

And I’d also find out that people genuinely have The Truman Show Delusion and it has its own Wikipedia entry.  Even weirder.

I’m Looney….Toons

And The Truman Show may be the more modern escape for this portion of the ride, but my recurring theme of revisiting my 4 year old childhood memory popped up after Grand Cache.  What was that cartoon with the kid pretending he was a famous characters?  My mind wandered as cells flashed through my mind.

What was his name?  Ugh…I needed WiFi and Google!  I was realizing on this ride that my life had been profoundly affected by him.  I grabbed another hand full of throttle and rocketed North.

Ralph!  His name was Ralph. He sat sick in his bed all day and daydreamed of adventures.

Ralph Phillips was my hero!  I was living Ralph’s Dream a half century later on a Yamaha FJR1300 heading for the Great White North to conquer and plant my flag!

Muskeg….All Around Me

Cruising further I noticed the mountains give way to a different topography and biomass.  Stunted trees and boggy ground with standing water.  Lots of white company trucks running around, yellow Caterpillar equipment staged in makeshift parking lots, and the occasional apparatus of pipe sticking out of the ground in well manicured clearings.

I passed a sign for “Muskeg River” and remembered Muskeg as a boggy kind of soil condition with permafrost drainage issue.  I was now farther north than I had ever been and it was looking more like episodes of the Discovery Channel.

The pipes were oil or gas wells…I think.  Go0gling since finds some information.

Otherwise the area reminded me very much of parts of Michigan and Wisconsin.

Grand Prairie….A Big City in a Rural Country

The biggest civic surprise I found was the city of Grand Prairie.  The whole time I had crossed the border I was under an illusion that civilization becomes more and more fleeting the closer to the pole you travel.

Not so.  Grand Prairie, Alberta is about the same size as Pasco with 50,000+ people.  Modern tract houses and McMansions littered the town….just double though the price of my hometown in Canuckian dollars.

And X band radar infested the city so much that I unplugged my Valentine One for the commute across northern suburbia.  Again some mixed feelings, but they were quickly overshadowed by a quick wave at a traffic-laden light of my buddy, Roger Van Santen, on an ‘05 FJR heading south after snagging his 20th dam.  Roger would be the second to complete the tour to my third…by about 24 hours.  Good job Roger!  I count myself in good company to flank him on the chart.

Pointed now NW I would then head through Dawson Creek and fight off the urge to engage in more daydreaming about Katie Holmes’ portrayal in the TV show of a very similar name.  My life isn’t THAT pop culture dammit!

But, I would note that the highway number changed and a sign pronounced it as the southern terminus of the Alaskan Highway and started thinking about my other buddies at Hyderseek partaking in halibut, salmon, and tall stories of their harrowed rides doing the IBA Xtreme 48++.  I had hosted two of the riders at my place a few days earlier and had thought about doing it, but the days didn’t quite work with my schedule and I really wanted to snag this dam and head back home.

Chetwynd and the Dash North

As I hooked a right at the last significant town in the area I pondered my gas supply and held out for Hudson’s Hope.  Good thing I did because the gas attendant was a stunningly beautiful young woman that made my day and should be Miss Canada.  Man, the road can be tough on a guy sometimes.

Out of town I winded up a marginal two-laner to the final destination and snapped this picture in a complete lack of fanfare.

Some tourists were milling around so I asked one to snap my picture…proof I was there and not just my bike.

A bald eagle would fly by right after I stashed my camera and not return, but I had made it to 56.02 degrees north latitude and would now be heading home.

New Bonus Location….Christie

All day I had been vacillating.  Do I snag the dam and spend the night in Chetwynd.  It was mid afternoon and I was now ahead of schedule.  But, I also had a girl back home that hoped I’d come back a day early.  400 miles down and only 1000 to go.  Should I jet home?

I did munch a turkey sandwich and bowl of righteous chicken & rice soup at a local deli and surfed free internet.  Dennis Hopper and Gary Coleman were dead on the TV and I was bummed of that fact…and that I was reconnecting myself to the normal US-centric worldview again.  I pondered my route and stamina reserve.

Screw it….I’d ride straight home barring ugly weather.  I had learned fellow riders got hosed in Calgary with 5 inches of snow and Roger would also get pummeled with snow on his way through Grand Cache.  I was living a charmed life and wanted to make it back to the warm covers of my bed at home!

I aimed west out of Chetwnyd bound for home and spotted a Goldwing going the other way with brake lights.  Llloyd!

We swapped photos and wished each good luck as semis whizzed by.

I had seen many deer and even a few elk on the trip, but a bit bummed I hadn’t seen something more exotic.  As it worked out I got to see up close a mama bear and two cubs on slope cut off the road.  Zoomed in I got pretty good pictures of the critters before they wandered into the brush.

Mom wasn’t quite as concerned and continued rooting around snacking on whatever she was smelling.  I did leave the bike running and ready to drag race if she changed her opinion at any time.

Cognitive Dissonance

I have noticed in the three or four times I’ve ridden in Canada a great scarcity of cops…in the rural areas at least.  But, at the same time I find incredible right-lane discipline.  People don’t travel in the left lane if there’s nobody in the right lane…and only long enough to pass somebody before moving right.

I love this country!

In the U.S. I’ve long lamented when people squat in the left lane and obstruct traffic are clueless, vigilantes, or traffic terrorists trying to drive “others” not just like them completely nuts.  I’ve even wished cops would pull people over more than worrying about speeding, but I can’t figure out why in a land with few cops that Canadians are FAR superior at moving to the right lane when there isn’t somewhere there.  Back to Ralph solving things….

A View Becomes a Slog

It’s probably a sad statement of affairs when a rider starts to think 97 down through Prince George is a disappointing view compared to Banff….but then the ride I had made the day earlier was nothing short of spectactular.  I was in commute mode at this point and not sure I’d see anything that would knock my socks off.

One amusing diversion was Stoner, BC.  One just can’t not laugh as they ride by Stoner!

And Quesnell.  Saying “Quesnell” a hundred times in your helmet makes you feel like a stoner.  Go figure.

Williams Lake came and passed as dark loomed again and I began a hopskotch through the town named “150 Mile House“.  And odd name and I saw 100 Mile House to the south, but curious that it actually closer to 47 miles away.

And who thought that breaking it up into units less than 50 miles was a good idea.  Do 70 Mile House residents suffer envy of the more-rounded-number 100 Mile House residents 24.6 miles away?

And I just felt sorry for the folks living in 122 Mile House, 127 Mile House, and 141 Mile House.  That’s just some tough naming there and they don’t even get their own Wikipedia entries.

I can only wonder if one day there will be 137.23 Mile House?

Hooking a left at Cache Creek I started to follow the wisdom of my GPS even though the road was getting narrower, the world darker, and wind more blustery.  I made it almost to Kamloops a bit after midnight and turned into a rest area.  I could go on for another hour or two, but I’d try and grab some sleep in this quiet area.

And I tried something new…I grabbed the bike cover and used it as a miniature little tent.  Hooked on my toes I found it stretch to the top of my helmet, hooked under my arms, and blocked the wind tremendously well.  And the spandex fabric still breathed to where air was fresh.

Day 3 (Part Deux) – Kamloops, BC to Home

It must have worked very well because almost exactly 90 minutes later and I woke up thinking I had just fallen asleep.   This was good actually!  Getting back on the road I could instantly tell it was a good full REM cycle to my credit and wasn’t suffering from sleep inertia.  I’d find out in an hour or two if it would be enough for the night and that I could pay off my sleep debt the next evening.  Believe it or not..I’ve become an amateur enthusiast on fatigue and much more aware of my personal sleep cycles as a result.  No microsleeps for me anymore…now that I know much more about it and can better manage it.

“Cue the Sun!”

As I rode through the rural two-laners not passing any cars at 3 a.m. I began to see lights through cloud breaks.  I knew sunlight was coming early, but it still seemed even a bit too early for this northern latitude.  As clouds broke up a bit I caught sight of the moon and smiled.  Very ethereal.

And as I rode closer to the border I rounded the corner of the river and caught an image that’s gotta be in the Top 10 of my life.  And this time I had a camera and time.  It was a perfect time before dawn too that it was still very dark, but a ghostly blue in the sky that would make for an interesting photo.

This is, perhaps, my best photo ever….certainly this season.

Moon Rise at Osoyoos

And as I rode the 20 or so miles to the border I couldn’t quite shake the feeling I was in that movie again and Christoff was up in the Moon watching me zoom around his set.

The Final Damn Dam

Inching across the border through a maze that rivaled something from Iraq the guard was far less friendly than his Canadian counterpart…but then it was 4:30 a.m. on a Sunday.  I’d rather have been in bed myself.

Nonetheless, they let me back into the country and I edged towards Salmon Dam for a picture of my 20th and final dam for the tour.  I did take a back road just south of  Tonasket that started out promising, but turned quickly into a washboard affair that vibrated the bike unmercifully.  Rejoining blacktop I snapped this early-morning photo of a very small embankment.

I celebrated the moment by taking a long piss on the tarmac and reveled in the gorgeous morning sun.

Not backtracking I rode asphalt through the little bohemian community of Concunully and wonderfully surprised as a place I could well imagine having a summer vacation spot.  Cute little berg and seemingly one real road coming in.

Back on 97 I meander home and sighed as I entered the door.  I was tired!

“In Case I Don’t See ‘Ya……Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Good Night”

2265 indicated miles later I landed in my bed and slept for a few hours before going to over to Christie’s sisters for a BBQ.  A great ride and glad to be back a day early to tell Christie the stories and pictures.  Hopefully, it doesn’t end in this alternate ending.