There is this weird thing that happens when you travel by motorcycle, something that I can’t really explain, but it is beautiful.
No matter where I go or what time of the year, there is almost always at least one person when I sit down somewhere, that will walk up, ask questions, comment, or strike up conversation.
It’s fascinating, because on one hand, there are people who fear motorcycles, and fear the motorcyclist, but on the other, there are people who willingly engage with them.
Whether trying to live vicariously throu
gh them in some way, or just trying to be friendly and offer a little conversation along the way while you travel solo.
It’s something that sometimes leaves me thinking about long after I’ve left, and have traveled miles out of town.
Before I left on my trip, I had several people ask me if I was “going alone”, and I would typically reply “yes, but you’re never really alone”.
This is an example of what I am talking about.
You always have a chance to meet new and exciting people and engage in conversation if you want it.
These become the people you remember, the positive reminder that the world isn’t full of a bunch of hate and cruelty.
These people are the reason you can be excited each day as you put hundreds of miles behind you, looking forward to the hundreds of miles in front of you, and the thousands of miles left in your journey.
So here’s to the best friends of 60 years in the coffee shop, the couple from Texas exploring the north before they settle down and start a family, the young woman sharing beers in the middle of nowhere, and the other countless encounters that make you feel like you’re never alone while traveling.
It didn’t take long to get out the door having packed the night before and being pretty much ready.
A quick cold shower (hot water wasn’t working…), tossed the luggage on, and away I went.
A half mile later I was at the border!
A brief exchange with the border agent, and I was in Stewart heading back down the opposite direction on 37A that I had traveled the day before, through the same magnificent display of beauty.
The clouds were lower this morning creating even more mystery to the passerby of where exactly all that water is coming from.
30 minutes later, I turned south on 37, and made my way to Kitwanga for fuel and breakfast at the Junction with 16.
Breakfast was their “2×4” breakfast from the dinner in the gas station. 2 bacon, 2 sausage, 2 ham, 2 eggs.
A hearty meal for the long slab of a day ahead.
I wasn’t worried about finding a camping spot at 10 Mile Lake that evening, so I wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get out of there and took my time eating my breakfast.
A couple walked in who were heading north who stayed in Smithers the night before and asked how the food there was.
I explained it was acceptable, they could probably hold back on the amount of oil they put on the griddle, but it was a good amount of food for the money.
Noticing my helmet and gear, they asked if the bike outside the window was mine, and I invited them to sit.
Typical chit chat until I had finished my meal up, and theirs had come. I wished them safe travels and I set out.
It was a much different ride today than it was just a few days ago.
The sun broke through the high clouds, and the temperature was noticeably warmer.
It didn’t seem like it took very long, but before I knew it, I was in Smithers.
Having lost my chain lube (I’m thinking at Bell II), I stopped in at the local Honda Dealer as it was right off of 16.
Walking in, I was greeted and asked if they could help with anything, and I told them I just needed lube.
They picked up a can off of a shelf and then asked about my CB, as they have not actually got one in yet or seen one.
The lady wanted to see how it was outfitted so when I was done paying she walked out with me to look it over and ask questions of how I liked it with putting so many miles on it.
She said the majority of bikes they sale in that area are either dirt bikes or quads. Makes sense.
I then headed out, opting to wait to lube my chain at the next fuel stop in Burns Lake where I would take a bit longer break to fuel up, and rest a bit before the push through to Prince George.
All this while, nothing exciting. Having now pushed through this area twice before, it all was very recognizable, and as I made my way to Burns Lake, then eventually to Prince George, I once again was pointed South towards home, and made the finals night push to 10 Mile Lake outside Quesnel.
As suspected, I had no problems finding a camp spot, in fact again, the same spot. That’s 3 for 3 in 6 years if you’re keeping count.
No? It’s ok, I wouldn’t have believed you even if you had said you were.
I set up camp, and walked around for a bit just to get the legs moving before finally settling in and making the last dinner of this trip.
Having had success with my tuna concoction the first night of my trip, I went ahead and made it again, just to verify that it was in fact, delicious.
And it was.
It is still early in the evening, and here I have some service so I take the time to write up the last couple days blogs having celebrated a bit too much last night.
Tomorrow is the slab home. I will forgo making breakfast and grab some Denny’s. Pancakes sound amazing, and that’s honestly what I’m craving the most.
I walked out to the gate earlier to see about being able to squeeze the bike through the pedestrian entrance. The gate is locked between 11pm and 7 and I’d like to get out of here before 7.
It will be tight, especially since it curves around the gate, but I think if i pull the panniers off, I should be able to come in around and into it just fine.
Guess I’ll find out in the morning.