August 1, 2008 - Friday - Day 32
USA/MEXICO/CANADA
DOUBLE CROSS COUNTRY
& THE TRANSCANADA HIGHWAY
-- OR BUST - SUMMER 2008
Miles Today - 326 - Total Miles - 7232
Salmon Arm, BC, Canada - to - Calgary, Alberta, Canada
(-staying at The Point Motel -)
(BC-Alberta)
- CHALLENGES, DECISIONS, AND ULTIMATLY, THE BEST MOTORCYCLING DAY EVER - - A NEW FAVORITE PLACE -
I'm not a jaded guy. But since I've been so many places, and seen so much of the American continent, it takes a lot to take my breath away. For much of today though, my jaw was constantly dropping, and my eyes were wide with all the wonderment to behold.
To unfold this amazing day the way it should be told, would take a writer with far more skills than I possess…. I reread all that's below, and look at the pictures, and I'm frustrated that it just doesn't convey a tenth of the day.
I awoke at 4:30am and thought I'd have another problem with not being able to get back to sleep, but I rolled into some really sweet dreaming, and got a couple more hours of restful shuteye.
It was the first night that the tarp was put to good use - it rained overnight. I hung it dry on the nearby fence. (I do put the cover on the bike every night. It protects from rain as last night, and also a covered bike is less of a temptation for someone to come messing around it.)
My run took me out onto the highway and then through part of the little town. The ring of mountains, with dramatic clouds nuzzling the peaks was breathtaking.
Back in the room, and before departing, I gave my contact lenses a really good cleaning this morning. It made a difference throughout the day.
The secret to almost everything is getting a good morning jump on the day.
About mid-morning, I passed a bicyclist, and his pump was hanging off the back of his bike precariously. It flashed me back to one of my southwestern desert rides where part of the pump had actually fallen off, and I was left with no way to pump up my tires should I have needed air (which I did!) in the total middle of nowhere. He didn't quite get what I pointed out as I went by, so I rode about a hundred yards ahead, pulled over, leaned back in the crisp morning air, and waited for him. David was riding this part of Canada, and had a long haul ahead into the mountains. First thing I always say to bicyclists is, “You need anything?”
He didn't need a thing. I told him how often as I was motorcycling along and I wished I was on a bicycle instead. He said when it came to the mountains, HE wished he had a motorcycle! We both laughed.
The lean guy was from Quebec. I said I'd give him a shout when I went through Quebec further down the road. As I mention to all travelers, I told him if he ever got through Philadelphia he'd have a place to stay. Then I took a couple pictures, gave him contact information so he could get the picture, and then we parted. At the expense of a wave, I got an action shot of him as I passed him down the road.
Soon it was all mountains as I crossed into Glacier National Park. Also rode through a bunch of rain showers. And it was cold. I kept debating whether to stop, and for the first time since the southern states, put on my rain slicker and the rain paints and gaiters recently purchased. I delayed all this as the sun seemed ahead and the showers were brief in duration. The mostly constant drizzle had me concerned.
But the morning was glorious in views near and distant. Great greens and brilliant blues - and everything in between with air rushing at me that was clean and energizing.
Shortly, around mid-day, just when I was getting a bit concerned about the gas situation, I came to an area where there was a store, some gas pumps, and a lovely looking lodge. It was set in just a magnificent little flat area near the top of the range with giant dramatic peaks all 'round.
Just as I finished gassing up, and was paying, the rains came. Rather the rains REALLY came. Torrents and buckets worth.
So I stood there thinking. And thinking. I had the choice - go out into the rain or go to that cushy-looking Glacier Park Lodge. I asked the fellow behind the counter what he thought. In his experience, would this storm continue or abate? He said that as far as he knew it would continue the rest of the day, and that's what the forecast predicted. Then, to my pleasant surprise, he gave me a paper that would give me $50 off the room price. Should I go or stay? (Hey reader, what would you do?) It was a dilemma. It was freezing cold out there, and pouring. Yet, I know how fickle the weather is in the mountains. Also, I had only put in 100 miles today, far short of goal for a second day in a row.
On the other hand, the rain made the roads and riding more dangerous, eliminated the views, and was a pain in the neck. Perhaps tomorrow morning would be dryer - OR - perhaps the rain would last for a couple of days… Also, I had just geared up for the rain, spending about 15 minutes leaning against the ice cream freezer, putting on my gaiters and long rain pants. And further, I had just asked someone coming from the direction I was going how the weather was - and they told me it was raining all the way for many miles. What to do? Frost's “The Road Not Taken” popped into my head…
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as long as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passage there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Clearly whatever I decided would have profound implications on the rest of the ride. (Just as when I took the extra day to spend with Mike back on Day 2. IF I hadn't taken that day, would I still be facing this problem now? Or would I have a whole new set of problems? So, I had a decision to make. And I made it - I decided to stay. I could catch up on lots of things and head for Calgary the next day.
Well, ummm… so the guy handed me the slip of paper that said $50 off the room rate of $150. And I headed out the door armed with the paper and a sense of disappointment but also resignation that I wasn't moving on.
At that point, a couple came in from the east on a motorcycle. It was a younger couple on a little bike. And they looked like drowned rats. They smiled over at me and I at them. I asked about the weather to the east and they said just beyond the coming tunnels it was clear. The guy suggested I wait fifteen minutes. So I had more conflicting info…
But then, an amazing thing happened. I stood there for about three minutes, again absorbed in thought about whether to go on or stay, and then received more new information of sorts: the sun came out dazzling brightly! The snow at the top of the peaks were spotlighted in a halo of shine.
Was it just a momentary lull in the storm? Well, the sky seemed blue.
Hmmmm…. With this new information in mind, I shoved the paper in my pocket, stuffed a candy bar in my mouth, and headed over to the Nomad which was still by the pump. I kicked it in gear and went out to the highway to have a closer look. Then I pulled off to the side looking at the mountains and the road ahead, and over at the Lodge. Again, what to do? I leaned back on the bike, turned off the engine, and enjoyed the moment. I took a ton of pictures of the mountains - and one over at the lodge. And one at the curious shop with the grass growing on the roof. And I enjoyed the moment for maybe ten to fifteen minutes out in the freshest of air possible - the after-rain wind blowing off the mountains and the trees. (Only the breeze coming in from the vast Pacific off the Oregon Coast can compare!) It was wondrous. Moments sublime. The nature before me was extraordinary. They were truly moments incomparable.
And no one else but me could make the decision whether to go or stay.
Should I have gone? Should I have stayed? I might have missed more beauty down the road. It might have rained for the next three days. The easy way out is to say it's all already written, or that some force directs us to right or to wrong. I don't believe that. That takes away our own responsibility. That takes away our essence as human beings to think. It takes away life itself. It kills initiative, and it's too easy an excuse when things go wrong. I believe we make, through our decisions foolish or wise or simple, our own futures.
Well, at that point, I did the only thing that my accumulated experience and my character COULD do. I turned the key, and continued down the road to plunge into whatever was ahead, and find whatever adventures were there.
And it was an afternoon through the mountains with scenes not to be forgotten. The roads were full of turns and challenges to me on my big cruiser bike.
My motorcycling friend from home, David, was just back from his ride in Canada. I'm sure he would have taken those hills with ease like a billy goat, and with confidence and enjoyment. I was nervous and sometimes scared, and not very confident at all. But the scenes before me make everything worthwhile.
At every turn there was a new panorama of amazing sights in every direction - especially toward the mountain tops. There were great swirling mountains to the right, bubbling creeks to the right and left. At one point a train, powerful and dramatic, even went by. It was just a sumptuous ride.
I took a short break in Golden. It was at an overview of the town, with the tracks and the river and the town below. And the ever-present majesty of the ever-changing be-clouded mountains all around. I reached into my rain slicker for the first time and I'll be darned if I didn't find my original set of molded earplugs!!! The last I wore the yellow jacket was in the deep south during a rain storm, and I must have put them in there and forgotten that's where they were. I was delighted that I hadn't lost them after all.
The traffic was stopped ahead as I rode beyond just beyond Golden. I thought it was an accident, but it was a herd of big horn sheep along the roadway. I pulled over and got a bunch of pretty nice and close-up shots. A couple of the animals skittered across the highway in front of quick-stopping cars. It's just amazing at how the sheep continued to dine on the grass on the almost vertical cliffs!
I came into the province of Alberta, Kicking Horse Country, in the rain - big splots of drops smacking me on the helmet and face.
I crossed the Continental Divide again today. And that's always a thrill. It was the second time this trip.
I stopped for gas in Banff. It was a little off the road, but the tank was about half full. And around these parts, it's just smart to keep filling up at about every station. Sometimes the distance between stations makes me pretty nervous. In this case, since I had to travel a bit off the highway, though it was a pain in the neck. But it was a smart thing to do.
Banff must be the tourist town where rich Canadians go. It's a busy little town with a bunch of Japanese tourists, too. Out in the middle of nowhere with scenic wonders beyond compare, it's no wonder that it was so crowded. There was the first traffic jam I'd seen in days! Tourist shops and visitor amenities abounded.
Right after Banff, and Dead Man's Flats, the dark clouds - and all clouds, in fact, disappeared and the sky turned total blue.
I never did actually turn around to look as I rode the 80 more miles toward Calgary, but the mountains and the menacing clouds receded slowly as I peered into my rearview mirror. Since both were so huge, it took awhile, but eventually, they were gone.
I got a good chuckle at a number of the names today. For instance, I passed “Jumping Pound Road” followed by “Jumping Pound Creek.” Who can make sense of that?
Into Calgary there are warning signs by the road that read, “WIND GUSTS”… And how! It's the first time that I felt myself and my 800-pound Nomad blown over a couple of feet at a time.
I rode by dazzling lakes beyond compare today - lakes that were deep blue, and ones that were deep aqua-marine, a greenish blue that I've never seen before... lakes that were distant patches of sparkle, and lakes that were lapping up on the roadside. They were as oddly compelling to the eye, as they were satisfying to the senses. It was wondrous to behold them all.
I rode into Calgary with the sense that I had just experienced one of the best days of my life. And right when I was thinking it had been all of Canada since I'd seen a Taco Belle one appeared, and I pulled right over.
I asked the pleasant but unfortunate looking lady behind the counter about availability of motels. And she said there was a motel section in the middle of town, but not to take any in the Taco Belle part of town, because there were “so many dopers here.”
I'm not sure that was so accurate but I made my way to the area she said, and sure enough there was a long row of places - all way too expensive. Except for the last one in the row. But the sad looking woman with the globs of too red rouge said they only had smoking rooms left. (It was Friday night, and I expected a problem.) So I continued on through town and finally came to a large place, a little run down, that met my needs and budget. By now it was about 7:30pm. I parked, checked in with the quiet-spoken neatly mustachioed man behind the counter and hauled my stuff up to the third floor.
I wanted to write about the day. The thoughts and images from the ride were swirling in my head, but I couldn't do much because my energy was spent.
People often ask me, “What's the favorite place you've been?” And I knew that after today the Oregon Coast answer had been replaced by “Highway One through Glacier National Park.”
