On Two Wheels At 66 Degrees North (Yukon Bound Part 1) - July 3-5

Trip Overview:

Departed San Diego Tues July 3, 2018

Returned Wed July 25, 2018

From Great Falls, MT, through Saskatchewan, Alberta, BC, Yukon, BC, and ended at Tacoma, WA

5,300 miles (8500 km) travelled over 92 hours run time

15 riding days.  Avg 530km/day and just over 6hr/day

Pre-Departure (Oct 2017 – Jun 2018):

This Canadian road trip began in Kingston, Ontario in mid-Oct 2017 when Bill Moore casually mentioned he’d bought a Scrambler Ducati (2017 Desert Sled) and planned to ride it to Tuktoyaktuk across the finally “finished” gravel road from Inuvik.  Tuk had been all but unreachable except during winter, and then by sled, snowmobile and air, prior to the long-awaited completion of this section of road. He must have said the words ‘desert sled’ and ‘Tuktoyaktuk’ thirty times in the 5 minutes it took for me to decide and then respond that I was coming with him.   I invited myself without waiting or knowing if he was even ok with having a trip companion – he never said no….  Despite having virtually never spoken in the 30 years prior, we were suddenly planning a 3 week trip together.  We communicated, as guys tend to do, almost exclusively by email and text over 7 months of planning later, detailing the route and packing requirements and timing and expectations (much of it anchored to Bill’s college teaching schedule).

Bill's new 2017 Desert Sled

 My bike, purchased at 24K miles, required its 30K mile service and since we would be riding at least 8,000km full service and maintenance needed to be done (first time for me doing shim replacement and belts on this twin 1200 desmo).   My ride north of the 66th parallel also needed to start much closer to the 49th parallel than my current location at the 33rd parallel.  I chose to ship my bike to Montana at least a month prior to Trip Day 1.

Finally the June day arrived, and I trailered my Ducati Multistrada (already packed with most of my gear) to a Poway warehouse for shipment to Great Falls Montana – a trip that could take anywhere from 2-5 weeks, but was scheduled for delivery a week prior to my arrival.  The shipping experience itself is a nail-biting story, but eventually came out ok after a lot of begging and cursing and sweating and breath-holding (in a nutshell, with little warning I was informed that the truck left for GF without my bike and they couldn’t get it there until 2 days after I’d planned to leave…!).

July 3 (tues):

Two easy flights on July 3 got me and my riding gear to GF mid afternoon, with clear skies to the east and a little darkening to the northwest.  It was a fairly long wait for an Uber at the airport, and I spent the ride peppering my driver with questions about living in GF and the difference between Uber and Lyft.  He supplied minor details about a standing connection, er fare, who was pinging him for a ride most of the way.  But we proceeded straight over to the east side of town to see Steve at Steve’s Sports Center off the 87 where my Multistrada was hopefully in the same condition as it was when I’d dropped it off in Poway 4 weeks earlier.  For $50 the shop owner had received my bike from the shippers and put the battery on a charger.  Perfect! The next day was Fourth of July celebrations and most businesses were closed.  If I missed him, it would add at least 1.5 days in schedule delay.  But as hoped and planned, in under an hour I was on my bike and riding to the local Holiday Inn and deciding where I might grab a beer to chill for the evening.

July 4 (wed):

Standard hotel buffet breakfast; packed and all ready after almost 9 months of planning - I couldn't believe it!  Sunny and 62 leaving GF around 7am.  The smoking lady shuttle driver liked my bike.  I had originally expected a direct north route to Calgary, which would have made for about a 600km day.  I had also hoped to meet up there to say hi to Paul Sbrizzi (unfortunately he was back in Ontario for his dad’s 80^th birthday celebration anyway….).  But delays on Bill’s side meant that in four days he had barely left Ontario - rain and wind closed the Mackinac bridge (10^th longest suspension bridge) for many hours, and freeway riding & distances were not something to which Bill was yet accustomed.  It seemed prudent to meet up somewhere in Saskatchewan instead – but where?  And how much extra riding distance would I be doing?  Ride east to go west?  Ok.  I left on a northeasterly path up the 87 towards Havre and the 241 to the border at Climax (yes, Climax – I really should have stopped to photograph one of the tall grain silos in the area).  Mostly 65-70 degrees and some cloud on the way.  Many farms and rolling hills.  Absolutely perfect riding conditions – some headwind was apparent as proven by low mpg in my records at the end of the trip.  The windscreen mods I'd made proved adequate and the wind noise was tolerable.

The Canadian border popped up rather suddenly, looking like a small roadside bar (or an In-n-Out Burger) – except for the dueling flagpoles on either side of the kiosk.  Entry was relatively uneventful, except the customs agent guy kept whispering when I kept reminding him that I was wearing earplugs.  I hardly heard anything he said.  I asked if I should remove my helmet and glasses and he replied no – so he also had no idea what I actually looked like apart from the documents I’d handed him.

Boarder Station

Welcome to Saskatchewan!

My first fillup in Canada was a poor experience.  Coming up the 37 and hitting the TransCanada near Gull Lake, I stopped at a chain gas station.  The pump required preauthorization, and gal behind the counter did not speak English so well.  I didn’t want to pay $50 for gas and then get refunded (as it seemed to me) – she couldn’t explain the process, and it was made worse when she asked what amount I wanted (in L) and I hadn't yet calibrated my brain to the necessary conversions.  A guy in line was kind enough to remind me what the math was, but it didn’t quite resolve my anxiety.  I should have just let it go and really have no idea why I let myself get so quickly frustrated after hours of beautiful roads and perfect weather.  Once I understood it was only pre-authorization and that I’d return for the actual receipt did I relax and accept the same for the next 30 gas stops (yes, I made 30 gas stops in Canada, and swiped my credit card nearly 80 times).
Almost on my way and finding my zen again, the old station owner (I’m guessing) tells me I'm parked in a handicap space.  It took several tries to get his point across as I was fairly sure I was minding my own business in an un-marked spot.  On top of that, he expressed some anxiety that the big truck yonder was waiting to park in that space and disgorge some needy immobile person.  Given the broken asphalt, walkway and no painted lines, it was impossible to even tell if I was in a parking space let alone one for handicapped (a tiny sign up on wall was later spotted, though was not entirely definitive).  Ok, I pushed it over one spot for the two minutes it would take me to put my gear back on and leave.  Turned out the guy in big truck was just lining up for gas.  Er, welcome to Canada.

People frequently commented on my Ducati at hotels and gas stations – beautiful bike!  I hope the later addition of my red and black graphics to the stock Arctic Pearl White paint don’t make it look too much like a candy cane….

The weather remained optimal for riding – low 70’s with a bit of a headwind as I rode east (a strange thing to be doing).  At this point I was keeping tabs on Bill’s progress and periodically tried to determine how far east I would have to ride, knowing that we had to re-ride the same ground again tomorrow.  I stopped numerous times on 1hwy to check texts from Bill (he was not so good at turning on data when roaming which made it very hard to get up-to-date info on where he was).  How far was he?  How far could he reasonably ride today?  Where to meet?  How much extra mileage will I have to go?  (turns out 800km!).  I finally got a text from him while I was pulled over on the Trans Canada.  We agreed to meet in Moose Jaw, which was maybe 45 more minutes east for me at that point.  I had plenty of daylight and ended up at least 3 hours ahead of Bill.  I checked into a very nice Best Western and made a quick call to mother Mary over a beer while waiting for dinner at Rock Creek Grill.  Fantastic haddock and yam fries, actually.  Walked over to the local Walmart and photographed Mac the giant moose (it was Moose Jaw, afterall).

So great to finally see Bill later that evening.  He was simply road toast at that point, 4 (5?) days from home and riding virtually half way across the country through rain and wind.  I was still fresh on (ride) Day 1.  He already had a long travel log to download on me, and we got a decent nights’ sleep.

Sidebar – I had much earlier raised with Bill the plan to use Bluetooth communicators during the ride, and brought two with me for the purpose.  I could not get Bill to put one on his helmet.  Figured he would be more receptive in later days and let it go, but we never did use the headsets at any point during the trip…

July 5 (Thurs):

SLOWWWWWW start in MJ on this Thursday morning. 10am departure.  I was ready to leave by 7:30 and we had many miles yet to cover.  Yes, it had been a very long 5 days for Bill up to now and he was beat, but OMG, he packed so much and used individual bags each with individual straps.  It was a nightmare taking anything off or putting it back on.  It would be almost two weeks before our arrival/departure process sorted itself out within any margin of efficiency.  And then there was the extra fuel container locked to the side of his bike’s frame; the capacity of his standard tank was under 2/3 my tank.  We could go about the same distance on total fuel, but it meant stopping almost twice as much (either for him to re-fill at the side of the road, or for both of us to fill at a station when I had used barely half a tank).  A potentially troubling issue, but in reality it was fine.  I am generally one for getting on a bike and riding only until I HAVE to stop.

Got “my picture taken” by a Sask road crew after passing a few very slow cars along a wide-open prairie stretch within a “do not pass” section (the coming roadworks – of just a matter of feet by the side of road – was very poorly marked and appeared only after many miles the other side of a rise marked by nothing but 3 cones a mile back which gave the appearance that the work was over and they’d just forgotten to notify the driving public of the fact).  Likely a ticket (doubled in a work zone!).  Upon returning home, I looked up reciprocity between provinces and states – some have agreements, many don't, so it appeared very unlikely that I would be hearing from the province of Saskatchewan for their $2-300.

Temperatures began heating up quite a bit as the rest of the morning passed under our wheels, into the low 80’s by noon.  First break (why not?) and first Tim Horton’s (for sure!) in Brook.   Not long on the road yet, but a welcome break nonetheless; good coffee; good donuts – ok, I had two!  Sent a few texts with Cindy indicating that all is good, and hit the road west again.

This particular day would measure up as our second longest day of the trip - 10 hours saddle time and 845km to Banff (from MJ).  From the foothills to the eastern slope of the Rockies, we began to reel in more and more of the mountains as we proceeded west.  We literally missed the entire city of Calgary on the way by due to the ring road bypass (these roads are entirely new since I lived there in ‘92-’93).  A bit of a shame as I wanted to see some of the downtown, but we were getting towards 5pm and needed to ride another 150km or so.  I recalled how great the road (still TransCanada) leading up towards Banff was, and the asphalt (and scenery) did not disappoint.  Bill was still coming to terms with cornering at speed, and slowed for even the slightest kink in the road.  Despite encouraging hand-taps on the back of my bike, it would be weeks until he stuck more closely to my tail.  Temps began cooling slightly as we gained elevation and as the sun began to dip towards the peaks.  Congestion around Calgary was predictably heavy, but the section leading up to Banff was relatively light until the final few km into town where it was bumper to bumper.

As this was my first ride day with Bill, we were both feeling out each other’s riding styles, and Bill had noted many times that street riding was not his usual thing.  I did find that his overall approach was somewhat hesitant, but eminently competent; also that he would not ride together – meaning close to each other or, in other words, some kind of ‘formation’.  He always lagged way back, which, in my experience, can be unsafe since it sends a confusing message to other drivers (are we together or not?  Can they pull in between us?  If one pulls off or moves over will the other too?).  Though I did not presume that it was my role to teach Bill anything, I had ridden many times before in situations where not all riders were on the same page (sidebar within a sidebar – the AZ riders we met later were all former motor cops and we could see while following them that they were the epitome of formation riding, where each person knew his role and exactly what the others were doing at all times – and they rode CLOSE).  Our situation was compounded by Bill’s reluctance to use the headsets I brought, which would have immediately clarified any fleeting idea either of us had.  I periodically tapped – yes, sometimes dramatically – the back of my saddlebag in an attempt to get him to ride on my flank.  I also wanted to speed him up on the sweeping corners (which is much easier to grow accustomed to if physically closer to a lead bike).  Each time there was barely any movement to close the gap and eventually no change at all.  He was going to ride his pace, his way, so I eventually gave up.  I later explained what I was doing but did not press the point.  He admitted that he was still building his confidence on the street but it was almost a week before he acknowledged that he was also led to believe that it was bad form to ride close to another rider.  In the end he never really did.  Though his speed and confidence improved greatly.

We stopped, and found Banff and Canmore hotels mostly booked up.  We thus ended up in an expensive ($300/night) hotel – Bow View; horrible dead crab smell in hallway; adequate room. 

Here’s my trip ‘thing’ – there is a point at which riding ends and you call it a day – done, end, over.  No maintenance or gas or looking for something or deciding where you’re going to sleep that night.  From then on, the only thing that matters is dropping your stuff at a motel and going to grab a beer and then (or simultaneously) sit down to a decent meal.  For me this puts a stamp on the day, a pin in events, and provides a comforting, punctuated structure to my brain.  I like to know when the day is done and I can unwind and think about the day and perhaps talk about the next day.

Rose  & Crown

The town seemed busy for a Thursday, and we grappled with where to eat.  Having spent time in Banff decades prior, I instantly recognized the Rose & Crown, door off the main street, up an old wooden staircase!  Wow, just as I remembered it, from so many late nights and great live music events.  Great memories; and a band was playing that night too.  Burgers were fairly good and the beers excellent.  Bill allowed me to recall some ski trip stories from back in the days shortly after I’d finished grad school and finally had some disposable income to spend.  Boy, it felt so 90’s and present to me at the same time.  I couldn’t get over who or when I was.