It seemed like a good Idea at the time…. How often is that the start of an epic adventure... ?????
Well this story is no different.
My Dad passed away in October of 2009. I remember hearing about his adventure with a buddy in 1937 or 38 where they took a small ‘Francis Barnett’ motorcycle from Southern Alberta, to Vancouver to visit his friends’ sister.
My Dad passed away in October of 2009. I remember hearing about his adventure with a buddy in 1937 or 38 where they took a small ‘Francis Barnett’ motorcycle from Southern Alberta, to Vancouver to visit his friends’ sister.
Here’s what that means:
• One motorcycle (small)
• 2 boys 13 -14 years old
• 2 sets of everything
• No pavement
• Their route included passage
through Montana• Bad Weather
• Bad Roads
• Adventurous spirits that didn’t
know how to say “can’t”.
I don’t know much about their trip over all. However, I do know that they made it. I was talking to Dad a few years ago about this adventure, he told me that part of the way out on the trip to Vancouver a family in a car traveling the same way adopted these two (read: Took Pity) and one of them rode with the family while the other rode the motorcycle. There was a downhill crash off the edge of the gravel road; they had to drag the motorcycle back on to the road. I sincerely wonder if they ever said to themselves, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I know they made it. They had a nice visit in Vancouver, which most likely provided the inspiration for my Dad to return to Vancouver and attend University. But that is another story.
Ocean and traveled forestry roads from Calgary to the Mexico border, following the Continental Divideand crossing it 27 times while descending to more southern climes. Awesome trips, but again ‘those are different stories’…..
Due to some unforeseen circumstances, like my Bride of 33 years being diagnosed with Cancer and a head on collision at highway speeds between our motorcycle and an oncoming car, last summer did not include any Man Adventures. We had a wonderful summer last year, full of laughing and tenderness but there was no time for a M-A….. This summer was looking bleak as well, however an opportunity opened up for me to do a ‘M-A’ (Man Adventure) for a few days….. I considered a few adventures, including the Continental Divide Trail or even parts of it when the idea of going to Vancouver by Dirt started to percolate.
So the decision was made to re-create in a small way, my fathers’ trip of 70+ years ago…
I talked to my Bride and let her know my plan, and showed her the map. For the record she get’s lost on her way out of Wal-Mart so it was really an exercise in semantics for both of us. Being the good person she is … she looked over the maps with me and humored me. I checked the weather and decided to go to work on Monday and leave Tuesday morning. I came home from work Monday and started to think about necessities and packing. I was ready to go in a matter of an hour. Tent, sleeping bag, therma-rest, all stowed away in a water proof REI duffel, underwear, sox, tee shirts, tooth brush, and my heart medicine…. I forgot to tell you, I had a blood clot in my aorta in late May this year, fortunately for me, I lived. No damage to the heart muscle and no lasting effects. But that’s another story….. Note: I can always be good to go in moments notice.
Tuesday AM up and at ‘em, out the door and on the road before 7am. I was ready with a full tank of gas, great equipment, wonderful motorcycle, good map, GPS, cell phone, Satellite thingy. What could go wrong? So naïve…. I spent the next 3 days and 2000 km west bound in a “Full Body Pucker”… Concerned with getting run over by a Logging Truck, wondering if I could re-trace my steps when I got lost, wondering if I really was on the road I thought I was on. Truth be told, I spent the majority of the next 3 days LOST, Worried, and just plain puckered…. It was awesome.
The trip started with some back roads to Turner Valley and Longview and then some quick pavement to highway 532, the locals call it the Bump, as it is a short little bump/pass up and over into highway 40, also know as the ‘Forestry Trunk Road’….. The first 10 k or so consisted of freshly graded ‘loose’ gravel. This is definitely my least favorite road surface. It’s kind of slippery and a little grabby, even though the road looks flat and smooth the front tire can dive into gravel pockets and wander all over the surface. This is a surface that in my opinion is tolerated and endured rather than enjoyed. However soon enough I’ve paid my dues and enter into the real world back roads…. Gravel in the middle and tire groves on either side where traffic clears away loose rocks and leaves the road in a condition that I have come to appreciate and enjoy. 
As the road climbs up to a crescendo, there were some sheep congregated and digging and eating a hole in the road surface. I still don’t get it, but there it is for all to see and figure out. By the way these sheep were annoyed with me, the one in the back ground didn’t ever move from its resting place, it simply stared me down as I passed by….
Connector. The side Road quickly deteriorated from a good double track to a grassy flat ribbon of used-to-be-road that came into a clearing, the former site of the Johnston Saw Milling Company in the ‘50’s and 60’s’…. Now I know where that one goes… So the first
back track of the trip, back to the connector to see where it goes. Or will I be back tracking to
Highway 40, at this point who knows….. The ‘Connector’ worked.
There was only one place on Dutch Creek that provided me with extreme puckerage, it consisted of a good dirt double track and a creek. This creek must rage in the spring because it had carved a deep trench to facilitate its springtime raging. Well the V with a creek running at the bottom was about 15 to 20 feet deep with a steep decent and a quick steep ascent up the other side. The traveling surfaces were smooth dirt and in good shape, not much loose stuff. So with a deep breath and some grit and determination the creek and the V quickly became invisible in my rear view mirror. All that worry for what? Nothing! No big deal!! Isn’t that the way life is… we worry like crazy and the thing we were worried about often turns out to be ‘No Big Deal’…. 
I arrived at the Crows Nest Highway and need to quickly scoot to Fernie for a conference call with one of our US distributors and a Marine Client of theirs. I got there in time to get to the grocery store and collect some fresh fruit….. Organic Bananas were wonderful. Over the next few days I ate and shared and enjoyed the taste of my Extra Foods Organic Bananas … Hmmmmm…. Yummy. I called a friend who runs his engineering company from Fernie and visited him in his office for a few minutes prior to calling in on the conference. Now here’s a story, Clark (my friend) his wife Annie and their 3 children decided a few years ago that they would prefer to live in a small town rather than raise their children in the City and they moved ‘lock, stock, and barrel’ to Fernie. But again, that is another story…. To my disappointment the planned conference call ended up being postponed. Dang it…. I missed about 40 + km of gravel to get to this call on time. Oh well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do! And I had-ta do dat. Onward….. Just north of Fernie is a road called Hartley Creek, a double track that goes northwest and connects with the Bull River Road. Bull River Road was a surprise this time around. Wholly Smokes, the area has been harvested and the road is a comparative freeway. It was a quick trip to join up with East White Swan River Road and White Swan Lake Road… Zippy Quick work of those roads, the miles were swallowed up by the big dual sport in a matter of a few hours. The only stop was to give right of way to another group of Mountain Sheep. This time they herded in front of me and I was like the sheep dog pushing them to a different pasture. So I stopped and some of them ran straight up the cliff side while others simply let me pass as they glared with their giant marble sized eyes.
I had used up more time in Fernie than I had anticipated and wanted to push till dark or just after, I made an executive decision that I would take the White Swan Road to pavement and then travel south to Kimberly, with the intent of filling both tanks, man and machine. I became a man on a mission. Methodically pushing the machine to maximize speed and distance traveled during the arbitrarily allotted time. Why do I do that? I was on vacation, having an adventure, what gives with the intensity of time frames and racing myself…. I reached pavement and turned South. As I checked for traffic I noticed ‘Kindly’ on the side of the road with his Ukulele, barefoot, unshaven, singing and dancing while endeavoring to tempt a northbound driver beyond their capacity, to stop and give him a ride to places north of where he was presently stranded. I was south bound before I had a chance to think, yet something compelled me to go back and chat with this, this interesting character on the side of the road.
So for once I resisted the ‘I’m in a hurry’ motif and returned to have a chat with this interesting character.
This is Kindly…. I didn’t ask him how he got his name, some how I sincerely doubt that Kindly is the name his biological parents gave him. However in some interesting way the name has molded perfectly and he has become the very essence of his name. We parted with me wishing Kindly ‘Safe Travels’ …. While Kindly replied, ‘You too, Man’….
As I traveled south again I began to ponder what it would take to have a young man invest so many of his productive years in the way that Kindly apparently has and is? We have a son around the same age who is in Chile serving as an LDS Missionary…. Ya just gotta ask….why, what are the trigger points for these kind of life determining choices? This is worthy of thought; as I explored the differences and similarities in my thought pond, I eventually gave up. Until I have the chance to visit with Kindly and ask him some questions I don’t have enough information to come to a reasonable conclusion. I would like to visit with Kindly again and chat with him for a while and see why he selected his life style and where he expects to be in 5-10-20 years, what his vision for the future is. That would be an interesting story.
Kimberly finds me at a Shell station and the local pub for a burger….. Both were agreeable and hit the ‘spot’ with accuracy. Then south to Marysville and the St. Marys lake Rd…. This was a road that got deluged with extremely heavy rain while the sun was shining…. The powerful storm appeared to be north of the road however in some unique way, nature found fit to drench the motorcyclist while the sun was shining… this was awesome in it’s own distinct way. The sunny glair off the rain drops was brilliant. Not quite blinding but definitely bright. Silver streaks of pencil like raindrop missiles crashed to the earth and rebounded up about 8-10 inches soaking the outside of my Gore-Tex lined boots from the ground up…. The down pour drenched my jacket and gloves, all this while providing my motorcycle a delightful bug wash, the story would have been significantly different had the surface not been asphalt. Up and over Gray Creek Rd to the shores of Kootenay Lake and scoot to the ferry landing at Crawford Bay….
When I do stop, it seems like I always meet very nice folks…. These folks on the ferry are from Calgary, Australia, and Kelowna…. The two guys are concluding a month long excursion around western USA…. They are riding Dual Sports from Ducati and Triumph…. While the couple from Calgary is Cruzin’…. I’m the only Dirt Dude…. When they hear where I’ve come from today and the route I have taken every one is amazed and perplexed…. The Cruzer guy was intrigued and I think a little jealous.
Exit the ferry stage left… Off to
Willow Point and ‘Six Mile Road’. It’s a nice pavement drive to Willow Point, about 20 km of twisty goodness. Then just like the map said, Six Mile Road appears and I’m back in the bushes. This is a forestry Rd… not a logging road, it is narrow and somewhat over grown. Oh oooo, I came to a junction, the choice is, up a main road or straight ahead on a narrow overgrown road to ‘Six Mile Lakes’…. I choose the road more traveled, (Wrong). In 30 minutes I realize that the road I have taken is not going to end well so that means turn around and go back to the junction and see where the overgrown one goes…. Well it goes through to another junction, I take the road to the right and start to climb… before long lights are required and I see two sets of lights coming toward me. It turns out to be a Honda 90 and a Honda Side by Side. We stop to chat, I ask if I’m going the right way to get to Highway 6, the answer is NO!... “You should have turned left at Sasquatch Lake…” Who knew? I asked where the duo was headed. They told me that they were on their way to the highway. I asked if I could follow and be the ‘Tail Gunner’, they said no problem. We start to plummet out of the mountains on our way to the valley bottom. The road down was littered with large rocks and was a little technical to maneuver and wiggle my 800 lb loaded motorcycle down the rock laden track. It was Dark by now and there was a raging river to our right plummeting down the mountain side. I expect that the raging water was traveling at least two times faster than I was willing to pick my way down the mountain side. We arrived at the Pavement with out incident, where I was informed that the man on the Honda 90 had recently built some cabins that were for rent. They were literally across the highway and for less than 50 bucks I had a place that was out of the rain, where a bear would have to push in the door to get me. No running water and the outhouse was 50 yards from my front door…. But it was comfortable, clean, inexpensive and convenient. What would you do? Add those things together and “I’m in!” every time. The back country has some very interesting and very colorful folks, my hosts were all of that.
I woke up to the sound of silence and sure enough it was Day 2. My hosts had informed me that my intended route to the north and west was impassable however the Rosebery Road just north of New Denver was a good one that would take me to Nakusp. Nuff Said, I’m on my way. 30 km of wiggly mountain road and I was in the intriguing town of New Denver, I think this place deserves a look around but alas not this trip. I’m on a time frame, I’ve got to get this done, come on let’s Go! What was I thinking? Sheesh, slow down a little.
Rosebery Rd, is a good one, a nicely maintained yet not overly traveled mountain road, great views, nice lakes along side the gravely ribbon of a road, and bear scat every 5 yards.
Just out of view to the right of this picture are 2 small fiberglass motor boats a boat launch into the lake, 2 trailers and trucks to tow the boats and trailers. So I know the rest of the road will be smooth sailing. Wrong! I took a road that wiggled up and around the left side of this picture; it was the billy goat road, sheesh. How did the boats get in there? Guaranteed they didn’t go the same way I went, not happening, nada. So how did they get in? I eventually came to a junction with a road that seems to go around the right side of the picture, it was a great road but I didn’t see it when I was at the lake… and the Map certainly indicates that ‘the road’ goes around the side of the lake I was on…. Hmmmm… a puzzler. Maybe I’ll figure it out next time. This is Wilson Lake…. “Them Wilson’s is everywhere!”
I filled up in Nakusp, just because it seemed like a good idea. It was! South on pavement for 15 km, to East Arrow and the ‘on demand’ ferry, over to the Dirt Dude side of Upper Arrow Lake, and head south to Edgewood. Edgewood is on the edge of Upper Arrow Lake, on the edge of the pavement, on the edge of civilization, on the edge of who knows where, maybe on the edge of extinction. So I headed south on Worthington Creek Rd… a well used worn gravel road that is empty for 2 hours, I saw zero evidence of human activity except for the road I was on must have been built by someone. I scooted down that road for quite a while. I found the correct joining road and turned right on Gable Rd and promptly got turned around and thoroughly lost, until I found a not so comforting sign…. What would you do? Haven’t seen a soul for 5 hours, the road has deteriorated to a poor double track and then into a green ribbon of grass and wild flowers that seemed to snake it’s way across a logged hillside. Proceed with Caution or back track? I think I was within 3-5 km from a thinly populated farm valley that promised to have access roads. But, what if I was wrong, I had about ½ tank of gas, what to do? I chickened out; turned around back tracked and found a road that was a ‘Sure Thing’….. Not!!!… within a little more than an hour I was back on another grassy mountain- flower used to be road with another ‘Road Deactivated’ sign…. Darn it, what now, do I chicken out again. I could hear our oldest Daughter politely saying “Baaaaaak, Baaaak, BaacKKK” So, no chicken for me this time and within a few km, I was scooting down a well groomed gravel farm/ranch road. Off to get fuel at Rock Creek.
I decided to gas up, body and bike at Rock Creek. For the record the Ulti burger has cheese, bacon, mushrooms, and a fried egg. Ya gotta eat that right? I waited out a Big Rain storm at the gas station and then another one at the eatery. Then north to Carmi and west to Penticton… At least that was the plan. I found the right road and commenced to the first junction where the main road announced its self as Carmi North, I was on Carmi, but Carmi North looked better traveled, so again I took the wrong road and got way back before turning around and back tracking. This time however after crossing a dilapidated wooden bridge; I got stuck on a gravelly hill that was frequented by quads…. I had crossed the scary broken bridge and started up a long slippery hill where I spun out and dug in the back tire. For the record, in those circumstances ya gotta just back out or turn around. Backing down seemed like a bad option, and turning around without tipping over was equally as unlikely. I turned around, and maintained my ‘Full Body Pucker’ for a long time. It was now officially dark, lights were required and another nasty storm seemed imminent. Time to exit stage left. I bailed and this time scooted to Kelowna 50 km away on fresh pavement. Found a cheap motel and needed sleep.
It’s now officially day 3 and I’m up early with the end potentially in my grasp, if all goes well I may reach Harrison Hot Springs before dark. Pitter patter let’s get at er’. Off to Peachland just south of Kelowna and head west on Princeton Rd…. The road was wide, graded with loose gravel and heavy wash boarding for 15 km…. I make good choices on roads and made it to Princeton quickly, fill up the machine, eat a banana and head north and west to Coalmont and Tulemeen. Gorgeous! A beautiful recreational and ranch valley spread out as I traveled a well groomed gravel back road.
I’ve never heard of Otter Lake, it is wonderfully out of the way, wonderfully large, scenic and absent of crowds. I saw an abandoned railroad bed in the valley; I expect it was part of the Kettle Valley RR…. The road continues and traverses ranch land galore. I wandered around until I came to a huge culvert that was big enough for 2 loaded logging trucks to pass through at the same time. The culvert was the underpass that went under Highway #5 also known as the Coquihalla Pass. This was a toll road built to shorten the route taken by the Trans Canada Highway #1 between Hope and Kamloops. While the road is much shorter it is a steep climb and a steep decent making it faster for automobile traffic but harder on the brakes and drive lines of large truck traffic. 
I quickly found Spies Road, I’m getting much better at this logistical stuff. Spies Rd is supposed to go all the way to Boston Bar, nice …. I’m impressed with my self. I stopped a pickup truck coming toward me and ask if this road continues to Boston Bar, the driver says maybe but it’s really over grown with alder trees and you won’t be able to make it through. The passenger; an indigenous citizen (native Indian) said “you’d be better off taking Jack Swart Forest Service Rd. I found the entrance to the road and started up a wonderful double track, then met up with a family that was in the bush on 3 quads, they confirmed that the Spies creek road does go through to Boston Bar but it is painfully overgrown. So off I went to Spences Bridge and then down to Lytton about 60 km of pavement….
Lunch which consisted of an egg salad sandwich was devoured in Lytton while visiting with a couple that were Harley aficionados, they have been riding for a few years and have been clocking over 50 K km each year. Can you say keeners? We swapped some great stories ate our sandwiches and continued our separate ways. I have their contact information and should keep in touch.
Just north of Lytton is a 2 car cable ferry that crosses the Frazer River. The rudder on this ferry is a 2x12 on the end of a long metal pipe. I found the road I was looking for and it quickly deteriorated into a kind of gravel/rock, climbing, descending, creek crossing, nightmare, on an Indian Reserve. I stopped at a house that looked like the road went right through their yard. I was hesitant to continue without permission so I stopped and went up to the house to ask if I was in the right spot. A mature man came to the door and confirmed that I was on the right track…. I kept creeping along until the road finally started to get a bit better and a little more traveled. 
There looked to be a house across some rail road tracks, 3 tracks to be precise. I decided that I needed additional confirmation of my where abouts, so I rode into a place that looked like a 100 year old homestead. There were some children playing in the yard. This place is at least 30 minutes from pavement to the south and 3 hours to the north. I again got confirmation that I’m not horribly lost and continue to Nahatlatch Road a few km to the south. Nahatlatch is a wonderful gravel road that seems like a major thoroughfare into the back country. In a few km I saw a tow truck with a diesel jetta wagon on the hook. Hmmmm. Not a good thing for the Jetta owner. I stopped and talked to the tow truck guy and asked about the road to Harrison Lake. He told me that in a few km I need to turn left and then turn left again shortly after. I asked if the road went through. He said, “ I think it used to, but I don’t know what shape it is in now.” Well at least I’m on the right track. Left and left and away I went…. In a few km I saw a black strip of what looked like diesel engine oil on the gravel.
It looks like they hit one of the many large rocks that littered the roadway and poked a hole in the oil pan. Now I know why the jetta was on a hook. Yikes, just how bad can this get? I guess I’m going to find out, cuz I’m not turning around now…. Up, up and away….
Up and Up and UP! Wholly smokes, will the road ever stop climbing? I was in 1st gear for a long time grinding up a loose road. It was in pretty good shape so I just continued to pick my way up and up some more.
I was following some tracks of a narrow vehicle with street tires and another quad like vehicle that had gone before the small car. I felt comfortable that if a car with street tires can make it, so can I. Perhaps the jetta just met up with some bad luck. Up and up some more, the road went so high that there was still snow at the side of the road; the mountains all around were rugged and majestically placed to discourage motorcyclists from attempting to approach the Ocean through their impenetrable gates. There were a lot of creeks and bridges due to the volume of water cascading down every little cut and valley on the hillside. Then the road began to descend. It fell out of the high country, and plummeted down the hill side into the valley below. Loose rock and steep descents provided significant penalty for poor wheel placement. Extreme caution was the order of the descent.
Then close to the bottom of the descent throw in a little land slide for good measure. It made for a very interesting 40 km…. Ya gotta love it. I did, I was puckered the whole way but kept pushing through and came out the other side.
From the bottom of the Kookipi Road back to Harrison Hot Springs proved to be a pleasant passage with well worn surface, even some stretches of dust control, always a treat. Not too far down stream from this stream I came around a corner and saw a Grizzly Bear running away from me. This bear was 3 ½ feet wide and 4 feet high at the rump and was bookin’ it away down the road. So what did I do you ask, well I chased it of course. The bear darted to the left side of the road into the forest and was gone in a flash. The question I have is … ‘What was I thinking?’ I think that was one of the top 100 dumbest things I’ve ever done. I say top 100 cuz I’ve allowed testosterone to over take my common sense more than a few times in the past. That as they say is another story….. What would I have done if the Bear decided to put the brakes on and turn to face me? Well after I soiled my self … I’m not sure. This whole encounter lasted maybe 4-5 seconds…. I saw a tee shirt at a motorcycle drag race once that said “What can go wrong in 4 seconds?” What was I thinking? Sheesh!!!! 
Not too long and I was amongst folks parked on the side of the road and camped on the beaches of Harrison Lake, which by the way is Huge…. I knew that the lake was large. I didn’t remember just how big it was…. It’s BIG! Surrounded by huge mountains with plunging lines and gigantic forests… The sun was beginning to set as I came around the south end of the lake…. In no time I had reached the western terminus of this M-A…. As I negotiated the tourist town of Harrison I realized just how unaccustomed to traffic and volumes of people I had become.
As I began to make my way North and East back to Calgary I began to exhale, I think that in my three days of Full Body Puckerage I had been holding my breath cuz I seemed to exhale for hours. I filled up at the 94 octane Chevron station in Hope and scooted back to Kamloops for a sleep. As the miles passed beneath my tires I began to consider 2 young teenage boys from the flatlands that decided to have an adventure 70 + years ago. My conquest of Vancouver by Dirt pales in contrast with those 2 young flatlanders …. My appreciation and admiration and respect for my father and his adventurous spirit grew 1000 times in those three days. While I believe with a day or so rest I could have returned to Calgary by Dirt. I made a conscious choice not to. Those 2 boys didn’t have a choice. They came home by Dirt. I am grateful that I had the opportunity and inclination to try to experience at least in some small way that adventure of 70 years ago. I’ve come to a profound conclusion….. I’m a wimp. Thank you Dad for being the Leader you are. I appreciate your indomitable spirit and ability to find the good in all situations. I will try to measure up. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” And it was!
