Bike Trip 2005

May 20/2005

I started out from a small town on Vancouver Island called Lake Cowichan. I planned on getting up early in the morning and catching the first ferry to Vancouver. I decided when the alarm rang, that I'd catch a later ferry. Here is my bike lined up at the 10:00 ferry.

Bikes get to go to the front of their own line, and I was the only bike there.

I had a really big black bag on the back full of clothing and pretty well everything I owned. I had a set of touring bags waiting for me out east. My tankbag was full, the city bags full, and the big black bag full. However, the big Beemer handled it all pretty well.

I had new Michelin Mac 50 tires on the bike, and everything else was ready for a long trip. My first real destination was Toronto, where I had some old friends.

The ferry arrived at Tsawassan just outside Vancouver at about 12:00. I was really anxious to get away from Vancouver and into the mountains.

It took me another couple of hours to get there. I rode along the fraser river valley plains until finally I entered the rocky mountains.

I took the southern route called the Crow's Nest route, which goes through, you guessed it, the Crow's Nest Pass, the highest pass in the Canadian Rockies. I was very warm until I reached the mountains, and it started to get cooler and cooler as I climbed higher and higher.

The first thing I noticed when I started up into the mountains, was a road sign that said something about no gas for the next 130 kilometres. I checked my fuel tank and told myself that shouldn't be a problem, my tank was over half full.

As I put on kilometre after kilometre, and my tank gauge read lower and lower I started to worry a bit. Where is that gas station I wondered. Finally, sure enough a gas station appeared and I pulled in and up to the pump. Put the hose in the tank and nothing happened. Kept trying until a guy came out and said he had no gas due to a break-in a couple of days ago. Geez, I said, I need gas pretty bad!

Now out this way there isn't much of anything let alone gas stations, but I figured it must be closer going ahead than back, and I'd gone 130 kms, so going back was not an option. I headed on up the road, my gas gauge reading above the red zone, but pretty low none the less.

I kept going and going, while my gas gauge got lower and lower, and civilization grew sparser and thinner. Not much traffic this early in the season either, just the odd truck every 10 minutes or so. I was getting really worried.

Soon my gas gauge was at the very bottom, a position I'd never seen it. I didn't know how much gas I had, but I knew it wasn't much. The red low fuel light on the instrument pod continued to glare at me. I had been riding slower for awhile now, trying to maximize my mileage. Now I slowed to 60 km/hr. The road here was medium sized curves, mostly uphill, climbing ever higher. Suddenly I felt that familiar cut-out of an engine that's out of gas. My heart was in the back of my throat, as visions of flagging down a truck and sitting at the side of this road flashed through my brain.

Damn damn damn, I was mad at myself for not filling up when I saw that road sign. This was not a good start to my trip. There was no way I could carry all the stuff on the bike, that big black bag must weight close to what a small woman weighs.

So I did what any biker in that situation would do, I started bouncing the bike and wiggling side to side as the bike started slowing down. The engine cut back in and I motored along, trying to keep up enough speed to coast for a long ways if I had to. In a couple more minutes the engine cut out again, and again I did the circus ride trick, and again the motor caught. I can't remember now many times this happened, but it seemed there continued to be more gas in the tank that I was able to slosh over to the fuel pump and burn.

Finally my jockeying had no effect, and I coasted in silence, clutch in. This was a flat area, but still curvy with some low grades here and there. I would not make another grade like this. Eventually after a few minutes of gliding, the bike came to a stop. But I was not giving up. I leaned that big bike over with that big black bag on the back as far as I dared, leaned it both ways. I bounced that sucker higher than I thought possible, wiggled and flipped the bars around and tried the starter. Vrooom!

So off I went again. A few more kms., my heart pounding and my brain red with the exertion of bouncing and wiggling that big sucker. I came around a curve and there on the right was one of the prettiest sights I would see on the trip. At last, a gas station came into view. I swear I coasted up to the pump running on fumes. I cut the engine and went inside. I was so ecstatic that I couldn't actually tell if the engine was still running or not.

Of course the first thing I asked was if they had any gas. The kindly East Indian woman working there said "sure thing, we got gas". I told her how glad I was to see this gas station and she started to laugh. "go ahead and fill her up" she said.

And so I pumped my tank to the brim with Beautiful British Columbia gasoline. Man, I was starting to feel better, and I was feeling very lucky indeed. I bought a root beer and scarfed it down quickly, anxious to put on more miles today before I would have to stop for the night. I don't know if you can read the GPS below, but believe me when I say that I was making good time! Here's another photo showing the kind of area I was riding through. At this time of year, the snow had left, but the grass and weeds had just begun to start to grow. It was getting cold. I rode until about an hour before dark, which was likely about 7 o'clock and found a lovely little motel with a good bed that wasn't too expensive. I had gone about one third of the way through my mountain route at that time, although it was a small step for a first day of a long trip. I took the bag off the bike and rode back through town to a Subway sandwich place to get dinner, then retuned to the motel and ate while examining my GPS. Soon, I crawled into the lovely queen sized bed and fell immediately sleep. I was to think about that bed many times later on that trip.

I rose early and packed the big black bag again, then put it back on the bike. I love early morning rides, but this morning I put on my electric vest. It was only a few degrees above freezing, and there was frost on the ground and on my seat. I was ready to ride a few hours before getting breakfast. And off I went. Round and around and up and down until I reached the top of the Crow's Nest Pass. I saw no traffic but a few truckers, and most of them were pulled off the road still asleep. I made good time again. Now I knew when I'd crossed the pass, because the road started going mostly downhill and it was very cold! I was glad I had the electric vest, as I'd had it cranked up to full since I left the motel. Below is a valley somewhere in the Rockies with the cold morning fog still hanging in the air. The road comes down from the Crow's Next Pass rather steeply and soon I was in a lovely valley with another lovely gas station. I filled up, commenting to the owner how cold it was. He said "no wonder you just crossed the highest pass in the Rockies".

In another half an hour I came to a large lake with a town on it split by the lake as you see below. I rode down one side, crossed the lake, and then rode up the other side. I was really enjoying the lovely curves in this road, especially since I had plenty of fuel in the tank and it was still early in the day. For hours and hours I rode like that, up and down, around and around until finally I came to the eastern edge of the Rockies and went down into the foothill country. To each side were rows and rows of these huge windmill generators. A sign warned me that this was a very windy area. It was too, but it didn't bother me as I kept on riding right out of Alberta and into Saskatchewan, finally stopping at a motel in Swift Current Saskatchewan. I made great time this day, likely about 1300 kms. I'm not sure because I'd decided to turn off the GPS to save batteries. You see I'd just borrowed this GPS and it wasn't wired into the bike. In fact it wasn't actually mounted anywhere but just sat inside my tankbag. So it wasn't very useful and the batteries were expensive.

I was well into the prairies now and everywhere around me was flat land as far as the eye could see. Swift Current is not a huge town but did have plenty of small motels along the trans Canada highway I was travelling. I picked one that looked pretty cheap. It was. The bed here wasn't as posh as the night before's, but it was decent and clean. And it was right next door to a Kentucky Fried Chicken place where I got a huge dinner, making up for the fact that I'd hardly eaten all day. I passed out again quickly after stuffing myself full of extra crispy chicken and salad.

Next day I rose early again. I love riding early in the day best. There's little traffic and the air and sky is at it's prettiest. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see here. Hardly a town at all, just the odd house and of course farms. There weren't many gas stations either and before long my gas gauge was entering the red zone. I'd had more than half a tank when I left the motel, and figured this being the trans Canada and all, there would be gas stations. There weren't any at all.

Now my gas needle was almost at the bottom again, and of course I knew I didn't have too far to go, but I wasn't anxious to do more bouncing and wiggling of the bike to keep going. This was a two lane road with a bit of traffic, but it wasn't the kind of place you wanted to run out of gas. I was cursing myself for being dumb again and stupid enough to run out of gas after my experience the day before yesterday. When a gas station appeared finally, my mind slipped back into the tranquil zone where it should be. I gassed up and rode on. And on and on across the prairies I rode.

I rode all the way to Winnipeg that night, and finally stopped at a cheap motel just east of town, just a short distance from Northern Ontario. This turned out to be a poor choice, with a lousy bed and noisy traffic. But it was cheap and clean and I went across the road to a large gas station with a restaurant and a store and bought a Wendy's deluxe hamburger and ate like a horse again.

To the right is a view from my motel room. I don't know if you can tell, but my helmet was loaded with bugs. My faithful protector and good luck charm was snuggled in the tankbag and watching my bike for me as the shadows grew long.

Next day, sure enough, I was up early and raring to go again. So, electric vest on high (man it was unbelievably cold) I headed towards Ontariario. The road soon starting swooping around hills, rocks and lakes. I headed straight south toward Sault Saint Marie and lake Superior. Now I was thinking to get across this part of my trip quickly, but northern Ontario is one big area of land.

I got a speeding ticket that morning from an RCMP who was driving his cruiser towards me. I'd been riding about the speed of the trucks to stay away from them, but I guess they can't really pull the truckers over, there's no place for that, so he put on his lights and whipped around and wailed after me. There was a small town and room to pull over and so I had a nice chat with him, got my ticket and kept on going.

I spent the entire day trying to keep my gas tank full because there wasn't much of anything on this road but trucks and tiny villages. I managed not to let the fuel gauge get too low though, I'd learned my lesson, and one time I actually turned around and rode 15 kms back to a town where I'd seen a gas station. I wasn't taking any chances now.

Below is a lovely lake where I stopped to take a photo. I wasn't stopping for many photos, but this one looked too good to pass by. I wish I'd stopped more, but I did make great time.

I slept like a log again and rose early. Very early. It must have been below freezing that morning. It was almost June and it was freezing! I cranked the electric vest up and tucked the neck into my helmet. Never the less, I rode uncomfortably cold for the next couple of hours before I stopped for breakfast and gas at a small hunting lodge. It wasn't hunting season so I guess they were glad to see me because no one else was there but the owner.

Now after a hearty breakfast I went out and pushed my bike with the big black bag on it over to the gas pump to fill up. I dropped the bike right there beside the pump, but fortunately the big black bag helped cushion the fall. I removed the bag, and righted the bike before anyone noticed my stupidity and fueled up, then put the big black bag back on.

I don't know why, but instead of continuing down the trans Canada highway, I'd decided to head east from Wawa on a little sideroad towards Chapleau, an old mining town, then south and miss Sault Ste. Marie that way. The distance looked about the same on my map, but I figured less traffic, and better scenery. Well, there wasn't much to see along that road, except trees, deer, and MOOSE. Just after leaving the restaurant, coming around a sharp bend, a great black shadow in the road made me almost jump out of my electric vest. I'd surprised a moose who was still munching his breakfast - a tree that was overhanging the road. I hit the brakes hard and prepared for the worst. Now he'd seen me too and was likely more scared than I was, which must have been really really scared. In any case, he started to dance while scrambling to get away. The bike and I were doing our own little dance as we bore down on him.

I don't know how I could have been watching him, because I had lots to do while braking hard and looking for a place to disappear to, but I saw him dance towards the inside of the road and my impending doom, then he danced to the right and the side of the road, just as I zoomed past him. I rode on slower after that, and on full alert.

Finally, after hours and hours of nothing but trees and curves I arrived at the shores of lake Superior as you see below. My apologies for the crooked horizon, I was chattering cold and I forgot to fix it, sorry about that. There wasn't any great place to pull over and get a decent view, or I'd have had a better picture to show you, but this is it, this is lake Superior.

Past the big lake I rode, down past lake Huron too, and finally I was on the home stretch, the 400 south to Toronto by mid afternoon. I joined the heavy traffic flow and just flowed with them hoping for the best. Toronto isn't the kind of place you want to join rush hour traffic in, but that's what I did. I pulled over in town and called my friend to find out where she lived, so I could get there and get a free night's lodging and a visit.

We had a nice visit, even at her son's soccer game, stayed up a bit late trying to catch up, and in the morning I actually slept in a bit. Then I decided to head south to my buddy in Pennsylvania that day instead of laying over another day there in Toronto. So I packed up the big black bag again and got on the road by about 11 o'clock and back into the heavy traffic heading to Niagara Falls.

I didn't actually take any photos on this stage of the trip, since I'd lived in Toronto for so long and there wasn't much new for me to see or enjoy. I just wanted to get back into the country and on some curvy roads with light traffic.

I crossed into America and entered Niagara Falls New York for lunch and gas. I wasn't running out of gas now, but I made a major mistake at the gas station there. This was the first time I decided to try the automatic card payment at the pump, so I just pulled up to the pump, put in my card, entered my pincode, and started pumping.

After filling to the brim, I pushed the bike a few feet to the front of the convenience store to buy some snacks for the road. Came out and the bike  wouldn't start. Tried a few times, now I knew something was wrong, because the bike always starts right up. But what could be wrong I wondered. A car pulled up and the guy noticed me and we chatted. He asked me what kind of gas I got. I looked over at the pump and right then I knew what I'd done. I said 'at that red pump there'. Well sir, that was the diesel pump and it was right there beside the gasoline pumps like I'd never seen before. It had never dawned on me, since I was so proud of operating the pay at the pump thingy, had forgotten to check what kind of gas I was pumping.

My tank was full to the brim with diesel! OK, we can handle this I thought, visions of winding country roads dwindling in my brain... asked the self service guy if he had a large gas can and if I could maybe put the diesel back in his tank or something. No luck, he said he can't do that and has no gas can but maybe the guys across the street could help. Across the street there was a brakes/shocks service station with a couple of Harley's parked half way in the first bay. They looked like they belonged to the guys who worked there.

So I left the big black bag with the store attendant who nearly had a hernia lifting it over the counter, left my helmet and leather jacket there too, and walked across the street to chat with the Harley guys over there. It was too hot to walk across the street with my leather jacket on, and I was starting to sweat.

I told them of my dilemma, and after they'd stopped laughing, they told me no problem, bring the bike over and I could do the work myself right there. Well, my spirits soared just a bit, because I was thinking how lucky I really was that those guys were there and were so nice. So I ran back across and pushed my bike (without the big black bag) over to their station. They even moved their Harleys for me and right into the nice cool bay I pushed the big Beemer. It was very hot here so I was glad for some shade.

They gave me a big gas can to put the diesel into and a siphon. I found out that when I removed my fuel line not much gas came out, so I'd have to siphon it all out. I siphoned until the gas can was full and they brought me another empty gas can. I siphoned as much as I could out, then by bumping the starter button several times to activate the fuel pump, got out as much gas as I thought I could. They brought me some real gas to put in, and I put it in and the bike started up after a bit of cranking. WHEW!

So I rode helmet-less back to the gas station (Harley guy said he does it all the time) and filled her again, this time with real gas. I collected my big black bag, helmet and leather jacket from the lady there. This time she made me come around the counter to get the bag. And I packed the bag on the bike and headed out of town. Turns out I took the long way. I headed south thinking Niagara Falls N.Y. couldn't be that big but I ended up cutting across Niagara Falls, North Tonawanda, Tonawanda, and Buffalo before finally getting onto a real country road heading south.

Now by this time it was mid afternoon and I was running late. I had hoped for a leisurely trip south taking in the sights and some fine secondary roads, but I hadn't realized just how far it was down to Pennsylvania and my buddy's place. On and on I rode, finally taking a more major road east, where I would catch an interstate south and make up some time. I rode that road for another two hours or so until finally the interstate came up and south I went. Another hour and a half brought me to Williamsport PA, and I came across the worst metal grid bridge that man has ever built! But I took it in stride, at least I had plenty of real gas in my tank!

Shortly thereafter I rode by a street with the name I was looking for. I'd ridden straight to it! I pulled up to the front of number 481 and asked the old guy across the street if Gary lived here. Yes, he said, he does. So I knocked and sure enough there was Gary.

The rest of my trip was based from Gary's place, and mostly riding in that area. I had planned some further long trips and a few BMW rallies, but I had a slight accident, dropping the bike in a gravel ditch on a terrible newly paved road covered with loose gravel as you see below. They made this road and left the deep gravel shoulder up high above the edge of the pavement, and then when cars came ripping up the road, they threw gravel all over like an asteroid field. Here is a shot of my skid-mark. Nice road, eh? This was a down hill off camber turn. Yeeha! Yeow. I was lucky and was wearing my leather jacket at the time. I was not injured. But I was in a bit of shock due to scraping the right side of my bike pretty badly, my nice touring bag was broken off, my tankbag was ripped off, and my front brake was leaking. The first thing I wanted to do was pick my bike up and I did. I pulled something in my back lifting that heavy beast back up by myself. I should have waited for help. The bike was laying leaning downhill in deep heavy gravel on the shoulder of the road, so it was not ideal for lifting it.

I strapped the touring bag back on with some extra straps and bungees I'd had in the tankbag, and managed to ride back to Gary's without using the front brake. I'd actually been riding with Gary but lost him somehow before the accident, so I was alone. Thank goodness that my expensive camera which was in the tankbag was not hurt. The brake leak was stopped with just a tightening of the bolt and the only thing damaged was all the deep grooves on the side of my fairing, and one mirror. Oh, and my injured back from lifting the bike!

I was able to take short rides for the next week or so, even with my bad back pain, but the plans I'd made to attend some BMW rallies had to be put on hold. I enjoyed some fine shorter rides with Gary in the surrounding area. Here are some of the photos I took there. Sorry, I didn't take many photos during this time, but we did do a lot of very fine riding. Then, after deciding to curtail my trip and fly back to Japan, I found out I'd have to wait two weeks for a reasonably priced flight, so I headed up to Canada again to visit my Mom and my Sister and her family. I had a wonderful time there visiting, but my back continued to hurt me and I didn't get much sleep. A couple of days before my flight to Japan I rode back to Gary's where I'd leave the bike until next year. I hope to spend an entire month riding next summer with Gary. We may head out west, but hopefully we'll have some long tours for sure!

And I will attend some BMW rallies next summer, I promise! Look for the old blue Beemer with the deep scratches on the right side, and the Eastern Beaver webpage on the bags. She still looks pretty good on the left side!