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My official return to VFR ownership. The story starts and ends in British Columbia.
As with any good travel story, this one starts at the Greyhound Station on a Sunday night. :rolleyes: The mission: To retrieve my new-to-me VFR in the Kootenays. If you watched the weather channel during the past few days, you�ve probably figured that Hwy 3 (route through southern British Columbia) was out. In fact, the weather gods had conspired to rule out every mountainous route between Castlegar and the �Wack for two-wheeled travel. Avoiding the mountains meant heading south to the Columbia Gorge on the WA-OR border�
Last time I suffered through a ride on the Grey Dog, I was gifted with the company (and life story) of a manic-depressive religious fundamentalist with a little bit of crazy thrown in. :wacko: This time, I sat next to a kid who remained strangely silent. Maybe he thought the bulging of my backpack was due to Aunt Marge�s severed head rather than my Arai? Aside from the hottie dancing to the music in her headphones, the �comedian�, and someone who kept lighting cigarettes at the back of the bus, the trip itself was uneventful. Ever wanted to see the Rock Creek Greyhound stop at 3 am? Me either. But here�s a pic of the Castlegar station at 4:30am:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609952-M.jpg)
Note the luggage I�d be carrying up the hill to my parent�s house when the cabbie failed to appear. At least it wasn�t raining. Hard.
Once I�d had a few hours of sleep, my friend Glenn picked me up to take me to Kootenay Sleds & Wheels in Nelson. They�d just finished some work on the bike; between my previous VFR and Glenn�s bike, they�ve looked after our VFR�s through close to 285000kms of riding. Glenn has owned it for 10 yrs and was on the verge of getting emotional at the thought of parting with it. I diffused this uncomfortable moment by telling him that I was planning to run the living shit out of it.:lol:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609964-M.jpg)
I sold the Givi luggage to Glenn when I unloaded my Viffer in 2001. Nice of him to look after it for me. The Corbin was another bonus.
Having paid the shop bill, eaten some lunch, and fed the ICBC monster, it was time to set out�only 3hrs behind schedule. The uncertain weather dictated avoidance of high elevation, so I followed the Columbia as far as Fort Spokane. Sunny one moment, rainy the next, but it�s the gravel keeps the rider honest on these roads. The VFR feels familiar and willing, but the rider will need plenty of seat time before playing along. A dry spot along the Columbia:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609983-L.jpg)
I didn�t want to ride at night, but my late start and the prospect of an even longer ride tomorrow kept me in the saddle well into the darkness. Settling for the night in Pasco, WA, I had a truck stop omelette served by a well-worn waitress named Dot. Really. I don�t recall seeing another bike on the road that day.
On Tuesday, I awoke to partly cloudy skies and the weather prognosticators were calling for 55-60 mph winds in parts of the Gorge. Heading south, the winds were punishing; staying in one lane was the goal. Facing the winds head-on, the riding was easier, yet the VFR, never particularly efficient, displayed a ravenous thirst for fuel (at least it takes regular!).
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609985-M.jpg)
The once �Mighty Columbia� River has been transformed into a model citizen by our engineers. Managed by huge dams but a brief distance between Castlegar and the US border at Waneta, it now quenches the thirst of countless acres of agricultural land, feeds our voracious appetite for electricity, and provides a transportation corridor�both on the water and along the sides of the Gorge. Usually baked to a golden brown by the summer sun when I see it, the spring rains bring a welcome greening to the landscape. After a traditional American heart-attack breakfast at �Bob�s Texas T-Bone Restaurant�, it was time to get some culture.
What in the Sam Hill?
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18667307-M-1.jpg)
Sam Hill, a wealthy entrepreneur, had this replica of Stonehenge built to honour the soldiers of Klickitat County who lost their lives during WWI. As such, it was the first monument in the US to honour the dead of WWI. Hill, a pacifist, had been mistakenly informed that the original Stonehenge had been used as a sacrificial site, and thus constructed the replica to remind us that ''humanity is still being sacrificed to the god of war.''
He was also known as a proponent of good roads. I don�t think he rode a motorcycle, but some of the roads in WA would make you think that he had us in mind. The Maryhill Loops Road was the first paved road in the Pacific Northwest (they open it to MCs during Sportbike Northwest):
(IMG:http://www.maryhillmuseum.org/images/loops_2.jpg)
Hill started construction of a large concrete mansion in 1914. When his dream of a great settlement began to fade, he transformed the house, which was never lived in, into an art museum. Not a bad view, either.
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18615025-S.jpg)
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18615026-M.jpg)
I stopped in for a tour, which happily coincided with a brief downpour. I emerged from the museum (well worth visiting, BTW) to sunshine and temperatures that allowed me to forego the electric vest�for a short time, anyways. The riding on the north side of the river is much better than the Interstate to the south. Traffic was light, curves were relatively abundant, and law enforcement was occupied by other things. Closer to Vancouver, the rain and cold returned and the low snowline validated my decision to avoid the passes. From this point on, the ride became more about the destination than the journey. Those who have endured the slog up I-5 know what I mean. Note to self: try to avoid Seattle rush hour. At least it wasn�t raining there. But the rain returned with a vengeance north of Seattle. Violent winds and driving rain made those last few miles to the border seem soooooo long, especially in darkness and cold. The interiors of the surrounding cages were looking might appealing at this time.
Following the obligatory interaction with the bitchy customs officer (before I could remove a glove she was yelling at me: �Take your helmet off if you can�t hear me!!!�), I was onto Hwy 1 for a quick dash to the �Wack With the exception of Seattle commuter traffic, I saw 3 other bikes on the road.
See you out there.
My official return to VFR ownership. The story starts and ends in British Columbia.
As with any good travel story, this one starts at the Greyhound Station on a Sunday night. :rolleyes: The mission: To retrieve my new-to-me VFR in the Kootenays. If you watched the weather channel during the past few days, you�ve probably figured that Hwy 3 (route through southern British Columbia) was out. In fact, the weather gods had conspired to rule out every mountainous route between Castlegar and the �Wack for two-wheeled travel. Avoiding the mountains meant heading south to the Columbia Gorge on the WA-OR border�
Last time I suffered through a ride on the Grey Dog, I was gifted with the company (and life story) of a manic-depressive religious fundamentalist with a little bit of crazy thrown in. :wacko: This time, I sat next to a kid who remained strangely silent. Maybe he thought the bulging of my backpack was due to Aunt Marge�s severed head rather than my Arai? Aside from the hottie dancing to the music in her headphones, the �comedian�, and someone who kept lighting cigarettes at the back of the bus, the trip itself was uneventful. Ever wanted to see the Rock Creek Greyhound stop at 3 am? Me either. But here�s a pic of the Castlegar station at 4:30am:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609952-M.jpg)
Note the luggage I�d be carrying up the hill to my parent�s house when the cabbie failed to appear. At least it wasn�t raining. Hard.
Once I�d had a few hours of sleep, my friend Glenn picked me up to take me to Kootenay Sleds & Wheels in Nelson. They�d just finished some work on the bike; between my previous VFR and Glenn�s bike, they�ve looked after our VFR�s through close to 285000kms of riding. Glenn has owned it for 10 yrs and was on the verge of getting emotional at the thought of parting with it. I diffused this uncomfortable moment by telling him that I was planning to run the living shit out of it.:lol:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609964-M.jpg)
I sold the Givi luggage to Glenn when I unloaded my Viffer in 2001. Nice of him to look after it for me. The Corbin was another bonus.
Having paid the shop bill, eaten some lunch, and fed the ICBC monster, it was time to set out�only 3hrs behind schedule. The uncertain weather dictated avoidance of high elevation, so I followed the Columbia as far as Fort Spokane. Sunny one moment, rainy the next, but it�s the gravel keeps the rider honest on these roads. The VFR feels familiar and willing, but the rider will need plenty of seat time before playing along. A dry spot along the Columbia:
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609983-L.jpg)
I didn�t want to ride at night, but my late start and the prospect of an even longer ride tomorrow kept me in the saddle well into the darkness. Settling for the night in Pasco, WA, I had a truck stop omelette served by a well-worn waitress named Dot. Really. I don�t recall seeing another bike on the road that day.
On Tuesday, I awoke to partly cloudy skies and the weather prognosticators were calling for 55-60 mph winds in parts of the Gorge. Heading south, the winds were punishing; staying in one lane was the goal. Facing the winds head-on, the riding was easier, yet the VFR, never particularly efficient, displayed a ravenous thirst for fuel (at least it takes regular!).
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18609985-M.jpg)
The once �Mighty Columbia� River has been transformed into a model citizen by our engineers. Managed by huge dams but a brief distance between Castlegar and the US border at Waneta, it now quenches the thirst of countless acres of agricultural land, feeds our voracious appetite for electricity, and provides a transportation corridor�both on the water and along the sides of the Gorge. Usually baked to a golden brown by the summer sun when I see it, the spring rains bring a welcome greening to the landscape. After a traditional American heart-attack breakfast at �Bob�s Texas T-Bone Restaurant�, it was time to get some culture.
What in the Sam Hill?
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18667307-M-1.jpg)
Sam Hill, a wealthy entrepreneur, had this replica of Stonehenge built to honour the soldiers of Klickitat County who lost their lives during WWI. As such, it was the first monument in the US to honour the dead of WWI. Hill, a pacifist, had been mistakenly informed that the original Stonehenge had been used as a sacrificial site, and thus constructed the replica to remind us that ''humanity is still being sacrificed to the god of war.''
He was also known as a proponent of good roads. I don�t think he rode a motorcycle, but some of the roads in WA would make you think that he had us in mind. The Maryhill Loops Road was the first paved road in the Pacific Northwest (they open it to MCs during Sportbike Northwest):
(IMG:http://www.maryhillmuseum.org/images/loops_2.jpg)
Hill started construction of a large concrete mansion in 1914. When his dream of a great settlement began to fade, he transformed the house, which was never lived in, into an art museum. Not a bad view, either.
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18615025-S.jpg)
(IMG:http://beeceegs.smugmug.com/photos/18615026-M.jpg)
I stopped in for a tour, which happily coincided with a brief downpour. I emerged from the museum (well worth visiting, BTW) to sunshine and temperatures that allowed me to forego the electric vest�for a short time, anyways. The riding on the north side of the river is much better than the Interstate to the south. Traffic was light, curves were relatively abundant, and law enforcement was occupied by other things. Closer to Vancouver, the rain and cold returned and the low snowline validated my decision to avoid the passes. From this point on, the ride became more about the destination than the journey. Those who have endured the slog up I-5 know what I mean. Note to self: try to avoid Seattle rush hour. At least it wasn�t raining there. But the rain returned with a vengeance north of Seattle. Violent winds and driving rain made those last few miles to the border seem soooooo long, especially in darkness and cold. The interiors of the surrounding cages were looking might appealing at this time.
Following the obligatory interaction with the bitchy customs officer (before I could remove a glove she was yelling at me: �Take your helmet off if you can�t hear me!!!�), I was onto Hwy 1 for a quick dash to the �Wack With the exception of Seattle commuter traffic, I saw 3 other bikes on the road.
See you out there.