Steel Horse Rover

Day 30 (June 30): Long Ride To Kluane

15/06/30 at 1.06pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment
8,635 km
I think I set a new personal distance record today, riding 925 km from an early start at The Liard River Hot Springs to Kluane — not that I am proud of this; rather, I had wanted to reach Kluane (Kloo-ah-ney) today to be in a position to reach Fairbanks tomorrow, on Canada Day.
After lunch in Watson Lake, I ventured into the sign forest which is just that — a forest of posts with signs from all over the world. Started out in 1942 when one of the soldiers working on The Alcan tacked up a sign with the name of his

Lost in The Sign Forest

Lost in The Sign Forest

home town on it. The idea caught on; and with a military and a civilian airport nearby, people began bringing signs from all over the world. Today, there are allegedly 75,000. I only counted 74,659 though.

A little further on, while stopping in Teslin to rehydrate both Gunther and myself, I met Mallory and her dog Baylor, from Oregon, who had also stopped for a rest. Mallory has fitted a side car to her KLR 650; and that’s where Baylor sits, complete with sky-blue goggles.
Remember how I said people help each other out on The Alcan? Well, get this: Mallory and Baylor were happily cruising along the highway when the KLR began to cough and splutter. Something was seriously amiss; and she pulled onto the shoulder. Now, motorcycle engines have a big bolt in the bottom of the engine case which you loosen and remove to drain the oil when doing an oil change. This bolt on Mallory’s bike was gone. So was all the oil. At that point, you start to think about throwing in the towel because, with no oil and nothing to keep it in, you’re not going anywhere.
Mallory and Baylor

Mallory and Baylor

As she’s standing there trying to think what to do next, along come a few guys who are also riding KLRs. When Mallory explains her bike has no drain plug, one of the guys reaches into his pocket, produces a spare one he’s carrying, and says, “You mean like this?” Then, one of the other guys coughs up some oil. Can you believe it? I told her she should find a lotto to play as soon as possible. You can read all about Mallory’s adventures here.
As I approached Kluane, I encountered my first road challenge on The Alcan: Two, lonely, 10K stretches where the asphalt was covered with loose gravel. It was like trying to ride on marbles. Thanks to my knobbies, I was ‎able to say vertical; but I wouldn’t want to riding those stretches on smooth road tires.
So, I now find myself at Kluane; or, rather a B+B where Kluane once was. It’s definitely there as a dot on my CAA map; but that’s all it is. When I arrived at where it should be, according to the odometer, there was nothing but the same rock and scrub I’d been riding through, save for a long-since abandoned gas station.
I thought about pitching my tent off from the road for the night. Then I thought about grizzly bears; and opted to take my chances that the B+B wasn’t full. It was a 5K drive down a winding gravel road; and, after having just ridden 900K, I was determined to find a place to sleep.
I was in luck: Polly, the manager of the place did, in fact, have a couple of rooms available. The B+B was actually more of a compound with cabins and a common cookhouse that also had a few common bathrooms and showers. Polly’s

A view from B+B at Kluane

A view from B+B at Kluane

grandfather had originally established it as a summer camp for youths; and the family had turned it into a B+B some years ago.

When I asked her where village of Kluane was, she laughed. “There is no Kluane village! Maybe there was a hundred years ago; but it’s long gone.”
Interestingly, as Polly was showing me to my cabin, she pointed out a grizzly bear that was cruising the shoreline about 200 metres away.
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Day 29 (June 29): A Soak In The Hot Spring‎

15/06/29 at 4.06pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment
Spending last night at Toad River was one of the better judgment calls I have made: There was, indeed, loose gravel on the switchbacks; and stone sheep (albeit on the cliffs); and I was alert and prepared.
I took a brief rest at Muncho Lake; and was gob-smacked at the beauty of the hills reflecting on the glass-like water — which was broken only by a sole kayak silently ripling through. Could it get much better?
...but first, are you experienced?

…but first, are you experienced?

...or have you ever been experienced?

…or have you ever been experienced?

It could; for my next stop was The Liard River Hot Springs.
Stone Sheep

Stone Sheep

Now, those who know me well know about my penchant for long baths. Back in the day (way, way back), there was nothing more befitting of a Sunday evening than a long soak in a steaming tub with a snifter of cognac floating in the water to keep it warm, a Cohiba and a newspaper or latest issue of some motorcycle publication while Joe Jackson’s “Jump and Jive” played in the background. Aye, dem were th’ days…
Fast forward 27 (or so) years; and I find myself at the Liard River Hot Springs. There is a provincial park here, which is where I will be spending the night. But not before a trek through the forest to the first of three hot springs — this one being the only one with a deck and change rooms around it.
Nirvana?

Nirvana?

It’s worth mentioning that they have really gone overboard with the facility: the hot spring has been left in its natural state, save for stone benches that have been installed under the water and pool-like steps/railing leading from the deck down into the water. The decking follows one side of the spring; and is made of thick cedar planking with a pool-like ledge on which to sit and dangle one’s feet in the water.
What did it feel like to be in the hot spring? It felt like this. Never mind the lyrics (this is Donovan; and it was the 60s); but, listen to those dulcet,  tones from the hurdy-gurdy and sitar… mmmm… yeah…. No, wait. Stop. Pause the music; go run a bath; get in. OK; resume. See?
Earlier in the day, I had a great chat with Matt, who is the operator for this park as well as several others in the area. Fascinating guy: From the UK; engineering background; worked with The European Space Agency; designed the New Mini airbag system during a stint with BMW; and otherwise a walking encyclopedia with knowledge of just about everything. We must have talked for a good hour or so, he sitting in his golf cart, me standing, holding lines I had been using to set up my tent at the time we initially met.
We could have easily continued like this for another hour. However, we were interrupted by one of the park staff who apologized and asked Matt, “Um, how far does your emergency medical training go?”
Matt’s eyes widened; he sat upright from where he had been leaning on the steering wheel. “Gotta go!” he called out over the sound of the cart’s tires slipping on the dirt road as he left me in a cloud of dust.
About an hour-and-a-half later, I heard a helicopter approaching. In fact, it swopped down over the campground before coming to rest in a parking lot across the highway. Seems a guy was driving South on The Alcan; had a stroke; a

Alaska!

Alaska!

nd pulled off at the park to ask for assistance. Huh. Makes one think.

 

Day 28 (June 28): Toad River

15/06/28 at 4.01pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

My initial impression of The Alaska Highway is that it is quite smooth. Given the lore surrounding this 1,422-mile stretch of tarmac in the North of North America, I’ve been expecting a semi-paved track with massive cracks and heaves and craters caused by 90-degree temperature swings and massive trucks with equally massive tires that continuously chew it up. That’s not the case here, though, on the section that leads out of Dawson Creek.

Last original bridge of the highway.

Last original bridge of the highway.

Then again, The Highway of today is a far cry from the original road. The present version has been straightened and strengthened and, yes, smoothened considerably. Somuchso, in fact, that few sections of the original road, which was completed in 1942, remain.
All is not lost however: The helpful girls at the visitor centre in Dawson Creek told me where to find one of the remaining sections — The Kiskatinaw Bridge. So, after detouring down into The Kiskatinaw River Valley, I traverse this historic testament to engineering on the back of Gunther, my BMW R1150GS oil head.
The bridge is 190 feet long, curved, and made entirely of wood making it the longest of its kind in North America. The Canadian engineers that built it had to curve it nine degrees as well as bank it so traffic wouldn’t go flying off into the Kiskatinaw River 100 feet below. All this because of a hairpin turn that occurs in the river at this point. It’s impressive when you consider it was built in the early 1940s.
The Visitor Centre girls also gave me a heads-up on The Taylor Bridge. This one is a steel bridge with crisscross patterns that make up the driving surface. I’ve been on bridges like this before: In a car, you feel a slight shimmy from side-to-side. But, on two wheels, that shimmy translates into a series of firm, side-to-side shoves at the wheels that threaten to throw you into a wobble that will give you a close-up of the hard, steel surface at any moment — and that’s on smooth tires; how would Gunther’s knobby tires react?
I have been dreading this crossing all morning; and, as I approach the bridge, I can hear the words of one of the girls echoing over and over: “I wouldn’t want to be riding a motorcycle on THAT bridge… wouldn’t want to be riding a motorcycle on THAT bridge… on THAT bridge… THAT bridge.” Worse yet, as I round the downhill corner just before the bridge, I notice there is a sem-I right behind me; and, in between the echoes, I wonder what sort of stopping distance it would need, should I go down.

The beginning of the bridge is fast approaching; and I try to stay calm.

 

“Stand up,” a voice inside is saying. “That’s what you learned in the off-roading course.”

 

“That can’t be reasonable,” another contradicts. “Who stands up on a motorcycle while riding? This isn’t acrobatics, man; you’re going over a steel bridge!”

 

“Stand up! Stand up!” the first voice is now shouting.

 

“Remain in your seat!” counters the other one.

 

“Stand!”

 

“Sit!”

 

“Use the force Luke!” Wait — what?

 

Aaaaaaiiiieeee!!!!!

 

Suddenly, I am on the bridge, standing up on my bike, feet planted firmly on the foot pegs; hands braced on the handlebars, fingers balancing throttle, clutch and brake. The wheels begin to jut back-and-forth. And… that’s about it. I am in full control. The technique works just as well as it did at the training I took just a few days earlier in Calgary. In fact, I feel comfortable enough to use my temporary height gain to gaze out at the beauty of The Peace River below.

 

To the trucker behind, I bet this all looks planned; as if I’ve been doing it for years. ‘Course he (or she) might wonder a bit at the “Yeeeeeee-hah-hah-ha-ha-ha-hhhhhaaaaaaaa!!!!!” that explodes from my helmet as I reach the other side (my ears are ringing).

 

A little further up the road, I stop to top off the fuel; and take in some Gatorade, coffee and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups — the latter items being necessary because, in my haste to get started on The Highway this morning, I hadn’t eaten much; and my glucose level is dropping. A bicycle is parked out front; and, as I am curious what sort of person decides to ride a bicycle to Alaska, I strike up a conversation with its owner, Julie The Cyclist.

 

Julie started pedaling in Connecticut earlier this year; and, like me, is heading to Fairbanks. Very down-to-earth, Julie is; and tolerant of my curiosity (who rides a bicycle from the North-Eastern US to Alaska?). Truth be told, pretty-much everyone I’ve met on The Highway so far has been rather groovy; but Julie is moreso. We chat for a bit about the important stuff in life like what’s real and what’s not but tries to be and sometimes thinks it is. Then, we’re off again–she on her ride and I on mine. So, why was she riding all this way? “It’s just something I felt like doing,” she told me. Huh. Interesting perspective. Who says we need to have a reason for doing what we do? Very Zen.

Here‘s a link to Julie’s Facebook page.

Ceiling at Toad River

Ceiling at Toad River Restaurant

My target destination for today had been the provincial park at The Liard River Hot Springs. A veteran rider I met at a coffee shop in Dawson Creek and who has ridden The Alaska Highway several times over suggested it would be just the thing to soak road-weary bones after a day of riding.

 

However, it’s already 7 p.m. by the time I stop for fuel at the Toad River RV Park / Campground / Restaurant / Gas Station, about an hour South of Liard River; and I realize I have a serious case of road head. I am in a daze from being in the saddle too long; and pushing on further would be a risk — not only to Gunther and myself; but to the entire trip should either of us be laid up for any significant amount of time should things go awry. I waffle back and forth mentally as to whether to stay or go while I wait in line at the pumps for three riders ahead of me to finish filling their tanks with that precious petroleum commodity found only sporadically on this mostly-desolate highway.

‎

A partial remedy for road head is to begin talking to someone — anyone – as it kind-of forces you “outside” yourself. So, with Gunther refuelled, I wander over to where the other riders are discussing their next route and cajoling about the miles that have been.

‎

Now, there’s a kind of camaraderie amongst riders on The Highway. I mean, there is off The Highway, too; but it is compounded up here by the connection that exists amongst everyone travelling this road — rider / trucker / RV driver / cyclist / walker. People look out for each other. There’s just so much that can go wrong in the sometimes hundreds of miles between any sign of civilization, that a sort-of solidarity kicks in; and you share with one another—you share tools; you share spares; you share tips and stories from the road.

‎

And so it is as I join the others. Turns out they are heading South; and have just come down the road from Liard River. That stretch of The Highway is a beauty, they report–lots of twists through the mountains; but watch out for loose gravel on some of the switchbacks; and stone sheep wandering around in the middle of the road (yes; that’s stone sheep; not stoned sheep).‎

‎

That settles it. Continuing on today would be a waste of a good ride because, in my current state, I would be dialled in on making it to my destination rather than enjoying the ride. And loose gravel? And sheep in the road? Nah — not worth it.

‎

Which is how I find myself pitching my tent at The Toad River Campground – an oasis in the mountains as it turns out.

‎

Interestingly, despite the name, this place has got nothing to do with toads. See, back in the day, traffic crossed the river by means of a ferry that was pulled across by a rope; that is, it was towed. The river became known as the river where you get towed across — or the towed river. Get it? Ribbit.

 

Next stop: The Liard River Hot Springs.

 

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Day 27 (June 27): The Beginning Of The Alcan

15/06/27 at 4.01pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

There has been much banter about where The Alaska Highway (The Alcan) begins and ends. The actual road begins at Grande Prairie, which I passed through on the way to Dawson Creek, and ends at Fairbanks; and if you ask residents of either of these places where The Alcan begins and ends, they will often tell you it begins in their respective locale, qualifying this w

Mile "0"

Mile “0”

ith, “It’s the ‘unofficial’ beginning / end.”
‎
In fact, there exists a bit of a niggle: The Alcan officially begins at Dawson Creek, BC; and ends at Delta Junction, AK. The reason for this is the sections of road beyond these points (Hwy 3 in Alaska and Hwy 43 in BC) were already in existence when construction of The Alaska Highway commenced. So, the actual, Alaska Highway does not include these sections.‎
‎

This way to the highway

This way to the highway

Eh, potato/potahto; I touched both Grande Prairie and Fairbanks.‎

Day 26 (June 26) Grand Prairie

15/06/26 at 1.00pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment
Swan Lake Provincial Park, BC — just South of Grand Prairie
6,872 km
When I left Jasper, something changed. I am not sure what, exactly; but the road had aa different feeling — more natural; more real; less structure; less steel.
Just before Hinton, I made a left turn and headed up highway 40 because it had the most squiggly lines on the map. Once on it, I realized why it was drawn in a black line instead of a red one like most of the other roads I’d been on so far: It was a secondary road — which meant it was not maintained to the same degree as the red roads. And, by “maintained” they mean cracks are filled with pitch sometimes; potholes are filled with gravel or soft, grainy asphalt sometimes; and long, bulging, heaves that form a twisting apex in the part of the lane where tires roll are usually left alone.
No matter, this road delivered on its promise of squiggles; and soon I was climbing, descending, leaning hard left, then flipping over for a hard right — often all together in the space of a kilometer. And the road surface? Why, that was the perfect warm up for The Alaska Highway.
Somewhere near the end of Hwy 40, there was a long, straight stretch on which a road crew was doing construction. When this happens, they close one of the road’s two lanes; and traffic in each direction takes turns using the side that’s open, guided by a pilot car (a pick-up actually) for around 10 km. Usually, the side that’s open is, in fact, being worked on as well; just in a more usable state.
In this case, the open side was covered in slick, black pitch. Not just pitch where the cracks were; no, the entire lane was covered in it. Of course, once you start down behind the pilot car, you can’t stop unless it does because doing so holds up the whole convoy. As we paraded along, I could feel Gunther’s wheels slipping and slithering through the black goop, ickity-ickity-ickity-ickity. And the smell — My God — it was tenfold what you might smell when a roof is being re-tared.
Oddly enough, the only time I really thought I might go down was when we stopped to let a dump truck go ahead of us. The road was angled down from the centre — for drainage, I suppose — and, as I put my feet down to steady the bike while stopped, I could feel my left foot slipping in the gooey pitch, which made the bike lean in that direction. Then, when I tried to bring my foot back, to prop up the bike again, I found it was stuck in the pitch. At times like this, you just learn to keep cool; and, in fact, had I panicked, I would not have had the sense to lift at the toe, first; and kind-of peel my foot up to get it loose and restabilize Gunther to vertical.
***
At Grande Cache, while refueling after the long stint on Hwy 40 (200 km of desolation; no gas; no water; no coffee; no cel coverage), a Harley chopper rolled in followed by a BMW K1200 road bike.
The K1200 was being ridden by a guy who called himself “Stretch” (an oxymoron if ever there was one). His friend, Phil, was on the Harley. The thing about Harley choppers is, the gas tanks don’t hold a lot of gas; and fill-ups are frequent — which is how Stretch happened to find himself topping off his tank alongside me while Phil refilled a tank filled only with the scent of gasoline.
Turns out the two of them were from Kansas

City; and on their way to Alaska, same as me. Stretch is somewhat of a celebrity chef and owns a restaurant in Kansas City. His bucket list includes riding in all 50 states before he turns 50. He’ll be 50 in August; and this year it’s Alaska — the final frontier.
"Stretch" and me

“Stretch” and me

But he’s not just riding. He’s sampling the various culinary offerings he finds along the way. “We’re eating our way to Alaska,” he says. Stretch’s gastronomic adventures are being captured on video; and he’s in talks with The Food Network to get it aired.

 

Day 24 (June 24): Jasper

15/06/24 at 3.57am   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Jasper

6,295 km

 

After a late start to the day (left Banff at 1:30) that was made later by a wrong turn I took at Lake Louise, I found myself on the Icefields Parkway headed for Jasper.
The wrong turn at Lake Louise is common: As I sipped a coffee at the visitors’ centre in Golden, BC — which is where I ended up — one of the staff asked me where I was coming from. As I told her I’d made the wrong turn at Lake Louise; and would now have to go all the way back to get onto the parkway, she presented me with. A guest book; and, grinning,  asked me to sign it. Seems this is a tradition at the Golden Visitor’ Centre — they get so many travellers who make the same mistake (poor sinage at Lake Louise apparently) that the collect the names.
Once I finally got onto The Icefields Parkway things began to roll a bit more smoothly (figuratively-speaking; the road was actually quite bumpy). The weather was overcast with occasional fog. I mention this because, when I stopped to take in the icefields (let’s be honest; their glaciers), there was an eery feel to the whole place–like being on another planet. Weird.
And Jasper? It’s Banff, only to a lesser degree. Tolerable; and I spent a day there to catch my breath (and give my throttle hand a rest; I can’t use my thumb for things like holding a pen or fork or squeezing toothpaste; if you’re feeling empathetic, try wringing a washcloth for six hours) before pushing further North. ‎
Beneath the glitz and glamour that comes with being a base for what I hear are some of the best ski hills in the world, Jasper is a railroad town. Boxcars are constantly shunting against a rumbling sounscape of idling locomotives

Jasper: stopping point for Canada's backbone

Jasper: stopping point for Canada’s backbone

Symbol of another era in Jasper

Symbol of another era in Jasper

Montreal is WHICH way?

Montreal is WHICH way?

interrupted only by an occasional chuuussshhhh of air being expelled from pneumatic brakes. Jasper is a major stopping point along the main freight line across Canada — which, by the way is booming because it’s cheaper to ship goods from Euope to South East Asia by cutting across Canada rather than sailing down through the Panama Canal.

The people seem more down to earth as well. Take Dennis, for example. I’ve rented his basement studio for my couple of nights here. Dennis is originally from Oakville, just outside Toronto. He’s a self-described ski bum; and came here for the skiing. A carpenter by trade, his lifestyle is low-key; kind-of zen. He built the house I’m staying in. His current contract is making and installing towel racks in the rooms of one of the local lodges. He could probably be doing better; but he seems to have found the balance that many are searching for. “The pusuit of money is stressful,” he says.

 

Day 29 (June 29): A Day In The Dirt

15/06/23 at 7.03pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment
‎While I was in Calgary, I had an opportunity to attend Blackfoot Motosports’ one-day, Enduro Training Course. To recap, this was training I had wanted to take in Toronto, before I left, as I expect to be taking Gunther off road (whether I want to or not) in Northern BC, Yukon and Alaska; and the thought of handling his heft and might was daunting to say the least.
So, at 8:30 a.m. on June 22, Gunther and I found ourselves at a dirt bike racetrack in the middle of Calgary, along with six others keen to learn the basic voodoo for taking our bikes off road.
The course instructor is Tobi Langer (remember Tobi?). Toby is no stranger to BMW bikes: He’s raced them for the BMW Team in Dubai; and recently obtained his training certification in Germany from BMW; and he knows GSs (like mine). Toby’s assistant for today is Blaire Cabelguen, also from Blackfoot Motosports; and with extensive off-roading experience. Rozzie Lee, head of Blacfoot’s Marketing team is capturing everything on camera and managing the hospitality tent — the latter being a vital role because it’s hot and sunny today; and staying hydrated is key.
Before we begin, the bikes’ most-breakable extremities (wind screen, mirrors, etc.) are removed; and tire pressures are dropped to 26 psi (my normal pressure is 36 in front and 42 at the back) to create more surface area for the tires to grip whatever terrain they happen to be on.
The first lessons are pretty basic — how to pick up the bike; put it on the centre stand; finding the bike’s centre of balance; etc. Then, it’s onto the dirt / mulch / gravel / sand / mud terrain where things get progressively more complex — riding with both feet on one side of the bike;

Look, Mom -- no feet!

Learning to stand.

kneeling on the seat while riding — stuff I would never try at home (and don’t recommend you try at home either).

The trick to pretty-much everything off-road is to stand up on the bike. Doing so lowers your centre of gravity because your weight is on the foot pegs, closer to the ground via your feet instead of up on the seat via your butt. Then

That's it -- I'm joining the circus.

That’s it — I’m joining the circus.

n, when you put your hands on the handlebars, you form a sort-of pyramid — very sturdy. To steer the bike, you use your knees, by gripping the fuel tank and leaning the bike where you want it to go, with your arms and hands guiding the front wheel.

Look, Mom, no feet!

Look, Mom, no feet!

Once the balance fundamentals are down, it’s time to apply them; and we’re off to the dirt

Running the ruts.

track, up-and-down dirt hills; slow turns around corners; over simulated road ruts; through tight serpentines; up steeper hills (and down the other side — not as easy as it sounds with the back wheel of the 275-kg bike skidding on loose dirt).

Hill Climbing 101.

Hill Climbing 101.

The day was exhausting — like army boot camp; but with breaks for Gatorade and amazing pizza for lunch. Pretty much every time I came in I was drenched.
The Possy.

The Possy.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. As I write this (June 29) I am on The Alaska Highway (well, off the highway and off my bike). So far, I have had to take Gunther through kilometers of the highway that are under construction, where the surface is sand, mud and gravel; I have had to take him over steel bridges that wrench both wheel back and forth; I have taken him through fresh, slippery pitch that has just been put down on the road (and yet they allow us to drive on it???). Because I had taken Blackfoot’s Enduro course, I was prepared every time — it was pretty-much what I had already done a few days earlier. I would recommend a course like this to anyone planning their first adventure ride.
Did I fall? But, of course! Nothing serious (glad we took the mirrors off); and, with my newly acquired skills for picking up the bike, I got it back upright every time. Have a look for yourself.‎
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This is one of the bigger hills we practiced on toward the end of the day (and this is the bunny hill!).‎
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Day 23 (June 23): Banff

15/06/23 at 3.50am   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Banff

5,790 km

 

There be Rockies ahead!

There be Rockies ahead!

After Calgary, I courted Banff for, like, a day. Couldn’t stand it. Sorry; just not my cup of tea. It’s like… like Disney World without the service quality. Exhausted parents pulling bawling, over-stimulated toddlers amidst line-ups for mediocre restaurants. Or the cinema — who goes to see a movie in the middle of one of the most beautiful mountain ranges on the planet for crying out loud? And that was still low season–I’m told there is no room on the sidewalks after Juky 1. Honestly, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

My saving grace was that I was camping at Tunnel Mountain, about 5K out of the actual

Banff: View of The Rockies from near my campsite

Banff: View of The Rockies from near my campsite

village. Relatively quiet among clumps of enormous Cedars, with vistas of monstrous hoodoos. It was colder than a ticket taker’s s

Hoodoos!

Hoodoos!

mile at the Ivar theatre on a Saturday night (Tom Waits), though. Two degrees when I exited my tent at 7 a.m.

On the way out of town, I stopped by Bankhead. Bankhead is a ghost town — not in the Scooby Doo sense or anything; just ruins of a former village that’s been overgrown

Bankhead: Once a boom-town; now a ghost-town

Bankhead: Once a boom-town; now a ghost-town

by forest; you would never know it’s there if you didn’t ask (which you wouldn’t if you didn’t know it was there). The town arose in 1903 from the CPR’s need for coal to power its steam engines. Its sole purpose was to mine coal — which it did quite successfully, creating a boom. In just a few years the mine’s production could not keep up with demand.

This was short-lived, however: around 1920 wages were sky-rocketing; and technology was changing such that alternatives to coal were coming on line. There were several strikes; and then, one morning in June in 1922, the gates were locked and the mine was shut down for good. It’s estimated that the town population was around 1,000; and 400-600 people were employed by the mine. 40-60 percent of the population out of work; poof.
The town was abandoned; however, the structures still remain; and as you walk along the coal-gravel path that leads through the town, you can still see the foundations of the blacksmith’s shop, the lamp house, and the original coal cars (with coal still in them). OK, that has Scooby Doo written all over it.

 

Day 19 (June 19): Gunther goes to the spa

15/06/21 at 10.37pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   5 Comments

Calgary, AB

5,507 km

 

 

It’s 8:20. Already the parking lot outside the Blackfoot Motosports service centre has several bikes lined up; and is filling rapidly. One of them is the new KTM adventure bike. Oooooo… Aaaahhhh… it’s beautiful.

KTM. Austrian company. Interestingly, a KTM was the original bike of choice for Ewan McGregor’s + Charlie Boorman’s Long Way Round journey.

However, before simply handing over a couple bikes to them for the trip, KTM sent a subject matter expert (SME) with experience travelling in remote parts of the world to check out their planned route — a prudent move since, given the high public visibility of the trek, the outcome would have a serious impact — positive or negative — on KTM’s image. Imagine if disater should befal one of these public figures while they were on a KTM; would you buy one?

As the story goes, when KTM’s SME learned they would be riding The Road of Bones in Russia (appropriately named since anyone venturing (or, more often, sent) there wasn’t expected to return), he advised KTM of the risk; and they pulled the plug before the current even had a chance to begin flowing. Then, BMW stepped up, offering two R1150GSs (same bike as I’m riding). The rest is history.

As I admire the KTM, I can’t help but wonder whether, had Ewan + Charlie been on KTMs, I would now be on one, too. Looking back at Gunther, he’s casting those lovable German Sheppard eyes up longingly from where he’s been resting, one eybrow prominently raised

Twisty road you say?

Twisty road you say?

in anticipation of a possible ride down a twisty road. I can’t help but break into a huge grin and feel a sudden urge to give him a big hug. Whooozzzhhh a good boy… Izzhhh Gunther a good boy? Guntherzz’s a good boy… yesshh he izzhhh… yesshhh he izzzhhh. Hooozzhh-ah-wooozzzhh-ah-wooozzzhh-aaahhh.

I’m becoming aware of an inner voice: “Keep it together, man; you’re standing in the middle of a parking lot for crying out loud,” it councils. ‎

Ahem. Yes. Right.

I am here at Blackfoot Motosports, in Calgary to have some maintenance work done on Gunther. It’s been over 5,000 km since I left the GTA; and he’s in need of some fresh oil and probably brake pads; and I want to switch tires to something with a more agressive tread (a.k.a. dirt bike “knobbies”) in preparation for the roads in Northern B.C. — The Alaska Highway may be paved; but the roads to the campsites likely are not; and the smooth, “road” tires I have been riding on thus far begin slipping even on damp grass because of the engine’s torque.
Blackfoot Motosports

Blackfoot Motosports

Justin Swanson, the service manager, has been expecting me; and he directs Gunther and me into the service bay to check in.

I emailed Justin a couple of days back letting him know I would be in town; and asking whether Blackfoot would be able to service my bike. I knew it was a long shot — you don’t just phone up a BMW Motorrad Service Centre and say, “Oh, hi; just noticed it seems to be a nice day outside; yeah, nice day to bring my bike in to have it looked at; d’you mind if if I pop by around 11 or so, after I’ve had a bite of brecky and read the paper?” Yeaaahhhh… Riiiiiiggghhhtttt. Doesn’t happen. Typically, you need to book appointments 1-2 weeks in advance; and once you have an appointment, it’s cast in stone. Don’t be late!

Unfortunately, given I’m pretty-much making my route up as I go, I don’t know where I’ll be a week from now let alone two weeks. But I knew I’d be in Calgary today; and I knew I needed oil, brakes and tires; and I knew Blackfoot was the authorized BMW Motorrad Service Centre.

So, Justin calls me back. He doesn’t have the tires I specified; but he has some that are comparable. Does my bike have ABS? No? Then, he has brake pads as well. When will I be in Calgary? Friday? If I come in early he can slot me in.

YES! And, after reading some reviews on the tires he has, they appear to be a bit-more suited to what I’ll need — 50% dirt / 50% road versus the ones that I had originally chosen, which are 70/30. Yep!

Which is how Gunther and I find ourselves at Blackfoot Motosports today.

Justin goes over the main points of my appointment: oil – check (most bikes run 10-40 around here; but I’ll be sticking with the 20-50 I’ve been running); brakes – he thinks the pads look pretty good; but he’ll have a new set on hand for the technician, anyway; tires – we have a look at the tires that Gunther will wear for the ride up North, good chunky tread but not somuchso as to compromise grip on asphalt.

Then, he takes note of the other minor things I want them to check (the squeaky sound coming from the front (which is no worse than it was back home); the amount of play in the clutch lever; etc.). Beyond merely taking notes, we go to the bike — which is right in front of the counter because the counter is in the service bay — and he triages my concerns. This is a welcome change from the service set-ups I’ve been used to, where I leave my bike in the parking lot, dictate my concerns to someone at a service desk; and then get a diagnosistic report after a technician has looked at it. Today, I’m being given an opportunity to participate in, at least, the triage process.

At one point, Justin goes to the “back” to get one of the other managers, Toby, who rides the same bike, so he can listen to the engine. Minutes later, Toby is on the scene, and listening to the running engine.

“Sounds better than mine,” he comments. (Good ol’ Gunther, eh?)

The squeaking from the front? Justin says it’s likely partly dry fork seals. They’re not leaking; but the dry areas sometimes make this sound as they move along the forks. Nothing to be concerned about.

Once Gunther’s checked in, Justin tells me Lin will be taking care of my bike. “Lin has been working on these bikes since before I was born,” he says. “Then, that’s the guy I want working on my bike,” I reply.
Me, Justin and Lin

Me, Justin and Lin

Satisfied Gunther is in good hands, I head off to Timmy’s for a smalldarkroastregular. The words concatenate as the leave my mouth, now, as I’ve had a lot of practice in the last three weeks.

A few hours later, I’m back to check on Gunther. Toby wants to show me something on my bike. He takes me behind the counter — behind the counter; I’m going to the “back” — and into the work area where Gunther is on the bench. The original fuel line quick connectors (“faucets” that connect the fuel line to the gas tank) from 2003 are made of plastic; and are starting to leak a bit. BMW has since started using metalic ones. While not critical, Toby suggests we replace them. Cost? Around $50; and there are two of them. Briefly assessing the impact of a leaky fuel line on The Alaska Highway versus the cost of avoidance by replacing the connectors now, I tell him, “Do it.” I’ll be needing every drop of fuel up there.

It’s getting close to lunchtime, now; and I’m feeling a might peckish. The guys in service

Haming it up at Holy Smoke! Mmmm... BBQ

Haming it up at Holy Smoke! Mmmm… BBQ

tell me of a local place where I can get BBQ sandwiches. Oh, yeah; that’s the ticket.  Soon, I’m sitting at a table in Holy Smoke BBQ, chomping on a huge (and I’ve got the “small” size) pulled beef brisket sandwich smothered in mesquite sauce. Without doubt, this is one of the culinary high points of the trip thus far. If you find yourself in Calgary I suggest you try this place–not just for the amazing sandwiches; but for the funky, down-to-earth ambiance. (NW corner of Blackfoot Trail and Manhatten).‎

Back at Blackfoot’s service waiting room, I notice a banner advertising BMW off-road, enduro training that Blackfoot Motosports runs. This is

Care to learn how to ride off-road? (Click to see entire image)

something I had wanted to do before I started my trip; but it just had not gelled. Unfortunate, too; for handling 475-kg, top-heavy Gunther in deep gravel has already proven to be a knuckle-whitening experience.

Out of curiosity more than anything, I ask one of the guys in the service area when the next session is. He’s not sure; but he ‘ll get the person who runs the course — who turns out to be none other than Toby! What are the odds that, out of all the mangers and technicians at Blackfoot, the one guy who rides the same bike as mine, and has been overseeing the work being done on Gunther, also runs the training to teach how to ride my bike in mud and sand and gravel?

Surely, that was where my luck would end; for the chances of the training happening during the few (unplanned, remember) days I am in town were about the same as landing a probe on a comet with accuracy.

Toby’s back, surprised, I think, to see I’m the one inquiring about his training day. What are the odds? Toby tells me the next session is Monday; they’re filling up, but still have room. Monday! Really — what are the odds? If I were a betting man, I’d be playing the lotto this evening. I was planning to leave Calgary on Sunday; but the planets just don’t align this closely every day; and I’m in. We visit Rozzie, who manages Blackfoot Motosports’ events and marketing; and soon I’m signed up. Woo-hoo.

So, I’ll extend my stay in Calgary until Tuesday. Look for an update thereafter — I’ll try to take the GoPro with me.

When I return to Service, Gunther is parked out front; and don’t his new, knobby boots look the part! Can’t wait to get some dirt into the treads

Luvly knobblies!

Luvly knobblies!

at the Enduro training!

Inside, Justin goes over the work order: Oil… tires… brakes… Brakes. New brake pads have been changed all around; but Justin looks at the old ones; and they appear to have a fair bit of life left in them. On investigation, it appears Lin, who has been working on my bike, saw the new brake pads that Justin had left out; and thought I wanted to replace them regardless of the state of the current ones. Justin gives me the ones that were on the bike (they are still usable) and makes an adjustment to my invoice. They got their wires crossed; and he’s owning it.

I have to say, I am very impressed with the professionalism, knowledge and experience of the service team at Blackfoot Motosports. These guys really have their act together. I tip my visor to Justin, Toby, Lin, Rozzie and the others who stepped up to help me out while I’m on the road.

Gunther is now ready for heading North; and after the training on Monday, I will be too.

 

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