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Steel Horse Rover

Day 52 (July 22): That’s A Wrap

15/07/23 at 8.54pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment
Toronto, Ontario
18,151km

Cue the Intro.

I have gazed at the world in awe — at the road beneath me, the mountains beside me, and the blue sky overhead; and‎ I have reached out and touched it — felt the rumble of two wheels and an engine rolling down a desolate road, the warmth of the sun on my face,  and the energy of people I have met along the way.‎

And, in a flicker, it’s over. As much as I would like to hang onto it; bottle it; preserve it; time rolls on. This one’s a wrap.

It has been a wild trip; and I would like to take this opportunity to say thanks to everyone who played a part in opening my mind to the beauty and the mystery that’s out there (and now, also, in here): the people who supported me as I prepared; and those who supported me (and Gunther) while we were on the road; the people who sent me comments on- and off-line; those I met on (and off) the road; the guys from Chicago that bought me lunch (don’t worry, guys; when the Leafs win The Stanley Cup, it’ll be my turn); all the other bikers who waved when they passed (if you are ever wondering whether it makes a difference, it does); and the ones who kept me company at the rest stops and on the boats. And The Edmonton Eskimos.

The missing blog entries? Not to worry; I’ll try to fill in the gaps over the next while. And, if that doesn’t come to pass, you can read the whole story in the book.

“So, it’s one for the money;
But that don’t make the show;
Count to three and I’ll be ready;
To follow that road.”

Cue the Exit. (Eastern shore of Lake Michigan on the last night of this trip.)

 

A Ride Through The Hills — Lower-BC-style

15/07/21 at 10.58am   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Here is a bit of the ride along Highway 3 in lower BC. It had been recommended by other bikers I had met on the road and did not disappoint!

Rattling Along The Alcan

15/07/19 at 1.06pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Here is a sample of what one can expect on The Alaska Highway.

Day 48 (July 18): In The Middle of North America

15/07/18 at 10.32pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Grand Forks, North Dakota

Let’s set the mood.

 

Earlier today, on my way through North Dakota, I stopped for a photo op at the geograph

Posing at the centre of North America

Posing at the centre of North America

ical centre of North America. No video this time, I’m afraid; it was windy/rainy/cold — not the best conditions for video. Gunther was in a good mood, though; and was more than ready for photo in front of the marker.

 

While there, I couldn’t help but notice I was feeling a little peckish; and decided to try out the Mexican restaurant across the parking lot from the marker: The Rancho Grande. I mean, come on; an authentic Mexican restaurant at a crossroads in the Mid-West? How could I not?

 

Homemade salsa and tortilla chips, a BIG burrito and a Mexican cola. That’s all I’m going to say. Well, that, and that it was a delicious change from diner burgers. I asked Aaron, who was slinging food and otherwise making patrons feel good, what on earth made them think they could turn a profit selling Mexican food o

Haming it up with Aaron

Haming it up with Aaron

ut in the middle of nowhere (yeah, yeah, it’s the middle of somewhere ’cause it’s the middle of North America): “Truckers,” he told me. The owners were already turning a healthy profit selling Mexican food to truckers with their locations in Kansas. One day, someone suggested there are a lot of hungry truckers looking for something other than typical diner food up this way. A lightbulb exploded; and eight months ago, they opened this place.

 

So, how’s business? Aaron says they weren’t planning to turn a profit for a couple years; but, they are doing well now. “The one challenge is finding good people [to work in the restaurant].” If anyone out there is looking for gig in a cool Mexican restaurant, reach out to Aaron at, well, at The Centre of North America, corner of Hwys 2 and 3. North Dakota.

 

***

 

Before North Dakota, I was in Montana as I

Montana - Big Sky Country

Montana – Big Sky Country

began making my way back East through the U.S. I have to say, the people I met here are among the friendliest people one could ever know.

 

On Thursday night, for example, I detoured off the highway around 6 p.m. looking for a place to get some dinner; and found myself in the village of Joplin (population 200, I heard). I say, village; but there’s really not much there except a few farms and houses and a shop or two that repairs farm machinery. There was, however, the local watering hole with neon “Bar and Grill” sign in the window. The “Grill” part caught my eye; and I pulled into the unpaved parking lot among the pick-ups.

 

You need to know I was wearing my bright, yellow rain suit as the weather had been cold and wet throughout the afternoon.

 

So, I ventured up to the heavy wooden door, and opened it. As I entered, the chatter I had heard from outside stopped. You could hear a pin drop as the locals looked at me. I could feel all the eyes on me as I walked over to the bar, my boots making a clunk-clunk-clunk sound on the floor. I’m not making this up — It was just like in one of those old westerns. The woman behind the bar even said “Whaddlya have.” She didn’t say “Paht-nah” though.

 

“Whiskey, straight up, bahkeep” I didn’t say. Rather, I knew the bright yellow rain suit was standing out just a bit; and grinned and said, “I’ll bet you don’t get people coming into your bar dressed like this every day!” After that, they started chattering away again. One of them said, “When you came through the door, we thought you were from Mars!”

 

And that’s how I got to know a few of the good people of Joplin. The woman behind the bar turned out to be tough on the outside (I wouldn’t want to misbehave in her place) but there was a kind heart that shone through. Plus, she made the best fried chicken I’ve eaten in a long time.

 

The guy sitting next to me at the bar was drinking his latest Kokanee; and introduced himself as Mike. Mike was a bear of a man; a farmer who spiced sentences with “Goddamn.” Mike told me about how he learned to ride motorcycles by learning on dirt bikes, one of which was a 3-cylinder Yamaha he had a bad fall with: “…that sonbitch taught me a lesson THAT day…”

 

Mike told me who the others were — his cousin who was building a wedding cake for his daughter’s up-coming wedding; and other friends and relatives. Another man, named Oslo, came in to the bar and joined in the banter; and began talking to me about my trip as if we’d known each other all of our lives.

 

Here’s the thing: I was there for less than an hour. And, in tha short span of time, these people took me in — a complete stranger from the highway — and made me feel as if I belonged with them; with their community.

 

So, a BIG thanks to the folks I met on Thursday. This one’s for you (it’s Janis Joplin; get it?)

Day 45 (July 15): Blowing Through Marlboro Country

15/07/16 at 1.04pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Calgary

14,394 km

 

Back in Calgary for a pit stop at Blackfoot: Gunther’s brake light has developed a tendency to remain lit, even when the brakes are off, when it’s raining. I first noticed it during the torrential downpour when I was riding from Tok to Fairbanks. The weather has been mostly dry since then; but that’s showing signs of changing. A motorcycle is invisible enough in the rain; I don’t need the added risk of being rear-ended because the driver behind me couldn’t tell I was stopping.‎
‎
Besides, I want have the oil changed one last time before heading back to Toronto.
‎
On the ride from Fernie to Calgary, I bade farewell to The Rockies, taking the Crowsnest Pass across. This is where the twisting road of Highway 3 East gives way to Highway 22 North for those that are headed toward Calgary. The curves become wider and longer as the road winds through Marlboro country: Acres of rolling green pastures with hay neatly rolled and sorted into lines on one side of the road; and cattle being hearded by cowboys on horses on the other. No kidding — they had cowboy hats and ropes with lassos; Marlboro country.‎
‎
Pastoral as it is, the wind is gusty along here. When you have these massive mountains and then the open plain, this is bound to happen as the hot/cold air trade places. In fact, these gusts make the Crownest pass one of the more dangerous roads to ride (or drive) on; and there are large warning signs along with LED signs that report the current wind speed. When I came through, the wind was blowing at 36 km/h; and, with my previous experience riding across the open prairies, the ride through the pass was like skiing on a bunny hill.
‎

Coal car in The Bellevue Mine

Coal car in The Bellevue Mine

Earlier, in the day, I ventured down into the Bellevue Coal Mine — one of the last of the underground coal mines in the area to be closed. The mine was in operation from 1901 to 1961. Next time you think your job is tough, consider this: The miners had

Inside the mine with the lights out: Black as, uh, coal.

Inside the mine with the lights out: Black as, uh, coal.

to walk/climb for up to two hours to get to the coal vein the were mining; they didn’t get paid for this time — they got paid for the amount of coal they were able to mine (50 cents per ton); and to mine the coal, they had to hold 30-lb pneumatic picks (like small jack hammers) at a 37-degree angle, often over their heads for 8h per day in dimly-lit caverns (Note to self: Don’t piss off a miner).

Happy I'm not a miner.

Happy I’m not a miner.

Day 31 (July 1): End of the Road

15/07/04 at 3.41am   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

Fairbanks, AK

9,431 km

 

Well, I’m here. I’m here? I’m here! Goddamn–I made it! The end of The Alaska Highway. Well, the unofficial end, anyway. The official end is Delta Junction, which I passed through about

Delta Junction: End of the road (officially).

Delta Junction: End of the road (officially).

150 km ago. That’s where the mile marker is. Of course, I had to go to the end, official or not, lest there be any doubt as to whether I have, in fact, ridden The Alaska Highway from one end to the other.

The skies have not parted (except to release buckets of rain); there has been no epiphany; no Holy Grail; no life-altering visions; no… uh… anything, really. I mean, except for the comfort and bragging rights from the knowledge I have ridden across Canada and up to Alaska. In fairness, the dream I had so many years ago did not promise anything beyond riding a motorcycle to Alaska.
Hmmmm. So now what? Guess I’ll ride back home.
“…and you may ask yourself, ‘Well, how did I get here?'”
Ah, but it never was about the destination, was it? It’s about the journey; the ride. And what a ride it has been. I have had an opportunity to see parts of Canada I have only heard about or seen pictures of; and parts I did not know existed. Moreover, I have had a chance to meet and speak with the people who live there as well as others who, like me, are discovering.
How long has it been since Calgary? Seems like an eternity ago. I’ll try to retrace my steps in the next few posts.

 

 

A Ride Through The Mountains

15/07/01 at 5.13pm   /   by SteelHorseRover   /   0 Comment

A little further North, now. This is what the “highway” is like just North or Kluane (kloo-ah-ney).

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