Well, to tell you the truth, I have not been keeping very calm. In fact, I have been itching to get back on the road, to snore my nights away in a sleeping bag and tent while creatures snuffle about, to eat in roadside diners and beside wandering rivers. I could even stand to ride an interstate for a few miles, knowing that a small town or a forgotten byway was just over the hill.
I have had a very fortunate year, and I am extremely lucky to have travelled through Australia, up to Inuvik, and down to wondrous Moab. One of my friends commented not too long ago that she felt "travelling" was addictive and gets into one's psyche in such a way as to make normality an impossibility.
Long before I began riding, I knew that I was not heading for normal, and I am sure a few of my friends can attest to that view.
Right or wrong, the feelings which are evoked by rolling into the sunrise of a new day on a motorcycle are uplifting and tremendously invigorating for me and others who are addicted to two-wheels travel. Some writers have been able to articulate and describe the fine balance between ultimate freedom and the consequence of speed and physics which sets the boundaries for all riders. I think that skiers, surfers, long boarders and moto gp drivers all have those moments when the fine line between the rush of the instant throttle and the consequences of losing that line will be decisive. While that little speed devil does sit on my right shoulder and whisper in my ear at times, I have gained respect for and a full awareness of the God called Gravity, and I have firmly determined that in order to experience more of this world, crashes and "offs" need to be kept to a minimum and the limits of my riding skills and abilities will probably not increase as I get older, less nimble, and more difficult to heal.
Our winter has reached its darkest time, bringing with it all of the rains that an El Nino year can generate. Tess and Blondy are safely bundled away in my "office" and Igor is settled down in the tool shed, away from the salt air of the ocean and the ever present rains of November and December. After a full summer of travel and adventure, Blondy is deserving of a rest. My son Ian determined that she was burning oil during our trip to Inuvik and beyond. I suppose a compression test would determine the status of the rings and more than likely suggest that work on the engine with 185,000 kilometers would be in order.
I am thinking that Tess could do with the set of Clearwater lights currently hanging from Blondy, and I do like the solid nature of the Caribou panniers which have served me so well. How will Blondy take it, becoming a donor bike to the new girl?
When will the rain stop? Will this be a cold, snowy winter? Should I budget for insuring Tess early in the New Year? I wonder if the roads along the Oregon and California coasts are ice free...could I sneak down to Baja, to Guatemala and see my friends in San Jaun de Atilan. The self-talk of an addict, suffering withdrawal and living in the wrong hemisphere for this time of year....
“Who really can face the future? All you can do is project from the past, even when the past shows that such projections are often wrong. And who really can forget the past? What else is there to know?”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values
It seems to me that this is a good time to reflect upon the past year of riding, and examine if I have learned anything of value, or do I need to do much more research....
I know that around this time last year, I was in much the same mood: depressed with the lack of sunlight, the growing rains, and the prospect of a long cold Canadian winter. While it had been brewing in the back of my mind for a number of years, it was not until January that a plan for a tour of Australia came to fruition. The online contacts with the Australian adventure riders kept me focussed as I finalized my trip. Almost a year later, I need to review some of the highlights to remind me of the brilliant blue skies and the incessant heat of Australia's center....as well as other memorable rides of 2015.
Soon after arriving in Sydney, I was reminded that Captain Cook managed to get around and see the world, without the benefit of airplanes or a moto...
I met some resident bikers while I stayed in Kings' Cross. While they seemed to spend a lot of time at the bar and on the street, they did remember their brothers who had fallen....
I remembered how much I loved marching as an Army Cadet, how the cadence of the boots against the pavement seemed to be in perfect harmony with the pipes..I wanted to remember more of my Scots Grandmother and I regretted that I had not paid better attention to her tales from the Old Country.
While Sydney was an excellent city to begin my Australian adventure, there was still much to see and to learn from getting on the road. First, I needed to be reminded that throughout the world, there are good people who wish no more than to pass on their joy of living, and their kindness to their fellow man.
I need to remind myself that however seamless and effortless it now appears with ending up with Rooby, it would not have happened without the kindness of her owner, Brian. Not only did he welcome me into his home, but he helped me kit out his bike for my tour of Australia. Brian was terminally ill, and too weak to ride. He saw an opportunity to pass on to me the joy that he had felt in his rides throughout Oz. I am forever grateful for knowing Brian, and I know in my heart that I was meant to meet him and gain from him a better understanding of the cycle of life.
When I reminisce about my Australian travels, I remember how well I was treated, and welcomed to the country. When the Aussies learned that I was a Canadian, they began to treat me like a long lost country cousin.
I have always been a museum guy. Someone said that if you don't learn from the past, you are bound to repeat it. For a number of years now, I have been interested in the history of my family. My Mothers' father served overseas in the First War. Family stories left me with the impression that he was a sniper, and that he had been involved with the battle of Vimy.
He probably carried a Lee Enfield such as the SMLE above, and undoubtedly faced similar machine guns as the Maxim, below.
A friend of my fathers' had built a Lee Enfield for me when I was younger, and I was very active at long distance target shooting with that beautiful firearm. I think that my involvement with the Army Cadets was a very positive influence upon my adolescence, and I am very grateful for that experience. The Lithgow Museum is a very unique testament to the history of firearms.
Sometimes when you are travelling, a simple rollout beside the road is all that is needed to refresh the old eyes.
Like Canada, the Australians have organized and manned effective marine rescue teams.
These guys are fascinating, mainly because they were the opposite colour to the white swans that I was used to...
No matter where you go, someone will have a yappy little dog who thinks he owns the world, and will nip you if he gets a chance.
Everyone loves a pirate, it seems
I can remember a few old windmills from my travels on the Canadian Prairies,and parts of the United States, but I think this fellow was fully functional and certainly enhanced the landscape.
I am always attracted to a sandy beach, and the accompanying geography formed by the powerful ocean seems to be a bonus.
I note that my blog seems to catch these multidirectional signs wherever I run across them. An effort to find something, or a demonstration of the vastness of our planet?
Lots and lots of empty is Australia...
As I was taking a photo of this croc, a lady told me that there was "another bugger down at the river, and 'e took out a 'orse last week." I knew where I wasn't going to be camping..
Well, I am one of those who believes in the the Sasquatch, so I have no problem with Flying Saucers...
Without words, so much information is communicated to those who take the time to read the signs.
I often wonder if I ever did manage to get the concept of meridians of longitude and latitude across to kids. I probably enjoyed Social Studies more than they did, and now that they have phones and GPS's, I guess the point is moot.
History was (and is) a large part of Social Studies. At the risk of repeating myself, the lessons of Gallipoli will be repeated unless some changes are made in how we deal with aggression and tyrants.
Wherever I roam, I enjoy street art. Always with an underlying political message, a good artist can reach the masses..
The Australians don't mess around with their postal delivery system, and the folks who deliver the mail on the "posties" are hardy souls.
The world is divided into little yappy dogs who run their handlers, and working dogs who love their handlers unconditionally.
I found it interesting that this memorial to Vietnam Vets, of whom there are many in Australia, shows an Lee Enfield.
Aussie bikers reminded me a lot of the dual sport crowd from British Columbia.
My mother was able to coax flowers from the ground, and my sister seems to have had that skill passed on. Sadly, I can only admire others' gardens, it seems.
I'll bet his grandmother knew my grandmother...
Every good boat has a woman in front of Her...
It seems to me that there is another example of regularized Geography somewhere on the rough coasts of Ireland or Scotland, or maybe Eastern Canada.. I will have to check that out..
Did I mention my lack of a green thumb, and my envy of a successful garden?
Probably one of the more unique road signs I have run across, as the Tasmanian Devil is somewhat limited in his wanderings...
Some folks doing their bit for global warming...
I sometimes wonder how my life would have rolled if I had continued to ride British Bikes, back in the sixties....
Any background can do for telling a story. Only the Honey Ants know the full story for sure...
I finally found the Australian Sacred Walk and felt the Aboriginal Art that I was looking for. How many thousands of years ago was this story written?
Getting closer to the center of things, and closer to my Australian vision...
I finally can see where I am going.....
and I can also see where I have been...
I wandered around Urlu for two days...circling it, watching it in the sunrise and the sunset. The more that I contemplated this huge monolith, the more amazing it became. I began to fathom the mystery of The Rock..
For me, the Rock was up there with Manchu Pichu and Conuma Mountain...
Werners' Baby is beautiful. Made in Germany. Fine Lines and sleek. I love his new bike too.
Don't bite the hand that feeds you, little critter..
Here we go again....
I was not paying attention to the Danger Signs as I slept on the cool concrete table, at least not until I saw the sign written on the roof above me...
True or not, it is always good to have a fantasy to follow when one is wandering aimlessly....
And yet again,I was able to recapture the psychedelic dreams of my youth with age-old cave drawings left by true wanderers many many years ago...
Thank you Rooby for being such a reliable ride..Thank you Brian for being a great Man..
Wherever I am, wherever I wander, I pay close attention to those full moons. If I am lucky enough to be camped in the middle of the Australian outback and can listen to the dingoes singing...I am fulfilled.
No sooner had I landed back in Vancouver to a wonderful Canadian Spring, and I was on the road again. The road trip with my Son was a great opportunity to catch up and to see my part of Canada again....
Aussies did not have to worry about snow avalanches....
I could see for miles and miles and miles from Kalamalka Lake lookout. The memories of my youth in Vernon exploded over the landscape as each view sparked a new emotion, memory, and feeling...
The hills were covered with fresh Sunflowers, and framed by the "Lake of Many Colours." I recognized that Mothers Day was coming: my sister and I would comb the hills for bouquets of these bright yellow flowers for our Mom's table.
Our visit to Armstrong confirmed that the Armstrong boys were growing and gaining more riding skills...
My sister was glad to see that the snakes and spiders had spared me and I was happy to see that she could enjoy her grandkids...
Cousins reconnected...
I had missed the mountains, and the Rockies confirmed for me that I was home in British Columbia....
And of course the Elk were out ....
I learned that there a lot of helicopters and small helicopter companies in Western Canada..
Spring was slower in coming to the Prairies, and there was a sense that the Earth would soon explode in colour.
I remember my Dad talking about his days in the RCAF. Both he and his brother served in the Royal Canadian Air Force. My cohort, those of us who did not serve, will never fully comprehend how service to our country impacted men and women and the generations to come.
Little did I know that a visit to a Calgary bike shop would refuel the fantasies of an addition to the family sooner than I thought....
Heading west into British Columbia....
With a side trip down into the Kooteneys..
No sooner had I returned to Tahsis, and my Son and Daughter-in-Law showed up. A boat trip was in order to Friendly Cove.
The Mowachaht Muchalaht First Nation have lessened the presence of the
church upon their territory by housing their ceremonial and spiritual artifacts within the old building.
In the past 35 years, I have managed to visit Yuquot at least a couple of times a year. Each visit, I am overwhelmed by the history of this wonderful site as well as the unmet beauty.
The two-headed snake, or better known Sistiutl, towers over the Thunderbird carving within the church.
Yuquot has been described as the place of four winds, or where the "wind comes from all directions." Stephanie is looking out into the Pacific, and while the water is fairly calm today, the waves from the SouthEasterlies can pound on the rocky beach in front of her.
The Mowachaht-Muchalaht people have carved and erected a welcoming figure, looking out into the Pacific. The strong lines and towering figure evoke an image of the buried heads from Easter Island, or the towering totems from the Haida-Gwaii islands to the north.
Yuquot's place in British Columbia's history is significant, and althouth the longhouses are long-gone, the beauty and majesty of the peninsula affords opportunities for many photos...
The next day we visited the neighbouring community of Zeballos. I told my guests that I had ridden through a small community called Cevallos in southern Chile. Although the memory was mine, I could see that the significance was lost on them...
I was happy to be back in the town where I had spent so many years and had acquired a couple boatloads of memories, experiences, trials and successes. While I was not riding every day, there was opportunity for reflection and contemplation of the endless summer I had managed to create for myself by jumping from one hemisphere to another.
A number of years ago, I had decided to plant a tree in memory of my Mother. The BC Dogwood seemed appropriate for the area. It has taken a number of years to bloom to this extent, and it looks like Mom's green thumb was finally getting through to me. Either that, or the mild winter and warm Spring were affording optimal conditions for the blossoms and the tree.
I can claim no credit for the California poppies that were beginning to pop out from between the cracks of the steps. Those little seeds had survived another winter and were coming back in force.
Even the rhododendrons seemed to be more than happy to bloom this year.
Dave W is the leader of the pack. He and his brother had a sawmill on the island, and Dave knows the trails on the North Island intimately.
Sointula has a lot of history, as attested by the co-op sign.
IGOR is happy to be ridden and just right for the tight tracks on the ride.
Another lighthouse with another couple of riders...
Looks to me like the Sistiutl..
Malcolm Island has a very interesting history, with many Finnish immigrants making the island home.
Back on Vancouver Island, Dave leads the pack into some interior lakes.
..and up above the clouds.
I don't believe most mainlanders understand that Vancouver Island has some serious mountains...
Dave took us to a natural cave which descended down into the earth. It appeared that the karst had been worn away by water action. It was slippery and scary work to move down into the bowls of the earth..
We visited another site where miners had bored into the side of the mountain, looking for minerals...
Telegraph Cove was a nice stop for lunch. This tiny cove has a huge amount of history, and the eastern vista confirmed for me the beauty and variety of sites we have on Vancouver Island.
While I was away, the Spring Sun brought out the rhodos and made me feel like a hero...
Gardening done, it was time for another ride. I met up with two buddies who have guided my late reentry into to the riding world. Bones and Jay Bird were two of the first guys to give me the name "Alderman" after I managed to launch Blondy 20 feet into the trees on a Tahsis ride. We have managed to get together for different Island rides over the past few years, and they are always good folks to have along to help lift the bike out of whatever ditch I manage to find.
I came back to Tahsis to do some gardening, but the poppies were fine, so I convinced my Son to ride to the Yukon and beyond. That ride was well documented in a prior posting...
The two girls, prior to a rough and dirty ride to Fort McMurray and back. My Calgary fantasies came to fruition, and Tess, (who was not named until I recognized her along the banks of the Teslin River in the Yukon) was introduced to Blondy.
My friend Doug enjoyed the ride to Dawson City for the gathering there, and he continued on to Alaska on his new Suzuki.
I had to include, one more time, a photo of my favourite Chetwynd crew...
The Yukon river is amazing. I had never understood or appreciated the tremendous area covered by this powerful river.
Further down the road, we visited my salmon fishing partner at Slave Lake.
While there, I had to photograph the stickers on the Caribou bags. They were getting worn from the ride, and for each of them was a great memory of a life changing ride to Patagonia. Like memories, the stickers will erode and become blurred and torn. That is one reason why I take so many photos, I suppose.
I can guarantee that there are only three of the Cuban flag stickers in existence, as my friends and I had them custom made in a tiny Cuban village. What an artist that young man was, whipping these up in a matter of minutes...
I can also guarantee that one other person in this world understands the significance of this Ecuadorian Eagle, purchased from a vendor working beside a Cathedral in the Skies. This eagle guided us through the fog as we descended from that mountain...
I knew that good Kharma was with us when the grouse that could have taken Ian's head off decided to veer at the last moment and smash the headlight. I saw it all in slow motion, and in an instant prayed for his safety...
A visit with my daughter and grandson in Edmonton was icing on the cake, and the completion of yet another circle of touring, travelling, and living.
These Three are continually after me to get out of my head. Riding a motorcycle, by definition, puts one into ones' head as we face the curves and hills of Life. It was reaffirming to my soul to have all three of my kids todgether, laughing and enjoying themselves as adults. A part of my journey was complete.
It doesn't seem such a Dark Continent, does it?
Back to Armstrong, and time to touch bases with my Armstrong Gang. They grow like weeds and one cannot feel anything but love for these two characters as they are full-blown boys, all the time...
They remind me so much of a much younger time in my life, when parenting two tow-heads was my everyday role.
I wonder if Ian understood the significance of his role that day?
Back to Tahsis, and the results of a long-hot summer. The lakes are dry.
Just in time for Tahsis Days parade.....
My neighbours, the Eagle pair, are back and chattering about their summer.
A quick water of the lawn, and it was time for another North Island ride with Igor, Dave, and Jay Bird and friends.
Did I mention that Vancouver Island has some serious Mountains??
Very soon, it was time for a rally. We were facing a Federal Election in the Fall...
A quick trip to the Horizons Unlimited meeting in Nakusp was hampered by smoke from the fires down in Washington.
My other Son and Daughter-in-Law came to Tahsis for a visit.
This .22 of my Grandfathers' still shoots well, in fact much better than I can see.
We managed a trip to Yuquot. Unfortunately, the old Honda died, so we had a longer trip home. Gord was not surprised, I think..
Another ride to Calgary for a planned trip with my Chetwynd family. My sisters new ride sidled up to my new ride...
In Montana, these bison were totally unconcerned with the bikes, although I did not like getting too close to them...
Old Faithful was on time...
We rode over Beartooth pass, which was a bonus...
The battle site of the Little Big Horn was interesting and certainly well-documented..if not completely truthful according to a Sioux elder that I talked to.
Mom's sunflowers were in full bloom, "down there'"
We had to vist the icon of all science fiction fans...
My brother-in-law was in Harley Heaven as we visited Sturgis. Fortunately, it was after the big gathering, and we were able to wander at will..
Deadhorse was interesting too...
And of course, Mt. Rushmore was on the itinerary.
"In my day.."
I took the opportunity to visit the Medicine Wheel, which was off the main road. The site was very powerful and spiritually uplifting.
I had to hike to the site but there was not any problem with that. The closer that I came to the actual Wheel, the stronger that I felt. The area was certainly infused with history and spirituality.
Over the years, many First Nations from different regions have visited and prayed at this site. They have left their offerings in many different forms. I genuinely felt that I was connecting with a Higher Power as I circled the site and gave thanks in my own way.
At this offering, I thought of my niece Amy and I sent a special prayer her Way..
The Medicine Wheel is on the spur of a large mountain range. As soon as I left the place of Prayer, the road dropped in a series of hairpins to the valley far, far below. I thought of the people who had trekked to this site in the past millennia.
My Sister navigates a tunnel...
Another museum for me...
A clear view of the Beartooth which gives the pass its name...
On my way back to Canada, I headed through the Road to the Sun...although there was not much Sun..
On the ferry, I talked to three kids from Saskatchewan, who were on their first ride to the west coast. Their rides were classic ape-hanger, wide tired Harleys.
Back in Tahsis, I had time to think about my Son and Blondy. I knew that he would be looking after her, and giving her a bath...
But soon enough an opportunity to ride came up. IGOR was tied down to a boat-trailer and hauled to Victoria..
I was joined up with other Zombie Response members, and we were on our way to Moab, Utah...
We stopped in Salt Lake City for a visit to the Temple and a quick tour around town....
Doug enjoyed the visit to the Temple.
The rock formations and riding in Moab was fantastic..
Clay figured this area was as cool as Dawson City
Mike and I visited a local shop in Moab. I bought a Kokopelli figure for my kitchen wall...
A littly owy gets medical attention...
We travelled into the La Sall mountains for a view of the Aspens..
We travelled up to the yellow aspens..
Truly majestic rides and even better views...you know you are alive when you are 2000 feet above the floor..
On the way home, we detoured to Las Vegas for some nightlife..
This is the crew's "Captain Morgan in Vegas" pose...
Some mechanical issues were dealt with by our able leader, Scotty...
A riding couple: who could ask for more?
- No, Miladen, you don't need hair to be cool...
Doug was another camera guy...
Very soon after saying goodbye to my fellow Zombie Killers, Ian arrived in Tahsis with Blondy. She was as tired as he was after his latest round of work in Fort McMurray. Our summer ride paid off for him....
Another visitor arrived in Tahsis as well. Glen, who I had met in Australia, rolled in from Alaska. He had purchased his bike in Anchorage, and was making his way to South America, with lots of stops in-between..
The girls and boys were happy to have another visitor to the stable.
Glen managed to get some of the road dirt cleaned away from his new girl.
The weather is changing,and the leaves are gaining some colour. Autumn on the west coast was here...
I finally installed my trip to Africa on the back of the Yuquot Warrior..Big, black, and hopefully will outlast me...
The sun is setting earlier and earlier in the day, and my house is more in shadow than usual...winter is coming...
Remembrance Day in Tahsis is always well attended. I remember a number of cold November 11 mornings standing on guard at Remembrance Day ceremonies as a RCAC member.
R.C.M.P. members from Gold River attend the ceremony.
The veterans from Tahsis show their respect for their fallen comrades.
The rains begin in earnest, and the rivers flow...
It is time to look for prawns
Well I guess we have our answer to the overfishing...
I spotted these fellows coming to town in late November. They seemed to be in a hurry..little did I know what they would bring.
This corner of the road is magical for me. I have seen beautiful elk staring from the alders as I pass, and have nearly been killed by an idiot on the wrong side of the road.
Frost and quick weather changes are the norm for this time of year.
The swans come back to Head Bay and the inlet.
The road hardens up and the frost coats the trees that are near the rivers.
Inuk has a baby...
The Three Sisters come on full force...
And the Seal Lions settle in for the winter, or at least as long as the food supply is around.
The Sea Lions are very noisy. The bulls keep up a constant barking when they are pulled up on the logs. I suppose if city folks learn to put up with sirens, I will eventually learn to live with their incessant noise...
Well, another year has been lived, and another year added to the plus side of my life scale. Years ago, I had a great aunt who was very direct in her opinions and she never hesitated in telling me that I would never live to see my thirtieth birthday. While I had very little understanding of the age that I was living, and certainly no fear of death, I will always remember her pointed admonishments of my wanna-be hippy lifestyle. While I have, by luck more than anything, managed to live by more than double her predictions, I do have to recognize that there is an aspect of my present views of the world that are possibly hold overs from those days of flashing lights, loud music and too practical interpretations of Carlos Castaneda. (Some of you won't have to google him.)
That is, I cannot remember a time in my life when I have not had a camera, or two, in my hand or at most easily accessible. It seems that I was always taking a photo and trying to record my experiences. Sometimes I felt that I was using the camera to hide an introverted personality, and access others' lives through the hardcopy prints of their experience. Even at the risk of being viewed as intrusive, I have continued to click away. I am learning that not all people want their lives portrayed on the internet, and I do hope that I am not harming anyone's privacy by my photos.
Ass I reconstruct my life by looking in the rearview mirror of this blog, I see patterns of behaviour, and recognize errors and omissions in my life which I need to work upon. I am reminded of the goodness which has benefitted me, and the wonderful people who have been part of my experience. I know that living a good life is not as easy as editing or deleting an unwanted photo, and I am continually reminded that every day provides an opportunity to minimize the chances of having to delete or deny any part of that day.
If you have followed this post to the end, you are a stronger and better friend than I can imagine from this end of the keyboard. As I ride, my mind seems to settle into my helmet, and the mechanics of the ride become second-nature to the flow of thoughts, feelings, and ideas which seem to grow with each new vista. In the same manner, reviewing a years' set of photos tends to put me firmly and squarely in my head. As this is that time of year where reflection is acceptable, I trust that my observations ring true for that aspect of my personality that you know.
I plan on continuing to ride, to take photos, and to continue to learn to distil, transcribe and translate what I see into a sensible world for me. I truly trust that your manner of making sense of the ride which we all take will bring you pleasure, knowledge and peace in the upcoming years.
