Deju Vu and then Some..

Last night I decided that I would head for Cathedral Park, which is south of Keromes.  There was a little rain last night, but the tarp and fly kept the water out and the bugs down, so I had a good sleep, and was ready for coffee by 8:00 AM, at a Princeton coffee shop which opens at 4:30 AM.  Between the cowboy coffee and the free wi-fi, I was set for the day.
I decided to head over towards Cathedral Park via the Old Hedly Hiway, on the North side of the Similkimeen.  It is a great ride of 30 Km or so, and I was astounded at the number of homes, ranches and farms which are buried along the route.  I had to stop at the cafe in Hedly and have another coffee and muffin, and fill up with fuel, as I did not have any idea how far in the road would take me.

While coffeeing up, this rig went by.  I was not quick enough with the camera, but did find it parked down the street a few blocks.  Again, this set up reminded me of the Model A that Dad had, although I think that he had a pickup.  This rig was a Plymouth, and I thought that whomever was transporting this setup had found himself a real gem.  There was still air in the tires, and paint on the wooden rims.  I imagine someone will pay big time for this antique. I would guess that it is somewhere in the early '30's.

The rig was parked outside of a shop? with the an eclectic collection of antiques and junk spread out all over the place.  The owner, or someone with a sense of humour had also mounted some moto art on the wall of the building.

After fuelling up, I headed towards Keromeos and the Cathedral Parks turnoff.  I soon came upon it, and certain features again became familiar.  I had ridden across this covered bridge about two years ago, when the BCBig Traillie ended in Keromeos.

I had stopped on the side of the hiway to say hello to a mother Osprey just before the bridge.

About 25 years ago, I had taken my sons on a long weekend campout from Chilliwack.  We had spent a day wandering around Lytton, and then made our way up towards the Okanagan.  I remember making this turn off, and ending up spending a few hours watching a Pow-Wow under this arbor.  I don't know if the boys remember that experience or not. It would be nice if they did, considering I drove from the Island to spend some time with them.  Anyways, the arbor still stands.

I carried on up the Ashanola Valley, which became narrower and narrower the further south I travelled.  The river was a beautiful tea colour, and I was convinced that it was full of brook trout.

About 25 km in, I stopped at a opening beside the road and took a break.  It looked like someone had set up a pretty serious camp at one point.  Not soon after, I passed what I took to be the trail head for the Cathedral Parks.  I continued on for another hour or so, until I reached a fork in the road.  Mr. Garmin was not of much help.  It looked as if the road was petering out, and the other road to the right seemed to climb into the cliffs.  I consulted the available signes, and decided that this road was not going to carry through to any highway, and that i would be better off, (and smarter) to  turn around and head back the way that i came.

I had turned around, and was heading back whence I had come, when this fellow passed me. I stopped, and he stopped, and we ended up bsing for about two hours.  KLR Vince was from Osyoos, and was heading up the road to the left, the one that I did not take.  He said that it got into the snow, and definitely above the treeline.  We talked bikes, travelling to Mexico, and being long-haired kids in the 60's.  Just like me, Vince is a retired straight arrow now, and he has over 200,000 km on two KLR's.  We had a good discussion about the pros and cons of riding in Mexico and the advantages of each of our bikes.  We talked about our youth in BC and how things had changed considerably.  I think that both of us recognized a kindred spirit of sort, and also probably acknowledged, at least to ourselves, that we were grateful to be alive and able to enjoy retirement.  It was one of those chance meetings of strangers that one has, and it was encouraging for me, in that my plans for travelling south were more or  less affirmed by Vince, who has travelled quite extensively in Mexico.    After our bs session, he decided to ride out with me, and we rode back over the original trail to the covered bridge.

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I wandered back to Hedly for another coffee and muffin, and had a good chat with a couple of old-timers, one of whom was a former hard rock miner.  He told me stories about riding to Sturgis and riding in 135 degree heat on the Prairies.   He also said that there were 500,000 bikes when he visited Sturgis.    On my way back to Princeton, I ran into a couple of thunderstorms, which cooled me and Blondie down.  They have paved the road between Hedly and Keremeos, and all of the tar-snakes from   other days are now gone.  As I was rolling into Princeton, two guys were pulling a bambi off of the road. I guess they had creamed it with their car.

There are a lot of the buggers around, and I am extra careful about the jumpers, as they can do serious damage..

I don't care if they are Canadian deer or not, they are still stupid.

My son Ian will remember this building, which is the remanents of a defunct cement factory from the early 1900's.  The resort is spread out over 108 acres, and is a good venue  and base for this ride coming up.

Coalmont, Granite City, and other places...

Wandered around Princeton for awhile after a good night tenting at the Princeton Castle Resort, which is the venue for the upcoming ride.  I went to the museum and appreciated the local efforts to document the history of the community.  Another BC town based on mining which has seen better times.  I looked around for a proper fuel bottle for my stove.  I was not paying close attention to the needs of the so-called backackers' stove, and it appears that the Brunton needs a special bottle to carry the different fuels which it is capable of burning.  I am sure that I could adapt, but I can usually wait a bit for my morning coffee.

The museum had an exhibit of a recent air show that was held at the Princeton airport.  Apparently the first airplane flew into Princeton in 1914.  The goggles and mask in the second photo are from a World War II bomber crew.  This exhibit triggered memories of Big Jim, who flew as a Wireless Air Gunner in Lancasters.  Jim and his friends basically saved my life, and I always will remember the stories that he told about his own terrors as he flew over Dresden at 10,000 feet and the air was burning around him.  I don't think that he ever did conquor those nightmares, and we as a society still have not managed to come to terms with killing and bombing each other.  Jim paid a terrible price for his service to his country, and I suspect that many veterans from more recent wars will also carry the guilt and stress of doing their duty.

I decided to head out to Coalmont, a community which I had visited a number of years before.  I was not sure if I could ride on the KVR, and I was just as happy to wander up the highway for 30KM or so, through the twisty road.

The hotel is having a celebration this weekend, proclaiming 100 years of operation.
I took a wander up a side road, to Granite City.  There were over 2000 people there in the early 1900's, and in a matter of 15 years, it became a ghost town.  I guess I had better stop whining about the rise and fall of BC resource towns, whether it be gold, silver, coal, or cedar, it appears that cities and towns seem to come and go, with the deer and the bush always winning.

 The remains of Granite City..

I had to take a picture of this one, for my Son the aspiring Helicopter pilot.  I did not get to spend much time with him at his brothers' wedding, but he seemed to be happy and willing to carry on with the grunt work which will lead to him piloting in the future.

Lost and Found

After the serious downpour near Oliver, I had decided to hit the laundromat to dry out the sleeping bag, and then to find a cheap motel so that I could get some real rest. I crashed for most of Monday, and had two showers to get some of the road dirt off.

I went looking for the Custom bike shop that I had ended up at last year, when I broke my foot and hobbled into Penticton. I had seen it the day before, but I will be damded if I could find it again. I had wanted to take some pics of the custom Harleys that I remembered from last year, and to also thank the fellows in the shop, who had looked at my broken bike, and offered to help as well. I thought that it would be good to tie that loop off, and thank them while I was standing and not grimacing in pain. Oh well, the dudes with the classy bikes and the tats that have the custom bike shop in Penticton were cool, and I promised them that if won the lotto, I would be back and buy a few bikes from them. The promise still stands....

I headed out of town,and found that the Green Mountain road was directly opposite to the Timmies where I had taken coffee for the last two mornings. I not have a better understanding of how Penticton is laid out. I don't us
ually head down that way when I am in the Okanagan. While I was passing through Oliver, I had a deju vu all over again about a long lost girl friend who I think lived in Oliver, but I am damded if I can remember her name. Sigh...

I headed up the Greeen Mountain road towards Apex mountain. The road is a nice twisty type of ride, and I had a good time gaining altitude and hitting the Ponderosa pines and the open sage country as I climbed towards Apex Mountain resort.

I just had to stop and take a picture of this guy:

I think that this is a Model A Ford.  My Dad had a Model A pickup in the late 40's.  I would have been only 3 or 4, but I have the distinct memory of crawling into that truck and starting it, as the starter was on the floor.  Whether I started it, or just wore out the starter and clutch, I don't remember.  Nor do I remember being on the roof and helping Dad with the roofing, although at one time that was a family story.  Maybe I fell off.  I do remember that it was common knowledge that Georges' cow kicked me when I was two, and maybe that is why I don't like horses...

I kept on climbing, and it became cooler as I climbed up the mountain passed the ski hills onto the Hedly Nickleplate road.  I had travelled this road in the opposite direction about three years ago, and the road was wide, as I assumed that it was a haul road for the Nickleplate mine further on.

My friend Doug and I had climbed up the Nickleplate Hedley road from the highway side when both of our F800GS were new.  Travelling the other way, with an overloaded bike, and alone, was going to be interesting.  I hoped that there was not going to be a lot of traffic when I reached the steep part.

There were a  couple of trucks, but I was able to anticipate them and get over, and I made it to the bottom  without tipping over.  I headed over to the native church which is directly opposite to the entryway to the Nickleplate road from the Highway.

It looks like lightening or God has taken a swipe at the steeple, and the cross is lying on the roof.  The church and First nations and these funky little buildings seem to go hand in hand.  I wonder how much of the reconciliation hearings addressed the other impacts of the Church upon the different First Nations.  Perhaps someday history will address the issue, and perhaps there will be a generation of First Nations children who are truly in touch with their Spirituality, and not the contrived, canned Churchy messages imposed upon their great grandparents...

I rolled into Hedly, and had a great coffee and muffin and did a tour of the town and the museum.  The mining history of this little town is phenomenal.  Without getting into a rant about the status of resource-based communities in BC, Headly seems to be striving to make something of their little town, and I guess that tourism and a very active museum society makes all the difference in a community.    The museum was very interesting and there was a great collection of photographs of the early mines.  The museum had a telescope that was trained on the mine workings which were a few thousand feet higher up above the town.  The fact that the mine was established on that huge  and steep face is interesting in itself.   While wandering around the town, I had a good sense of the community, and it appeared to be laid back and rural, which is my kind of town.

While I was chatting with the locals, I noticed on the map that there was a road between Headly and Pemberton that looked like it said "Wills-Smith" Forest Service road.  Now this was too much of a coincidence for me not to explore this road, if I could figure out how to get across the Similkameen River.
My grandfather Alfred Wills married my Grandmother, Amy Booth Smith, and I had not seen the combination of names before, so I figured that I needed to check this road out, and try and find out the origin of the name.

I left Hedly and travelled down the highway until I was able to cross the river, and I soon found a road, according to the map, which headed towards the Gold Mountain road, which eventually, according to the BC Mapbook, broke off into the  Wills-Smith FSR.  

After about an hour and half of travelling on a good gravel road, and and following the mile markers to about kilometer 35, I was beginning to second guess myself.  The road was good travelling, with a light sand base, and there was not any mud to speak of.  I had made a few turns, taking what I thought was the main road in each case, and paying a bit of attention to my compass.  My lessons about having good maps from last weeks' incident hung with me, and I wanted to make sure that I did not go down, as it is a pain in the ass to take all the gear off and wrangle Blondie to a standing position.  After another half an hour, I was really beginning to second guess my second guesses: I still had enough fuel, and it was early afternoon.  I knew that I was somewhere between the main highway, and the Hope Princeton, and the road looked travelled enough that I thought that it had to come out somewhere.  The mystery of the Wills-Smith road was secondary to me getting out of the hills.  I was essentially on a plateau, somewhere south of Princeton.

I came to a fork in the road, and the mystery of the Wills-Smith road was solved.  Someone did not know how to spell Wills:

With that, I looked more closely at the BC Mapwook, and the errant "i" became more clear.  I was somewhat relieved to find this road, as Smith had somehow got lost in the translation of time and forks in the road.  I felt confident that I was on the right track, and as the kilometer signs started down sizing from 38, I realized that I was not heading off the plateau, and that I would eventually come out somewhere.

I think that these signs are up there as encouragement for the logging truck drivers, but the message fit this rider too.  I soon came to what I learned was the Copper Mountain road, and I could see a mine off to my right.  I think that is the mine that we pass when we head up the Hope-Princeton highway.  I followed a couple of mine trucks into Princeton and celebrated with a root beer.  

Riding with the Angels

I decided on Sunday that  I was getting too comfortable and it was time to roll again.  I visited with my cousin Rod and his partner for awhile and then headed south.   As soon as I hit 97 south, I could hear this rolling thunder coming up from behind....

Sure enough, the "loud pipes save lives crowd" of riders came up from the stern.  I moved over to the slow lane (not that there was much choice) and I could see that it was a crew of HA riders, with a couple of the lead riders wearing their colours.  They rode in tight formation 2X2.  For the next 30 or so miles, all the way  into Kelowna, we paced each other.  It was interesting to watch the reaction of the traffic, as the noise from the combined bikes was quite discernable, and traffic did open up to give them room on either end of their cohort.  While they were neither speeding or acting agressively, I could see that their riding style enabled them to make good time.  I can fully understand the pull of the group, and certainly the sound of their bikes in concert is a form of music, albeit loud and disturbing to many people.  There will be more on this later...

From Kelowna I decided to head east for a bit,  and rode throught Beverdell and Rock Creek.   I continued past Rock Creek to Midway and Greenwood.  I stopped for a hot dog in GreenWood at a funky little cafe, and watched a deer calmly munching away on the grass beside the road.  This sight of Bambi calmly munching away reminded me that this was deer country, and it was getting on to be later in the day, so I headed back west, past Rock Creek.

It wasn't too long before I was at the head of Anachrist Mountain, above Osoyoos,  and I drove into an area being devloped as high end housing acreages on top of the Mountain.  I found a great camping site on an unsold lot, with a great panoramic view of the whole valley.

Again, it was lesson time, but I was not listening to the Teacher closely enough.  It was late enough in the day that I should have set up the tent and called it a day.  I was above Osoyoos, and all the signals were there that it was a good and secure stealth camping site.  I decided to descend into Osoyoos, and  I travelled down the twisty mountain into town.  I stopped at Timmy's as I was was attempting to find some stealth camping site in town.....Hah!
I watched as two RCMP cars boxed in a lone walker on the highway, and with sirens going gave the guy the roust.  I thought that I needed to move out of town a bit, and proceeded to head out of town in  a northerly direction.

The area around Osoyoos is full of vineyards, and there was zero opportunity for camping near the side of the road.  As I neared Oliver, I began to see shadows of my youth walking and hitchiking down the road.  There must have been 40 0r 50 young kids with hair, long dresses, and dogs all heading back from Oliver to some undetermined destination.  I read them for pickers, and thought that any stealth camping sites would be taken up,  so I rolled on to Vaseaux Lake.  I hadn't been in this area in 20 or 30 years.  I was not going to pay the $16 at the Government  Provincial campsite, and I soon spotted a road which led off up the mountain side, to the south of the lake.  I travelled up this dirt road for about 3 kilometers, and after a bit found a suitable campsite.  By this time it was beginning to get dark, and with the clear sky overhead, I decided to take a risk and just sleep in my bag, without putting up the tent.  Lesson #505:  Clear skies do not necessarily mean that it will not piss down with rain in a couple of hours.  That is exactly what it did, and so between the incessent whining of mosquitoes, and the rainshowers which completely soaked the sleeping bag, I had a less than stellar sleep.

I arose and wrung myself out at first light, and by 6:00 AM I was on the road and found a Timmies on the soughern outskirts of Penticton.   I wandered around town untile I found a laundromat, where I was able to dry out my sleeping bag.  As I was leaving, I had a great conversation with a gentleman about Costa Rica.  He had spent a month down there, and he was very happy with the country,  and was planning on going back.  He said he had met two dudes from Alaska who were travelling south and who had kept to the dirt all the way.  I imagine they were doing the Trans Continental Trail.  I certainly can relate to getting off the slab, but my bike will have to lose some weight before I attempt that option when I head south.   I decided that I was going to take a dirt, gravel option out of Penticton and head in a westerly direction towards Princeton, where the ride is centered, beginning this Friday.   I thought it a good idea to have another coffee as I was fighting a drowsy day, and headed for Timmies again.


As pulled in, the guy next to me said: "I never even noticed you pull in", which I took to be a positive comment.  Dough and I ended up bsing in the coffee shop for over an hour.  He was waiting for his mom who was in the doctors office, and I was just there being a stranger in a strange land.  Doug had a strong opinion about loud bikes, and was pretty angry about the whole loud bike culture.  We talked about our lives, about women, kids, and divorces and as I have found, he was pretty candid about his world view, as people often think, (I think) that they can be honest and open with strangers who  they probably will never see again.  It was an interesting conversation.  We both agree that women are better communicators, and that it was difficult to some men to lost the macho sense of things.  We acknowledged that we both knew men who treated women like shit,and that these guys (the loud pipe guys??)  did not do our gender much good.  An interesting conversation, and the kind that I used to have in beer parlours where the problems of the world would be resolved just before I became too inebriated to remember what the solution was.  Much older now, and perhaps the setting and venue changes have helped me to appreciate the human condition and not necessarily  fret as much as I did in my former lives.

I realized that I was pretty tired from my rained out night, and the skies were darkening and rain threatened again. I headed north along the lake, and the wind was picking up a lot.  I looked around Summerland, and could not see a good campsite, nor a decent motel,so I returned to Penticton.
A quick visit to the Visitors Center and a delightful visit with Sheri and her helpful computer pointed me in the right direction for a motel.  It was time for a crash, a shower, and some more crashing.  I rationalized the expense by remembering that I had been mooching tent space for a week or so and therefore an expensive motel was okay for the night.  The little devil on my left shoulder said that if I remembered, those Angels that I had rode with the day before had absolutely no baggage on their bikes, and certainly would not have slept in a soaking wet sleeping bag on the side of a mountain in a thunder storm....so a motel was ordered up, and therein lies the end to this tale for today...we will see what a wet night in the streets of Penticton brings...

One things about motels is that wifi is part of the deal...so in the interests of planning, I think that I might venture over to Hedley tomorrow.  My friend Doug and I road the Nickelplate road a couple of years ago.  I will have to see how the rain has treated the roads, but I think that there will not be enough mud to worry Blondie.


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