Day 21 Sunday, July 20, 2014

Day 21  Sunday, July 20, 2014

We awoke to yet another (!) sunny day in the Bidarka/Best Western Hotel in Homer, Alaska, “Halibut Fishing Capital of the World.”  Honestly, I expected very little from this hotel in such an out of the way location, but I was pleasantly surprised at the hotel’s very tasteful décor, large and luxurious room and bed, and especially the included hot and very extensive breakfast offering in a huge, well-appointed breakfast room with a set of picture windows overlooking Kachemac Bay.  Great way to start a great day.

While reading the local newspaper during breakfast, my eye fell upon a small notice that a walking tour of the Beluga Slough Trail leading down to the Kachemac Bay was leaving from the nearby Islands and Ocean Visitor Center in Homer, starting at 11 o’clock that very morning.  We quickly agreed to accelerate our preparations to include the walking tour into our day’s activities.

Our guide was something of a surprise- short, and black in an area with few blacks, and a native of Alabama.  Caylon Likely was a volunteer student and was personable and knowledgeable of Homer’s indigenous plants and animals, especially the rare Sandhill Cranes that reside in the grasslands of the Bay, in a unique area where both fresh water and salt water feed the eco system depending upon the tides.

The educational one-hour trail and boardwalk tour over, we thanked Caylon for his efforts, explored the museum in the visitor center, and headed to the famous Homer Spit, a narrow, three-mile long protrusion out into Kachemac Bay, surrounded by magnificent mountains, the Bay, blue skies, and glaciers in every direction.  The Bev and I selected a quiet spot near the very tip of the windy Spit, and set up our high-tech folding chairs on the beach, Bev reading “The Pilot’s Wife” and me flying the kite that I had brought along for this very occasion.  We watched seals fishing for their lunch before the wind and cool temps got the best of us.  We packed up and toured the numerous and kitschy shops on the Spit as well as the extensive dock area with hundreds of boats of all sizes and purposes. 

By 3 o’clock we were overdue to leave for the 200-mile drive around the Kenai Peninsula to Portage, Alaska for a night in one-room Cabin #4 at the Portage RV Park run by owners Scott and Tammy and manager, Tim.  They directed us into Girdwood, an 11-mile drive, for a fine dining location.

Guide Likely, Alabama's Finest

Sand Hill Cranes

Homer Spit Harbor

House of Plenty in Homer



Best Western HangingFlowers



Downtown Ninilchik, Alaska

Day 20 Saturday, July 19, 2014

Glad to finally have my wife back with me, I wanted to let her sleep in this morning, her first in Alaska, so at 6:30 A.M. I quietly dressed and filled the room's trash can with water, liberated the toilet brush from the bathroom, and took a collection of liquid soap, Turtle Wax, and wash rags that I had brought along outside to clean the caked-on dirt from the Al-Can Highway off of the motorcycle to get it ready for sale.  Two and one-half hours of hard work later, the bike was essentially clean from the soapy brushing but still in need of a serious final hosing, rinsing, and wiping.    The Bev was ready for her first day in Alaska and after packing, she followed (me on the BMW, her in the rental car) for breakfast and then in search of a car wash to finish cleaning the motorcycle.  We stopped into the Alaska Leather Store on Spennard Street to ask directions to the nearest wand-style self wash car wash to prep the BMW for sale.  Barb, the owner of Alaska Leather asked me what model BMW I had, saying that she might be interested in buying it!!  She came out to the parking lot to check it out.  I offered her the keys to test ride it and she refused, saying that she wanted to buy it for the $1,500 sale price for my machine.  Barb suggested that I go fetch the title while she went to the bank to withdraw the necessary cash! 

We went back to U.A.A., finished packing, dug out the title, and raced back to see Barb at Alaska Leather.  Bev took photos as I signed the title, accepted the 15 $100 bills, smiled side by side with Barbara and the K 75 S, and gave my great and faithful two-wheeled friend a final, tearful kiss on the tank good bye.

We pointed our 2014 Nissan Sentra Alamo rental car south for our tour of the Kenai Peninsula with our first destination Homer Alaska and the Homer "Spit" at the southwestern edge of the peninsula on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.  Leaving the greater Anchorage area, we were stunned by the scenic beauty of Alaska Route 2, known as the "Turnagain Arm" bordering the Cook Inlet, surrounded on all sides by water, mountains, and glaciers.  We stopped on the way in Girdwood, Alaska to check out the famous, grand, and classy Alyeska Hotel and also the Girdwood Train Station (smaller than our bedroom), both for later reference.

The village of Ninilchik, Alaska was on the way to Homer, and we stopped to check out the Russian Orthodox church with its interesting architecture and unique graveyard for pondering and photos.  As we were driving on the half-mile long dirt road from the church back to the main road, suddenly a huge bald eagle with full, open 5' wingspan, flew out of the woods at the edge of the road and appeared right over our windshield, shocking both of us, as the eagle was in pursuit of a smaller bird.  Up close and personal- what a surprise and what a sight!

We arrived in drizzly Homer, checked into a suprprisingly spacious and well-appointed Best Western Inn, had a lovely dinner and hit the hay.

Day 19 Friday, July 18, 2014

 

Day 19    Thursday July 18, 2014

Mindful of the considerable time needed to eat breakfast, and break camp in time to catch the 06:30 A.M. bus leaving for the Visitor’s Center from Wonder Lake Campground, I was up before 5:00 A.M. to boil up water for instant oatmeal and hot tea inside the tent.  Finishing my early morning breakfast, I unzipped the tent to check the morning’s weather.  I was blown away with an absolutely crystal-clear view of the entire south face of Mt. McKinley up to the summit, a very rare occurrence also being enjoyed by many awe-struck fellow tent campers who were out of their tents staring at the sight.

I folded up my tent and poles and deposited them in the camp’s bear-proof trash can, following my original plan to lighten the load (I have a newer tent at home) and headed to my rendezvous with Mona, driver of the 06:30 A.M. bus for the 84-mile drive back to the Denali Visitor Center.  Mona was outside of her bus, staring at view of Mt. McKinley.  She commented, and I quote her exactly, “What a special, perfect morning!  I can’t recall the last time it has been clear here in the morning,” and later at a stop en route to view Mt. McKinley again en route, “I can’t even remember the last time I even had a reason to stop at this location on the 6:30 A.M. bus run back to the Visitor Center!”

Mona told me that, as her Summer job she had worked as a driver for the Aramark Company, subcontracting to the National Park Service (headquartered in Philadelphia) for the past 10 years at Denali National Park as a non-benefited employee.  When I commented that it was unfortunate that she did not qualify to receive benefits, she waved her arm across the magnificent scenery and exclaimed to me, “these are my benefits!” 

I told her my tale of riding the motorcycle to Alaska and the chance meeting with Paul yesterday who promised to buy the motorcycle from me this morning.  Mona was excited to hear my trip stories and as we said good-bye at the drop-off point, she hoped that I would someday return to Denali with my wife, wished me all the best with the sale of the bike, and told me “you have a gentle soul”.  Nice, huh?

I excitedly repacked the bike (again!) and rode back to the town of Healy and to the strip mall with the One-Hour Photo Shop, eager to sell my motorcycle to Paul as planned.  He was standing in front of the shop talking with someone as I dismounted and approached him.  After a moment of small talk, he told me that he had decided to pass on buying the K 75 S from me. I swallowed my intense surprise and disappointment and I said, “O.K.  I’ve got to get going to Anchorage”, and remounted and immediately left to gas up for the 240-mile ride to Anchorage to pick up The Bev tonight at the Airport.  Ah, crap.

The 240-mile ride through Wassila into Anchorage was without drama.  Asking around, I learned that the local Suzuki and Harley dealerships would be good places to approach about selling my motorcycle on a consignment basis.  After multiple miscues, I bumbled my way to the University of Alaska at Anchorage (U.A.A.) dormitory holding our reservations for a suite for tonight.  Entering the “suite” I found that it consisted of two separate rooms, each with a single dorm-style twin bed, completely inconsistent with romance after a three-week absence from my wife’s considerable charms.  Crap, yet again.

After a laundry session in the sink and another repacking session I left for the airport to pick up The Bev.  I rode underground into the rental car return area and told the Alamo reps that I was a customer renting a vehicle for my wife and must park in this area so she could follow me out of the airport to our hotel to avoid armageddon.  To my amazement, they agreed to allow me to park my motorcycle in an out-of-way corner. 

Beverly arrived, right on time, and after an emotional greeting, I installed her in the rental car and she closely followed me on my K 75 S back to the U.A.A. to our suite of dorm rooms.  Quite the day for us both, but alone no longer.

Day 18 Thursday July 17, 2014

Day 18    Thursday July 17, 2014

Up at 04:30 A.M. to allow time for the arduous task of custom packing to separate just the camping stuff and equipment that I will need to carry along with me for the 84-mile bus trip from the Denali Visitor Center into the heart of Denali National Park for my much-anticipated overnight camping adventure at Wonder Lake Campground.  Everything else that I won’t need for this visit stays on my covered motorcycle in the Visitor Center parking lot while I am in the Park.  I have a reservation on the 11:05 A.M. Camper Bus, a shuttle specifically for campers and back country hiker/campers.

Finally packing everything just so, I left my pleasant room at the Denali R.V. Park and Motel and rode into Healy, Alaska, a small town just north of Denali National Park and found a rustic strip mall with a Subway sandwich shop.  Ordering a breakfast sandwich from the friendly staff, I brought my meal outside and sat down to enjoy it in the warm sunshine and take in the view.  A passing elderly couple from Connecticut engaged me in conversation, saying that bus trips were not for them, because they had to contend with too many older people!  They asked me about my situation and I told them of my adventures to date, and my need to sell my motorcycle.  A fellow off to the side interrupted and asked about the motorcycle for sale- his name was Paul Aielo and he owned several of the stores in the strip mall, including a 1-Hour Photo shop.  He was a rider and was clad in black leather.  I asked him if he would like to take the BMW for a test ride and he agreed to do so.  When he came back to the mall, he agreed to buy the motorcycle from me after my overnight of camping in Denali and research bus transit for me and my belongings from Denali to Anchorage to pick up The Bev on Friday night at the Anchorage Airport!

Elated, I exchanged contact information with Paul, thinking that my super great fortune on this trip was in full force, with a sale of the bike no longer a worrisome hurdle.  Yay! 

I made my way into the Park, covered the motorcycle, and bordered the Camper Bus with 28-year veteran bus driver, Chuck, at the wheel.  In short order, Chuck stopped the bus having spied two caribou with impressive racks resting and chewing their cuds in the tall grass for the eager bus passengers to photograph.  He also spotted far off grizzly bears for us to capture with the help of telephoto lenses.  I successfully begged road workers at a rest stop to allow me to use their truck’s cigarette lighter to power my air pump to inflate my air mattress.  Stowing the now inflated mattress, I told Chuck that I had managed to get a blow job from the National Park Service, but he was unimpressed.

Soaking in the spectacular scenery at every turn, after an enjoyable 5-hour westbound bus ride on the winding dirt road into the heart of the Park, we finally arrived at the Wonder Lake Campground.  I discovered that the mosquitos were in full-swarm mode at the site that I selected as I set up the tent in the sunshine.  I shoved the air mattress and all of my belongings into the tent and dove in myself, killing all of the little invaders that flew into the tent with me.  Breaking every rule in the book, I started boiling water to cook my last remaining freeze-dried meal pouch of pad thai and eat it inside my tent to avoid contending with the mosquito onslaught just outside.  In short order both a curious and hungry chipmunk and a small bird had to be shooed away from the tent as I ate.

After dinner, I wandered down to Wonder Lake and found the very light rain shower there to add to the quiet ambiance of the lake’s shoreline.  I power-walked back to the campground in time to attend the National Park Service Ranger’s topic for this nights’ campground talk- “Mosquitos- To Swat or Not to Swat”, learning much about the enemy.  

Tired from the full day of activity, I prepared to enter my tent, but during a final look around noticed a partial rainbow begging to be photographed. The word “Eureka” emblazoned on the tent fly was captured in my photos of the rainbow.  Dreamland soon ensued.

Day 17 July 16, 2014

Totally frustrated with my inability to connect to the Internet with the University of Alaska at Fairbanks (U.A.F.) directions and password that was provided at check in so I could continue to update the 2014 Alaskan Adventure blog, I went down to the front desk for an assist.  The staff also could not connect with the Internet.  They suggested that I kill two birds with one stone and go to the nearby College Coffee Shop for breakfast and to connect using their free, high-speed Internet connection.  I engaged a bright-eyed bagel worker there named Laura in lively conversation.  Laura, seeing my garb, peppered me with questions about my trip.  When she learned of my BMW ride and rear shock issues, she placed an X on my Fairbanks map and insisted that I immediately go to the Fairbanks Harley/BMW dealership and consult with Justin, her boyfriend and general manager there!

Very concerned about the unsafe condition of my motorcycle's blown rear shock seal, I headed to the Fairbanks Harley/BMW dealer.  Justin was as helpful as Laura said he would be.  He discussed my situation in detail and the complications of 1) limited value of the 21-year old motorcycle based on Kelly Blue Book printouts that he provided to me 2) the need to either sell in Anchorage or leave the bike for sale in Alaska before flying back to Philadelphia in only one week's time 3) its present damaged condition with work required on the back shock 4) the end of the motorcycle selling season.  He also checked to see what a new shock would cost- $459 before shipping (one week to get it to Alaska) and installation!  Yikes! 

The total $600 cost was not viable- my hopes for a quick, new seal installation on the shock presently on the bike were wildly optimistic and unrealistic in my present set of circumstances- in other words, I'm in deep doo-doo.  Justin's help was much appreciated and after many thanks I went back out to mount my machine and leave.  Justin came outside to grab me before leaving with a final idea- a fellow named Bob had just come into the dealership.  Bob was the President of the BMW Airhead Motorcycle group of Alaska and had many connections, and perhaps he could help me locate a used shock from one of his club's members.  I took off my helmet and came back inside the dealership and met with Bob.  He escorted me to the shacky, woodsy, and cluttered home of George, who for many years ran the only BMW Motorcycle dealership in the entire state of Alaska.  George had a hodge-podge of motorcycle parts and he managed to locate a brand new, high-tech, self-leveling Nivomat shock in his stash, perfect for my K 75 S, but unfortunately George needed $400 for the high-end factory shock.  The price was totally fair and reasonable but just too much to pay for repairs to a bike to be sold imminently and with limited value.  I thanked him and said good bye.

I visited the Museum of the North, located right on the grounds of the University of Alaska at Fairbanks, enjoying the art work created by native artists and the exhibits of the life style, history, and abundant wildlife of Alaska.  Dancing around with Justin, Bob, and George was a necessary use of my limited time in Fairbanks to try to resolve the shock situation, but it robbed me of time I had hoped to use to explore the high points of Fairbanks and I had to leave to head to Denali National Park area by 3 P.M.  I traveled the 125 miles to the Denali R.V. Park and Motel and checked into my room on the outskirts of the National Park entrance.  I bought a new reversable hooded fleece jacket in the park office to keep me warm and fashionable for the final 10 days of the trip with The Bev.

Day 16 July 15, 2014

Camping only 10 miles from the Yukon/Alaska border, I awoke with the excitement of knowing that today was the day I would finally cross into Alaska.  After my usual battle with the mosquito swarms during breakfast and packing, I rode away from my campsite at Beaver Creek, Yukon and headed for the U.S. - Canada International border. 

There is a lovely roadside station at the international border between the two long-time friendly nations commemorating the good relations between our two countries and noting that the spot is part of the longest unpatroled international border in the world.  I used my tiny folding tripod to good effect to take photos of myself and my wounded 1991 BMW K 75 S motorcycle posed together with the welcome to Alaska sign.  I had the entire area to myself for at least 15 minutes of contemplation and photos, after a 4,000 mile, two-wheeled journey, finally achieving my goal to safely reach Alaska.  More happy, emotional tears.  God, what a sis!

Passing through U.S. Customs without any drama, I was pleased to find immediate improvement in the road conditions back in the U.S. of A.  The slamming on bike and body that the Yukon dished out was largely over now, but the temperature dropped down into the 50s and a petulant, spitty, on again/off again light rain fell from darkened brooding skies.  I reached into my WalMart 40-litre dry bag #1 (of 3) for the antidote to the cold/wet combo- two-piece Frogg Togg rain suit, Eclipse electrically heated jacket, and Gerbing electrically heated gloves.  The rain suit locked in the heat generated by the jacket and I was toasty warm, and happy once more as I settled in for the uneventful, 300 mile ride to reach Fairbanks and my reserved room in the dormatory at the University of Alaska at Fairbanks campus.

Reaching suburban Fairbanks, I saw signs for the town of North Pole, Alaska, and the advertised visitor center aroused my curiousity.  The two lovely ladies manning the information desk absolutely gushed with Christmas spirit even though the excitement of the place was somehow less powerful to this tired, hungry, and wet Jewish boy.  The gals were very helpful in checking the internet for me to help me rule out my planned dining location for tonight as low-quality and overpriced in multiple on-line reviews.  I took a chance on a restaurant directly across the parking lot from the visitor center and enjoyed a fine lasagna meal while watching the MLB Allstar Game in Minneapolis.  The $37 price tag for my one-night-stand in Fairbanks was good for the budget.



Day 15 July 14, 2014

Day 15  July 14, 2014

I was up early and quietly packed up my belongings and left the motel at 7:30 A.M. and gassed up the K 75 S before coming across a true hallmark of the Alaskan Highway experience- the famous Sign Forest in Lake Watson.  This is an impossibly vast and unique collection of address signs of all kinds mounted on poles and boards from all over the world to mark travel’s visits to Lake Watson as personal milestones.  Photos taken.

Determined riding was needed to achieve the 200+ miles to reach Whitehorse, the only town of any size in the Yukon, by lunch time.  I ended up at a Mexican restaurant for the midday meal and enjoying yet another sunny and warm day (!) wandered over to the modest two-story Yukon government building, located next to the 2,000 mile long Yukon River with its delightful River Walk pathway for joggers and bicyclists.  I recorded several vehicles in the parking lot displaying electrical cords extending though their front grilles, allowing folk to plug in heated engine oil dipsticks during the frigid Yukon winters to prevent their vehicle engine lubricants from freezing solid.  A really, really tough place to be during the Wintertime, I’m certain.

About 50 miles west of Whitehorse, I encountered a fellow rider, Sean from Alaska on a huge Victory motorcycle with a flat rear tire.  I stopped to help if possible and learned that Sean was deaf and needed to communicate by writing down his thoughts and then reading my responses.  We were soon joined by two Harley riders who also stopped to help and a passing Yukon public services worker in a pick up truck who had a satellite mobile phone available to call a motorcycle service shop back in Whitehorse to come and rescue Sean in this completely remote and unpopulated area.

Another burst of hard riding over seriously deteriorating frost-heaved roads landed me in Haines Junction, Yukon by late afternoon.  I treated myself to a Danish and a cookie at a friendly local bakery.  Haines Junction is the gateway to the recreational area of Yukon’s Kluane National Park Reserve (pronounced Klew - An’- Ay, as I learnt at the bakery) and is framed with a gorgeous chain of forested mountains.  My ambitious goal was to reach the tiny community of Beaver Creek, Yukon, located just east of the Yukon/Alaska border by the end of this day. After dealing with several more buckboard  rides through road construction sites, I stopped for a breather in desolate Destruction Bay, still on Yukon Route 1.  Off the bike and during a stretch, I was horrified to see splashed fluid all over the back of my saddlebags!  Looking further into the situation, I discovered the rear shock also coated in fluid as well and the entire rear swing arm/rear drive housing of the motorcycle also dripping wet.  If the fluid was coming from the rear drive housing, I was toast, as the rear drive gears would be destroyed by the heat and friction of running without their required lubricating bath.  After a short ride and rechecking the area in question, I determined that the fluid was instead coming from a blown rear monoshock seal.  I now faced the prospect of having zero dampening for the 1,000+ miles yet to go, and po-going with only the rear spring to support the weight of me, my load, and the top of the motorcycle.  Nice…..

The last 50 miles before reaching Beaver Creek were the worst of the trip.  I bottomed out any number of times and just made it to Beaver Creek before running out of gas due to a number of closed down and boarded up gas stations in that stretch.  I arrived at a campground in Beaver Creek at 10:15 P.M. but feeling strangely fresh and grateful to have arrived in one piece.  I camped next to a fellow BMW rider from Nebraska and fought off a determined squadron of mosquitoes, prepared with a full, upper-body mosquito netting jacket to keep the swarm of little bastards away from my blood.  I cooked up a can of stew and ate it in the tent, noting the sun was still streaming into the tent and had not yet hit the horizon by 11:45 P.M.  Sleep.

Day 14 July 13, 2014

Day 14  July 13, 2014

After a really wonderful night of sleep at the kilometer 80 rest stop I awoke to fire up my tiny sterno-powered stove to boil up water for a breakfast of instant oatmeal and hot tea.  My skills at breaking down the tent and repacking the motorcycle each morning are  improving but to deal with the myriad of tasks that have to be accomplished in the correct order still takes about 1 ½ hours from start to finish before I can drive away from a camping location “taking nothing but memories and leaving nothing but footprints.”

Today’s ride will be another very long one, to make up for the extra day that I spent in Calgary to see the Shania Twain concert. Fortunately, I have a room reserved in the town of Watson Lake in The Yukon, just north of the border with the top of the province of British Columbia.

Today’s ride encompassed heavily wooded regions of northwestern Alberta and northeastern British Columbia, taking me through the small town of Fort Nelson for a pleasant lunch, watching the FICA World Cup Finals game first half (Germany vs Argentina) as about the only population center on today’s route.  I encountered several road construction zones, each with foreboding signage declaring “Loose Gravel,” warning “Motorcyclists Use Extreme Caution,” and the ever-popular “Extreme Dust Conditions Ahead.”  The flagging individual at each site would always wave motorcyclists (me) to the front of the line, allowing me to follow directly behind the pilot truck that would slowly guide the northbound traffic through the construction site after the southbound traffic passed us by to minimize the shower of dirt, stones, and dust kicked up that I had to encounter.  Negotiating the potholes, loose gravel, and wash-board surface conditions was no joke on my street bike with street tires and loaded with a full month of gear plus camping equipment and I bottomed out the rear mono shock on the motorcycle a number of times, but managed to stay upright.

A high point of today’s ride was encountering the gorgeous Lake Muncho, in British Columbia, less than 100 miles from the border with the Yukon.  The outstanding warm, blue-sky weather that I again was super lucky to be experiencing helped to color the waters of Lake Muncho an incredibly beautiful, clear, deep jade color that I have never seen before in my life and times.  Despite my telling myself, “enough photos, no more, keep going,” time after time, I would round another bend and view another vista that forced me to eat my own thoughts and stop for more photos to lock in the memory of this “Wow” place.  What a sin to have to keep moving when every emotion in me said to “stop here; don’t let this place, this moment be rushed” but finally I had to keep to my schedule to reach my room in Lake Watson.

Finally crossing the border into the Yukon Territory was another milestone for the day.  During the final 50 miles into Lake Watson, I encountered numerous bear sightings and three clusters of bison at the side of B.C. Route 97 / Yukon Route 1.  The bison couldn’t have cared less that I had arrived in their personal zip code and required them to pose for my photos. 

I finally arrived at Lake Watson at about 09:30 P.M., still in bright sunshine, and checked in with German-born Mike, proprietor of the Air Force Base Motel in a structure originally built to house military personnel and later converted into his small motel.  He pointed to shoes laid out in the reception area and told me that his motel was a “no-shoes-only” establishment while in the building to keep the dust and dirt of the Al-Can Highway out of his very clean motel.  Mike was pleased that Germany had won the World Cup game this day, having spoken to relatives in Germany earlier and he described for me their wild and joyous celebrations there.  I complied with the “shoes off” policy, unpacked, and was soon asleep. 

Day 13 July 12, 2014

Day 13  July 12, 2014

After a quick breakfast, early morning supermarket trip for wilderness provisions, and a few photos of gorgeous and touristy Jasper, I headed north, ever north.   

About 10 miles north of Jasper, with no one else on the road but me, I encountered a very sad sight.  Lying directly on the center double yellow lines was a motionless bear cub.  I stopped on the shoulder of the road and carefully checked the area to ensure that no other bears were in the area before dismounting.  There was fresh, still red blood coming from the cub’s mouth and no sign of breathing or movement and I determined that the animal had been recently hit by a car and was dead.  I decided to pull the bear, probably weighing 60-70 pounds to the side of the road to be less of a hazard to traffic.  I put my gloves back on and grabbed a rear paw, and dragged the unlucky cub to the shoulder of the road and sadly continued north.

It was a very long day of motorcycling, covering close to 600 miles, but the warm, cloudless weather made for great views of the wild and gorgeous mountains and forests.  Crossing into British Columbia, I stopped for obligatory photos in the town of Dawson Creek, the southern terminus of the famous Alaska-Canadian Highway (The Alcan).  There is a well-known marker to delineate the 0 mile marker and I duly recorded the moment in time.

Trying to balance the expense of last night’s hotel stay, I was searching for an appropriate secluded, dry, flat spot to pitch my tent for free along the side of the road for tonight’s stay.  The rest stop at mile post 80 filled the bill- a secluded area out of view near the children’s playground with freshly mowed lawn and a concrete picnic table to boot!  I asked the family picnicking nearby if setting up my tent in the area would be invasive or troublesome to them and they were enthusiastically agreeable, even sending over their son with an offering of pineapple topped pizza as I set up my tent, which I gratefully accepted.  The young husband of the family stopped over to chat and told me that he worked for the railroad and that he had lost his leg in a tragic accident, getting run over by a train.  He survived (obviously) and used the settlement money to recently purchase a house with five acres of land in British Columbia for his pretty wife and three lovely young children. 

A quiet, restful, and FREE overnight stay.

Day 12 July 11, 2014

Day 12    July 11, 2014

After a howdy doo telephone call to The Bev, I left the Wicked Hostel and headed west for a 300-mile day to include Banff, Lake Louise, and Jasper along the Columbia Icefield Parkway.

Arriving in Banff, I decided to treat myself to a visit to the famous Banff Hot Springs for a relaxing soak in the midst of the magnificent mountain surroundings.  The water is a constant 40 degrees C and is full of minerals that are reputed to be of some health benefit.  Relaxed in the water far longer than the recommended 10-minute limit, and I felt short of breath as I extricated myself from the pool for my follow up shower.  Bad boy.

The next stop at the world-renowned Banff Springs Hotel was an emotional one for me.  I was there once before, about 30 years ago on a memorable Candian Rocky Mountain trip with my now-deceased Father, Louis Cylinder and my buddy and college roommate, Stan Stagg.  I had a strong recollection of our long-ago visit to the hotel’s back veranda with fantastic sweeping overlooks of a rushing river, spectacular forests and mountains, and a golf course.  I choked up, thinking of my Father as I mentioned my last visit to this spot to Taylor, my server.  Ice tea, pineapple cheesecake, and many more tears savoring the sunshine, the view, and fondly remembering my Father at this spot. 

From here, north for a visit to the Chateau Lake Louise Hotel, also a part of my last visit to the Canadian Rockies with Stan and Dad some thirty years ago.  This place also has overwhelming views and is also part of the grand chain of Canadian-Pacific Railroad created hotels designed to spur tourism across Canada.  The heat and overwhelming crowds made this less of an experience for me, so after many photos I cut short my visit and headed north on the Columbian Icefield Highway (CIH) towards Jasper, Alberta.

The mountain views along the CIH are breath-taking with snow-capped mountains in abundance.  Imagine my surprise as I climbed one long grade to encounter a hubbub of vehicles off to the side and a police sheriff motioning me to the pull over.  I inquired what was going on, and he whipped out a radar speed gun and showed me a 97 kilometer per hour (58 MPH) reading assigned to me!  He said that the speed limit in the area was 60 kilometers per hour (about 38 MPH).  The Alberta Highway Patrol sheriff asked for my license, insurance, and driver’s license which necessitated me unpacking the entire motorcycle to get under the seat to access the paperwork.  As he was writing out the ticket, I politely asked the sheriff what on earth was the rationale for such a low speed limit in such a remote area.  He replied the speed limit was due to the uphill/downhill grade changes in this region.  A motorcycle policeman himself, he sympathized with my dismay, and adjusted the ticket to display a lower level violation resulting in a fine of $78.  At least one in every three vehicles was being snagged in this sting.

After getting back underway northbound, I made certain to flag down oncoming southbound motorcyclists and warn them of the police activity ahead.  Ah, poop…..

Checked in to the Athabasca Hotel in Jasper at $130 per night and caught up on my blogging.

Day 11 July 10, 2014

Day 11  July 10, 2014

Yet another perfect weather day dawned, and I was determined to make today better than yesterday’s sour affair.

I conducted an interesting video interview with three of the girls at the far end of our Room #7.  They all grew up in rural Saskatchewan and had eye opening stories for me to absorb about farm life.  Nicole lovingly described her town’s annual “Red Neck Days" fun and funky competitions, including toilet seat horseshoes. 

After my required relocation to Room #9 for my last night’s stay at the Wicked Hostel, I decided to spend the full day off of the motorcycle, and yet again set out to explore more of downtown Calgary.  Enjoying the sunshine, I encountered the River Walk bicycle/pedestrian walkway at the edge of the Elbow River and followed it for about two miles towards Fort Calgary, near the Calgary Stampede Fairgrounds.  I ended up getting somewhat lost and walking completely around the outside perimeter of the expansive Fairgrounds to get back to the Wicked Hostel.  Exhausted from my 5-mile+ walk, I thought that a cold beer sounded good, so stopped into the local Casino one block from the hostel for a Budweiser- big mistake.  I could hardly stand up after one stinkin’ beer!  What a sissy drinker…….

The long-anticipated, sold-out Shania Twain concert in the Saddledome Arena was a truly wonderful experience for me.  Most memorable moments included her arrival on stage via horseback and fully dressed up as a Royal Canadian Mounty, how warm and loving she was throughout the night to her adorning fans (walking the entire inside perimeter of the ice hockey rink to great fanfare), and her strong and flawless voice after being away from performing for the past ten years.  The high point was my favorite song of hers, “Still the One” which left me in sobbing tears.  This song is the one that I hope to dance to with my sweetheart daughter, Amy at her upcoming wedding and encompasses my deep and loving feelings for her- it always makes me think of my special relationship with my darling daughter and hits all of my buttons, big time.  Thanks for a great and memorable evening, Shania.

A super-healthy corn dog with mustard on the walk back to the Wicked Hostel and a final look around and a fond farewell to the fun and energy of Calgary and its signature Calgary Stampede.

Day 10 July 9, 2014

After a really good night of bunk-bed sleep in my cozy room of 8, I fired up the bike and made my way to my pre-arranged appointment at "Anderwerks Motorrad Spezialist" motorcycle shop to have the two brand new tires that I dragged up to Calgary installed and have a oil change and filter done on the bike.  After 3 1/2 hours of waiting I was handed the amazing bill- $384!  Yikes.  I thought it would be well under $200, but their $91 per hour labor rate kinda squashed that dream.

I walked around downtown Calgary's Stevens Street pedestrian outdoor mall and was surprised to see so many people dressing up in western wear- cowbot hat, jeans, boots.  Seems that Calgarians dress up this way to celebrate the Calgary Stampede.  I doubt that they dress up like Orthodox Jews during the High Holy Days or like Muslims during Ramadan, but, hey if it rocks your world........

I was able to figure out how to purchase my ticket to the Chuck Wagon Races/evening show combo at the Stampede grounds for $56 tonight.

Finally, going into the Stampede Grounds (right across the street from the Wicked Hostel!) I was overwhelmed by the amazing amount of junky foods for sale, featuring deep-fried everything- oooooo, yuck!  Deep fried pies and deep fried vegetables?  Hmmmm....



I went to the Chuck Wagon Races and the evening show- in 1 hour and 45 minutes of time, they ran nine one-minute races.  I found the entire thing underwhelming and borderline nonsensical.  Two roomates, Jim from London, and Josh, from Australia, went to the same event and left after only two races due  to boredom.  Not a great day.

Day 9 July 8, 2014

Day 9  July 8, 2014

The morning dawned clear and sunny but quite cold and I could see my breath as I awoke.  I needed to bundle up in layers of fleece and long underwear as I fired up the small but mighty Sterno powered stove for a breakfast of orange tea, oatmeal, and a particularly tasty freeze-dried pouch of blueberries, milk, and granola.  Yum!

Finally, the sun arose over the mountains to the east and began to dry out the tent fly, vestibule, and assorted clothes from yesterday’s laundry/partial drying adventure that were hung over the impromptu bungee cord line between two friendly saplings.  Due to all of these gyrations, I did not finally leave my campsite at Glacier National Park until 10:30 A.M. this morning- shameful, but necessary.

After the short, but scenic ride to the Montana/Alberta border, I crossed the international border into Canada, smuggling my forbidden canister of bear spray into the foreign land- a criminal already! 

I continued on Alberta Route 2 north to the town of Macleod, Alberta where I stopped for a burger and slice of heated up blueberry you-know-what before continuing west for my long awaited visit to the Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump UNESCO World Heritage Site Visitor Center (HSIBJUWHSVC).  I could not have been more impressed with the orientation movie on floor 2 of the 7 floors of the Visitor Center.  It described in fascinating detail how the Blackfoot Indians conducted buffalo hunts 1,000 years ago on foot, before the advent of firearms or horses to help them.  They became expert in the ways of the buffalo, knowing the best times of the year to hunt, devising elaborate funneling boundaries to channel the stampeding herd towards the 35-foot “buffalo jump” cliff, judging when the wind direction was favorable, and disguising themselves as buffalo calves to lure the herd and as wolves to frighten the herd forward into stampede mode.  The millions upon millions of buffalo that roamed the plains were nearly wiped out to the point of extinction by the arrival in the late 1800’s by the arrival of the white men and the railroads on the plains, a truly shameful and mindless slaughter of a seemingly endless resource. 

Calgary's well-run Wicked Hostel, located directly across the street from the Stampede light-rail stop and entrance to the Stampede grounds......

After many pictures taken and some serious reflection, I took off for Calgary, The Wicked Hostel, and The Calgary Stampede, arriving around 6 P.M.  Friendly manager, Paula and hostel owner, Gary checked me in and gave me keys and a tour of the place, explaining about the included breakfast, group showers, free laundry service, group common area, house rules, and right-in-front parking for my motorcycle.  The place is clean and bright and filled with young people from across the globe.  I quickly met Jim, a young and handsome facilities manager from London who occupied one of the 8 bunk beds in my room.  He mentioned to me that our room number 7 was a co-ed room, with the remaining 6 occupants girls from Germany and New Zealand.  This was a surprise to me, but hey, girls are people too, right?  After getting settled I returned to the room and had an extended conversation with Steffi Sausele from Germany (who was in the upper bunk above my lower bunk bed) about the German economy, world politics, and her present job with the German government in their quest to lure engineers, doctors, scientists, truck drivers, and nurses to Germany to fill job positions with small to medium sized companies.  Her dream was to land a position as a blog-based journalist in her favorite city, Vancouver, British Columbia.  A lovely, conversant, and educated young lady, we spoke at length as I downed my dinner of bagels, swiss cheese, water, and apple.  Bed. 

Day 8 July 7, 2014

An overnight rain did no damage to the sturdy Eureka tent or covered motorcycle, and the partly cloudy morning turned into another warm, blue sky, puffy-cloud Summer day in northwestern Montana.

A visit to the ranger station at St. Mary Campground in Glacier National Park's eastern entrance, confirmed that I was being booted out of my present camp site and had to relocate to a different site at the opposite end of the campground.  After a nice hot shower,  I ferried the tent and all my camping gear via motorcycle to the new site and reset the tent; I convinced a friendly neighbor to drop off my blown up air mattress at the new camp site #C 119 for me.  After a super lunch at a café in St. Mary, I took off for my long-awaited tour of the Going to the Sun Road, a 50-mile roadway traversing Glacier National Park from east to west. 

There are no words in the English language to adequately convey the scope, grandeur, and magnificence of Glacier and especially, the views along the Going to the Sun Road. 

When I reached West Glacier, the western end of the road, I went into the visitor center and was suddenly struck in an emotionally surprising way as I soaked up what I had just experienced- I was lucky enough to have a perfect ride, on the best motorcycle human hands ever built for such a day, with perfect weather, with the support of a beautiful, wonderful, understanding and forgiving wife, a stable job situation that allowed me one full month to fulfill a dream, and to do it all in good health.  I became a bit weepy and brushed away more than a couple of tears before remounting the K 75 and heading back along the same road east bound to my campsite in St. Mary.  Back in the campground, I did laundry, made a freeze-dried dinner for myself, and quickly rushed off to a ranger program talking about the necessity of fire as part of the cycle of growth in forested areas of national parks.  This was surely a day to remember forever.