Monday, May 6, 2002 Butte, Montana
Fortunately, only a light dusting of snow fell this morning, so I brushed it
off the bike cover and took the cover up to my room to dry while I walked to the nearby restaurant for
breakfast. By the time I had checked out of the motel and had the bike ready for travel again, it
was 10:45 and the temperature had climbed to 41°F. Still, as I rode north and west toward Missoula
and another climb and pass through mountains, I found myself ducking in and out of snow squalls and even
one ground-whitening hailstorm. Not too strangely, I found mine to be the only motorcycle on that
stretch of highway that morning. Then again, Russ might be just ahead or just behind me.
Wherever he was, I hoped that he was enjoying weather as good as, or better than, this that I was riding
through.
Progress was steady, as I had heard of a major snowstorm headed toward
Butte, and I wanted to get out of the Rockies and down to a lower elevation before I found myself stuck
here for two or three days. As I zipped past Missoula I noticed the clouds ahead appeared to be
getting thicker and darker. Lookout Pass was getting to look more and more like a long shot.
The last 5 miles of the climb to the top were the worst for me, as the temperature had already dropped
to 32°F and the drizzle that was falling at lower elevations had turned to a light snowfall. Just
as I neared the top at 2:00 PM, with the temperature now down to 30°F and snow coming down steadily, I
pulled in to a roadside rest area and took a couple of photos. Now that I was at the top, and it
was literally all down hill from here, I could breathe easy.
Sure enough, the run down past Kellogg, Idaho, then back up over Fourth
of July Pass and back down again through Coeur d'Alene and into Post Falls was nice, with dry roads most
of the way. But while I was inside getting some snacks after fueling up at the Chevron station, a
hailstorm hit the area and deposited nearly half an inch of the little white balls on the ground in about
five minutes. I made that gas stop last a good, long fifteen minutes.
Now that I was out of the mountains, the pressure was off to get
somewhere other than where I was, so the ride over to Spokane was done at a more relaxed pace. While
the temperature there was relatively mild at 52°F, there was a pretty stiff breeze blowing from the
northwest. Past the city and headed southwest on I-90, I started thinking about Snoqualmie Pass
ahead, and wondered what shape it might be in. There's a westbound rest area a few miles before
Ritzville, and I pulled in there to see if I could check on road conditions ahead. This was around
4:30 PM and I knew it would be dark before I got beyond Ellensburg and started back up into the Cascade
Range. The report I heard was that the temperature was 33°F and there was slush on the road.
Not impassable at that time for a motorcycle, I thought, but what might it be like 3 or 4 hours later?
Especially with a storm coming off the Pacific and headed this way. I already knew what snow looked
like, and I knew how bikes behave in snow, I didn't need to ride 2 or 3 hours to find out. So I
wimped out again and headed south on US-395 toward the Tri-Cities.
Now some folks don't care for deserts, they're too dry and dusty. But
when you want to avoid precipitation, a desert offers the best chance of doing so. Just as when I
headed for Cache Creek up in British Columbia when I was tired of seeing snow, so I headed for the driest
area I knew of now. While it didn't warm up a lot - it was still only 56° when I rode through
Kennewick - there was a pleasant dryness to the air that I reveled in. Across the mighty Columbia
River into Oregon, and then down I-84 a few miles to the small community of Boardman where I found another
EconoLodge with an adjacent restaurant, and I felt it was time to stop, as I had used up my good weather
luck for the day.
Tuesday, May 7, 2002 Boardman, Oregon
There's nothing like turning on the motel TV to find out that the weather
behind you is far worse than the weather ahead of you. Spokane had received 8 inches of snow during
the night, Lookout Pass 13", Butte 10", and places in between had similar amounts. There wasn't even
any rain predicted for Portland, my next destination. My decision to hurry out of that area yesterday
turned out to have been a good one, and I was happy with the route I would be riding for the rest of this
day.
The temperature had only dropped to 54°F this morning, and it felt warmer
as I walked next door for breakfast. At 10:20 I was out on I-84 headed toward Portland. The
day grew progressively brighter and warmer as I rode down along the Columbia, through the Gorge, and
on past the string of Oregon State Parks that line the south side of the river. It was as I was
nearing Multnomah Falls that I looked up and saw snow falling on some of the peaks high above the
interstate. And yet it was warm and bright where I was riding. I can handle snow just fine
under those conditions.
Just after 1:00 in the afternoon I found myself crossing the Columbia
again as I entered the state of Washington on I-205. A few more miles and I stopped to call Ron
and let him know I was headed his way. It was necessary for me to swing by his house to pick up
my cold weather gear, and from there we would ride up to Cafe Veloce for dinner. Ron would try to
contact another rider or two to see if anyone could join us.
Traffic was at its heaviest as I made my way past Sea-Tac and turned off
onto I-405 toward Renton. Fortunately, the HOV lane was lightly traveled and I was able to maintain
a good speed as I hurried to get to Ron's house without being too late, the way I usually seem to be.
Our timing was great, and we got to the restaurant around 7:00 PM and proceeded to sit down to a delicious
meal. Cori Phelps was able to join us a little later, and Ron and I got to listen to some of her
recent adventures aboard her Yamaha. She has some very interesting stories to tell, and is good at
relating them. Here in Washington the same problem arose that had plagued me all around the
country - that of too little time to spend with the folks I most enjoy spending it with.
Soon it was time to part company and head north toward home.
On the way across from Maine I had decided that so long as I was going
to get all the way back to Washington before turning north, I would go right back to where it started -
the Blaine Post Office. So after Cori, Ron, and I said our good-byes, that's where I headed.
Got my unofficial finish photo from within a few feet of where this ride had started a month previous,
and then said a sad farewell to my Four Corners Tour as I turned east to cross the border at Sumas.
Finding no likely looking motel around Sumas, I proceeded to cross the
border into Canada and found one within a few moments at Abbottsford, British Columbia. A good
night's rest, and I could begin a serious quest for the home state.
Wednesday, May 8, 2002 Abbottsford, B.C., Canada
With the exchange rate between U. S. and Canadian money being so favorable
to U. S. citizens right now, it's pretty easy to justify a hearty breakfast when dining north of the
border. So I splurged. Afterward, waddling over to my room to finish packing, I mused on
how I enjoy traveling in Canada.
The weather is good as I head east on TC-1 this morning. It continues
to stay dry until I get past Hope and there is a brief light shower before it dries up again, to stay that
way all the way up to Prince George. Past Spences Bridge a few miles, I find a roadside stand open
as I ride past it. Realizing that I probably won't see one again on this early spring trip, I
backtrack a few miles to stop in and buy some fruits and a bottle of juice. Then it's on up through
Cache Creek and to 100 Mile House for my first gas stop. It's along here that I notice there is no
power to some of my electrical accessories, so I pull in to the little park and historic museum at 108
Mile House to do some repairs.
Getting to the offending part necessitates removing the seat, which in turn
requires removing the auxiliary fuel tank. Pretty soon I have parts sitting in a circle around the
bike while I search for the problem. Turns out a blade-type fuse protecting the power distribution
panel has a little corrosion on it, just enough to stop voltage from getting through. A thorough
scraping with a jackknife blade was all it took to insure I'd have toasty hands and an illuminated
thermometer all the way home.
One of the reasons I'd elected to stop here at 108 Mile House, even though
the weather was still pleasantly warm, was the gathering of heavy gray clouds ahead of me. But,
thankfully, the threatened rain never materialized, so I rode on to Prince George and got a room.
It wasn't that I was too tired to continue riding, rather it was just that I was in no hurry to end this
trip, so I was taking all the time I needed to get back home.
There was a mock-Chinese restaurant (run by real Asians) next to the motel,
so that's where I had my dinner. Seems there are a lot of so-called Asian dining establishments
springing up all over, but only a few of them have really good, traditional Asian dishes. However,
this one beat starving, and I didn't feel like riding all over Prince George trying to find the best
place. Next time I'll see if I can't schedule a dinner stop farther north in Chetwynd and sample
the highly recommended cooking at the Chinese restaurant there.
Thursday, May 9, 2002 Prince George, B.C., Canada
While a restaurant specializing in Chinese food is not my first choice
for a good breakfast, it beats Eggs McScrambled. The personal refueling done, there was nothing to
do but load the bike, top off the fuel tanks, and head northeast for the Alcan.
South of Prince George I had noticed the lakes were all opening up with
the warm days of spring. Here at the slightly higher elevation, and somewhat higher latitude, the
lakes were turning dark as their surfaces prepared to thaw, and there was occasionally some open water
along the edges, sure signs that spring would reach here as well. Having been in a bit of a hurry
the previous month, southbound, I now took a closer look at my surroundings as I rode along in the
sunlight. The Hart Hwy. has seen a lot of changes in the 40 years since I first traveled it.
More homes and businesses, pavement where then there was gravel, and even commercial electricity with
poles and wires announcing to one and all that civilization had come to this far northern wilderness.
With the sun rising toward its zenith, its warming rays brought a
spring-like quality to the air and I found myself wishing the day could go on and on in this same manner.
The two-lane highway had little traffic, and compared to the interstates and large cities I had been
riding through just a few days prior, it seemed I had the road to myself - just the way I like it.
Arriving in Chetwynd just after lunch time, I filled the tanks once more
and made the decision to take BC-29 north - also known as the Hudson's Hope Loop - to intersect the
Alcan at about MP54 and shave off 29 miles as I bypass Dawson Creek. This road twists and winds,
climbs and descends, as it passes through the historic town of Hudson's Hope and then follows the mighty
Peace River - the only river to breech the Rockies - on its way to join the Alaska Highway north of Fort
St. John. It was while traveling through the Peace Valley that I watched the odometer turn to all
zeroes as it recorded the first 100,000 miles in its busy life. This didn't really impress me all
that much, as the bike has traveled over 40,000 miles with various problems that kept the odometer
from advancing. In reality, it now is approaching 150,000 miles of travel, and seems to be prepared
to add that many more before calling it quits.
Before I was really ready for it, the stop sign appeared that signaled
the intersection with the Alcan, the next-to-the-last highway I would be traveling on my way home.
Shortly after I turned north once again, I remembered that I had told Doug Grosjean that I would give him
a call once back on the Alcan safely, so I pulled over to the side of the road to take advantage of the
last cell phone reception I would have until Whitehorse. Five minutes later, I was rolling on the
throttle again, with plans for a final overnight stop at Fort Nelson that evening.