I am back, and not a moment too soon….

Hello again. To those of you who are still here, and still reading – thank you. For your patience. And for thinking you may still come across something worthwhile. I hope not to let you down, but let’s be honest. I write for the catharsises of writing. And after the last 6 or 7 weeks, I need to write.

Some of you know me on a personal level. Are familiar with my story – in greater detail than I have written here. And I dare say, a couple of you may have been kind of cringing after my last couple of posts. “What the hell is he thinking?”  - or – “Joe, no. You know you can’t be that guy / do those things”.

I had to go through it. I had to re-learn a few truths. I had to re-visit some old behaviours – live in old patterns – experience old hurts – to remember – no, to be reminded. Reminded of the man, and boy, that I used to be. And to know, again, that I never need be that man, or child. Again.

I spent most of my life – and all of my adult life, seeking relationships with women that I could ‘save’, in one way or another. It was being that knight in shining armour that defined me. That provided me with that all important yet never concrete sense of self.

I allowed myself to live that experience again recently. And it was so not necessary. Or, was it? Yes, in truth, I guess it was absolutely necessary. Because it has allowed me to be who, and where, I am right now – or, write now, if you will, heheheh.

As I wrote in my last post, Mona has always had a very special place in my heart. I love her very, very much.

I forgot that, in truth, that is enough. And I tried to do, and be, so much more. I engaged in all of my old, classic using-behaviours. Well, except for actually using. Thank God.

I put myself in a position where I was vulnerable. That in itself is not a bad thing. It is a part of growth. Getting out of our ‘safe-zone’ and taking a chance or two. It actually felt very liberating to experience that vulnerability again. However, I forgot to keep my eyes as open as my heart. And I completely forgot to pay attention to me. And my own sense of self. My peace. My serenity. I went back to the old belief that I need to have that defined for me by another.

I forgot that loving someone need not involve expectations. As a matter of fact, in my opinion, loving someone means not having expectations. Accept them for who they are. And love them unconditionally.
Mona has accomplished quite a lot over the last 6 weeks. And I am very happy – even honoured – to have played a role in those successes.

So, this one is not all about you Mona. (That’s a bit of an inside joke – some of you will get it – others will think they do)

But it is about how very grateful I am to have gone through this often beautiful, always exciting, sometimes shitty experience with you.

I have come through the other side with a renewed understanding of who I am – and a whole raft of those ever-present ‘remember when’s’.

I have come to truly know that I am not only capable of loving another, but that I am also capable of loving myself. I have learned that I am willing to take those chances of the heart. To allow myself to be vulnerable, and in doing so experience some of life’s most precious moments.

And I have come to know that no matter what – regardless of the crap that may be tossed at us, or the moments of anguish that we may find ourselves experiencing – love does not end. It does not die, and it does not stop merely because life changes.

I have an absolutely amazing friend in a beautiful woman named Mona. A woman who is going through some struggles. Changes. Peaks and valleys.

Our friendship has deepened.

I love you Mo.

And I am very happy to be back in touch with me.

Andre M, I wish to thank you so very much for reaching out to me, and asking me to be of assistance to you. For in truth, you helped me more this morning than you could possibly know. Thanks brother.

My name is Joe. I am a very happy man. With a very good life. And more wonderful people in it than I ever thought that I could deserve.

I merely forgot that for a moment.

Thank you for being there for me. And God Bless.

Wow. What a day.

Peace.

Crepes in the Dark

It sometimes still amazes me how much can happen in as little as a week.

Especially when all of the stuff that normally happens in a week, still happens.

This one is all about surprises. The endearing gratitude that comes from realizing the unimaginable. And ‘who’da thunk-it’ moments.

I first met my friend Mona in the early part of 1998. More than 14 years ago. Two seriously screwed up individuals travelling a similar journey through the hell of addiction and all of the chaos that it entails.
And our paths crossed.

We hit it off pretty good from the beginning. A shared sarcastic, generally unflattering view of humanity. An evil laugh. Strength to roll with whatever life tossed at us. An ability to see trouble coming and generally get out of its way. Not always, but…

I was, shall we say, enamoured with Mona from the moment that I met her. I have always been attracted to a strong female personality, and they don’t come any stronger. It didn’t hurt that she was 5’ 9” of blond-ish bombshell either.

So I did what a lot of half-way intelligent men might have done in my position. I made sure not too piss her off, lol. And we became friends. Over time, really close friends. We shared some experiences that would make most of you cringe. But we also shared a lot of laughter. Something not very common in the living-in-the-sewers-of-life that crack addiction actually convinces us is plush and fabulous.

Then, years later, I gave up on ‘the life’. I was not strong enough to do it any more. I was broken and needed help to be put back together. And I was tired enough to ask for help.

My asking for help was, of course, heard by the Ottawa Drug Treatment Court. It was exactly what I needed in order to have a fighting chance. And I began what has become the most incredible life experience that I knew I could never have. Thankfully, I was wrong about what I believed I could, and could not, ever have. Because believe me when I tell you that I most certainly never believed that I could have the life that I now live to the fullest every day.

So, where is all this going, you ask.

Well. Let me tell you.

Mona, as you know, has begun to reach out for help. And I have also written in past blogs that I consider myself very fortunate to be one of the people that Mona has reached out to.

This woman knows that I love her. And she is okay with that. As a matter of fact, I think that suits her just fine. Because Mona has been hurt and lied to and beaten down before, as any of us familiar with the lifestyle have.

 Trusting is difficult.

But Mona trusts me.

And that is pretty darned special.

When Mona needs peace. When Mona needs quiet. When Mona needs safety, she has it here.

We had no plans yesterday. I asked Mona if she wanted to see her mom.

“She lives all the way in the Laurentian’s” said Mona. “It’s too far” said Mona.

What a fantastic day. I have mentioned in the past about how much I enjoy riding in the Laurentian’s. Now couple that with the joy of watching a mothers’ face light up as the daughter that she has not seen in several months walks into her arms. And the look of pure admiration and gratitude that a woman might then send your way in thanks.

It is moments like these that make everything I have ever been through – every shitty situation – every jail cell – every homeless night – all worth while.

No sooner had we walked in the door than I was instructed to take a seat and enjoy some brunch.
Homemade crepes. Strawberries. Molasses and apricot jelly. Deliciously strong coffee.We spent several hours at a beautiful mountain chalet-style home engaged in conversation and laughter.

Enjoy it I did. Every moment. And so did Mona.

Ghislaine and Phillippe, thank you for opening your home and inviting me in.

I will bring Mona back very soon. Those moments are too valuable to miss.

Mona is a little less stressed recently. She is eating well too. If mom’s crepes at 0400 in the morning can be considered eating well.

Yes, I think so too.

I love you Mona. And I am so very proud of you.

So how was your day?

 

Just about everything can be categorized. Quantified. Evaluated and valued.

Placed into one column or another.

Even good news.

I mean, if your dentist tells you that you have no cavities, well, that is good news.

Your 10 year olds’ teacher gives you no reason to regret having kids – good news.

Your 16 year old daughter really did simply miss her period – good news.

The car salesman really was able to swing you a deal – good news.

You got that long awaited – or better yet – unexpected raise at work – good news.

Each of you probably has a different order of importance to these ‘good news’ items.

Then there is that whole other column. You know, the one were we try to imagine the feeling of “you won the 6/49” kind of good news.

When an Oncologist walks into an interview room smiling.

Yeah – that kind of good news.

I went with Susie to see her Oncologist this morning. I am not even the one fighting cancer and yet I was almost crying with joy over ‘good news’.

It seems that this woman whom I stand in awe before – this woman who can cause me to wonder at her incredible fortitude – this woman whom I love – has a big, brightly shining light at the end of her proverbial tunnel.

Some good news is just better than others.

We spent the rest of the day enjoying each others company. Sharing good food. Shopping for the pure pleasure of buying something nice.

Laughing. And both, in our own, unspoken way, being grateful.

……..and that’s not all………

It has been a week of good news.

I stopped in to see my sister on Wednesday. I wanted to drop off a birthday card and gift for my mom, and touch base to get the latest update on the less-than-enjoyable current family situation that I mentioned in my last post.

Well. Wonder of wonders. As easy as that, my parents have decided that the best ‘next step’ is for them to move into an assisted living residence.

Okay. Maybe not quite as easy as that. Maybe a little more along the lines of mom saying something like “I don’t know what you are planning, but I am going – I want this”, and dad realizing that his life-long partner meant what she was saying. So dad decided that he, too, is going to move.

Of course, if I had to guess, I would bet that to hear dad tell it, this was his idea all along.

Yes dad. Of course it was.

You may think that it is wrong, selfish, inappropriate for a son to be happy that his parents are moving into an assisted living residence. I assure you that this is far and away the best outcome. For mom. For dad. For my sister, who has placed her life on hold for the last 3 years to take care of my dad as he has progressively weakened.

It is sad. It is not easy. But it is most definitely for the best. And therefore it’s very own kind of ‘good news’.

And then there is Mona. My dear, fucked up, confused, scared friend Mona.

Mona is doing alright.

She doesn’t believe it yet. There are still too many unknowns. Too many possible bad outcomes. Too many things to fear. Too many reasons to have to count on others. Too possibly be let down.

Too little faith in herself.

But that is changing. Slowly, Mona is stretching.

“I know I have to start taking charge of my life, and soon” were the words written to me in a text this morning.

This, my friends, is what is known as a starting point. On the ‘wheel of change’ this is referred to as the contemplative stage.

It is also the beginnings of faith.

God bless you Mona. I love you hon – and will be there to help – or kick you in the ass – whichever the case may be.

I have been blessed in so many ways. A job that I love, which in truth is like being paid to do service work; a family that, screwed up as it is, is still able to make it through the shitty stuff without trying to tear each others throats out. And friends who are there for me, and who know that I am there for them.

It is an honour for me to know that I can be counted on. By me. And by others.

 

Wow. What a Monday, huh?

Up’s, down’s….and twisties!

 

I purposely stayed off the blog last week. Just to step back for a minute. Collect my thoughts. And decide just how personal and revealing it needs, or should be.

Still haven’t come up with an answer. So…..

Here we go.

I introduced you to my friend Mona the last time that I wrote. Things are pretty shitty for her right now. That is generally a given for us when we are active in our addictions and wanting to change.

It is not easy. As a matter of fact, it is really, really tough. I mean, imagine for a second, if you will, that someone has told you that the only way that your situation is likely to improve is for you to cut ties with virtually everyone who is currently a part of your life.

All of the people that you associate with on a daily basis – gone.

The people that you have convinced yourself are the only one’s who understand you – that you have come to call friends. Family. Lovers.

History.

The people that you KNOW, and that KNOW you – you have to say goodbye.

Could you do it?

Those of us who have spent our lives in the ever-darkening hell of active addiction generally have no choice but to do so. If we are to have even the barest of chances at survival and then growth into a new-found way of life, we must leave our old lives behind.

Separation anxiety, anyone? You’re damned right there is.

And that is where my friend is now. In the purgatory of desperately wanting to change, yet being stuck in the comfort of the familiar.

Having difficulty understanding this idea. Well consider this.

We are generally only afraid of the unknown. Of that which we do not yet understand. It is why the dark frightens most of us. Because we have no idea what lies in wait, with sharpened claws and dripping teeth, to cause us unbearable pain and torment.

Turn on a light – erase the shadows – show us that the path is clear and safe – and we are once again our happy-go-lucky selves, chuckling with bravado at our momentary lack of reason.

Well, my friends, the idea of recovering from a life-long addiction to drugs, and the associated lifestyles that go with it, often is that darkest of dark places. Because a life without drugs; without booze; without criminal behaviours and constant scamming - that is something that, for people like my friend Mona, and myself not so many years ago, is completely unknown. Something that we are not capable of understanding. Something that is very frightening. Precisely because we do not understand it.

Yet.

So my friend Mona is scared.

And that brings us to my current predicament.

You see, I have that understanding now. I have clawed my way from darkness and despair and I know first hand that it is all possible.

There was a time in my life – most of my life, actually – when I knew, just knew in my heart, that I could never have a ‘normal’ life. That I never would have peace. Quiet. Serenity. Happiness.

Everything that I knew, in the most tightly woven fibres of my being, that I could never have, I have since come to know and experience on a daily basis.

Every good thing that every other person had in their life – I now have in mine.

And I really want to help Mona to see this. To feel this. To believe this. To KNOW this.

I want her to trust that everything will be okay.

But my heart is involved here.I really care about this woman. So I have to ask myself – am I able to be selfless. To stay one step removed. To not fall further for her than I already have over the 14 years that we have known each other.

I don’t know.

And that is kind of scary.

I love you Mona. And I will do what I can. That much I can promise.

In other news………………

My dad is not doing well. He was in the hospital again last week. A fractured elbow suffered after yet another fall – this one resulting in him being found unconscious on the floor.

My brothers and sister and I are discussing next steps. It isn’t easy. Or pleasant.

On the up-side of things, though – Susie is doing really well. I mean, aside from the dozens of mosquito bites that she suffered last week, that continue to drive her out of her mind with their itchiness. Aside from that, things are good for Susie. No more fevers. No more unscheduled trips to the emergency room.

Wait a minute. Is a trip to the emergency room ever scheduled? No, I guess not.

Anyway, the point is that she continues to keep her chin held high, to laugh out loud, and to live life as fully as her situation allows. How could I not love this woman?

I am so proud of you Susie. Crazy about you too, but that is my issue, lol.

Finally, I have become the subject of an amateur photographer friend of mine. He has been experimenting with lenses, lighting and content over the past little while, and recently he snapped off a few of me and my bike.

I have to say, I am pretty happy with the results.

 

This picture comes pretty close to capturing the moment. And the magic.

You have to dance with the road – riding her curves – boogying through her twisties – to really get it. But this is pretty darned close.

I will post again next week. Or as the subject matter develops.

Be good to each other. And get out and RIDE!

Love. Life and death.

It has been a week that has left me weak.

A tough, kick-in-the-thigh-to-bring-me-to-my-knee type of week.

On Tuesday afternoon I was given the news that a friend and fellow rider had been killed earlier that morning. A single vehicle accident, he died doing something that he loved -  riding his motorcycle, and I like to believe that he was smiling from ear to ear, enjoying the cool morning air as it whipped past him, right up until the moment that tragedy reared it’s irrevocable head in a moment that cost the world a beautiful soul, that leaves our riding club with tears in our eyes, lumps in our throats, and a- chuckle-of-a-memory at times that we were blessed to share with a wonderful man.

Rest in peace, Swapnil. And find some twisties to show me when I get there brother.

There was to be a memorial of sorts at our weekly meet and greet this evening. I do not know how it went. I was not there.

I could not spend anymore time, or energy, around death today.

I spent all day with two different woman, each engaged in their own very personal battles to stave off that dark shadow.

Two woman whom I am honoured to call friend. Women that I love very, very much. Who each, in their own way, compliment my life in a manner that I could not have imagined possible a few short years ago.

Before i began to understand what it means to truly love another.

I used to think that love was dependant upon reciprocation.
I became free when I learned the truth. That love depends only upon the ability of one individual to connect with another. And I have been blessed with an ability to connect with people. And so, to love.

I have mentioned my friend Susie in a few previous posts. I have written of her current battle with the big ‘C’.

I have told you that I love her.

God I wish that were enough. I wish that the love that I have for this woman was enough to take away her fear.

Enough to bring her solace.

Enough to make everything okay.

But life is not that simple, is it? No. Not by a long shot.

Susie was in emerg twice over the last 5 days. A simple infection – something you or I would not give much thought to, in normal circumstances – poses a threat. And strikes a chord of fear.

I fucking hate this disease. And I know, so don’t you dare tell me to be happy it is not me. The truth is, I would trade places with Susie in less than a heartbeat if I could.

All that I can do, however, is to be there for her.

 And be there I will.

 For that is what love does.

I love you Susie.

I have not mentioned my other friend before today. And in truth I cannot say much yet, as I don’t yet know how much she will be comfortable with me writing about in my blog.

But I can tell you a little of what is going on.

After 30+ years, she has had enough. She cannot go on doing what she has been doing. She wants to change her life.

And she has reached out to me for a helping hand.

If you have never had a person whom you love come to you and ask you for help, then you can not possibly understand what a humbling experience it can be.

All the more so when you consider that at one time we were business partners, of a sort. Co-conspirators in the world of using and selling drugs. In the dealing of death. In the killing of ourselves. Slowly. And painfully.
Without the ability to care. Or to love. And barely even noticing life, all the while darkly wanting it to end.

 Somehow.

I have written about my moment of change. And my friends, I believe that this woman is there. I am excited – and even told her how excited I am – about the possibilities that lay before her.

About the life that she can have.

This is a story that I believe deserves to be told. And that you just may enjoy reading. So over the next few weeks, I am going to introduce you to my friend, this woman that I love. This soul who has reached out for help, and complimented me by asking me to grasp onto her outstretched hand.

For this moment.

I have grasped back. For that is what love does.

And I love you Mona.

I try to count my blessings on a regular basis. To keep me grounded. To keep me here, and now. To help keep me clean and sober.

These two women are blessings in my life. And I thank you God, for these, and all of the blessings in my life.

Good night fellow writers, readers and riders. And God Bless.

Throngs, and Thongs–PD13

 

I have never seen such a gathering of like minded people.

The sheer numbers that made plans, organized schedules, took time off of work, arranged to have bikes shipped overseas, set aside the weekend – all to take part in a one day motorcycle gathering event – is mind boggling.

The fact that over 150,000 people can all gather in one small location – most, if not all, people that can, in one form or another, be referred to as ‘bikers’ – and not have a single confrontation – not one issue, no matter how small – that required the attention of the very well represented various police agencies – is a testament to just how special this event is.

There were almost as many clubs represented by various ‘colors’, or patches, as there were different makes of motorcycle. From the family-oriented leisure riding clubs, like the club that I belong to – the CMC – to the brazenly outside-the-law clubs like the Outlaws, the Hells Angels and others – we all just seemed to be there for one reason, and one reason only. To express our love and appreciation for motorcycles, and the motorcycle riding lifestyle.

Some of the machines on display were pure works of art. Others, lifelong works of blood, sweat and tears. And most simply a representation of our personal expressions of freedom. And that seemed to be the underlying theme of PD13. Be who you are. Ride what you ride. Wear what you wear. We will accept you just as you are.

I think that mainstream society, by and large, could learn a thing or two from a gathering such as I was privileged to be a part of this past weekend.

A group of 10 or 11 of us rode from Ottawa to Brantford – and then Port Dover – together. In formation. Attentive and in sync. Like members of a really close-knit family. We enjoyed each-others company. We watched out for each-other. Ate meals together. And went in our own directions when it was time to do so. All with a smile – a wave – a kind word.

And why wouldn’t we. For as different as we all may be on the surface, deep down we are all the same. People pursuing, and expressing, our passion. Enjoying the freedom to do so, and encouraging the same.

I am proud to be a member of such a wonderful group as the CMC. It is a privilege to call you all my brothers and sisters.

Ride Long – Ride Free – RIDE.

Pictures from PD13 2012 found HERE.

Back in the Saddle Again,….

 

It’s great to be home.

I had 6 days to relax and unwind before starting work again last Tuesday afternoon. I spent most of that time with my friend Susie, attending to doctor’s appointments and just trying to be a friend during her ongoing battle with cancer.

I cannot think of a better way to have spent that time.

I learn so much about strength and perseverance from this woman. I watch her smile, and hear her laugh. And I cannot help but marvel at the way in which she is meeting this foe head-on, giving no quarter at rising to each new challenge.

I love, and honour you my dear.

It is also great to be back at work. I have been telling people that you know that you got what you needed from a vacation when you are excited to return to work. Of course, it helps to love what you do, as I do. Just one more area that I must acknowledge as a blessing in my life.

Of course everyone has wanted to hear a recap of the trip, so I have had numerous opportunities to relive some of those magical moments. I can still feel like I am right there in the middle of it as I show the slide-shows to people. I know that will eventually fade, but I am going to revel in it for as long as it lasts.

I have not yet even begun to work on any of the GoPro video footage from the trip. I will start on that in the next week or so, and hopefully have some footage posted to YouTube by mid-month.

I have a couple of exciting things coming up too. Next Thursday morning I am hopping back into the saddle and riding to Port Dover, Ontario for the Friday 13^th Bike rally.

Link to information found HERE.

There are a bunch of us from the CMC 011 heading down to southern Ontario, as well as many other CMC members from various chapters across Canada. With a population of approximately 6000 residents, this tiny little tourist community virtually bursts at the seams during PD13, as somewhere between 150,000 and 200,000 people are expected to show up, many of whom will cruise into town on their motorcycles. I have never been to PD13 before, so I am quite excited to check it out. The tentative plan is to camp at the ball-diamond / camp-ground, but there is a possibility of a motel stay – which will likely be my preference as I have a feeling that the camp-ground will be the location of a fairly large and well-attended party. Or two.

Which leads me to the other ‘exciting thing’ that is coming up for me. On Thursday, July 19, I am going to celebrate 6 years of being clean and sober. And this time, I am going to celebrate it at a meeting that is held at the homeless shelter where I work, amongst colleagues, friends – and maybe even a couple of people who are interested in change themselves. One never knows. Anyhow, I am pretty excited about this as well.

So I have caught up on some movies. Visited with mom and dad, as well as my older brother and sister. Gone on a couple of short scoots around the area – one of which allowed me an opportunity to assist a stranded rider on the 416. Seems he had checked his oil in his KLR650 before leaving Orleans – and forgot to replace the cap. When I rolled up on him as he was standing beside his bike just south of Brophy Road his pant leg was soaked through from the knee to the ankle with hot oil.

Ouch.

I gave the poor lad a ride back into town – to Goodtime – where he went about making the necessary arrangements to take care of his current dilemma. He was a young lad, and was quite surprised that an older fella on a big, loud cruiser was so willing to help out.

I merely pointed to my Madison (crest) and invited him to check us out, explaining that just about anyone in the CMC 011 would have done the same.

Have you sensed the underlying theme here.

Take a minute. Or an hour. Or even a day. And help a person out. Be a friend, in need, or indeed.

Connect. Be a part of….

I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it is.

I will touch base after Port Dover.

Peace.

And as it ends, so it begins….

I am home. The trip completed. The adventure realized. The experience lived.

The journey continues.

I have to say, this adventure upon which I embarked 30 days ago will never be more than one sharp curve away from me. I will forever be comparing a great set of Ontario or Quebec twisties with those that I danced in Alberta and British Columbia.

I will always be transported back to Golden, BC, as I watch a sunrise sparkle on the calm waters of a forested lake.

The sound of a rushing creek will bring me right back to the serenity of the Cottonwood Recreation site on the Duffey Lake Road outside of Lillooet, BC.

And riding through the Laurentians will always cause me to yearn for the majesty of the Canadian Rockies.
I consider each of these to be a blessing. For the memories that will be evoked are something that I am privileged to have, and to relive, over and over again.

The trip home was accomplished relatively quickly. I left Jasper, Alberta on Friday morning and was home in Ottawa very early (0300) on Wednesday morning. I did take some time to stop and smell the roses, as it were, however.

I have tried to give detail to some of those spots – sites – vistas that caused me pause to enjoy and absorb. One of those that I am fortunate to have taken the time to explore was the Alberta Badlands in Drumheller, AB. Drumheller was my first stop on my way home after leaving Jasper – my older brother strongly suggested that I take the time to check it out, and like most little brothers, I trust my older bro’s advice.
He has yet to steer me wrong. The Badlands are an almost surreal, straight-out-of-the-movies landscape of truly hard, dusty, desolate and breathtakingly beautiful landscape. I can certainly understand the draw – the lure that Drumheller retains to this day on that specific kind of lone, vagabond, cowboy-type of traveler. A testament to this observation was the sheer number of other riders in the area, traveling the old ‘Dinosaur Trail’, retracing the paths and roads ridden by their cowboy brethren of a time long past, yet still so near. I swear you can still hear the sound of galloping hooves coming from that rising dust trail just off to your right….

Drumheller is a place full of ghosts. Full of history. Full of a childlike sense of wonder and awe. Hell, there are dinosaurs here! And cattle rustlers. Horse Thief canyon tells that tale.

I did not take the time to check out the Royal Tyrell Museum which houses one of the worlds largest displays of dinosaurs – just one more stop for my next trip out west – but I encourage you to check out the link found HERE to learn more about Canada’s dinosaur past and the incredible displays housed within.
I have linked to my Drumheller pics in the post just prior to this one – no need to link again. I just thought that Drumheller deserved to be shared a little more in depth with you.

From Drumheller I rode on through to Regina and spent Saturday night there. In the morning I decided that I wanted to try to get to Ontario by Sunday evening, so I rode pretty hard through to Kenora. I stopped near the Manitoba / Ontario border and took a couple of pictures of the canola fields – bright yellow flowers for as far as the eye can see – and then again just inside the Ontario border to get a snap of a yet another beautiful sunset. I should mention that during the last 20 kms of the TransCanada in Manitoba, before entering Ontario, I must have seen at least 11 deer. It was unbelievable how many of them were standing in the ditches, or up on the rises on either side of the highway. You can bet I adjusted my speed and notched my ‘alert’ level up.

This heightened level of alertness served me well. I saw yet another black bear and two moose before deciding that it was just plain foolish to continue riding in this part on Northern Ontario at this time of the evening / night. I pulled into Kenora, got a room and called it a day.

The next morning I hopped back in the saddle, knowing it was going to be another long one, and set out to ride.

I finally called it a day in Marathon after seeing another abundance of wildlife that is not only beautiful, but far too menacing for a man on a motorcycle. Another black bear, 2 more moose and more deer than Gary Larson ever drew in his incredibly intelligent commentary on the human condition, the Far Side.

I guess the name of the town inspired me for the last leg of my journey. I left Marathon on Tuesday morning, and after 17 hours in the saddle I crawled into my own bed here in Ottawa at 0300 on Wednesday morning.
And it felt good to be home. To sleep in my own bed. To awake with no destination to travel towards. To remember.

There are more stories to come from this adventure of mine – I have not yet covered it all, and I will attend to that as time, and mood, permit. I think I will spend the next little while just letting it all settle, and sharing stories with family, friends and co-workers. I am certain that each time I speak of this trip, and the 13,000+ kms that I covered, I will remember new things to add to future blog posts. One thing that I already know that I will eventually get around to will be a sort of ‘best of’, offering tips, advice and shared experiences to future vagabond adventure riders. I learned quite a lot about long-distance traveling recently – as one of my trip advisors told me that I would.

For now, I would like to thank a few specific individuals for their assistance – advice – input and friendship:

Dusty Boots – while I could have done this trip without you, it would not have been nearly the same, nor nearly as incredible. The time that you took to put together maps, recommend gear, point me to campgrounds, advise on routes to avoid, and more importantly on routes that were ‘must ride’ – was time well spent my friend. The success and enjoyment – even fulfillment – that I have come away with are largely gifts given freely by you, to me. So thank you, good sir. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all that you did.

DrMucker, Scotty-004, Pathfinder and the rest of the gang from the Vancouver 056 – thank you for a wonderful meal, great conversation, and making an outta-towner feel like he was right at home.

Loki, Dirtymech and the crew from the Calgary 022 – the ride that you took me on to Braggs Creek was a fantastic introduction to what I was to come to experience throughout my adventure – great roads, incredible scenery, and truly wonderful people. Thank you all once again.

Sophia – I know I have already said it, but I have to say it again - thank you so much for putting me up – and putting up with me for my week in Vancouver. You were an amazing host and a great tour-guide – as well as wonderful company. I am grateful.

To the crew from the Ottawa 011 who offered travel suggestions, advice, encouragement, and who faithfully followed my blog – including RoadDawg and brian2tall – thanks guys. It meant a lot to know that you guys were enjoying the trip as well.

Stickman – thanks for joining me from Sault Ste. Marie to Calgary, as well as for your hospitality. I hope that you enjoy the boots brother.

I am certain to have missed a few names, and I apologize for that. Please just know that I truly did, and do, appreciate all that everyone has done to help make this dream a reality for me.

Before I sign off, I did take the time to put together a couple of slide-shows that I uploaded to YouTube. I have given the links to these, as well as the remaining pictures from the journey home, below.

Regina to Ottawa pictures HERE.
Slideshow #1 – If God Made You HERE.
Slideshow #2 – The Meeting HERE.

There is more to come, for as I indicated in the title – the journey continues. So take a break. Stretch your legs. Shake some of the highway out of your bones, and the road-dust from your hair.

Just be ready to ride again at a moments notice.

Ride safe, brothers and sisters. But RIDE!

Shed a tear: Leaving the Rockies

 

You know, even spending the vast majority of this trip riding my heavily laden motorcycle in the rain, in full rain gear and generally poor visibility, was not enough to dampen my mood; my smile; my spirit.

That changed a little on Friday morning. In the bright sunshine. In the most beautiful place I have ever rested my soul.

I can honestly tell you that I felt a profound sadness while watching the Rocky Mountains grow smaller in my rear-view mirrors.

I shed a tear leaving Jasper Alberta.

Leaving, sadly.

It felt like I had found my life partner – my mate – my lover.

Only to have her wrenched away from me by duty and obligation.

For the first time in almost 6 years I wanted to say ‘screw it all – I am going to do this……’

Fortunately, the old Joe no longer has the power that he once had and was not able to win over the Joe that embarked on this personal quest.

The idea of staying out west, while romantic, novel and adventurous – never really took hold. This trip was about finding something. I had no real idea what that might be prior to straddling the saddle on May 31 and heading to North Bay on the first leg of the journey.

I have a clearer idea now. Clear enough that I was able to continue to do that which I have been doing quite well for quite some time.

The next right thing. And for me, that meant completing the journey. And of course, heading home.

Saying that, and knowing it – did not make it any easier. At least, not until I had some time to think about it. And about what I have found.

So what did I find, you may ask. Well, it is not easily put to words. And some of it is just for me. But I can say that I found a stronger connection. I found a deeper peace. I found some untapped resources within myself.

I found a better understanding of who, and why I am.

I found love. A very real, very tangible love for all that has been given to me, and to us.

I also found that I have something important that I have to say. And I will say it when I get home.

There may not be much more to write about this trip of mine. I am in Regina, Saskatchewan as I write this. Friday saw me ride from Jasper to Drumheller, Alberta, where I took the time to see the sites and take, yes, lots of pictures.

Yesterday, I left Drumheller and rode all the way to Regina. A couple more pictures, but lets face it – the ‘epic’ part of my motorcycle adventure is over. I will take some pictures of the lake head and environs at Superior, weather providing, and post those when I get home, but unless something truly noteworthy happens, this is likely my last entry from the road.

I have been trying to get back to Ottawa for Tuesday morning in order to be somewhere, with someone, but I don’t know if I will be able to make it before Wednesday. It certainly would not serve for me to rush. For that is when mistakes happen. And in motorcycle speak, mistakes are generally not forgiven.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you, fellow travellers, for riding along as I rode and wrote. Knowing that someone is reading has certainly helped inspire me to write. I have a ton of notes that did not make it into the blog, but I think that is because something else is growing from this journey of mine. And of ours.

Does anyone know a publisher. Heheheheh.

Link to the pictures from Jasper to Drumheller is HERE.

Drumheller to Regina can be found HERE.

Be good to yourselves. And be good to others.

It matters.

Peace.

Now, These are Mountains!

 

The Cascades were spectacular. The Coastal mountains – amazing. I found myself staring with a sense of wonder about all that was around me on more occasions than I can count. The beauty that I found myself immersed in was beyond my own ability to imagine as recently as 3 weeks ago.

And then, yesterday, I began the journey from Golden, BC to Jasper, AB.

I may never be the same again.

Golden is a beautiful place. Nestled in the Rocky Mountain Trench and surrounded by the Robson Valley, the Columbia Valley and the East Kootenay Valley, it is a small community that realizes it is a jewel, yet does not go out of it’s way to advertise that fact. Still a peaceful spot, it is a vagabond-campers paradise – largely due to the number of free, BC Hydro and Forestry Services sponsored campsites. Well maintained and frequented only by hardy, back-country style campers, these spots are generally virtually unpopulated. I never had more than 2 other campers in any of the BC Hydro sites that I used.

Vagabond Paradise

I really was in no hurry to leave this little spot in Golden, BC. The weather was the nicest I have experienced thus far, and the setting could not be more peaceful. Add to that the fact that there was a pretty major rockslide just 12 kilometres to the east of Golden that had closed the TransCanada in both directions and it was becoming easy to convince myself to just settle in for another day. Or two.

But like any mistress, the open road calls. And a man’s gotta’ answer, right?

I took my time packing up my site, as always being sure to leave no trace that I had ever visited, and made my way to the local Tim Horton’s for a pre-ride coffee. By the time I was ready to go, a group of riders coming in from Texas and on their way to Alaska for the D2D Rally informed me that the highway was open once again, with the east lanes still closed and buried in debris and traffic diverted to the west bound lanes for travel in both directions.

I headed out, sans-raingear and full of good spirit to enjoy a day of riding in the sunshine. And what a day it was.

I started this post with a commentary on some of the mountain ranges that I have travelled and enjoyed.

Yesterday I began to enter the Rockies – I mean, really enter the Rockies – for the first time.

Words like spectacular – gorgeous – amazing – awe inspiring – god-given – all of these try to give description to the grandeur that is the Canadian Rocky Mountains. And all fall short.

You really do have to see them to believe it.

I rode from Golden on through Kicking Horse Pass and up through the Rockies to Lake Louise. The scenes that I was given have been captured, as best I could, on still and GoPro footage. The stills are linked below. The GoPro footage will be up sometime in mid-July and I will link to it then. The video footage is definitely worth a watch.

From Lake Louise I decided to toss convention to the side (like I have ever adhered to convention) and opted to take a 234 kilometre side trip up to Jasper. Which is where I sit as I type this.

I may never leave Jasper.

I could live in the bush. Eat berries and nuts. Adopt a mountain goat for company.

Mountain goats on the way to Jasper.

Okay. Maybe not. My older brother pointed out that the aforementioned diet would leave me being a tasty bear-munchie.

It sure would be easy to stay though. At least until the snow flies. And then,….

On my way from Lake Louise to Jasper, I stopped for fuel at Saskatchewan Crossing ($1.75/litre) and met another long-distance traveller. Also named Joe, this fella is from Titusville Florida and is doing the southern most to northern most ride. He started out at the Florida Keys, mile marker 0 – and is riding all the way to Alaska.

We decided to ride together from Saskatchewan Crossing to Jasper, and shared a campsite at Whistlers in Jasper National Park. Joe worked as a subcontractor for NASA for 30 odd years and is enjoying his retirement on a BMW RS1200 – travelling long distance in style.

Very similar in riding style and pace, we got along just fine, and it was nice to share another portion of this epic journey with yet another vagabond rider.

So now, it is time for me to prepare to leave Jasper. I think I will extend my stay long enough to ride the gondola to the top of the mountain, then build up my resolve and hit the road. Sadly, that means that I am leaving the Rockies today.

I am certain of 2 things. One, that I will return to this mountain paradise again quite soon – maybe even next year. And two – that my entire adventure will take place here.

In the Canadian Rocky Mountains of Alberta.

Paradise Found.

Scenes from Golden to Jasper, including the Icefields Parkway, are located HERE.

From good to Amazing - Merritt to Lumby to Golden, BC

The rain continued to fall as I was packing up the bike preparing to leave Merritt on Tuesday morning. Although that had been enough to keep me there an extra day already, I could not justify staying stationary any longer. Merritt is pretty – but it just doesn’t have enough to see and explore to occupy another day. The East Indian proprietor of the little motel that I stayed at almost appeared sad to see me leave. As though he had not had a guest stay an extra night in a long time. Not sure why, but that kind of made me feel his loneliness. I thanked the gentleman, loaded up, and hit the road.
Within 20 minutes, as I cruised comfortably down highway 5A toward Princeton, the skies began to clear, and my smile began to broaden. In contrast, I found my speed began to slow. The scenery just looked so much more vibrant, alive and inviting in the sunlight. I felt much like I imagine a butterfly might feel as it emerges from it’s cocoon – taking in the wonder of the world that it has been born into. 
Natural Wonder.
I did not get too far along highway 5 before I found myself once again stopping to snap some pictures. I was gifted with one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen in my life a little ways after my first photo-stop.  I spotted a baby deer, or fawn, standing on a rise in a pasture and immediately pulled to the side to ready my camera. I snapped off one picture of the lone fawn, and then saw two siblings come bounding into the frame. I was mesmerized with this display of natures innocence and beauty, staring in wonder as these three little children of the animal kingdom engaged in the favourite game of all species of young – chase! I came out of my reverie just in time to snap off one picture of these playful kids, seen below.
Kids at play.
Riding on a natural high, and absolutely at peace with the world, I began, for the first time during my trip, to feel that which I believe I had been seeking since I began planning this adventure 9 months ago.
I am a part of something magical. Something wonderful and beyond the ability of my human mind to express. Connected and alive. I am sitting in a McDonalds restaurant in Golden, BC as I write this, looking out the window at the fluffy white seeds riding the breeze against a mind-slowing backdrop of the Rocky mountains, and I feel the exact same thing.
I hope and pray that I never lose this newfound ability to connect. Or, if not new found, at the very least newly realized.
I arrived in Princeton a short and enjoyable while after taking the above pictures, and decided that it was time for a coffee and a bite to eat. Actually, I think it is more accurate to say that it was decided, not so much that I decided, however…..
I pulled up to a run-down, almost gone-to-seed tire shop and asked the fellow who was lounging in an Adirondack chair in the middle of the parking lot where I might get a bite to eat.
“You could try the place right there” he said as he pointed to Thomasina’s on the corner.
Well,…..
When is a grilled cheese sandwich not just a grilled cheese sandwich?
When it is made at Thomasina's in Princeton, BC.
The bread that I enjoyed was baked fresh that morning - a specialty of the owner/ cook / baker, it is a hearty, wholesome and flavour rich blend of corn meal, flax, oats, whole wheat, rye and a touch of molasses.
The melting cheese that was dripping from the edges was a smoked apple blend that made my taste buds sing!
Served beside a delicious little salad with a light vinaigrette, and accompanied by a rich dark coffee brought to my table in a press, I could not help but feel content. At ease. Happy. All of these and more. Just the way comfort food should make you feel.
Comfort food at its finest.
I finished my wonderfully rich coffee alongside a delicious Irish soda bread, made from 2 ancient grains known as spelt and emmer. Slightly warmed and patted with butter, this was the perfect end to a delightful dining experience.
Jerome and Thomasina, your wonderful little restaurant and superb menu are the things of great and fond memories. You can be sure that I will one day return - and that I will sing your praise. Well done folks.
Worthy of praise.
I rode the old Hedley road out of Princeton – yet another magnificent motorcycle road, and stopped at a curio shop in Hedley where the owner felt obliged to tell me that the store was for sale if I was interested. Ah, if only….
I followed highway 3 back into Keremeos and the Okanagan Valley, the one area that I saw the sun during my ride west from the Rockies to the Cascades, and was once again blessed with beautiful riding conditions. The ride continued on up to Penticton, Summerland, Peachland, West Kelowna, and finally into Lumby.
Roads of note on this stretch are the Eastside road in Penticton which follows the eastern shore of Skaha lake – gorgeous scenery and really nice twisties with a low speed limit of 50 km, allowing the rider to really enjoy the area; the old Westside Road that follows the western shore of Okanagan Lake from West Kelowna up to highway 97 in Vernon – ranks right up there with the best of them, full of very challenging twisties and sudden drops and rises, it is another amazing motorcycle route;
I arrived in Lumby exhausted – it had somehow taken me almost 9 hours to travel a little more than 400 kilometers. Not sure how that happened. Well, maybe…………
I stayed the night in another motel – it was too dark to ride any further seeking a BC Hydro recreation site – and went right to bed.
Getting up yesterday morning, I packed up and left the motel a little late – almost 11:00. I went to find breakfast, and discovered Alice’s Restaurant – a ‘biker friendly’ spot with a good, quick breakfast, strong coffee and a couple of Harley’s in the lot. I struck up a conversation with a fellow rider who proceeded to give me some sage advice about the roads I would be encountering from Lumby to Golden, and we shared riding stories for a bit. After my coffee, preparing to mount up and hit the road, ‘Stinky’ (his self-admitted nickname) offered to lead me out as far as Cherryville. Stinky offered to give me a chunk of BC hash when we stopped to go our own way – that made me smile too. Just the way of the people out here – if they have it, it is yours. I thanked Stinky for the offer, assuring him that there was a time when, but I had since cleaned up and was approaching 6 years. Stinky reached out his hand and gave mine a firm shake. “Congratulations” he said, “I been thinking about doin’ that".”
Sometimes it really is the thought that counts. Pleased to have met you Stinky.
I got some good GoPro footage of the ride and will post it sometime after I get home.
Highway 6, from Lumby to highway 23 at Nakusp is another wonderful ride – lots of pictures and GoPro video to come. I rode on another ferry, always enjoyable, and continued on Revelstoke, crossing on yet another ferry, and finally made my way into Golden BC at about 8:30 last night. I stopped at the Tim Horton’s and got directions to the Cedar Lake campground, rode in and set my camp up in record time, and even had time to scavenge enough wood for a roaring fire before full dark had finally set in.
Oh – I forgot to mention that I saw my first black bear on highway 23 just before the Galena Bay ferry at the Kaslo turnoff. No pictures, but wow, what a sight.
I would love to be able to describe to you what the ride on the TransCanada highway, from Revelstoke to Golden was like, but I just don’t think that my words could do it justice. It is said that the Sami people had over 100 words to describe snow. I cannot imagine their description of the beauty that I have witnessed.
Riding through the Rockies last evening, all I could think to myself was ‘thank you god.’
I encourage any who would say that there is nothing else out there – nothing beyond ourselves – to take this ride. And see what I have seen.
Well, I have been in this McDonald’s for going on 2 hours now. It is almost 10:30 and I still have to return to Cedar Lake to pack up my camp.
There was a major rock slide in Golden this morning, closing the TransCanada. Looks like it is time for yet another route change.
Rockslide
Nothing if not flexible,….
My apologies for the super-long post – there was a lot to cover, and I actually feel like I cheated you out of the Rockies run from Revelstoke to Golden. Ah well, a reason for you to ride, maybe…..
2 days of pictures can be seen HERE. …..
….and HERE.
Thanks for riding along so far. More to come.
Peace.

A Passage in Time

 

When I woke this morning it took all of 10 minutes for me to decide that I was going to stay another night in Merritt.

The motel that I am at is costing me $55 per night. Provincial camp grounds can be as much as $42. The weather man is calling for – yes – cold and rain all day. I will let you do the math.

I went down to the office – paid for another night and gave the owner the requested $6 to do my laundry for me.

That set me free for the day. So. What to do.

A quick glance back over some of the route and sights advice that another rider, Dusty Boots, had given me allowed me to realize that I had missed something yesterday.

It seems that the small town of Hope, BC actually has some real history behind it. As well as some Hollywood history.

In the early 1900’s, in a quest to keep American railroad companies from monopolizing a Canadian raw materials and minerals market, a bold engineering feat saw the creation of the Kettle Valley Railway Line – and with it, the Othello Tunnels. Abandoned decades later, the old KVR now stands as part of the Trans Canada Trail through this part of Western Canada / Southern BC. There is a lot of written material about this incredible project – this article here is the most well written that I have read.

What the article cannot convey to you, the reader, is the almost prehistoric-like setting that the Othello Tunnels rest in. The trees are covered in a fur-like moss from root to branch-tip. The ferns grow to incredible heights, and the lush green foliage is alive with the sounds of birds and small creatures, their animated sounds at times muted by the roar of the Coquihalla River as it smashes it’s way through the Coquihalla gorge and canyons. I have never seen such vibrant greens in any forest that I have walked – this place is lost in time, a virtual boreal rainforest where one almost expects to hear the screech of a velociraptor, or the roar of a T-Rex.

It is a place that we have not yet destroyed. More, it is a place that we have come to admire – yearn for and bask in. A place of energies. And of healing. Of mysteries and mysticism. And stories. Ah, the stories.

Another of these being, of course that this is also the location for most of the filming of the first Rambo movie, titled First Blood. Many films have been shot on location in Hope over the years, but First Blood has given the town it’s spot on the map, and it’s pet name – RamboTown.

I wanted to walk the original steel bridge from the beginning of the movie, where the sheriff (Brian Dennehy) drops John Rambo off and encourages him to keep on walking – but that piece of movie history is gone. Demolished in 2011, it has been replaced by a span of no character, and no charm.

I took a picture of the original pilings – all that remain of Rambo’s bridge.

All that remains of Rambo Bridge.

The above mentioned Othello Tunnels also have a Rambo tie-in. It was on the sheer face of tunnel number 2 that Rambo is seen clinging for his life as the camera does a long, slow pan of the gorge and it’s deadly resident, the Coquihalla River far below. This two-fold piece of history has made the Othello Tunnels a bit of a tourist hot-spot. People come to relive John Rambo’s heroics, though only viacriously – and leave having learned about the real life heroics of engineer Andrew McCulloch.

Once again – lives enriched.

My trip to and from Hope necessitated travelling through the Cascade Mountains once again. The highest elevation on the Merritt to Hope route is at the Coquihalla Summit – 4081 feet. In the pouring rain, at 6 degrees – it was frigid. It was also breathtaking. The clouds were surrounding me and I swear I could smell them – I was reminded of a childhood thought – that heaven must smell like clouds. I now know what clouds smell like. And maybe heaven too.

Scientists are predicting an astral event over the next few days. Apparently there is to be an incredible display of hydrogen fusion in a star 7 light-years away from earth. The heat rays produced by this nuclear event are predicted to cause a warming of the areas that I am about to travel through.

Here comes the sun.

Todays pictures – some of them are truly wonderful – can be seen here.

Put away the rain gear for a couple of days. Put on your denims and your leather vest.

Things are about to be turned up a notch.

More than words can say….

 

I believe I may be rapidly becoming the most experienced long-distance wet-weather traveller known to man. It just doesn’t seem to want to let up.

Riding from Vancouver to Squamish, a distance of about 70 kms, normally takes about an hour – or so I am told. In the pouring rain, low clouds and heavy fog, it took almost twice that.

*Sigh*

Slow riding to Squamish.

The route is Highway 99. Known as the Sea to Sky Highway, it is renowned amongst auto and motorcycle travelers alike as being a ‘must drive’ highway.

Well, I can say that I have ridden it on a motorcycle. And that I have seen some of it’s beauty. Sensed a portion of it’s power and splendour.

Enough to know that I will return to this land of the motorcyclists’ Xanadu to experience her in all of her radiant beauty. For now, I will make do with what she has deigned to reveal to me.

I stopped at a small restaurant in Pemberton, had a coffee and convinced myself that there was no real reason NOT to keep going. So off I went again. I barely even saw any of Whistler – the clouds were that low and thick. I really wanted to ride the gondola up to Blackcomb, but it truly would have been a waste of time and money. That is, if it was even in operation. The weather was not tourist friendly, so it would not have surprised me to see it closed.

There really was no point in stopping yet. It was early in the afternoon, and the weather would have kept me inside of a motel room. So on I went.

Pemberton. Around the top of Lillooet lake. Past Joffre lakes PP. And along Duffey Lake on a section of Hwy 99 known as the Duffey Lake road.

And wouldn’t you know it. As I am riding on what is widely considered one of British Columbia’s best motorcycle roads, the skies began to clear. The fog to lift, and the clouds to recede to more lofty heights.

I was tired from all of the hyper-focus necessary during the ride to this point. But I was on the Duffey Lake road. And I could see all of it. The asphalt was even drying.

I smiled as a mischievous 6 year-old boy might when a particularly dastardly plan is forming.

Then I opened her up and rode the Duffey.

I did not get very far along her length before I noticed a sign for a user-maintained campground known as Cottonwood Recreation site. Feeling much better about the day, and somewhat revitalized, I decided to pull in and stake out a spot to pitch my tent and get back to vagabonding it. A beautiful little campground right along the banks of a furiously rushing river, I picked a spot right on the rivers edge and set-up my camp.

I then hopped back on my bike, now having time to ride the length of the Duffey Lake road all the way into Lillooet for snacks and fuel.

Wow! What a road. Everything I have been told about her is true.

It is 24 kilometers from Cottonwood Campground to Lillooet. All 24 of them are amazing. Steep grades; wicked twisties; crazy-tight switchbacks – this stretch of the Duffey has it all. And riding her in reverse, back to the campground, is an entirely different, and every bit as challenging ride.

I made it back to camp just as full dark was setting in. Only one other site in the entire campground was occupied – and as good fortune would have it the campers had a 3/4 ton Dodge pickup absolutely loaded to the hilt with nice, dry firewood. A quick introduction and an offer to buy some wood saw me in front of a roaring campfire of my own in no time – and as I am learning is the norm out here – the campers refused to accept any money from me.

Doing it right.

Beautiful campground for the night.A river runs through it.

This morning I awoke to the sound of the river. And rain. So I tucked deeper into my sleeping bag and hit the ‘snooze’ button in my brain.

I arose a couple of hours later to some light cloud cover – and no rain. Packing up my site – and being sure I left absolutely no trace of having been there – took about an hour. I bid farewell to my fellow campers and hit the road. And it was dry.

Of course, that meant that I had to ride the full length of the Duffey again. By the time I headed on from Lillooet I had travelled the length of the Duffey Lake road 3 times. From Cottonwood to Lillooet 5 times. It is not enough, I assure you.

I stopped in Lillooet on my final pass through and gave dad a call. Father’s Day and all.

I had an amazing day of riding today. From Lillooet to Hope on the Trans Canada – through the Fraser canyon, the tunnels – all of it. What an incredible road to ride. Once in Hope, I stopped at the same McDonalds that I stopped at on my way to Vancouver – exactly 7 days ago – for a coffee. And then turned around and travelled the same route in reverse that I had just travelled.

A couple of spots along the way to check out are Hells Gate – a spot where the mighty Fraser river narrows to some 33 metres and crashes through like a demon; and the Alexandra Bridge – a holdover from the mid-1800’s along the original Cariboo Wagon Road.

I rode the TransCanada all the way back to highway 8, at Spences Bridge, and then turned south to Merritt.

I have to say, little highway 8 is no slouch in the contest of great motorcycle roads either. I was fortunate to have another rider on the road in front of me – he on a nimble Triumph Tiger Cross-Country – so even though I had never set rubber on her asphalt before today, using the Triumph as my beacon I was able to blast down her length at almost breakneck speeds. A few of the corners almost took me by surprise – what we sometimes refer to as ‘puckering’ – but she gave quarter and asked nothing of me more than respect.

Yet one more road for me to ride again one day.

If it has not become obvious yet – I can no longer hold true to my earlier statements about highway 3A being the best motorcycle road in Canada. There are just too many absolutely amazing roads to ride out here. On any given day weather alone could be the extra point that garners any one road the ‘win’ over another. The Duffey, highway 99, highway 3A, highway 8, the Crowsnest, the TransCanada through the Fraser Valley, The Kaslo - New Denver – Nelson loop – they are all incredible. I want to ride them all again, and I can assure you that I will. For now, I will carry on in my travels – riding my epic motorcycle adventure for all she is worth.

Which is more than words can say.

Two days worth of pictures – from Vancouver to Pemberton to Duffey Lake to Lillooet to Hope to Merritt – can be seen here.

Hold on tight – it’s going to get even better!

Here I go again on my own….

 

Well, today is the first day of the rest of my trip. I am leaving Vancouver and heading up the Sea to Sky highway through Squamish, Whistler and Lillooet – then heading down Hwy 1 (TransCanada) to Hope for a side  trip – turning around and heading back to the Hwy 1 / 8 junction and continuing on to Merritt. I will eventually be going on from Merritt to Princeton and the nheading back in an easterly direction to Penticton, where I plan on heading north again into peach-country and on up into Kelowna.

I don’t know how far I will make it today – it is, of course, pouring rain again and cool. I would really like to take in the sights at Whistler and Blackcomb, but the weather forecast calls for rain right through until at least Thursday.

Another trip will just have to go into the old planning machine, lol.

So, yesterday was a different day altogether. The weather was beautiful – 20 degrees and sunny – which of course meant that a great ride was in order.

Never having been on a motorcycle, Sophia borrowed a helmet from her sister and hopped on the back – and off we went to visit Vancouver Island. We took the ferry from Tsawwassen to Victoria (Schwartz Bay) and then rode the scenic route along the coast before breaking off and heading up to Nanaimo, where we boarded the ferry back to the mainland.

All told it was about a 10 hour day, and it was fantastic. The views were amazing, the ferry rides were very enjoyable, and Sophia turned out to be a pretty darned good passenger.

Sophia took me out for supper afterwards to a popular Vancouver restaurant / bar known as Rogue. The food was great – and other than that one incident where our waitress dropped an entire tray of waters and drinks smack-dab in the middle of our table – the experience was wonderful. I actually went ahead and filled out a comment card commending Mel, our waitress, for keeping her poise and maintaining her cool in a situation that would have found many wait-staff overwhelmed. Well done Mel.

Of course, having an accident like that happen at our table probably worked in Mel’s favor. Sophia and I had already had far too good a day to let anything spoil it, and we found ourselves laughing about it and helping Mel to straighten things up.

After dinner we took one last walk aroung downtown, strolling through Gastown once more – my favourite part of the city – and then called it a night. We had a really interesting conversation with a young couple that we met on the Skytrain while heading back to Burnaby. The young woman was voicing her opinion over the new crime bill, and sounded discouraged that addicted offenders are now going to be facing minimum sentence periods of incarceration.

I, of course, had to toss in my two cents.

I mentioned that addicted offenders still have the opportunity to opt into a Drug Treatment Court program. The young lady gave me a kind of disparaging look, as if to say ‘big deal’ – so I mentioned that it had worked for me, and that after 18 years of crack addiction and 4 years of being on the streets I am now approaching 6 years of being clean and sober.

It was at this point that the young lady began to cry.

A soul overflowing with compassion and the willingness to help, she works part-time at a local Elizabeth Fry Society, and volunteers at the Vancouver community court. She is afraid that offenders who are in conflict with the law due to their addictions are no longer going to be able to get help.

We talked for 20 minutes or so, shared some laughs and some experiences, exchanged hugs and went on about our evenings, and our lives. Maybe just a little more enriched. I know mine is. I thank god that there are people like this young woman who are so passionate about helping people like me. Without them, I would not be writing this. And that my friends, is the god’s honest truth.

Sophia, you were a wonderful host. Thank you so much for putting me up – and putting up with me – for the last 5 days. It has been a true pleasure to have a friend show me around one of our country’s most beautiful cities and I thoroughly enjoyed your company.

And now, it is time once again to pack up my trusty steed and hit the open road. If you don’t hear from me for a couple of days it is only because I am camping in the mountains. And enjoying the hell out of my life.

Between Victoria and Nanaimo

A bunch of pictures from the ferry rides and Victoria are right here.

Ok. The bike is packed.

Let’s ride!

One Day At A Time

 

Well, today was my last ‘take it easy’ day in Vancouver. I did not even roll off the couch until sometime after 10:00am.

Oh yes – let me make sure that point is cleared up. A friend of mine sent me a ‘Quagmire’ – like text this morning alluding to my waking up with Sophia. I am sleeping on the couch.

I guess my wording in previous posts may have left the reader open to the idea that I was sleeping with Sophia, as opposed to merely at Sophia’s.

I assure you – not that you care – but it is important for me to be clear that this is not the case.

So, I got up late, surfed around the ‘net for a while, eventually showered and finally left the apartment at about 1:30 in the afternoon. I brought my rain suit with me –ah-ha, prepared – so of course it did not rain. Actually this afternoon turned out to be one of the nicest that I have experienced thus far.

I rode back downtown – snapped a couple of pics of the local emergency shelters – went to yet another mall searching for an Otterbox for my new phone (to no avail), rode down to the yacht club, and eventually made my way back to New Westminster and went to an AA meeting at a local, privately run treatment facility.

I have not been to a treatment facility meeting in a long, long time. And it was precisely what I needed.

There was one gentleman there who had just completed the in-house program and he is moving out in the morning. There were also two new, younger lads there who had only arrived this afternoon. Tonight was their first meeting at the house. They did not share much. But it did appear that they were listening. And hoping. Hoping that somehow, maybe – this might work for them too.

The ‘old-timers’ who were present – including a gentleman who works the overnights there in the house – did their best to help these new lads feel some hope. Through the sharing of some experience, and some strength.

I am honoured to have been a small part of that. At first seen as a bit of a novelty – a middle-aged guy crossing the country on a motorcycle in search of who-knows-what – I was quickly treated to hand-shakes, questions, suggestions and well wishes. As always, I was once again amazed at how welcomed any newcomer / out-of-towner is made to feel at a good, healthy meeting. And this is definitely a good – even great- meeting.

Thank you once again, my higher power. For doing for me that which I cannot do for myself.

The Salvation Army – DTES

The Yacht Club

New Westminster

Cheers,

My dogs are barking….

Today was a day of laundry. And a day of walking. A lot of walking.
As I type this I am nursing a very sore foot with a recently drained blister. The way it feels right now, tomorrow will not entail much walking. Which, of course, leaves an opportunity for riding. Something I did not do at all today. As a matter of fact, I did not even start my bike today. Something that has not happened since I put her on the road this season.
Sophia and I got up and hit the laundry-mat early this morning – a classic little Chinese laundry run by an elderly couple – him seeming to do everything wrong, and her chattering away in Mandarin, or Cantonese, or I don’t know – it’s all Chinese to me.
We were all done within 90 minutes. A quick trip back to Sophia’s to drop off our newly cleaned garments, and then we were off on an adventure into the down town lower east side – DTES – Gastown and Chinatown. Those who know me well know that I am one of those odd men who actually enjoys shopping. Walking through a crowded, eclectic district full of shops and store-fronts can occupy an entire day for me – and it did so today.
We started out by walking into Chinatown and then onto East Hastings street – the heart of the DTES. We dropped by InSite and spoke with Ashley, the young lady working behind the desk who is the point of contact for the person coming in off the street who has decided to use safely. I congratulated Ashley and her peers and co-workers for the work that they are doing – in the face of some hefty odds – to help save lives.
InSite
I have heard so many different stories, tales and interpretations of what the DTES represents and embodies. Most people have described it to me as a street full of pain and despair; of ruined lives and waiting death; of danger, horror and darkness.
I have a different take on the picture that I saw unfold before and around me.
I saw a community. One that has pulled together and does what it can to support those lost within it. Lost to us. Once within this community, I get the feeling that most ‘individuals’ feel found. Feel part of. Feel like they too, are no longer alone.
The community that I am referring to is, of course, made up entirely of the disenfranchised and the desperate. Addicted and afraid. Sickly and suppurating. Skittish and sketchy.
Those are the terms that we hear – and use – when we are trying to describe what we feel when we walk the DTES.
We forget to describe what we see.
I saw a community of men and women – boys and girls – young and elderly – black, white, aboriginal and native – doing what they can to help each other out. Pulling together to get a brother what he needs; to provide a sister with whatever it is that she is screaming to find; directing a an addict who is dope-sick to the guy who has what he needs. I saw two full length city blocks lined with the wares of gypsy marketers'-  blankets laid out and filled with objects that you and I would toss into the trash. Things we think are no longer useful. Because in our lives, these items no longer serve a purpose.
But in the lives of this struggling, hard-scrabble community, every trinket has value. Every item has a use. Every possession has a price.
The trading was brisk. Almost every blanket had an individual attending to the sales end of the exchange, while several potential buyers jostled with each-other to get that ‘must-have’ item into their own hands in order to begin the bartering banter. Money changed hands at every square. When money was not visible, cupped palms and hushed voices indicated that more illicit forms of payment were being offered.
Sophia and I walked the 6 block length of the DTES without even once being approached by a panhandler. Not one individual tried to sell us anything. No one even asked me for a smoke. As a matter of fact, the only question that I was asked was when an guy with an unlit joint in his mouth asked me if If had a lighter.
There was not a single moment when I felt unsafe. Or uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, there were times during our walk when I noticed that it was I who felt invisible. It is not a nice feeling. To correct that, I made eye contact, and said things like ‘what’s up’ or ‘hey man’ – and found myself acknowledged in return.
A lesson in humility.

Here is a link to an article about a man who also see's more in the DTES than most...

http://www.insidevancouver.ca/2012/01/18/reality-show-gastown-gamble-tells-save-on-meats-story/

We travelled from there on into Gastown. A very hip, chic, artsy part of Vancouver. We walked in and out of so many different shops that I cannot possibly remember the number or the names. And I shopped. And bought stuff. And walked more. And took lots of pictures. And discovered a city that appeals to me as much as any city ever has – and much more than most.
Gastown

I am a visitor here in Vancouver. And I feel at home. What the hell do I do with that?
Pictures from today DTES and Gastown

A new chapter; new friends; a new phone

 

The weather has turned back to cool and rainy. Surprise, surprise.

Ah well. As Steven Wright has pointed out – ‘you can’t have everything – where would you put it?’

I got the call from Carter’s Motorsports at around noon telling me that I could pick up my bike at anytime. This, of course, brought a smile to my face.

Of course, even this experience did not come off without a hitch.

Sophia dropped me off at the shop to pick up my bike. As I was gathering my gear from her car, I absentmindedly placed my GPS and my cell phone on the roof of her car, grabbed my helmet from the trunk, my jacket from the backseat, leaned in to say thank you, snatched my GPS from the roof – and 45 seconds later realized something terrible had happened.

But there was hope, right. Very little traffic had passed. All would be fine. The universe was working with me and all was about to be okay again – all I had to do was walk back up the street, paying attention to where a cellphone might land, and then…..

RRRRRRRrrroorororrororoooooommmmmmm…….a very large truck happened by.

This is the second Blackberry that I have killed in less than 1 year. The first one I lost from my outside vest pocket while riding to Pembroke last July. I had received a phone call before starting out and placed my phone in my vest instead of an inside pocket. Careless.

This time, I left my phone on the roof of a car. Careless.

So, a trip to Future Shop, an hour of my time, and a sweet-talk phone call to Rogers Customer relations allowed me to walk away with a new Nokia Lumia 900 at a very acceptable price.

Acceptable is, of course, relative. And subjective. I admit that it would have been much, much more acceptable to have been responsible in the first place, but, spilled milk and all that,….

After attending to the ramifications of my momentary ineptitude, I scooted off to the Horse Shoe Bay area of North Vancouver for my introduction to the guys – and gal – from the CMC 056 Vancouver chapter.

Of course, this is when the skies were preordained to open up and pour on me. And me, with no rain gear…….can you say lack of focus.

I blame part of that on Sophia. She takes great pleasure in being distracting. In a way that can almost be downright cruel, but I digress. I guess I have to take the brunt of the blame for my own lack of focus.

I finally made it to the Meet and Greet. A little late. A lot wet. And was really well received. 6 members from the 056 were on hand to greet the guy from out of town, and once again I was made to feel like a well known friend who had been away for a while. We went to a little Chinese food joint down the block, shared stories, ate good food, and experienced the camaraderie of like minded people interested in similar things. DrMucker and Scotty-004 are both camera buffs – DrMucker has several GoPro videos on YouTube and has inspired me in the past – likely to do so again, I am sure.

DrMucker, Scotty-004, Pathfinder and the rest of you – thank you very much. I am pleased to have met you – and hope to ride with you on Sunday.

I was not able to stay as long as I would have liked – it was already going on 8:00pm and the rain was not letting up – but I was there long enough to know that I have once again made life-long friends in a city far, far away from home. I cannot overstate what that means to a man like me, who spent so much of his life tossing friendships aside in the pursuit of darker needs.

I continue to learn that my life is beautiful, and that all I need do is remember to keep it simple.

Like taking a motorcycle ride for no reason other than the ride.

Peace.

Chinese Food with 056

Members of the 056

DrMucker