2010
Alaska Sunk
Part
8 of 15
Riding
the Rockies
Coffee
Cravings
The
Reunion
Riding
The Rockies
I
looked forward to a great day for riding the Rockies. The sky was
clear; the sun was getting stronger and my clothes were beginning to
feel a little less damp than yesterday. As I was getting ready to
leave the Bow River campground I realized that I had made a mistake
parking my Harley. It was the kind of mistake made only by idiots and
inexperienced riders. I felt so stupid. I had parked my Harley facing
downhill on a crushed stone surface. The way out going forward was
inaccessible. It was completely blocked. The only possible way for me
to leave was by backing-up using my feet and my front brake to gain a
couple of feet at a time in the up-hill direction. The upward
gradient, however, was too steep. I couldn't do it so I rested for a
while to figure out what I could do. About 500 yards away a young
couple were sleeping in a small tent. Under normal circumstances I
would have never thought of disturbing them. I'm just too nice a guy.
But,...after my experience in Hanlon my character had mutated from
thoughtful and kind ….to hard and uncaring, so I thought I'd wake
them up. Before I got there, however, the young man came out of his
tent to light a fire so he gladly came over to give me a push
backwards.
I
was over the moon! It was the best day since I left Ottawa. The
highways were clear and the Harley seemed to have extra “bounce and
vitality” from the sunshine. The mountains and lakes; the hairpin
bends; the abundance of gas stations; and the beautiful sights of
Banff, Golden, and Revelstoke were out of this world. I treated
myself to a delicious Italian dinner at a restaurant in Revelstoke.
Upon leaving, my Harley became unresponsive and sluggish. After
pulling over to inspect it I saw that my rear brake was not
releasing fully from my back wheel so I stopped at a corner garage to
ask the mechanic to take a look at it. The cheerie guy welcomed me to
Revelstoke; he gave the break-pivot a couple of squirts of oil and
wished me a great journey. I thought, “My God! What a change from
Hanlon, AB”.
Coffee
Cravings
After
a drop-dead gorgeous ride through the Rockies to Vancouver via the
Kamloops route I arrived at my son's apartment. I needed a coffee.
There was tea but no coffee. There was lots of tea. The was Orange
Pekoe tea; Earl Grey tea; China tea; Zen tea, loose black tea leaves
and decaffeinated tea in tea-bags ....but not one measly drop of
coffee could be found. You might think that being a Brit I would be
happy to drink tea but I happen to be a Brit that drinks coffee, not
tea. I went to a corner store to buy a jar of instant coffee but they
didn't have any. I asked my son where could I get some instant coffee
but he said not here. I was staying on Commercial Drive, the Coffee
Culture Capital of the World. They have their own coffee drinking
clubs on Commercial Drive and residents pay big bucks to drink all
varieties of foreign coffees on outdoor patios all day long. Its all
they do here. Buying a jar of instant coffee here would be tantamount
to committing a felony. I finally settled for a can of Coors Light
knowing that getting a coffee would be my absolute priority first
thing in the morning. I cannot function without my coffee.
My
son led me through a string of highly specialized coffee shoppes
offering coffee from Colombia, Sumatra, Guatemala, Africa, Chile and
even the Gold Coast. Since I was desperate enough to drink any coffee
from anywhere I asked the clerk for a pound of anything. He snootily
informed me that they sell coffee in kilograms and not pounds and
that the minimum purchase was 1.5 kilograms. I resisted the
temptation to tell him where to stuff it but I out-snooted him by
saying that it wouldn't be pleasing to my palate at the price he was
asking- and I left.
The
day went by fast and towards the end of the day I was still without
coffee. Desperate cravings required desperate measures so I decided
to undertake a special “Get Coffee” mission, solo. I explored the
back streets of Commercial Drive at night. I stealthily crept along
the narrow streets and back alleys for signs of somewhere seedy and
not quite so reputable – and I saw exactly what I was looking for.
It was a small, dirty, dingy, little shop that sold newspapers,
cigarillos, novelties, lewd magazines, lotto tickets and 50 gram
jars of Nestle's instant coffee. I bought the coffee; shoved it in my
inside jacket pocket as if it were forbidden merchandise and took it
back to the apartment. Nothing ever tasted so good!
The
Reunion
While
I was in Vancouver I wanted to look-up a former friend and neighbor
of mine whom I hadn't seen for thirty-five years. In fact, I only
learned that he had relocated to Victoria only a few weeks before I
began this trip so I had obtained his address and phone number in
case I got the chance to give him a call. His name was Jim. I
contacted him and he was delighted to hear from me after all these
years. I told him that I would like to meet-up with him again and
suggested that I come to Victoria by Pacific Coach Lines (PCL) which
offers Vancouver to Tsawwassen Ferry terminal to Schwartz Bay Ferry
Terminal to downtown Victoria. We agreed to meet at the Bus station
at noon the next day. Simple eh? ...Well – not quite so simple!
We
arrived at the PCL bus station at Victoria dead on time. All the
passengers on our bus disembarked. Other passengers were in the
terminal waiting for their buses to depart so, as you can see, the
place was quite crowded. At first glance I didn't see him but he had
told me that he would be walking to the bus station because he live
fairly close-by. Perhaps he was a few minutes late. I scanned all the
people in the bus station but he wasn't there. There was a mix of
people – young and old, male and female, students and visitors,
travelers of all kinds and so on. I still could not see him and the
bus station began to thin out after twenty minutes or so. I
concentrated on the older guys because he would be about my age. No
luck again so I waited patiently. Eventually, I saw an older guy
looking my way and it wasn't the first instance that I had seen him -
but it wasn't him. His facial structure was not what I remembered –
it couldn't be him. Then, strangely, this man and I were the only
persons remaining in the bus station. Everyone else had left. We kept
looking at each other like two idiots. As a last resort I thought I'd
walk over to him and say, “You're not Jim are you?” When I faced
him, however, I had the presence of mind to rephrase my question in
the positive rather than the negative. So I asked, “Are you Jim?”
“Nice to see you again John!” he responded. That was our reunion.
On
our walk back to his home by the harbour I saw a reunion of a very
different kind. It was far more profound than ours. It was an
emotional reunion and one that touched me deeply. The impact it had
on me was striking. I shall never forget it. It was an artist's
creation of a Canadian Sailor being reunited with his young daughter
following a tour of duty at sea. The inscription on the base of the
display was “The Homecoming”. (Shown in photo)
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