Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Table of Contents

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Table of Contents

Table of Contents

(Published parts appear in reverse - scroll down to Introduction and step up to Part 8 of 8)

Part 1 of 8

View from the Sky

100 Mile House BC

Not the Pennines

Part 2 of 8

Avalanche Territory

Mount Robson

Mummy, Daddy and the Kids

Part 3 of 8

Buffalo Neighbours

Rimbey AB

Dynamite Skies

Part 4 of 8

Oil Rig

Harley Shovel-Head

Connecting with Family

Part 5 of 8

Drumheller

Road with No End

Saskatchewan

Part 6 of 8

Rosetown

Nurse Nightingale Wanted

Return to Calgary

Part 7 of 8

The Chip Wagon

Bus Number 92

New Edinburgh

Part 8 of 8

The Way Home

Revelstoke and Mary Poppins

Never Never Again

Yellow Head Trail -  Rosetown Introduction

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 8 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 8 of 8

The Way Home

Revelstoke and Mary Poppins

Never Never Again

The Way Home

I flew back to Calgary from Ottawa on July 23rd to pick up my Harley. To my way of thinking, it would be a two-day trip back to Burnaby (about 1000 kms) which I could handle quite easily as long as I wasn't foolish enough to do anything stupid. The way home brought me through downtown Calgary along Trans Canada HWY 1; past the town of Chochrane and on towards the foothills. Things were exactly the way I wanted them. There was a lot of traffic; camper-wagons; trucks and buses and lots of gas stations and the way home was very clearly signposted. I also noticed a surprisingly high number of motorcycles but most were high speed sport bikes much faster than mine. But, when it comes to speed over comfort I choose comfort every time. Its a long way from Calgary through to Golden, BC, and then the mountains begin. When riding long distances on a motorcycle you have a lot of time to think. I decided that my best approach to getting home would be to stay over for a night in Revelstoke, BC, and make the last day of my trip a very long day covering Sicamous; Kamloops; Merritt; Hope and then cover the last 80 Kms through to Burnaby. Then the rains came so I stopped to put on my rain gear including my new knee-high rain boots that zipped over my safety boots. Revelstoke welcomed me with heavy rain and a very long, slow-moving freight train moving majestically right through the centre of town. What a beautiful sight!

Revelstoke and Mary Poppins

I stopped at a Visitor Information Centre to ask for the name of a motel close by. They confirmed a vacancy for me and provided me with a small map of the downtown streets to help me find it. A good motorcyclist, like myself, doesn't carry an umbrella with him on his bike. Consequently, the small paper map got saturated and it just fell apart in a sudden deluge of rain. I ended up turning around in circles to see if I could just see the place from where I was standing. A young lady carrying an umbrella and a bag full of groceries  took pity on me and asked if she could be of assistance. When I explained that I was trying to find this motel she kindly offered to show me the way. She also offered to share her umbrella with me which I thought was awfully nice of her. She stuck around while I got registered and then offered to walk me back to my Harley. Her name was Mary and she told me that the employees of the Cooperative where she works participate in boosting tourism in the town of Revelstoke. They show visitors around; explain the history of the town and so on. I offered to make a donation because she had been very helpful but she said that this work was purely voluntary and that she would not accept any money. The young lady's name was not Mary Poppins but she was not unlike the real Mary Poppins shown here.

Never Never Again

My motel room was on the second floor and all I did the next morning was watch the heavy and continuous downpouring of rain on an extension to the roof. It began to lighten-up towards noon so I decided to bite the bullet and head home to Burnaby. I laid all of my rain gear carefully on the bed and I dressed for rain. I was particularly pleased to have my brand spanking new knee-high rain boots with me. I loaded Miss Harley; checked all my gear; took a deep breath and I headed towards Kamloops. The small town of Sicamous along the way seemed like a good place to get gas so I filled-up with Shell Premium High Test gasoline. Only the very best and the most expensive for my Harley. It was one of those gas-stations where you pay inside the small store. The toe of my new rain boot on the right side caught the upper ledge of the high concrete step and I went crashing down to the floor severely lacerating the shin of my right leg as I fell.  My head smashed on the concrete floor but fortunately I was still wearing my helmet. Only my visor got cracked. Four big truck drivers lifted me up but I was not able to walk without assistance. "Bloody new boots!" I gasped. "They must be a size too big." I asked everyone to let me just sit on the floor leaning my back against the wall of the store. I needed to catch my breath and get beyond the urge to vomit. One thoughtful guy brought me a handful of paper towels to wrap around my leg. The store owner hosed-away spilled blood. After a while, I began to feel better and the sun came out. I managed to lift my injured leg over the Harley while I kept my balance by holding onto a guy's shoulder. I then moved out slowly and carefully through the towns of Kamloops; Merritt; Hope and finally on to Burnaby after taking a few long rest stops along the way. When this wounded soldier finally got home he left the Harley fully loaded in the garage while he slowly limped upstairs muttering under his breath..."Never, Never, Again."

  

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 7 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 7 of 8

The Chip Wagon

Bus Number 92

New Edinburgh

The Chip Wagon

The City of Ottawa is a tourists delight with so much to offer summer and winter. The big tickets of course are the Parliament Buildings; the National Art Gallery; the National War Museum; the Rideau Canal; the Byward Market and so much more. What I found especially new and exciting is the redesign and rebuilding of the former Landsdowne Park area where the Football Stadium used to be. Its now a chic market area with restaurants and boutiques of all kinds and its a real pleasure to visit. Also, Ottawa is fine dining at its very best. There are no shortages of excellent restaurants open in all parts of the city all day long, every day. Having lived and worked there for nearly half of my life however I've seen this - done that - so to speak.  Call me finicky if you like but I have a special place I like to visit that I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China. Its the local chip wagon which I usually have to visit when my loving daughter is not around because she calls it "Cholesterol City". They have the best tasting hot dogs and hamburgers in the country but where they really get you is with their "Poutine". This is french-fries made with Quebec potatoes and covered in melted St. Albert cheese with gravy. You guys in BC have never tasted anything as delightful as this Poutine. You don't know what you are missing. The dining area is eight large outdoor pic-nic tables each with an umbrella in case it rains. And,....guess what you do while you're having dinner? ....You are watching traffic of course. I have to admit that I often over-stuff myself when I visit this Chip Wagon when I go to Ottawa. I'm no fool though. I usually take a couple of low-dose aspirins before leaving just to make sure I'm good to go.  

Bus Number 92

For part of the time I stayed with my son in Kanata which is a satellite City west of Ottawa. Since I didn't have transportation for the 30 Kms trip to downtown Ottawa and there was a bus stop conveniently placed just outside his front door, I thought "Why not?" I'll try taking the city bus for once. It was a Tuesday morning about 9:00am when bus number 92 arrived. "Are you going to the St. Laurent Shopping Plaza in Ottawa, driver?" "Yes Sir I am - hop on." I began to fiddle for some change but the driver told me that Tuesday was senior's day and my ride was free. It was not a short ride because of all the detours and construction taking place resulting from work on the new Light Rail Transit System that Ottawa has undertaken to build. Eventually, however, we arrived at the transit station for the St. Laurent Shopping Centre.  The driver caught my eye and said "St. Laurent Station - Terminus Station". My trip was so pleasant that I thought I'd repeat the same trip on the same bus at the same time on the very next day.  It was a different driver this time, a non-talker, but it was still the same bus number 92 so I hopped on. When we arrived at the Hurdman Transit Station the driver announced "Hurdman Station - Terminus Station." Hurdman Station was not St. Laurent Station so I explained to the driver that I had taken this same bus; from the same bus station; at exactly the same time yesterday so I asked him why wasn't he going to the St. Laurent Station like yesterday. "Because Sir! Some days I terminate at St. Laurent and some days I terminate here at Hurdman. "I'm from out of town so how on earth am I supposed to know that?" I said, just a little agitated. He told me that it was no big deal. All I needed to do was take one of the other buses to St. Laurent. Try a number 95. Now I remember why I gave up using Ottawa's OC Transpo buses decades ago.

  

New Edinburgh

After living so many years in Ottawa I thought I'd seen everything it had to offer but I was wrong. I'd missed getting to know a very up-scale older suburb called New Edinburgh. My daughter had recently got a new job near that area of town close to the Parliament Buildings and the Rideau Canal and she asked me to join her for an outdoor lunch towards the end of my stay. It was called Stanley Park and it took me by surprise. After seeing the Parliament Buildings more times than you can shake a stick at - I had never seen them from the rear-end. They look far more tranquil, majestic and pleasing to the eye than staring at them from the street-side directly head-on. I could appreciate the raw beauty of the architecture without seeing the voluminous over-heated clouds of hot-air arising from the House of Commons during Question Period. From Stanley Park you can better appreciate the tranquillity of the Rideau Canal; the horticultural beauty of its gardens and the miles of quiet walking trails seemingly for miles. Its also a leash-free area where doggie-owners can cut their little beasts loose allowing them to roam free - unshackled. I thanked Alison for bringing me down here. It will be on my places to see on my next visit. Stanley Park is a definite "must see" for all visiting tourists, young and old.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 6 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 6 of 8

Rosetown

Nurse Nightingale Wanted

Return to Calgary

Rosetown

If you find it a little awkward trying to make any sense out of Rosetown from the map shown - try finding it at night in the rain when you are wet and tired and just aching for a good night's sleep in a warm bed. Unlike Kindersley, however, it was small and quiet 

and I didn't see any accidents. I saw no construction trucks; no hydro trucks and I found a vacant motel room almost right away - thank God. I couldn't wait to just flop on the bed. I was so tired. I stripped down to my shorts and undershirt and I went out like a light. I woke up at 2:00am in a pool of water. The bed was wet-through as if someone had chucked a bucket of water over me. I was dripping wet and so was the bed so I thought that the roof might be leaking. I stood on a wooden chair to see if I could find the leak and I got the surprise of my life. It was not the roof that was leaking - it was me. Water was dripping all over the floor from my own body. I couldn't believe what was happening. I had never seen or experienced this before. I stripped-off my clothes and I took a hot shower. Then, I got dried-off and re-dressed and I went to lie down on the small sofa in my room. I woke-up again in another hour or so and nothing had changed. I was dripping wet-through all over again. I felt lifeless. I had no energy at all and I was feeling really lousy. It was then that I knew I was not going to be able to continue one more kilometre on my trip to Ottawa.

Nurse Nightingale Wanted

I was not feeling well at all and I was slap-bang in the middle of no-man's land. My thinking was skewed. I felt a little dizzy and disoriented. For all I knew Saskatoon could have been a thousand miles North-East; Swift Current a thousand miles South and Regina a thousand miles South East. I knew I wasn't running on all cylinders. I didn't know what to do. Coffee and pastries were available in the front lobby so I thought I'd get something to eat since I hadn't had any supper the night before. I needed to start thinking straight again. I opened my first aid mini-kit and I swallowed the aspirin tablet I'd brought with me. It was a full strength 500mg aspirin too. The heavy duty stuff. It wasn't one of those mickey-mouse low dose aspirins that doctors want you to take once a day whether you need it or not. What I really needed was the kind of tender loving care once offered by the exemplary Nurse Florence Nightingale to take care of me - but no-one was around. Where is a good nurse when you need one? Even though I was not able to ride one more kilometre in the wrong direction I still had the option of returning to Calgary. After all, it was only a 500 Kms skip and a jump from where I'd just come from. Fortunately, was able to reach my niece on her cell phone. I explained my pitiful condition and asked if I could return to her house in Calgary - that's what I did.

Return to Calgary

The sign said 499 kms back to Calgary. The weather was again hot and sunny but I did realize that I was in a somewhat weakened condition and I wanted to be absolutely sure that I got back to Calgary safely. I set the Harley's speedometer on 100 Kms per hour, not more. There was no other traffic around so I thought I'd give some thought to what I should do once I got back to Calgary. I arrive on the outskirts of that city late in the afternoon which was precisely the wrong time of day. Traffic coming down from Edmonton on HWY 2 was exceedingly heavy. It was just crawling choc-a-block but I really didn't have any other choice but to keep on going. If I'd stopped for a rest I may not have have had the strength to get back on the bike. Calgary has never been one of my favourite cities. I've often viewed it as a remote outpost made of steel, concrete and glass. I think the designers and builders of that city dropped the ball when it came to urban appeal - but on this occasion I was never so glad to see that glorious city. I made it back to my niece's house and I fell asleep, again, on her front lawn until she got home from work. My family in Ottawa were still expecting to see me so I asked my niece and her husband would they keep Miss Harley in their garage for four weeks while I caught a flight direct to Ottawa from Calgary airport. That's the way things worked. 

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 5 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 5 of 8

Drumheller

Road With No End

Saskatchewan

Drumheller

Now was the time to get dead-serious about heading east. After looking at the map I decided that I would save time and an awful lot of miles by taking HWY 7 through the Alberta badlands; on to Saskatchewan's HWY 9 and then continuing east to re-join the Yellow Head Trail at Saskatoon. "What a good idea" I thought. "What could possibly go wrong?" I remember that day as being the hottest day of my entire trip. I also remember that there was absolutely, positively no shade anywhere for hundreds upon hundreds of long kilometres. I stopped briefly to top up my gas tank in Drumheller; home of Canada's infamous western Prison. As I drove by it, I made a promise to myself that I would never commit any petty crime or even get as much as a parking ticket because I wouldn't last a week in that horrible, dreadful place. There's not even much green vegetation in and around Drumheller. Its surrounded by windblown swirling-dry mountains which appeared bare and sterile. I just wanted outta there. There was very little traffic.  I wound Miss Harley up to 130 Kms per hour and I drove for mostly eight hours straight under the sizzling hot sun. As I found out the next day - that was not such a good idea. 

Road With No End

Literally, HWY 7 was a road with no end. I was looking at exactly the same horizon that I had seen several hours ago. Nothing had changed. This HWY had a shoulder that was too narrow for a small car to pull over and clear the road. It was hardly wide-enough for a motorcycle. There were no rest-stops where a tired driver could take a break; there were no trees to take shelter under away from the burning sun;  there were not even any other vehicles to whom you could give an acknowledging wave just to show that you were not alone on this barren Planet and the end of the HWY still never came. Now I understand why they call it the Alberta Badlands. Apart from a small gas station here and there the only human activity I saw is shown in this photo. I had promised my folks in England that I would take a picture of the prairies with acres and acres of wheat blowing in the fields but I couldn't find any. Someone told me that it was too early in the year for wheat.

Saskatchewan

With some pain and a little difficulty I pulled over to get off the Harley. It took a while because I was moving very slowly and I didn't want to drop her by accident. I wanted to take a photo of the Saskatchewan "Welcome" sign just to prove that I'd really been there. About another 100 kms east was a town called Kindersley where I had planned to rent a Motel room for the night but I hadn't bothered to make a reservation anywhere. I also had the presence of mind to keep an eye open for camp-site signs along the way but I hadn't seen any. I have absolutely no idea how I suddenly went from no traffic at all to a long line-up of jammed-up traffic at Kindersley. A major collision with casualties had just taken place at the main intersection in town. The rains had turned the roads into mud. Traffic had to be re-routed. Two ambulances were there.  I saw more heavy construction equipment trucks than I thought existed. There were more hydro-trucks than I have ever seen in one place and every single hotel and motel room was booked solid. It was now raining hard and the next town was another 80 kms east down HWY 9 at a tiny pip-squeak town called Rosetown.   I had no choice but to go for it. I had no guarantees that a room would be available there for me either. Things were not looking good.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 4 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 4 of 8

Oil Rig

Harley Shovel Head

Connecting with Family

Oil Rig

Maybe I was mistaken when I said that there's nothing to see in this part of Alberta when apart from the nice folks in Rimbey; the buffalos in the fields; and the dynamite skies; you can see a live working Oil Rig from my niece and nephew's place right from their patio. It works silently night and day pumping out oil from deep inside the ground. It reminds me of those perpetual motion toys that kids play with. They never stop rocking. But, these Oil Rigs are no toys. Alberta is just peppered with them. They are all over the place. You can't turn around full circle in Alberta without seeing at least one. The actual drills can go down in the ground up to one thousand meters in some places which is about 3,000 feet for Brits like me. Don't think you can go get a bucket and pinch a bucket-full of oil for your pick-up truck though. It just doesn't work that way. The oil is picked up on a regular schedule by Oil Tanker Trucks or it goes through a pipeline underground to somewhere else.

Harley Shovel Head

We were out in the countryside going someplace. I thought we were going for a care-free joyride in the pick-up truck and we ended up in a place called Eck Ville.  Don't bother trying to find it on the map because I could find it either. While we were stopped on the main street, I think there was only one street, my nephew disappeared leaving me and my niece in the truck wondering what was going on. After living in Canada for so many years you just learn not to ask - you know - its just the Canadian way. Oh My Goodness! What a surprise! My nephew appeared from behind a large building riding a huffing, puffing and smoking 1975 Harley Davidson Shovel-Head motorcycle. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Apparently, my nephew had stored it for years in his garage while it was not running. He had decided to take it into the shop to get fixed and I was delighted. I like to believe that my visit might have influenced him to get the repairs done while I was there . I can't be sure about that but I like to think so. My niece and I followed him home in the pick-up truck. After a while, my nephew stopped at a remote intersection. He turned around in his seat to face us. He gave us a "thumbs up" gesture together with the biggest smile you ever saw. He then took off again on his Harley with a puff of black smoke streaming out of his exhaust pipe.

Connecting with Family

Words cannot describe the joy I felt reuniting with my nephew and nieces after half a lifetime of being away and estranged from them. It was a reunification so to speak where I got the benefit of meeting their families for the very first time. All of them picked terrific spouses. I didn't know they made them that good in Alberta and in the case of my youngest niece - she had two strapping good-looking children as well - a girl and a little boy. As you read on you will read about things happening on this trip but this has got to be the defining moment in this excursion. Meeting my nephew and my niece; my elder niece and her husband and my younger niece and her family with all the catch-up talk; the smiles; the hugs and the kisses, and, of course the tears, made us wonder where all the intervening years had gone. In the limited amount of time I was there, my elder niece was able to take a day off work where she took me to visit the highlights of Calgary's Heritage Park and the last evening brought things to a temporary close with dinner provided by my youngest niece. Of course, it was indeed a family affair where everyone pitched-in. If you are able to "connect" with what I'm saying and perhaps you have folks you have not seen in a number of years, I urge you to take the first step and arrange to go and see them. Its something you will never forget. Don't pull a "surprise" visit though, they sometimes don't work very well.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 3 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 3 of 8

Buffalo Neighbours

Rimbey AB

Dynamite Skies

Buffalo Neighbours

The Yellow Head Trail also known as HWY 16 was a first class highway to Edmonton but I knew that I had to take HWY 22 South to Rimbey before I got into Edmonton. There was a large and very busy gas station at that turn-off so I saw an opportunity to get gas and confirm my directions to Rimbey at the same time.  The gas station attendant said "Where?" He'd never heard of it. So I figured that if I just followed the Sun to the south along HWY 22S I'd probably run into it sooner or later. I rode south forever and forever and I never saw a sign for Rimbey. I saw lots and lots of empty space; no people and the occasional vehicle now and then. Apart from that, there was nothing; nothing again and then even more of nothing. I didn't seem to be getting anywhere so I decided to call my nephew when I came to the next intersecting side road. He surprised me by saying that I was only one Kilometre away from his house along the side-road. He and my niece had a beautiful large house with a sun porch; large patio and a three car garage. After I had parked my Harley I noticed a dozen or so Buffalos looking over his fence at me from the field next door. They had come over to say "Hi" to me too.

Rimbey AB

This is Rimbey's liquor store. I'd like to know what you were expecting in a very small Alberta town in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't have the style and the class of your average English Pub with its "Off Licence" window next to the large patio overlooking the bowling green in the back. Neither is it equipped with facilities for serving food and drinks outdoors for the benefit of its patrons. But, this outlet has the nicest and friendliest people just like the rest of the Rimbey folks and this Outlet satisfies their needs very nicely - and its open near twelve hours per day. I discovered that I was just about out of cash one morning so I paid a visit to the local Credit Union to use their Automated Banking Machine (ABM)  to get some cash. My card wouldn't work so I repeated my attempts several times without success. I was left with no choice but to go inside the office to speak to someone even though the place was crowded. After I explained my problem to one of the tellers she smiled; closed and locked her cash drawer and said that she would come out with me while I tried again. Still no luck. She asked could she try and the ABM spit-out the correct number of brand new bills straight away. I accused her of being blessed with magic fingers and she smiled and said "Not at all Mr. Evans, we just like to help our customers whenever we can." Everyone I met in Rimbey was nice, polite and a real pleasure to talk to.

Dynamite Skies

My nephew and niece have a large and beautiful house facing due West. When the sun starts to go down just after supper is when the show begins. The three of us would simply position our balcony chairs looking west with our eyes fixed on the sky. In my seventy-two years I have never seen such dramatic patterns begin to appear and then change right before our eyes into an even greater spectacle. Every possible rainbow colour you could possibly imaging would illuminate the underbelly of the clouds as the sun began to sink lower on the horizon. Large clouds would shift and swirl right in front of us as if a hurricane was taking place up there. I became spell-bound. The stellar show would never be exactly the same for two nights in a row but each and every one would take your breath away. My title "Dynamite Skies" does not capture the full splendour of what takes place but it was the closest title I could think of.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 2 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 2 of 8

Avalanche Territory

Mount Robson

Mummy, Daddy and the Kids

Avalanche Territory

I was having a good time and everything was going well. I had to adjust my thinking a little. I looked closely at my road map and then I realized why I saw almost no traffic along the Yellow Head Trail HWY 5N.  The answer became self-evident. I was, literally, in the middle of nowhere. What I found most striking was that the landscaping was beginning to change dramatically. It was getting far more mountainous and signs were beginning to spring up all over the place warning us that we were entering dangerous Avalanche Territory. These were not gentle and friendly signs. They were not signs saying " Drive carefully turtles may be crossing here" like they have in Ontario. These signs meant business. They were deadly serious and they basically told you to watch your back. Look up; look down; look around; and take no chances if you sense danger. Between the danger signs guarding against Avalanches and the Danger Signs warning you against forest fires - my number one priority was changed to "Let me get out of here safely and as fast as possible!" 

Mount Robson

After riding North along HWY 5 past Blue River and Valemount and then turning East along the Yellow Head Trail the dramatic change in landscape from hilly to mountainous really slaps you in the face. The entrance to Mount Robson Provincial Park is characterized by a giant signpost showing a Mountain Goat against a backdrop of extremely high mountains. I pulled-over to get a few photos. It was ominous. I didn't even attempt to estimate the height of this glorious mountain, which I often try to do - but if someone had told me that the top of the mountain lay in the stratosphere I would not have argued.

Mommy, Daddy and the Kids

The sky turned grey and it began to rain as I approached the entrance to the famous Jasper National Park. There was a fee imposed for visiting places inside the Park unless you were going straight through along HWY 16 to the other side which I was. It was also starting to get late. After riding for another twenty minutes or so I was greeted with a signpost I did not like. "Next Gas 80 Kms".  That's fifty miles for us English folks and my gas gauge was less than half-full. I wasn't going to make it. Emergency fuel conservation measures were called for to make every last drop count. There were line-ups of traffic coming and going both ways and both came to a dead stop. I shut-off my Harley engine to conserve fuel. Traffic was still not moving so I dismounted to see what was going on. There were no accidents and no road construction was taking place but there were lots of tourists wandering around the yellow centre-line up ahead. A family of goats; Mum and Dad and two baby goats were toddling along the double-centre line without a care in the world. Many of the travellers had abandoned their vehicles and camper-wagons with their cameras to take pictures. I still was not able to move another half-inch for another half hour. My rain suit had deteriorated  from being mildly damp to dripping-wet through. By the time I finally reached a hotel in Hinton, AB, my gas gauge was on empty but my Harley engine was still ticking over just fine.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 1 of 8

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Part 1 of 8

View from the Sky

100 Mile House BC

Not the Pennines

 View from the Sky

Everything was perfect. It was barely dawn and the weather forecast was hot and sunny. My Harley was loaded. I couldn't have stuck an extra package of matches in my luggage. There simply wasn't room.I noted the reading on her odometer (111,455 Kms) as I started her massive engine. I took off into the darkness being careful not to wake the neighbours however tempting. That's the kind of guy I am. HWY 99N was clear and I made good time. Before long I was roaring through Squamish, Brackendale, Whistler and Pemberton. I stopped in at a Cafe at Pemberton for a bite and I treated myself to some kind of tasteless, gooey pastry and a coffee. I didn't stick around though I carried on towards Lillooet and after going through that town I had to stop, dismount, and take the breathtaking photo shown here. I felt like I was on a cloud looking down. Just like an Angel does. The near vertical sides of mountains below and the tiny-looking rivers winding their way through the deep valleys was awesome. I found it hard to move on. This was nature's paradise. This is what makes it all worth it.

100 Mile House BC

Its rather a strange name but its a full size town located along HWY 97N just after the Caribou Double-Carriageway terminates. Its not the first time I've been through 100 Mile House and I knew the staff at the Super 8 Motel there. They let me have a room without a reservation. The timing was perfect. As soon as I'd unloaded my Harley the thunderstorms came. I went for a coffee and a sandwich at a local restaurant and I came back soaked like a drowned rat. I deserved it. Even though I knew I'd left my rain-suit in my room I chose not to go back and get it. I went anyway.

Not the Pennines

I had anticipated a very long riding day on day two. I wanted to go West among HWY 24 past Lone Bute, Bridge Lake and Little Fort and then North along the Yellow Head Trail all the way to the Alberta Border. Somewhere around Bridge Lake I had to stop and pull over. It was the second time in my life that I had seen a view just like this one and every bit as beautiful. The first time was when I was hiking in the Pennine Hills in Northern England a little North-West of the City of Manchester. I felt as if I was there a second time. I laid down in the long grass surrounded by wave upon wave of beautiful flowers. For the longest time I enjoyed watching them blowing gently in the breeze while I enjoyed a few flashbacks to my youth. I didn't know places existed like this in BC even though BC has a special kind of beauty all of its own.  While my mind was far away in my beloved England I heard the rustling of a large animal grazing some yards behind me. It was a deer, thank God, and not a black bear which are prevalent in the area. As beautiful as it was - I had to remind myself that this was not my beloved Pennine Hills in the UK.

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown Introduction

Yellow Head Trail - Rosetown

Yellow Head Trail – Introduction

The Plan called for travelling to Ottawa ON from Burnaby BC on my Harley Davidson Super Glide Motorcycle along the Northern Yellow Head Trail. The route crosses British Columbia BC, Alberta AB, Saskatchewan SK, Manitoba MB, Ontario ON and Western Quebec QC. The return trip would be decided once I was finished visiting Ottawa.

As the late George Peppard said in his TV series of the eighties The A Team - “I love it when a plan comes together.” Well..., so do I, but things sometimes don't work out the way you expect them to. This was one of those times. Things did not come together on this trip as planned. As a matter of fact, my plan fell apart – big time.

Enjoy the story and learn by it. I hope that what happened to me never happens to you and if this story helps you from getting into trouble on one of your trips then I will be happy I wrote it.

John Evans

Alaska Done - Table of Contents

2014 Alaska Done – Table of Contents

 Part 1: Foreword / Pre-Trip Hiccups / The Box Man

 Part 2: The Grey Man / Flying Warrior / Ghost Ship

 Part 3: The Inside Passage / Is this the Planet Earth? / Highway of Tears

 Part 4: Stewart BC and Hyder AK / The Bear Glacier / Mooses and Invisible Mountain Goats

 Part 5: Mothers with Cubs / Jade City / Big Mama Bisons

 Part 6: We Didn't Know What to do / Its Called the Junction / The Last Bugle Call

 Part 7: My Countrymen / Whitehorse / Foregoing Dawson

 Part 8: The White Pass / Skagway AK / The Longest Stretch

 Part 9: Fort Nelson Downpours / Silent Killer / Coming South

 Part 10: Lillooet Connection / Unused Fuel / She Carried me Home

Total Distance travelled

Motorcycle 4966Kms + BC Shipping 632 Kms = 5598Kms

Days on the Road =15

Alaska Done Part 10 of 10

Alaska Done

Part 10 of 10

Lillooet Connection

Unused Fuel

She Carried Me Home

Lillooet Connection

About a hundred kilometres south of 100 Mile House I came to an intersection offering me the choice of getting back to Vancouver by continuing along Hwy 97 South or by opting to turn right at the junction of Hwy 99 which would in effect be a shortcut going through Lillooet, Pemberton, Whistler, Squamish and then Vancouver. It was the first stretch leading to Lillooet that I was unfamiliar with. The rest would be easy since I had covered it many times before. I chose the Hwy 99 route and I'm glad I did. The road was in excellent condition; camper vans I met along the way slowed me down a little and the occasional farmer's horse and cart slowed me down even more - but I didn't care. The ride was through some of BC's most beautiful scenery and featured fast-flowing rivers and streams; mountains galore and narrow one-way bridges at frequent intervals to add to my motorcycling enjoyment. The town of Lillooet offered the chance to get a nice meal; take more photographs and rest for a while. I had the remainder of the day to get back to Vancouver. It would take two to three hours only on the outside.

Unused Fuel

It crossed my mind that I still had two full containers of fuel in the cooler at the back of my motorcycle and that I would not be able to take them back to my home located in a high rise apartment building. The best place to deposit that fuel would be into my Harley gas tank. Consequently, I monitored my fuel level until my gas gauge read less than half-full. I found a quiet, out-of-the-way vacant area with a stone and crushed-stone base and I carefully transferred all of the spare fuel without spilling one single drop. I left the caps off the spare fuel cans for a while. I placed them directly in the sun to aid in the evaporation of any residual fuel before I replaced them back on the Harley to take home. No problem.

She Carried me Home

The rest of the trip was both familiar to me and delightful. As I was riding it came to be that all my pre-trip worries had come to nought. I hadn't needed to carry the extra fuel cans with me. As well, there had been no accidents or injuries; no flat tires or broken drive belts and no battery problems. Apart from me being just a little windblown and weather-beaten everything had worked out just fine.

When I reached Burnaby I treated myself to a large ice-cream cone before heading off to my building. Saddlebags, boots, gloves, jackets and my helmet were dropped to the floor while I opened the door of my fridge and poured myself an ice-cold Coors Light beer in a crystal glass. I can see why they call it the Silver Bullet. I raised my glass in the direction of my Harley Davidson motorcycle pictured on my front hallway wall along with my granddaughter. I raised by glass and I said said out loud “Thank You Miss Harley for carrying me home!”

The Yukon Alaska Trip had taken 15 days in total. My Harley odometer was zeroed at the start and it read 4966 Kms upon my return. Port Hardy to Prince Rupert by BC Ferry had been 632 Kms making a grand total of 5598 Kms for the entire trip. It had other unexpected benefits well. It served as a good-weight loss program. My body weight on leaving was 175 lbs. On my return I was 163 lbs. What a blast!

Word Count 630

2014 Alaska Done - Part 9 of 10

Alaska Done

Part 9 of 10

Fort Nelson Downpours

Silent Killer

Coming South

Fort Nelson Downpours

As I was riding SE along Hwy 97 I was watching in awe the Cumulonimbus black heavy clouds jockeying for position directly over my head. I braced myself because they were about to open-up at any moment – and they did with fury. The word “wet” took on an entirely new meaning for me at that point. I went from slightly damp to fully water-logged in seconds. The downpour even found a way for the rain to squeeze through the collar of my rain suit resulting in my underwear and boots and socks being soaked instantly. There was no respite. There was simply no shelter of any kind; no trees; no buildings; no bridges; no garages and no nothing and you don't carry an umbrella while riding on a motorcycle. Add to that the miles and miles of intermittent road construction – heavy traffic hold-ups - and more and more mud and it certainly took the edge off what started as an otherwise OK day. There was no end to it. Also, fast moving multi-layers of heavy black clouds effectively blocked-out what residual sunlight there was left that afternoon. It was just about dark. They were not my finest hours in motorcycling.

Silent Killer

It took me more than one tormented night's sleep to bounce back from the Fort Nelson downpours. Even then, I found that my energy levels were not as sharp as they should have been. Moreover, continuing down Hwy 97S , frankly, was long and boring with not much to see excepting long lines of huge construction trucks - one right after the other. The skies were still dull and grey with a threatening look about them. I was travelling at about 90 kms per hour listening to the rhythmic throb of my Harley's massive V-twin engine plodding along easily and effortlessly at about 3000 revolutions per minute. The horizon in the far distance never changed. It stayed fixed regardless of how long we rode or how much distance we had travelled. Nevertheless, the comforting and reassuring throbbing of my Harley engine continued relentlessly. What I didn't notice was that the sound of my engine was becoming more distant. It was gradually fading into the background. It got quieter, and quieter and even more quiet ....until I didn't hear it at all. It was the thump of my helmet against my chest that woke me up! My God! I had fallen asleep. I pulled over to the shoulder; threw my sleeping pad and my Spider-man pillow into the grass and I slept like a baby for about half an hour. Thank God I'd had the foresight to bring it with me. Spider-man saved the day. As soon as I opened my eyes again I was fully refreshed and ready to go. Its a good thing there had been no curves in the road or things may have turned out very differently. Up there in no-man's land its not the bears, the wolves, the mooses nor even bisons that will get you. Its fatigue - the silent killer.

Coming South

Its as if the great northern City of Prince George forms an imaginary line separating northern British Columbia from the mid-lands. Prince George has everything one could wish for – and so does the rest of Hwy 97 heading south. Familiar places like Quesnel, Williams Lake, 100 Mile House, and Cache Creek were just a few hundred kilometres down the road. That's peanuts compared to the distances we had been travelling. What a refreshing difference! The sun was out! ...Feel like a coffee and a breakfast sandwich?....Over to the left there's a Tim Hortons...Would you prefer a burger and fries?....Oh! I see a McDonald's restaurant at the next intersection. What about a giant ice-cream cone or a strawberry milk shake? ...On the right hand side there's a Dairy Queen. I'd like to look for a Chippy or a Waterman's meat and potato pastie.....Oops! Sorry – wrong country. There's a big new gas station over there, I should get gas?....Nope! I'm still over half-full. Freight trains began to re-appear. The huge lines of heavy construction trucks were gone. The stress had lifted. The sun was still shining brightly at noon and traffic was light and moving well. I didn't have a care in the world. I was looking forward to getting home. Coming South was a picnic.

Word Count 746

2014 Alaska Done - Part 8 of 10

Alaska Done

Part 8 of 10

The White Pass

Skagway AK

The longest Stretch

The White Pass

The ride from Whitehorse YT, down to Skagway AK, brought many pleasant surprises with it. It was one of the most fascinating days of the trip. Even though we were riding in light rain for the most part, it was not very noticeable. What took my breath away was the signpost that said “38 miles to the US border” right after crossing through the Canadian border. It was known as the “White Pass” and we saw some of the most impressive rock formations I've ever seen. I never knew until that moment that the White Pass and Yukon Route Railway was built here in the 19^th Century to transport gold, amongst other things, between Skagway and the Yukon Territory. The work involved in building that railway was back-breaking at best and it cost countless deaths of men and horses. And, I'd had the audacity to think that I'd had it rough when I emigrated here from England during the 20^th Century. In the days when the railway was being built the men were made of steel - and imagine all those poor mail-order brides thinking that they were coming to the land of milk and honey having to toughen-up real quick or go home. The photograph to your right brought to my mind the harsh reality of the hardships that the workers had to endure - and take note - it's a photo taken in the summertime. Imagine trying to smash rocks apart in mid-winter wearing animal hides and itchy woollen underwear to keep you warm. On second thoughts, compared to those guys, I didn't have it rough at all. In fact I was pampered and molly-cuddled every step of the way - just like little Lord Fauntleroy.

Skagway AK

Skagway AK, was delightful. It was like a shining jewel embodied in exquisite natural surroundings. It was a vibrant and thriving community full of people going about their business with lots of things to do and places to see. It was a refreshing breath of fresh air compared to most other places we had visited in Northern BC and the Yukon Territory. The first thing that struck me was the availability of products and services. Being a tourist town, there were lots of nice hotels and motels at reasonable prices; every kind of shop was located along Stage street within walking distance; and good places to eat and drink were in abundance. We were spoiled for choice. Elegant cruise ships were moored in the harbour; the Terminus Station of the White Pass and Yukon Railroad was just a few paces away; and arts and craft museums reflecting the Gold Rush era simply awaited our arrival. Especially eye-catching was the Red Onion Saloon and Gambling Hall ready to entertain us and there was even a Brothel were one could get a taste of how men and women of the the Gold Rush days spent their leisure time and money. A few doors down there were Can Can dancers but they were were not performing that day. As the Rolling Stones so eloquently put it “We can't always get what we want”...so we accepted today's non-performance in the spirit of true northerners by carrying on and saying “Them's the Breaks”. It was too bad that we had only one afternoon and evening in Skagway. It would have been nice to spend more time there.

The Longest Stretch

We left Skagway the next morning in light rain and in no time at all we were once again thrilled to be riding through the magnificent White Pass – a photographers' paradise. We were in no hurry and we took lots of time to get a very good look at the rock formations; see the White Pass and Yukon Route Railway snake its way along the sides of mountains and of course to take lots of pictures. If I had been an railroad engineer, which I am not, I would have added a few more wooden supports to hold up the train tracks in certain places. It would have made me feel a little more comfortable. Crossing back through the Canadian border post was no problem. I really couldn't have purchased very much in Skagway anyway because there was not even room to stick an extra packet of matches on my bike. After arriving at the small town of Carcross we forked-right and proceeded towards Jake's Crossing which effectively shortened our return trip back to Watson Lake by by-passing the City of White Horse. It was our intention to return to the Air Force Barracks at Watson Lake so we phoned ahead to confirm reservations. We received a resounding “Welcome Back” from our host and he instantly confirmed us for the night. Its funny, all I could think of on the long ride back was pouring myself a cup of hot instant coffee embellished with sweetener and whitener in the front lobby of our destination.

Word Count 849