That "oh shit" split second…
I woke up before the alarm again, which is a Good Thing for my sanity (being
jerked out of sleep by the shriek of a screaming 110dB trucker’s alarm is not
the mellowest way to wake up – especially, I suppose, if you’re occupying
the room next doors to the &&^%#$ exhausted biker who’s sleeping right
through his Screaming Meany. :-) Weather had not listened to my polite requests
and was still totally sucked in, and it was alternating between heavy mist and
light sprinkles (Have I told you that Seattleites have 47 words and expressions
for rain? Yes? Oh, so sorry.) No weather channel on the TV (oops, sorry, no
channel on the TV.) Quick shower, breakfast (a cereal bar and a can of yummy
Slimfast), 
and I packed the bike around 5 AM (quickly enough, I typically just
have to load 2 bags back into the side saddlebag and the topcase. I leave all
the electronics on the bike when away from civilization, but hidden from
inquisitive eyes and fingers with a bike cover.) That’s where I committed the
major blunder of my ride. I was all bundled up ready to take off, sitting
astride the bike, when a cutesy little rubber frog I had glued on the handlebar
(don’t ask…) fell off, probably mistaking its current environment for a
pond. I caught it, and wanted to put it away in the side pocket of my fuel cell,
behind me. With a heavy, loaded bike, and me wearing all my winter gear and
feeling a bit like Neil Armstrong in his Moon suit, the smart thing to do would
be to get off the bike and stuff it away. So of course, in order not to waste 10
seconds, I just turned around to my left and tried to unzip the pocket. The
K1200LT is not a light bike (oh, no, you don’t say?), and can be a handful and
a half when you have to keep it upright in a parking lot. There is a saying
among KLT riders: "There are two kinds of K1200LT owners: those who have
dropped it, and those who will drop it." :-) I was among Category #2 till
that point, but I slipped into Category # 1 that morning, when I let the bike
lean ever so slightly too far left when I twisted around, and could only move my
leg out of the way when it started toppling over… Aaaargh!! 4:30 AM, it was
pissing rain, and my darling %%$#&^% bike was lying on its side in a muddy
parking lot. I was so mad at myself that I didn’t even reach for my camera, a
rare occurrence for me! I knew the drill to right it up (that’s probably Item
# 1 in the K12LT FAQ :-) but had never really practiced it. Well, nothing like
the present, so I put my back to the bike and tried to lift it up gently by
pushing with my legs, keeping my back straight and using my thighs, just like
the lady said to do. And tried again. And again. No go. The parking lot was
gravel, and offered little traction to my boots - and I’m not quite ready to
challenge Arnold (or Skirt, for that matter) in a leg lifts contest to start
with anyway. I tried a couple more times, to no avail, and was getting hot and
winded. I went pound on the door to the room next to me, where I heard people
when I went to bed, but no answer: either they’d already heard me cursing and
had figured out it would be safer to play possum, or they were still
stupid-drunk from last night party, or they were gone across the road for
breakfast. I came back to the bike. I was pissed, and getting more and more hot
behind the ears by the minute. I took off my Darien and fleece jacket, spit in
my hands, shook my fist at the gods of slippery parking lots, cursed Joe Z. for
good measure (I know, the dear old egg had strictly nothing to do with my
predicament, but it felt good at the time), put my back to the bike one more
time and heaved like a troll. I couldn’t really "gently ease the bike
up" by pushing sideways with my legs as they always slipped away from me,
so I think I pretty much lifted the damn bike straight up, what with the
adrenaline rushing through my system at the time, being mad at myself for my
stupidity and wanting to get back on the road. And my back immediately let me
know that this was a Very Bad Idea. I managed to unfold the sidestand, and to
kinda crawl back to my room, where I laid on my back on the floor, with my legs
on the bed, trying to ease the major pain that was lancing through my lower
back. Well, this was … a low moment in the ride. (Sorry…:-) I tried to
stretch, I gave myself a back rub with muscle relaxing cream, I took a hot
shower and I dosed myself with some good anti-inflammatory (in a sense, I was
lucky – a couple week or so before leaving, I had re-injured the right rotator
cuff I tore while skiing that winter, and had gotten a prescription of heavy
duty meds to keep it in check. I only took them at night, as they carry the
"do not operate vehicles or heavy machinery" warning, but they were
welcome at that time!) (Yeah, I’m a sorry mess.) After an hour or so, I could
walk around slowly and stiffly, and decided to see if I could get on the bike
and press on. I reasoned that at any rate, if I had really busted something, I’d
have to get to a doctor, and there weren’t any around here, so I might as well
get closer to civilization. (well, I never claimed that I was the brightest PIAA
on the shelf, eh?! Rationalization can lead to twisted logic.) I didn’t feel
too bad (all things being relative) on the bike, as long as I didn’t move
around too quickly. I did question the sanity of going on during that whole day,
but figured I’d just go a little bit further and see how it was then – then
a little bit further, and see, and … and it never got much worse, so I kept
going. The K12LT is really a very comfortable beast (that is, as long as you
keep it upright, of course. :-) I always ride with a kidney belt, and it did
really help and support my back quite well. Two days later, my back was actually
better, so there was no point is stopping then. I kept the regimen of Ben Gay
backrubs, stretching and happy pills for the whole ride. I was awfully stiff the
first few days, and gave gawkers lots of merriment while getting off the bike at
gas stops, but all was well a couple weeks later. Pfff. After a while, I figured
that this was my own way of making up for not having ridden all the way from
Mexico – my subconscious probably felt guilty of having such an easier ride
than the rest of the Merry Men, so it had to make up a bit of a challenge for me
to feel I was earning my ride :-). I’d like to say that this was a good lesson
for me in how one split second brain fart can ruin a good ride, and that I’ll
think twice in the future – but I’m pretty sure that there will be other
"memorable learning experiences." Sigh.
Northern BC
One advantage of being lame (I mean, "hurting", wise guy) is that
it did simplify the thinking process. I didn’t really worry anymore about side
trips to hunt bonus points (well, not that I ever worried too much about
it…), I was focused on getting to Whitehorse, and didn’t fret over computing
time/distance formulas to see if I could squeeze in an extra couple hundred
miles to pick up a few hundred extra points. I had plotted Barkerville, Prince
Rupert and Hyder as possible targets, but I stuck to the direct route to
Whitehorse, but still tried to grab a few easy points along the way just to keep
the spirit of things, and all that.
The first stop was for gas at ???, just a few miles down the road. The gas
station was actually a country store with a pump up front, like many other gas
stops up there. The day was breaking now, it was not really misty or rainy or
foggy, but roofs and parked cars were covered with a light layer of that cold,
white stuff.. and I was headed north. Comforting, indeed. When I went to pay for
my fill-up and get my precious receipt, I got to feel almost right at home: the
young lady running the store had an "argument" with her pajama-clad,
7-year old son about TV viewing vs. tooth-brushing. I had a quick warm thought
towards my dear wife who was probably going to have a couple conversations along
the same lines in a little while. Phew, life on the road was _good_, after all
:-)
Going through Williams lake, we had to take a picture of "anything with
Billy Barker on it." A bit cryptic, but not too hard to figure out that it
must be a local celebrity. I was on the lookout when getting close to town,
figuring that maybe that was a local politician, or a local fast-food chain, and
that I might find a billboard with that name on it by the side of the road, and
be on my way. No such luck. I stopped at the center of town and enquired of a
few good citizens ("Excuse me sir, I’m on a scavenger hunt and I’m
looking for something, anything, with the name Billy Barker on it. Does that
ring a bell? Sir? Please, don’t run away!") I couldn’t find any signs
or billboard with this name on it, nor anybody to point me the right way, so I
ended up where I should have started – at the Chamber of commerce, that I had
passed on the way in. I had zoomed by, figuring I didn’t need their help (and
I wanted to stay on the bike and not have to walk anywhere…) No luck here
either, but I spotted an ad in a brochure for a Billy Barker festival, or
something like that. Mmmm, the bonus description read something along the lines
of: "… a picture of anything with the name Billy Barker on it in Williams
Lake." Well, I was in Williams lake, and this was "anything."
Bingo. I’m so clever, glory be. (It was later accepted by Jack – who swore
that there were a zillion Billy Barker-related billboards along the road into
town. Well, maybe…)
On the way to Williams Lake, I had my first "encounter" of the trip
with a big critter. I spotted a big bear out in the meadows on the right side of
the road. I stopped and turned around, and parked on the shoulder to take a
picture. The beast was, like right here, barely 500 yards from me, wow, this is,
like, so exciting. Right as I was shooting away (my camera, what did you
think?), fully zoomed in, a big van stopped right behind
me and a horde of even-more-excited, well, tourists, got out and started
pointing and shouting and taking pictures, the numbskulls. Haven’t they ever
seen a bear, sheesh. One came over to ask me, the leading authority on wildlife
around, if that was a grizzly or a brown bear out there. Having read a children’s
encyclopedia to my kids recently, I gravely explained that grizzlies have a hump
on their shoulders and a longer snout, so this was indeed yer common brown bear.
When Jack G. saw the picture, he gravely explained to me that this was indeed
yer common cinnamon black bear. Oh well. I did see a few more of the wildlife
you commonly expect out there, but one advantage of bad weather is that those
"dumb" beasts have the common sense of staying out of the rain and the
snow, unlike us "smart" riders. Weather would be much better on the
way back, and I spotted a couple more bears (the closest one being right on the
road, I decided not to stop and take pictures, for some reason.) I spotted a
herd of bison, and sent a few warm vibes towards the rider who nailed one during the
IBR. I saw some moose ambling by the road. At one point, I was herding a mama and
her
small baby (still bigger than I and my bike together), and slowed waaaay
down to let them get out of the way before big(ger) mama got a burr under her
pelt and decided to swat me outta the road. I also ran across some mountain
goats and big horns, and what I think was either a wolf or an ugly dog. Plus
what I thought was a small black bear moseying by a house in the middle of the
woods, but it turned out to be simply one big-ass black St Bernard. Yeah, Dr.
Nature, here.
There was a big points timed bonus in Prince George that had lots of
potential – wait till after 6 PM and stop by a local, er, male-oriented
entertainment facility to get signed off. LDRiders being of sterner stuff than
Ulysses, they probably would not need to be tied to their bikes to avoid falling
prey to the charms of the "entertainment", and would plod on – but I’m
sure that Joe Z. was hoping for some good stories… you malicious son of a
%%$@#&. I was going to arrive in Prince George around mid-day. I computed my
schedule, and didn’t think I could make it to Whitehorse on time if I waited
till 6PM. We had to get to Whitehorse between 9AM and 11AM, so we had at most a
shade less than 16 hours to cover about 1100 miles. This is almost routine
riding down South of the border, but would mean a relentless pace on unknown mountain roads,
would leave no wiggling room for unforeseen events, and would mean a sleepless
night. I was hurting all over, I knew I’d need to get some sleep along the
way, and I had no idea what the roads were like up there: I decided not to wait
and merrily skipped that bonus. Oh well. I don’t remember who I overheard
later at the finish line (Dick Fish and ?) discussing that bonus (that they
snagged), and saying that the timing had just been perfect… OK, I’m duly put
back to my deserved place.
There are basically 2 ways to go North after Prince George: either west up 37
(the Cassiar highway), or east up 97 (the Alcan highway.) Although the western
route would have allowed to cut down on the number of miles, the Cassiar is mostly not paved, so, sticking to my
policy of not wanting to wander anywhere near gravel, I had wisely opted for the
longer, but safe smooth-sailing, alternative. Wisely… Smooth-sailing… yeah,
sure...
Next Page
I woke up before the alarm again, which is a Good Thing for my sanity (being
jerked out of sleep by the shriek of a screaming 110dB trucker’s alarm is not
the mellowest way to wake up – especially, I suppose, if you’re occupying
the room next doors to the &&^%#$ exhausted biker who’s sleeping right
through his Screaming Meany. :-) Weather had not listened to my polite requests
and was still totally sucked in, and it was alternating between heavy mist and
light sprinkles (Have I told you that Seattleites have 47 words and expressions
for rain? Yes? Oh, so sorry.) No weather channel on the TV (oops, sorry, no
channel on the TV.) Quick shower, breakfast (a cereal bar and a can of yummy
Slimfast), 
and I packed the bike around 5 AM (quickly enough, I typically just
have to load 2 bags back into the side saddlebag and the topcase. I leave all
the electronics on the bike when away from civilization, but hidden from
inquisitive eyes and fingers with a bike cover.) That’s where I committed the
major blunder of my ride. I was all bundled up ready to take off, sitting
astride the bike, when a cutesy little rubber frog I had glued on the handlebar
(don’t ask…) fell off, probably mistaking its current environment for a
pond. I caught it, and wanted to put it away in the side pocket of my fuel cell,
behind me. With a heavy, loaded bike, and me wearing all my winter gear and
feeling a bit like Neil Armstrong in his Moon suit, the smart thing to do would
be to get off the bike and stuff it away. So of course, in order not to waste 10
seconds, I just turned around to my left and tried to unzip the pocket. The
K1200LT is not a light bike (oh, no, you don’t say?), and can be a handful and
a half when you have to keep it upright in a parking lot. There is a saying
among KLT riders: "There are two kinds of K1200LT owners: those who have
dropped it, and those who will drop it." :-) I was among Category #2 till
that point, but I slipped into Category # 1 that morning, when I let the bike
lean ever so slightly too far left when I twisted around, and could only move my
leg out of the way when it started toppling over… Aaaargh!! 4:30 AM, it was
pissing rain, and my darling %%$#&^% bike was lying on its side in a muddy
parking lot. I was so mad at myself that I didn’t even reach for my camera, a
rare occurrence for me! I knew the drill to right it up (that’s probably Item
# 1 in the K12LT FAQ :-) but had never really practiced it. Well, nothing like
the present, so I put my back to the bike and tried to lift it up gently by
pushing with my legs, keeping my back straight and using my thighs, just like
the lady said to do. And tried again. And again. No go. The parking lot was
gravel, and offered little traction to my boots - and I’m not quite ready to
challenge Arnold (or Skirt, for that matter) in a leg lifts contest to start
with anyway. I tried a couple more times, to no avail, and was getting hot and
winded. I went pound on the door to the room next to me, where I heard people
when I went to bed, but no answer: either they’d already heard me cursing and
had figured out it would be safer to play possum, or they were still
stupid-drunk from last night party, or they were gone across the road for
breakfast. I came back to the bike. I was pissed, and getting more and more hot
behind the ears by the minute. I took off my Darien and fleece jacket, spit in
my hands, shook my fist at the gods of slippery parking lots, cursed Joe Z. for
good measure (I know, the dear old egg had strictly nothing to do with my
predicament, but it felt good at the time), put my back to the bike one more
time and heaved like a troll. I couldn’t really "gently ease the bike
up" by pushing sideways with my legs as they always slipped away from me,
so I think I pretty much lifted the damn bike straight up, what with the
adrenaline rushing through my system at the time, being mad at myself for my
stupidity and wanting to get back on the road. And my back immediately let me
know that this was a Very Bad Idea. I managed to unfold the sidestand, and to
kinda crawl back to my room, where I laid on my back on the floor, with my legs
on the bed, trying to ease the major pain that was lancing through my lower
back. Well, this was … a low moment in the ride. (Sorry…:-) I tried to
stretch, I gave myself a back rub with muscle relaxing cream, I took a hot
shower and I dosed myself with some good anti-inflammatory (in a sense, I was
lucky – a couple week or so before leaving, I had re-injured the right rotator
cuff I tore while skiing that winter, and had gotten a prescription of heavy
duty meds to keep it in check. I only took them at night, as they carry the
"do not operate vehicles or heavy machinery" warning, but they were
welcome at that time!) (Yeah, I’m a sorry mess.) After an hour or so, I could
walk around slowly and stiffly, and decided to see if I could get on the bike
and press on. I reasoned that at any rate, if I had really busted something, I’d
have to get to a doctor, and there weren’t any around here, so I might as well
get closer to civilization. (well, I never claimed that I was the brightest PIAA
on the shelf, eh?! Rationalization can lead to twisted logic.) I didn’t feel
too bad (all things being relative) on the bike, as long as I didn’t move
around too quickly. I did question the sanity of going on during that whole day,
but figured I’d just go a little bit further and see how it was then – then
a little bit further, and see, and … and it never got much worse, so I kept
going. The K12LT is really a very comfortable beast (that is, as long as you
keep it upright, of course. :-) I always ride with a kidney belt, and it did
really help and support my back quite well. Two days later, my back was actually
better, so there was no point is stopping then. I kept the regimen of Ben Gay
backrubs, stretching and happy pills for the whole ride. I was awfully stiff the
first few days, and gave gawkers lots of merriment while getting off the bike at
gas stops, but all was well a couple weeks later. Pfff. After a while, I figured
that this was my own way of making up for not having ridden all the way from
Mexico – my subconscious probably felt guilty of having such an easier ride
than the rest of the Merry Men, so it had to make up a bit of a challenge for me
to feel I was earning my ride :-). I’d like to say that this was a good lesson
for me in how one split second brain fart can ruin a good ride, and that I’ll
think twice in the future – but I’m pretty sure that there will be other
"memorable learning experiences." Sigh.
