44 | A Parting of Ways

Kim and I awoke to the warmth of the wood stove, though with a bit of dry sinuses as the hot water kettle steaming on top had not lasted the night. We were to meet Fanda and Kaschka sometime in the morning before heading for the Continental Divide Lodge in the Yukon Territory.

Since F&K have a non-working cell phone we have to rely on getting messages through FaceBook from them, and since we don’t always have cell or wifi available and we don’t know if they do at their host’s home, things can be sketchy. Our last communication had been to give them our location in the neighborhood but as the time slipped away and they hadn’t appeared we began to wonder. As we waited with loaded bikes well past our meet time, we assumed they had had an issue, so we got on the bikes to hit the last place we’d parted, a McDonald’s where we’d gotten wifi previously.

Just as we donned our gear to leave, they rolled up with big cheery smiles and greetings. They needed to hit a Walmart, since Kaschka’s sleeping pad had sprung a leak and they were going to look for another. We trekked over to Wally World and they went in while we raided the grocery store adjacent.

When we came out, F&K were engaged in conversation with a well dressed man who was excited to be talking with them. As we got closer I could hear them conversing in Czech and laughing. Turns out the man was from the Czech Republic as well and was happy to see some compadres.

The bikes were loaded and we squeezed in as much food as we could, dumping the packaging and combining things in the eternal quest to fit things on the bikes. It was grey and chilly as we topped off with gas and left Whitehorse in the grey and cold. My mind wandered to thoughts of Mexico, and Kim and I laughed at the thought of staying in a small village and eating street food south of the border somewhere... which was still a helllllll of a long ways away...

The sun finally burned through and illuminated the beautiful countryside as we neared Johnson’s Crossing and the bridge over the Teslin River. About 20 miles or so beyond the crossing, we blew past a van parked on the roadside with a couple standing nearby. As many of you know when you’re in the groove of making miles and in the flow you tend to be an observer and it takes a moment to connect thoughts. Kim and I simultaneously said, “Wow we need to stop and check on them” and slowed quickly, watching for trucks as we did a U turn on the Alcan and rode back. F&K saw us and followed a couple of minutes behind.

As I pulled up to the bearded guy and asked if they were okay, he responded in broken English trying to describe a problem under the van. As I repositioned the bike to park and get off, Fanda pulled in on his bike and the man looked stunned and then turned to me speaking something in a foreign language. Fanda laughed and they began speaking in Czech to each other. He'd seen the Czech license plate and it was like a family reunion of slapping palms and laughing. Turns out the couple were from the Czech Republic as well and had been traveling in the U.S. and Canada for a while.

They crawled under the van and diagnosed two broken U-joint bearings before coming out with the broken pieces. We asked if they needed us to give them a ride or take them to the nearest phone, etc., but finally we decided that Fanda would take a broken bearing back to Johnson’s Crossing about 18 mies back to see if he could locate anything, and I would take the other to Teslin about 17 miles the other away and do the same.

Kim and Kaschka stayed with them as we split as fast as we could to scavenge parts. The agreement was for Fanda to call me from Kim’s phone and let me know what he’d found and vice versa. I rolled in to Teslin and went into a small store to see if there was a garage or mechanic in the little settlement. The clerk told me to find the junk yard a ways down the road which I did. I banged on the closed door to no avail and then wandered through the pile of cars and trucks to see if I could spot a similar van. I waited and waited, debating just grabbing my tools and trying to pull a u-joint and see if I got lucky. Then I thought about the owner with his angry junkyard dog and decided I’d better wait.

As I got back on the bike to leave I saw a shaggy man with a 6-pack of beer walking up the road and acknowledging me. I got back off the bike as he walked into the lot staring at me a bit warily. I explained the situation and he told me he’d gone for beer because he had to rebuild a transmission and needed some calming force to help him through the tedious complexity. He was agreeable to helping find a couple of bearings but as we poked around the shop, similar to a hoarder’s heaven, I began to have serious doubts.

Opening a grubby cabinet door and reaching under some paper he pulled out a single bearing matching the broken one perfectly. All we needed was one more. Another 15 minutes of digging produced nothing but a complete rusty unit which he then disassembled, destroying the needle bearings and then discovering it wasn’t the same size after all.

Next we hit the junkyard looking for an F-350 to scavenge and finally found a burned and rolled one, of course being complete EXCEPT for the rear end. I finally gave up, paid him for his work and took the lone bearing with me. I raced back in the hopes Fanda may have produced at least one on his end, figuring it was a lost cause but one never knew.

My fears were founded as everyone’s excited and hopeful faces fell when I produced only one bearing. Fanda hadn’t found anything. The couple thanked us profusely for trying and began preparing to hitchhike back to Whitehorse to find the parts. We wished them good luck and travels and sped on for Teslin, where we took a break for coffee and to peruse the little museum before crossing the long, metal grate bridge we’d come across in the rain a few weeks before.

Kim was a bit nervous after her memories of the crossing and the rising wind didn’t ease her mind. Sure enough when we got going for the bridge the damn wind came up in heavy gusts and we were blown around in addition to the usual "tire wandering tango" the grates produce. When we finally were across I started laughing at the chance that each crossing would be weirder than usual due to inclement weather. The Iron Butterfly didn’t think it was funny and told me so.

From Teslin our goal for the night was to meet someone F&K had been contacted by at the Continental Divide Lodge and we hoped to get a tent spot there for the night. At a beautiful lake, Fanda slowed and turned in, The Iron Butterfly and I following and wondering what was up. When we pulled in there was a beautiful view of the lake and some hunters setting up camp for the night. They had bagged a caribou the day before and were finishing up the butchering as we arrived.

We talked with them a bit and then Fanda told us that he and Kaschka had camped there in the same spot on the way north. More importantly, it was the spot where he had dropped to one knee and proposed to Kaschka a few weeks earlier. Despite the current bloody caribou head, it was indeed a beautiful place to have proposed to his love. We stayed as long as we could before feeling the need to beat the fading light to the Continental Divide Lodge.

When we finally arrived, a young guy walked over and introduced himself to us. Jacob was from the Czech Republic (What the heck? 3 different Czech encounters in one day!) and was in process of traveling around the globe on his older Africa Twin. He’d found F&K on the internet and when he realized they were in Alaska he’d contacted them and asked them to come by.

Turns out Jacob had stopped in for gas a month or two earlier and walked out with a job, staying and working to earn some money for his trip. He introduced us to the owner, who made us a deal to stay in his RV for the night since it was getting very cold now. We jumped at the chance to have a warm spot and then ate a home cooked dinner in the little cafe. Events had turned such that Jacob’s job was ending just as we were coming through and this was his final night there.

A big bash was planned for the evening for his going away party and we sat around a roaring fire hearing stories from the locals as the night waned away. The next morning brought hot showers and repacking gear for the road. Today was to be a sad day, as Fanda and Kaschka would continue on the Alcan for Dawson Creek and then Alberta, joined by Jacob as they all wanted to ride together.

Our route was to take the Cassiar Highway south again for Vancouver and the lower 48, having enjoyed the beauty of that road immensely. Since Dave and Heather were no longer going to be able to meet us in Terrace, we weren’t sure which route we’d take home.

As we packed up, an older Swiss couple driving one of the European expedition campers came over to visit. As we talked with them, Kaschka came out to Kim and I and handed us each a tortilla wrap filled with goodness for breakfast. She had been finishing up some of their food to lighten the load and had made us breakfast burritos. As I looked down before biting into it, I saw peanut butter oozing from the end and then disturbingly saw a kernel or two of canned corn mixed in the PB. She was staring at me so I took a big bite, only to discover that as well as peanut butter and canned corn, there was tuna fish and chopped up hot dogs in the mix. My mind shouted “HURL!”… but amazingly my refined palate said “Hmmm not bad”. Again my mind shouted “HURL!!!”, but my mouth continued eating, overruling my mind as usual.

I looked at Kim, who wore a fake smile but I could tell had spotted the tuna, peanut butter, corn and hot dog mixture well before me. Amazingly she bit into it and then said “Wow that’s good.” Kaschka was happy and then started speaking in a form of German the Swiss use, to the woman. She broke into a big smile and they conversed while Kim and I struggled emotionally with what we’d just eaten.

We were invited into the Swiss expedition camper and then they wanted to take pictures of us as we got ready to leave. Kaschka brought out another peanutbuttercorntunahotdog burrito for us, having used the last of their extra food and I struggled emotionally again for a few moments... Hurl? Ask for another? Decisions, decisions...

We all rolled out together heading east on Highway 1 for Watson Lake and the upcoming parting of ways, but we saw a gas stop at the junction of 37 and the Alcan and pulled in. We said our goodbyes and did our huggies, getting a final shot before they took off for Watson Lake. Kim and I hung around the gas station a bit, getting ready for the long trek south and feeling a bit sad for the leaving of Alaska, the Yukon, and some of the best memories one could ever have.

Kim played with the station owner’s dog while I conversed with him about our trip. He told us over and over to get south as soon as possible because the snow was a day behind and there had already been snow ahead. He also warned us that some gas stations would be closing soon since tourist season was over.

It was with sadness that we turned south for the long ride on 37, the Cassiar, having been told by an RV’er that it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen it in 20 years of fall driving. Indeed the brilliant yellow colors and shimmering leaves against the mountainous backdrop took the mind away, but the silence in our headsets betrayed the sadness in leaving. After a lifetime of hearing about Alaska, frankly a place I never expected to see, I can only say that it is a repository of some of the greatest moments and memories of my life. To the south lay more adventures and ultimately more civilization, but my heart and soul had been captured as no where else.

Our goal for the afternoon was to camp at Bell 2 Lodge, one of the few gas stops on the way and still far enough south to make us feel like we’d made some progress that day. Bell 2 Lodge was where we’d met our friend Mike from the Yukon, who’d told us on his ride down he’d counted 14 bears along the road. That same day another couple had told us they’d counted 19 along the same road.

Kim was miffed at the lack of animals we’d seen on the trip and as the darkness was falling we were talking about it when suddenly, to my left I saw a moose and two calves running away from the road in a clearing. Another couple of miles down the road a black bear sat in a roadside clearing, probably hearing Kim’s shout of excitement and turning away. Not much further down the road sat another black bear on the roadside and as we slowed to watch him a car came around from behind us and stopped next to him, blocking our view and frightening him away. A bit further we were rewarded with yet another bear sitting on the roadside and this time we had a few moments to watch him waddle along, until we finally had to get moving and he ran into the brush.

It turns out we were just a couple miles from the lodge and had finally seen some wildlife. It was sort of a fitting goodbye to the area. We decided to get a room rather than tent camp as it had gotten very dark and cold and we were needing some real rest.

45 | Rainy Prince Rupert

We were awakened from a deep sleep far too early by a loud knocking at the door and a voice yelling “housekeeping!” at 7:30 in the morning.

We were pissed as we’d been up late and knew checkout was at 11:00 am. Kim went for coffee to the main lodge and returned with an apology from the manager, as well as a free breakfast in the lodge restaurant. Woohoo!

Indeed we chose some excellent selections from the menu and were treated like kings and queens, including a gift of fresh baked pastries for our trip south. Pretty cool, as usually management doesn’t give a rat’s arse about customers, and one of the benefits of having a beautiful head knocker as a partner. She ain’t called “The Iron Butterfly” for no reason.

We loaded the bikes in the grey and headed south for the next gas stop at Meziadin Junction. On the way we discussed our options as to heading for the lower 48. Since Dave and Heather’s Canada exit issue, our plan no longer existed. One option was to continue back to Prince George on 16 from Kitwanga and work down to Vancouver, or, ride to Terrace and then Prince Rupert and catch the ferry to Port Hardy on the north tip of Vancouver Island. The ferry would be an overnight trip and cost a bit, but would save a few days of travel and maybe get us ahead of the snow hot on our tail.

We stopped at Meziadin Junction for gas and caught a cell signal. The call to the ferry brought bad news of being booked solid. We’d already warmed to the idea of the ferry and the news wasn’t good, so we decided to take a back road to Terrace through the lava fields and then back east for Smithers.

At the turn for the lava fields, the weather ticked up a bit with the temps dropping and heavy black clouds of rain ahead to the west. We headed down the dirt and gravel road, wet from previous rain but in decent shape other than sections of muddy, water-filled potholes. We’d gone about 20 miles or so when Kim noticed her insulated water bottle was missing. I’d had to move the mount to a different spot on her 700 and the mount had shifted downwards, dumping the Hydro Flask somewhere along the way. Ahead the rain clouds looked dark and heavy and behind the pricey water bottle lay somewhere on the road. We decided to ride back until we found it and then reverse back. However, our ride took us all the way back to the Cassiar highway with no luck finding it. We passed a pickup on the way and made the assumption the driver had picked it up

Kim was not a happy camper, having grown attached to the dang thing, and I admit to being impressed not only with its durability, but with its ability to keep beverages cold or hot for extensive periods of time. Bummed, we started back west but I had a bad feeling we’d get into some serious weather and mud. We stopped to discuss our options since the day was waning and the weather wasn’t looking good.

We’d had luck on standby for the Skagway Ferry, so decided to head for Prince Rupert and try our luck. If the ferry didn’t work out we’d have lost a day but we’d have been able to see the town. We reversed back again to the Cassiar and eventually made the junction at Kitwanga, where we grabbed some coffee and a piece of pie for a butt break. It was funny being in the same spot where we’d heard such bad reports on heading north, and having forged ahead now had some of the best experiences of our lives.

Topped off with gas and coffee we rolled west for Prince Rupert and hopes for a nice evening before trying the ferry early the next morning.

As the time rolled by, the terrain and road still amazed. We enjoyed the ride though the rain and gray slowly enveloped us. The ride reminded us of the road into Stewart BC and Hyder AK, but even more interesting. The light was fading fast as hard rains came and it was getting dark much earlier than usual. A big front was moving in, and sure enough the rains intensified, the temps dropped and it started to get dark.

About 40 miles from Prince Rupert I began getting flashing “gale” warnings on the BMW Nav GPS, surprised to realize my cell phone was getting signal and the Garmin app was getting weather info. The hard rains continued, but luckily we didn’t get much wind as we rode along the water’s edge, but I still feared what gale force winds lay ahead. The road was stunning but offered no turn outs or roadside areas where one could seek shelter if major winds did hit. Our heated jacket liners were worth their weight in gold this day, not to mention our waterproof boots and jackets and pants.

As we approached Prince Rupert, complete darkness came, the heavy rain didn’t lighten, with thick fog and low clouds making the final few miles a real stressful time. In the sheets of rain we finally saw some lights ahead, including the glowing gold of McDonald’s arches. Hot coffee sounded great, as well as wifi to look for a motel, since the pouring rain ended any thoughts of camping for damn sure. We were beat from the long day and weather induced stress the last few hours.

I Googled "Prince Rupert” only to find it was the rainiest town in all of Canada. I chuckled, as we’d had nothing but rain at every port city we’d gone to in Alaska, and had been hoping for a beautiful, sunny ferry ride. A motel right behind Mickey D’s proved to be the cheapest in town and it was only a block away. Kim had surreptitiously brought a couple of cans of food into the McDonalds and we dined on canned green beans and an Angus Burger, washed down with hot coffee.

Finally dragging into a room in the curry-scented motel, we spread our soaking wet gear from one end of the room to the other and turned out the lights, listening to the heavy roar of rain out the windows and thoughts of the uncovered bikes getting drenched.

46 | Whales & Wellwishers

The sound of rain was the first thing heard in the morning as I came to life in the darkness of the musty room. Amazingly all our gear had actually dried out, but it was a shame to put it all back on and walk out fully dressed into pouring rain. The bikes started and warmed up, the BMW purr such a now comfortable part of our lives.

We found the turn to the ferry backed up with cars, a disheartening sight and sat in the line for a few minutes until I saw a way to squeeze out and into the terminal lot.

Kim stayed in the line until I finally figured out where to go, parking alongside the entry and walking in to stand in the interior line dripping wet. Eventually I got to the window where the stern acting lady behind the counter suddenly warmed, telling me there’d be no problem going standby with the two bikes. In a few minutes we had our tickets and made the line, only waiting a short time before rolling into the ferry hold first in line! Woohoo!

As they strapped the bikes down, Kim bailed and grabbed our sleeping bags and mats, taking off to find a spot before the rest of the crowd could. After making sure everything was kosher with the bikes, I wandered up the stairs and eventually found The Butterfly with a couple of window seats reserved. We left our gear and wandered about, waiting for the ferry to get going in the rain and mist.

The time spent on board was fun, wandering out on the decks until the wind and cold drove us back in, sitting in the cafeteria and drinking coffee, lounging in the chairs and watching the mist shrouded mountains slide past in our socks. It felt great to know we had nothing to do except to do nothing.

Twice we spotted a whale, a first for each of us and it was exciting to see.

As I walked up onto a deck, a door opened in front of me and I almost walked straight into a guy. He smiled and said “I’ve been following your ride report on Advrider.com and recognized you two.” We shook hands and officially introduced ourselves. “AKJerry” was his Advrider handle and I told him we’d get a coffee or something later on. (Unfortunately it didn't happen :( Jerry if you read this I owe you a coffee bro!)

Kim wandered into the movie theater with a glass of wine, while I went back to the car deck for something. A huge guy was near the bike and began talking to me about bikes and riding, telling me of his many trips to Ecuador where he would rent a motorcycle and travel the mountain roads. He had a heavy British accent and size-wise he dwarfed me. Inside his old Land Rover sat a huge St. Bernard who dutifully watched us talking. We talked several times that evening, sharing that he was a mortician on Haida Gwaii island and escaped to Ecuador as much as he could for motorcycle adventures...

I wandered back and found myself in the theater with Kim, watching the remainder of a movie about Stephen Hawkings life.

Eventually we found the upper floor deck to be open and set up our sleeping pads and bags for the night. A few others eventually came up as well. As we finally laid down to get some sleep, the ferry began pitching side to side enough to roll me off my side sleeping position. Kim had fallen asleep but I got up and stared out the windows into the darkness, barely able to see whitecaps on the water below until I got sleepy again and laid down.

It’s not much, but we call it home

The night was a fitful one, sleep constantly interrupted by people wandering up and loudly setting up to sleep or just talking. It was a difficult night to say the least and I dreaded waking up and I dreaded trying to sleep.

Somehow Kim ended up on the other side of the ship from where she started. I was afraid to ask why.

I finally couldn’t stand it and went for coffee, but the cafeteria was closed until 7 am so I wandered around a while and upon returning found a line of about 50 or 60 Germans waiting dutifully at the door. I gave up and headed back to start packing up my sleeping gear. After doing so, I returned for coffee to find the line even longer. I gave up again and woke up Kim to get our gear together. After packing a bit more I went down and found the line gone, excitedly grabbing a coffee cup and pulling the handle to fill it. Yep. No coffee and none in sight. Just then the loudspeaker came on and announced that the car deck was open and for everyone to begin loading. Life sucks.

Anyway, we got downstairs quickly and as we were loading the bikes, several German tourists began gathering around Kim. They were supposed to be loading onto the bus next to us but instead were excited to see a woman riding a BMW. They talked with her in broken English and it was a lot of fun. One woman began to tell Kim what it was like to have been in East Germany and how much freedom meant to her how. Tears came to her eyes as did they to Kim's. They all wished us well and wanted to take pictures, so I told them to group together for a shot for us to remember them.

We were dressed and ready to leave, but the bikes were still strapped down and I was wondering if we were to unbuckle them ourselves when a worker yelled at me to go ahead and undo the straps. I did and we fired up as the doors opened, riding off onto the ramp and into Port Hardy.

Emotions were mixed, as in one overnight trip we had left one amazing world, only to re-enter a much more mundane and crowded one...

47 | Vancouver Island

There was a case of early morning crabbiness due to lack of sleep, but it felt good to be on the bikes again, if for nothing more than a couple or three miles to the downtown area to find breakfast and get our heads on straight for the ride down Vancouver Island.

Riding off the ferry at least it wasn't raining and that was good!

In the Yukon, we’d run into a couple who were in an RV about 3 times and at our last encounter they invited us to spend a night with them in Sidney on our way through to the lower 48 so that was our goal for this segment of the ride.

At a little breakfast spot in downtown Port Hardy we planned the route south for Sidney, whose location was a nice surprise since we’d had invitations to visit from friends in Anacortes, Washington and Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands. From Sidney it would be a short ferry ride to Orcas and then over to Anacortes.

Breakfast was as good as home-made by the shop proprietor, and we had a few questions from folks about our trip while waiting inside. Outside I saw a guy ogling the bikes and shortly after came in to ask if we minded him taking a picture of them. After gearing up, he again came over with his wife and another couple. Turns out they were on vacation from California but rode Adventure bikes as well. We had a good convo for a while and then headed off south.

Always a good sign... and we've seen so many rainbows on this trip. (I also saw a unicorn and a pink elephant but Kim said I probably shouldn't mention that)

As we rode, the rain came again, our constant companion for the last few days, but I can’t say I missed him...

The countryside and some of the towns were quaint and charming, a bit more refined and Martha Stewart-y than seen in our previous travels in Alaska and the Yukon, but that was OK. Coming back to culture made me feel a bit squirmy though, as I knew the land of Petco, Bed Bath & Beyond, Chili’s, Home Depot and more lay just over the horizon.

The rains finally cleared somewhat as the end of the day came. We stopped at the beach in Parksville and took a walk along the water in the sunset. Residents walked briskly past along the waterway, evening strolls and weight loss programs in full swing as the sun set. Kim and I sat and watched the sun’s rays streaming across the eastern sound and listened to the slow lap of little waves hitting the shore as darkness slowly fell.

48 | Nanaimo

The next morning we were dragging a bit, and after stuffing ourselves (and pockets) on the free motel breakfast, got slowly packed and organized in the warm sunshine. We missed the 11 am checkout deadline but I told the clerk our clocks were still set on Alaska time (technically true).

Goal for the day was Sidney, with a stop in Nanaimo for a break on the way. Sho’ nuff, Nainamo eventually rolled under the wheels and we made our way to the downtown section near the bay.

Twas a cool and hip little town and after a few circuits looking for parking and a coffee shop we got off the bikes to the sound of bagpipes playing. Even cooler.

We wandered over just as some guys in skirts finished playing the pipes and we noticed a conglomeration of men dressed in suits with necklaces and other paraphernalia across the street. Apparently a small parade was forming up. I told them we were honored to have arrived in Nanaimo but having a parade in our honor really wasn’t necessary. They didn’t think it was funny (the bastards!) and informed us that it was to honor the new Bishop who was a Mason and about to lay a new Masonic cornerstone at the cathedral. I’d prefer to have seen him lay a golden egg so we could witness a miracle, but I kept my mouth shut.

With impeccable timing we looked up the street to see the new Bishop wandering towards us dressed in his white caped-crusader outfit. Before we knew it, a couple of Mounties in red outfits were there, as well as the bagpipers and the suited up Masons. It took a lot of milling around pointlessly but eventually the parade began. The crowd swelled to at least ten people as they marched past and up the street the two blocks to the cathedral.

Seeing the bishop walking down the street towards us unleashed the Monty Python monster in my head and I couldn't think of anything but this…

The parade moved quickly past, complete with Pythonesque silly walks...

In keeping with the retro TV show theme, Bo and Luke Duke (looking much older) peeled out around the corner...

Boss Hogg was a no-show but I did get to see another sweet Mopar monster that brought back memories of my 1969 Dodge Coronet RT with the 440 magnum engine. Sigh.

Kim and I wandered back over to a small plaza for our lunch of boiled eggs and pastries lifted from the motel that morning, then found our way down to an open air market on the water. There were hand-made wool sweaters, pottery, jewelry and other artisanal items, Kim picking up a pair of earrings since she had room in the cases. One good thing about motorcycle travel has been the inability to buy extra crap like souvenirs, chainsaw log carvings of bears and such. My cases are so tightly packed they almost qualify as a black hole. I only have room for small thin items like bumper stickers...

We talked to several artists there who shared our desire to live minimally and it’s been surprising how many people we’ve met who’ve had it with life and are planning on selling it all and living in Sprinter vans and such. Hmmm.

Anyways, we finally got back on the bikes for the trek to Sidney but were distracted by the ships docked as we left town - especially one loaded to the gills with logs. Kim spotted an open gate at the Port Authority and we rode through, finding our way down to an old and dangerously derelict looking dock.

It was fascinating watching the logs being loaded, workmen standing on them as they floated in the water by the ship, catching cables from the cranes above and attaching them to the logs before hopping to the next as the lift began.

This went on for a few moments until, as expected, a rent-a-cop came screeching down in his little car to tell us to get off the dock. I’m sure his pulse was pounding at such a terroristic moment, and it likely made his year to have actually gotten to tell someone what to do.

From the docks we rode south until a traffic jam outside Duncan slowed us to a crawl. Amidst the traffic we’d traded spots back and forth with a couple of KTM 950’s, until they fell far behind. As we sat, both KTM’s passed us on the side of the road and waved for us to follow, They seemed to know a shortcut so we jumped in and left the traffic jam behind, weaving through neighborhoods and side roads until we reached the downtown area of a village, where one of the riders yelled to me “Would you like to get a coffee?” I nodded and we sped off again, eventually ending up back on the original highway with little traffic until they pulled into a roadside coffee house.

I’ve always been a fan of the 950 series KTMs and there were two versions produced that I always wanted, one being the blue-ish silver 2004.5 and the other, the candy blue with orange frame. As would happen, both of those bikes were the ones they were riding. Dave was on the blue and orange and Johann was on the silver.

Johann and Dave

Our timing wasn’t good for coffee, as the skies were threatening rain and Johann was anxious to not get caught in it, having discovered his new riding gear was not waterproof earlier in the day. The coffee shop was closed due to a power outage anyway, so we geared back up. Dave and Johann said to follow them to Victoria and they’d signal where we needed to exit for Sidney. We rolled on, a bit anxious as our hosts had asked us to be there at 6 since dinner was being made. The bad traffic had slowed us and because my GPS showed Sidney to be relatively near, I wasn’t too worried… until I realized the GPS was routing us to a ferry going directly across the bay and not showing the longer land route’s mileage. When I finally got it sorted, we had much further to go than expected and the pressure was on.

As we followed J & D, the traffic began stop and go on the highway. I punched “shortest route” into the Garmin and decided to exit early. I couldn’t really communicate with them and saw them frantically waving to follow as they saw us take an exit. Felt bad, but the decision was the right one to get off the main freeway and we made it to our hosts Dave and Shan’s home just a few minutes late.

Dave and Shan in Sidney

We spent a nice evening with them, both adventurous, self-sufficient souls who’d lived in many places. Shan made a wonderful meal and we talked over dinner and an evening walk before retiring for the night.