The Rest of the North

Running out of gas is inevitable when you plan to spend two years on the road, and frankly I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more often on our trip. We were about 50 km (30 mi) past the border crossing back into the Yukon from Alaska. Our friends, Kim, Joseph, Frank and Kate were about 300 km (180 mi) ahead of us, waiting. It was around 5:00 p.m. Dave and I try to avoid riding motorcycles in the dark on remote northern highways that warn of large, ambling game on the road. There is a limit to our risk taking, after all.

We were trying to make good time to catch our friends in Haines Junction but although my low fuel light had come on well before the border, it slipped my mind and suddenly I felt the lurching of my bike drinking its last drop.

We pulled over and flagged down a few vehicles and even two bikes like ours but nobody had extra fuel.

Out of gas on a Yukon highway. Photo: Heather’s Nikon.

Dave had a syphoning hose but it wasn’t working. Finally a guy named Joe stopped and he had a jerry can. He filled my bike to the top and wouldn’t take any money.

Fuel from a stranger. Photo: Heather’s Nikon.

It’s these experiences that stick out. First, you swear and get angry for your bad luck but then you meet someone kind and generous and it puts it all into perspective. The same happened on a deeper level when I broke my wrist and our Idaho friends, Neil and Linda, who were strangers at the time, appeared out of nowhere to help.

Topped up, Dave and I continued on. Roughly two hours later, we’d made it to Haines Junction in record time and with only a warning flash of lights from a local cop we passed on the highway. It was dark by this point but the six of us soon found a great spot to camp at a rec site. We enjoyed being with our friends again, especially since it was unexpected, but Dave and I had to get going early the next morning and continue heading south. The weather was getting cold for riding. We wanted to get down to the lower 48 before October so we could ride the rest of the Idaho and Utah Backcountry Discovery Routes we’d missed on the way up. I also wanted to find the boulder where I had the accident a year ago in Idaho and pee on it.)

Good-humoured gas stations are a-plenty in the True North. Photo: Heather Lea

Dave and I rode that day to Teslin, Yukon where Rebecca, a friend from my former days working at Canadian Mountain Holidays (CMH), was living and working as a nurse. I hadn’t seen her in years so it was a great catch-up evening and she even took us out for dinner.

Rebecca, an old friend from the days I worked at Canadian Mountain Holidays. Photo: Dave Sears

From Teslin, we decided to take the Alaska Highway, as we had already ridden the Cassiar. Although it’s cold to ride in the fall around here, there are advantages: no bugs, less tourists and the fall colours are incredible. We camped that evening in Toad River. The next day, Sept. 14, was a great wildlife day. We had a long stop along the Alaska Highway when we found a herd of caribou using the road for their pilgrimage to wintering grounds. We also saw a lot of buffalo and two black bears.

Photo: Dave Sears

Photo: Dave Sears

Photo: Dave Sears

It was dark when we finally found a place to camp just north of Hudson’s Hope, B.C. I don’t like showing up somewhere in the dark in bear country because it already seems creepy. We’d just seen a bear running across a field a few miles back and I wondered how far it planned to lallygag that night and if it was coming in our direction. We were dodging deer by the time we found a place off the road. We had to ride over a downed barbed wire fence to get into the spot, which was overgrown with grass and brush. As we set up camp, a full moon rose and it was bright enough not to need our headlamps for dinner.

We were heading south towards home and the first half of our two-year trip was coming to a close. Dave and I spent the evening discussing plans for the next year. We agreed to only take six weeks max at his dad’s place in Washington to prep and organize before aiming to fly to Africa by Dec. 1. (This is funny because we actually thought we had a choice on the time frame here. The aforementioned foreshadowing of foresight would have come in handy this night.)

In the morning, we checked for flat tires from the barbed wire event then before riding over it again, Dave laid down some sticks, which totally didn’t work when I rode first and scattered them about.

We needed Wi-Fi and breakfast so found a Tim Horton’s about two hours later in Chetwyn, B.C. Another rider came in and took the booth behind us. He told us about a time he’d organized a group ride with 43 bikes down into the U.S. and almost everyone was turned back. Three guys even had their bikes impounded. I began to think it was just normalities of crossing a Canada/U.S. border but our Tim Horton’s friend went on to say that part of that group stole a truck later and backed it into the impound yard to retrieve the bikes. OK then!

On our ride this day we saw a big black momma bear and her cubs.

Thanks for posing! Photo: Dave Sears

Photo: Dave Sears

After stopping for almost an hour to watch and take photos of the bears, we continued and found a place to camp south of McBride, B.C. As we were setting up our tent, a couple with a fifth-wheel came over and gave us a bunch of firewood and some hot chocolate. Loving the Road People!

I was also loving my bike. We’d done over 1,600 km (994 mi) in three days and it was a joy to ride. Two complaints, however; our knees get really sore during these long riding days. The kneepads of our riding gear push against our kneecaps all day, causing them to feel out of place and inflamed. (We have recently been sponsored by Staubwolke and have installed their crash bars on our bikes. The bars are ingenious as they also work as leg rests so we can stretch. Looking forward to testing them out when we’re back on the road.)

I also greatly miss having the custom seat for my butt from my 650. Adventure bikes aren’t known for their comfortable highway-riding features. Because my ass was so sore, I’d balled up my down jacket and stuffed it into a black bag that I strapped to the bike and sat on. It worked well except for fueling up, when I’d have to detach the bag and swing it over onto the exhaust side of the bike. Yes you know what happened next; I forgot to reattach it. The bag lay on my exhaust for several miles. People would pass me and wave. The waves were a little overzealous. One truck kept passing then slowing in front of me and putting on his hazards. Me? I kept riding, thinking he was drunk or a tourist. Then I realized my ass was lacking its homemade cushion. I pulled over and saw the smoke wafting about my bike. I peeled my $300 jacket (that was U.S. $$, too) that I wear almost everyday off the exhaust and stamped out the embers. That was a costly mistake and also really uncomfortable for the next few days of riding and camping.

My down jacket after I left it on the exhaust. Photo: Cecilia Lea

My down jacket after I left it on the exhaust. Photo: Cecilia Lea

By Sept. 16, we’d ridden almost 2,300 km (1430 mi) in five days and we were feeling it. That’s what made seeing friends and family so great for the next two days. We spent the night in Kamloops with my high school friend, Gillian, and my parents made the two-hour drive over from Revelstoke.

In the morning, Dave rode south-west to see his mom, Cathy, and step-dad, Don, in Oliver. I followed my folks to Kelowna to visit with my 93-year-old grandma. It was raining intensely, which we were getting used to riding in. From Kelowna my folks and I went on to Oliver where my parents took off for some wine tasting and I threw all my clothes and riding gear in Cathy’s dryer. We all met up later for dinner and then Dave and I did a late-night, hassle-free crossing at the border near Osoyoos.

We were now back in the lower 48 and looking forward to spending some time relaxing in Sagle, Idaho with Neil and Linda and linking up the miles previously missed on the Idaho and Utah Backcountry Discovery Routes.

 

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