15th & 16th July
After a day’s admin and planning yesterday (15th), I’m packed and on the road at 0900, heading towards Banff. My plan is to take a slow meander towards Banff National Park, planning to arrive there about lunchtime tomorrow (17th). I’ve planned a route which takes me down to Hope, then east on Highway 3. I reckon to stop at Kelowna for the night, but, like all my plans, it’s all subject to change...
It’s a warm morning, and I’m glad to be on the road. I keep off Highway 1 to begin with, riding down the affluent and well farmed Fraser River Valley…
I don’t know why this sign amused me – what would you trade for a Labrador pup? Dishwasher? Picture of George Bush? Torque Wrench?
I’m soon on my old friend Highway 1, heading towards Hope. I stop for breakfast, alongside a pair of Harleys…
…one of which has a trailer, with a slightly over the top mud flap…
I’m soon back on the road and heading up Highway 3. I stop at the Hope Slide…
On the 9th January 1965, a small earth tremor caused 46 million cubic metres of earth, rock and snow to slide down the side of the Nicolum Creek valley. Displacing the water and soft clay in the lake at the base of the valley, the slide destroyed some 3km of the Hope-Princeton Highway. Four people were killed – they were stopped after a minor snow slide and were travelling in 3 separate vehicles – 2 of the bodies were never found.
The new highway is built on top of the displaced rock – some 55 metres above the old ground level. The scars of the event are clearly evident nearly 40yrs later…
I continue up Highway 3 – to begin with, it reminds me of the US12 on the Idaho side of the Lo Lo pass…
The white and yellow lines are being repainted – the local council use these little ‘conettes’ to warn motorists of wet paint…
Then, quite suddenly, I come across an awful situation. I’m flagged down by a road worker with a ‘slow’ paddle and, as I pull up by him, he says ‘Go careful, there’s been a motorcycle accident’ and waves me on.
The road here is cut into the side of a steeply sloping mountain. As I round the left hand bend, I see a motorcyclist standing by a bike by the concrete barrier, looking over the edge of the cliff. It turns out he is not involved, but is a passer-by who turned up after the event.
In the middle of the road is a fully dressed and packed Harley Davidson, lying on it’s left crashbar. I ask another road worker where the rider is – he shrugs and indicates the cliff edge. I stop to see if there’s anything to be done, but the slope (which I later find is 400 ft deep and heavily wooded) is steep, and strewn with rock and gravel, and clearly pointless to try and descend without climbing gear. There’s no sign of either the rider, or where he may have fallen. A quick look at the bike reveals it has a scuff mark on the right pannier consistent with having struck the concrete barrier.
Apparently the scene was discovered by a car driver, who found the bike lying in the road and no sign of the rider, although there was a cloud of dust hanging in the air over the cliff…
There’s nothing to be done. The Police and Ambulance are on their way from Hope. I offer a silent prayer for a miracle, slowly get back on the bike, and set off again. There’s already a crucifix shaped arrangement of flowers at the site, from a previous fatality here…
I ride on slowly, feeling pretty rattled – the glorious sunny weather doesn’t seem so agreeable, suddenly.
A few miles down the road, I see a couple of Harleys in a lay-by on the right had side of the road. They look like they’re having problems – so I pull I to see if I can help. Pete & Dean are heading towards Christina Lake, but Dean’s bike has stopped with a flat battery. We’re on the point of organising a tow-start, when the old boy from the RV stopped in the lay-by offers the use of his jump leads and the massive battery on his RV.
He’s an ex-biker – ‘ex’ because 20yrs ago a car driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the median and hit him off his Triumph. He lost his left leg and his left arm is completely paralysed. The other driver was uninsured…
Pete is an Aussie who is nursing a severe saké-fuelled hangover, acquired in Vancouver last night. We get the bike re-started and set off for Princeton. I get there first and, some minutes later, Dean arrives, with the Harley farting and banging – obviously not a happy bike. I get some cold drinks and we examine the bike. As we do so, several people ask us if we know anything about the accident up the road – it seems there’s been another since I went through, but in the later accident the biker’s not seriously injured. Without exception, all the people who spoke told us to ride carefully – with genuine concern.
Dean locates the problem!
It turns out to be the negative (earth) lead from the battery, which is loose where it attaches to the frame. After re-connecting the lead, we push start the bike, which starts without drama and runs smoothly (well, as smoothly as a HD ever runs
).
After a little more re-hydration (it’s 96F, I later find), we get kitted up, exchange email addresses, and go our separate ways. Good guys.
I carry on up the 3A towards Penticton, which is a very pleasant ride, although it’s now getting very warm. This is Yellow Lake…
…which is a vivid green colour - but not yellow. The road then heads north, skirting the western shore of the Okanagan Lake. The scenery seems almost Tuscan, especially in this heat…
After a quick look around Kelowna, I come to the conclusion that it’ll be:
1. Full.
2. Noisy.
3. Expensive.
I press north towards Vernon – but not before I’ve visited “Tim Horton’s” – a doughnut café – and having an iced cappuccino… It’s all Ilmostro & BMW Rider’s fault – they shouldn’t have mentioned how good they were* ! When I return to my bike, I see another HD has parked next to me…
I predict electrical problems in his future…
I arrive at the outskirts of Vernon and find an extremely run down little collection of shacks with a ‘Tell-Your-Friends Motel’ sign outside. What the hell – it only costs $45 Canadian for a night in a non-air conditioned cabin. I switch the fan on and try not to move around too much…
*They were right, too…
After a day’s admin and planning yesterday (15th), I’m packed and on the road at 0900, heading towards Banff. My plan is to take a slow meander towards Banff National Park, planning to arrive there about lunchtime tomorrow (17th). I’ve planned a route which takes me down to Hope, then east on Highway 3. I reckon to stop at Kelowna for the night, but, like all my plans, it’s all subject to change...
It’s a warm morning, and I’m glad to be on the road. I keep off Highway 1 to begin with, riding down the affluent and well farmed Fraser River Valley…
I don’t know why this sign amused me – what would you trade for a Labrador pup? Dishwasher? Picture of George Bush? Torque Wrench?
I’m soon on my old friend Highway 1, heading towards Hope. I stop for breakfast, alongside a pair of Harleys…
…one of which has a trailer, with a slightly over the top mud flap…
I’m soon back on the road and heading up Highway 3. I stop at the Hope Slide…
On the 9th January 1965, a small earth tremor caused 46 million cubic metres of earth, rock and snow to slide down the side of the Nicolum Creek valley. Displacing the water and soft clay in the lake at the base of the valley, the slide destroyed some 3km of the Hope-Princeton Highway. Four people were killed – they were stopped after a minor snow slide and were travelling in 3 separate vehicles – 2 of the bodies were never found.
The new highway is built on top of the displaced rock – some 55 metres above the old ground level. The scars of the event are clearly evident nearly 40yrs later…
I continue up Highway 3 – to begin with, it reminds me of the US12 on the Idaho side of the Lo Lo pass…
The white and yellow lines are being repainted – the local council use these little ‘conettes’ to warn motorists of wet paint…
Then, quite suddenly, I come across an awful situation. I’m flagged down by a road worker with a ‘slow’ paddle and, as I pull up by him, he says ‘Go careful, there’s been a motorcycle accident’ and waves me on.
The road here is cut into the side of a steeply sloping mountain. As I round the left hand bend, I see a motorcyclist standing by a bike by the concrete barrier, looking over the edge of the cliff. It turns out he is not involved, but is a passer-by who turned up after the event.
In the middle of the road is a fully dressed and packed Harley Davidson, lying on it’s left crashbar. I ask another road worker where the rider is – he shrugs and indicates the cliff edge. I stop to see if there’s anything to be done, but the slope (which I later find is 400 ft deep and heavily wooded) is steep, and strewn with rock and gravel, and clearly pointless to try and descend without climbing gear. There’s no sign of either the rider, or where he may have fallen. A quick look at the bike reveals it has a scuff mark on the right pannier consistent with having struck the concrete barrier.
Apparently the scene was discovered by a car driver, who found the bike lying in the road and no sign of the rider, although there was a cloud of dust hanging in the air over the cliff…
There’s nothing to be done. The Police and Ambulance are on their way from Hope. I offer a silent prayer for a miracle, slowly get back on the bike, and set off again. There’s already a crucifix shaped arrangement of flowers at the site, from a previous fatality here…
I ride on slowly, feeling pretty rattled – the glorious sunny weather doesn’t seem so agreeable, suddenly.
A few miles down the road, I see a couple of Harleys in a lay-by on the right had side of the road. They look like they’re having problems – so I pull I to see if I can help. Pete & Dean are heading towards Christina Lake, but Dean’s bike has stopped with a flat battery. We’re on the point of organising a tow-start, when the old boy from the RV stopped in the lay-by offers the use of his jump leads and the massive battery on his RV.
He’s an ex-biker – ‘ex’ because 20yrs ago a car driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the median and hit him off his Triumph. He lost his left leg and his left arm is completely paralysed. The other driver was uninsured…
Pete is an Aussie who is nursing a severe saké-fuelled hangover, acquired in Vancouver last night. We get the bike re-started and set off for Princeton. I get there first and, some minutes later, Dean arrives, with the Harley farting and banging – obviously not a happy bike. I get some cold drinks and we examine the bike. As we do so, several people ask us if we know anything about the accident up the road – it seems there’s been another since I went through, but in the later accident the biker’s not seriously injured. Without exception, all the people who spoke told us to ride carefully – with genuine concern.
Dean locates the problem!
It turns out to be the negative (earth) lead from the battery, which is loose where it attaches to the frame. After re-connecting the lead, we push start the bike, which starts without drama and runs smoothly (well, as smoothly as a HD ever runs
). After a little more re-hydration (it’s 96F, I later find), we get kitted up, exchange email addresses, and go our separate ways. Good guys.
I carry on up the 3A towards Penticton, which is a very pleasant ride, although it’s now getting very warm. This is Yellow Lake…
…which is a vivid green colour - but not yellow. The road then heads north, skirting the western shore of the Okanagan Lake. The scenery seems almost Tuscan, especially in this heat…
After a quick look around Kelowna, I come to the conclusion that it’ll be:
1. Full.
2. Noisy.
3. Expensive.
I press north towards Vernon – but not before I’ve visited “Tim Horton’s” – a doughnut café – and having an iced cappuccino… It’s all Ilmostro & BMW Rider’s fault – they shouldn’t have mentioned how good they were* ! When I return to my bike, I see another HD has parked next to me…
I predict electrical problems in his future…
I arrive at the outskirts of Vernon and find an extremely run down little collection of shacks with a ‘Tell-Your-Friends Motel’ sign outside. What the hell – it only costs $45 Canadian for a night in a non-air conditioned cabin. I switch the fan on and try not to move around too much…
*They were right, too…
