by Bill Gedye

You know it’s late in the year when you get up and you can see your breath. In the tent, that night, I had to put on an extra layer after that annoying cold spot in the small of the back couldn’t be covered easily. Unzipping the flap and heading out the door, I was greeted by an overhead spectacle where every star ever made was on display from horizon to horizon.

This was just south of Winthrop, Washington, where there isn’t a whole lot of street light “splash” to spoil stargazing. Since the laser surgery several years ago, I just look at them because I can. The Milky Way looked like a giant paint spatter across the black sky.

Getting late in the year also means the sun goes down way earlier and you’re stuck for things to do at 8:00 PM if you don’t have the Coleman lantern to read by. There aren’t many others in the campground’a few families with pre-school children by their campfires… the office is close to closing and it’s too cool for the pool.
A quick ride into Winthrop at 8:00pm was something like Victoria in the early days… wooden sidewalks rolled up and 90% of the stores darkened. The remaining stores are populated by owners lounging at the counter watching the clock for the longest half hour of the day just before they could close up and head home themselves.

Then there’s the weather later in the year on the west coast. Anytime after Labour Day, you can expect the warmth of summer to disappear immediately and turn to the daytime cool air/warm sun and more unpredictable precipitation. That’s the setting for the start of this trip.

The plan was to take the Washington State Ferry from Sidney, BC to Anacortes, Washington, then on through the Northern Cascade Mountains to Winthrop, Wash., and south from there as far as conditions would allow. Now, you realize that there is a LOT of harping about the BC Ferries within BC… especially after it had been converted from a Crown Corporation to semi private enterprise following the “fast ferry” fiasco. This was to get it as far as possible from the political interference that just about bankrupted the corporation when the political masters of the time decided to forgo any long range construction plan and go hell bent constructing all aluminum “Fast Cats” catamarans which turned out to be completely unsuitable for coastal BC conditions. They were too small, used too much fuel, and couldn’t reach their speed potential between ports due to excessive wash entering and leaving populated port areas. One billion dollars later, the government was defeated, and the “Fast Cats” abandoned…but the debt remained. But if you really want to appreciate BCF, you have to take the Washington State Ferry (WSF). The one I took from Sidney, BC, to Anacortes Wash., was a perfect foil to BCF. There was no food service on board due to a labour situation, so you were stuck with whatever you had in your pack, could bum from a fellow passenger, or the bag of peanuts from the gift shop. In addition, the bare linoleum floors and plastic seats make any BC Ferry look like the Regal Princess. The loading procedures are a gong show too. If you are travelling to Friday Harbour on the Anacortes ferry, you have to BACK ONTO the Washington State ferry. Try this with the novice towing the 5th wheel. All this will make you appreciate BC Ferries that much more.

It’s getting late, on with the story.

Have you ever tried to get an accurate weather forecast from anyone on the road? When I left home, the forecast was for scattered showers, but the sky looked far more threatening than that. One wag replied that it was raining when I asked him if he had heard what the weather would be.

A steady overcast deteriorated into a steady drizzle accompanied by increasing wind gusts. This made me abandon plans for camping that night at Bayview State Park, so I opted to hotel it at the Skagit Casino. First class rooms at a reasonable price, but the bike stayed outside in the storm that night.

The next day dawned cloudy with scattered deluges as I headed along Hwy 20, taking the route through the southern Cascade Mountains toward Winthrop, Wash. The rain gear was earning its keep on this trip so far. Lots of espresso stops for warmth and cover. At the Lyman espresso bar, that roll of black duct tape in the trunk came in handy to repair Toni’s the torn convertible top on her Cavalier. The leaves are just starting to turn colour and you can notice little piles of them under some of the trees…blasted off by this downpour, no doubt.

Fortunately, just past the 5200 ft summit, the weather broke, the sun came out and off came the gear, as it had warmed up to 50F. Sunglasses were necessary for the final run through deer country into Winthrop. This last stretch is on a deer migration route and they have signs up totalling the deer killed and the dollar damage done so far this year.

Still the same old Winthrop, as I hadn’t been through here for a few years. There was a large overflow parking area to the west of town, a new “Welcome to Winthrop” sign over the western approach to town, but the same comfortable “old west” flavour permeated the false front buildings and wooden sidewalks that thudded with each step of your riding boots. They have a great KOA just south of town and that’s where I was headed to set up for the night. It was just warm enough to make a splash in their pool to wash away the stiffness of the ride and dry off in the sun.

Parked a few lots over was Steve, who was dragging a new Leesure Lite camper trailer behind his anniversary HD Ultra-Glide. The trailer was brand new, purchased the previous day and this was the maiden voyage. Sure looked slick as hell. Unlatch the top, flip it open over the rear hinge and, voila!..you’re set up within 15 seconds. Packing it up is just as easy, with a little tucking and folding. The real advantage would be in wet weather, when everything I own gets soaked when I pack up in the rain, then have to unpack later to dry it all out before you set up again.

The next morning was a beautiful clear and bright fall day…the sun was warm but there was a definite nip to the air. I rode south along the Columbia River, enjoying the circles in the water from rising fish, while keeping an eye on the shoulder for deer… and that fool who’s following me too close. There were lots of other bikes on the road too, making the best of the break in the weather. There was a marker at one
spot along the Columbia that described how there had been a huge earthquake and rockslide in 1872 which had actually dammed up the river for a few days. It pointed out the darker seams in the rock where lava had actually filled the cracks in the fractured rock back in the early geological days.

There’s plenty of evidence of the early history of the area as well…like the old, broken down footbridge hanging precariously between both banks of the Skagit river. It would be scary enough walking over it by yourself, let alone carrying a load to the other side, which would have been necessary if you were an early American wanting to get to the other side. You probably had to pay a toll to whoever built it, as well. This is one of the amazing things about bike travel. You pay attention to the things that are going on around you and things just don’t pass by unnoticed while you’re reaching for the car radio. Of course, there are things you can’t help but notice, they are so huge and imposing, like the giant impeller from the Wells dam on the Columbia River.

After a stop at Wenatchee, I turned back north toward Winthrop, heading up the more placid westerly route along Hwy 97 alt, through the Lake Chelan area. Then, on the downhill section heading into Pateros, I heard an ungodly roar off to my right which sounded like a low flying aircraft. All I could see was a giant roostertail on the surface of the river. I pulled over to the side of the road and had the best seat in the house for a hydroplane race. This one had to be the size of the unlimiteds, but with a monster piston engine and the roar was wonderful. The crowd on the shoreline in the town park beckoned so I rode down the road, around the corner, across the tracks and pulled up right at the curb. There was not much of a crowd down at this end. Off came the lawn chair from my trailer and I set up camp in the middle of a huge expanse of grass with a clear sightline to the water. The next three hours in the sun was luxurious.
There were inboards, outboards, the formula 1 boats (tunnel hulls) which could turn on a dime, small v-8 closed-cockpit hydros with crackling 5 liter high performance motors, and the super stocks, which looked like drag boats…their big, chromed v-8’s bellowing across the water.

At the end of the event, clouds were starting to gather again, so I thought that a KOA Kabin would be a judicious choice for the evening…and what a luxury it was. If you’ve never tried one, keep it in mind when the weather is bad or you just don’t feel like setting up for the night. They are very Spartan on the inside, with just a mattress and bedframe but they have the luxuries of an electric overhead light and a small oil heater (which I used to dry out my shower towel). I could now read another few chapters of VANCOUVER after the sun went down. The next morning, I was greeted by the sight of my fogging breath…another cool start…may have to fire up the electric vest, but the air is clear and the sky is blue.

Headed north for the border today, which takes me through the Okanogan National Forest. Note the spelling, which is different from the Canadian Okanagan valley. Highway 20 went through Loup Loup Pass and the surrounding forest looked very similar to Manning Park except for the lack of bug kill. The mountain pine beetle has killed almost 1 in 3 trees on the east side of Manning Park. The ever present curtain of green along the road has been replaced by a wall of brown interspersed with the odd healthy tree, fuel for a huge potential fire. Here, on Hwy 20, the wall of trees is a healthy, vivid green.

Down south, the sky is getting very dark and evil looking but I’m headed north into the sunshine. It’s even getting warmer and I start peeling layers off again. Almost blew by the little berg of Riverside, Wash., but this is one of the opportunities to take the path less travelled. This is a one street, no stoplight town with a general store and across the street stands Detros Western Store. This looks like the Wall Drugs of Riverside, taking up just about a whole block of the two block town. Walking through the door, I am almost overcome by the smell of leather, and there’s a reason for it… the saddles, the boots, the chaps, the reins. They even have a huge pair of western boots sized 24EEEEE custom made by Tony Lamas for Andre the Giant. Apparently, Andre couldn’t take delivery as, in the time it took to construct the boots, his feet had outgrown them.

My last stop in the good ol’ USofA was Don’s Fruit Stand, just south of the Oroville border crossing. Don’s wife Pam was there and she proceeded to shower me with sample apricots and plums, which I added to my simple purchase of an apple to lend some variety to my diet of travel food. A strapping and bearded Don stopped by on the way from the orchard, admired the bike, then revealed his dream of having a Harley and travelling with Pam. I felt a little guilty about living Don’s dream (except for the Harley and Pam)…OK, I’m over it.

A short hop through the border: “Where do you live?, How long have you been in the US?, what’s the value of goods you’re bringing back with you?, Do you have any alcohol or tobacco?” That question reminded me that I’d forgotten to pick up a duty free Jack Daniels on my way.

That blackness down south is moving north and its going to rain within the hour, so I’m looking for a room for the evening. The HIGHLAND motel in Osoyoos will do it. Reasonably priced and clean, but not fancy. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as the owner, a young (Spanish?) fellow with a great black lab helper. It cost about the same as the KOA Kabin, but has satellite and the Playboy channel. What else do you do in a small town except sit under the eaves of the main street espresso shop, light up a cigar and watch the locals roll by…some four or five times.

Osoyoos is also the place where LeesureLite Trailers are built, so I rode to the factory and told Rick Lees the owner, about my previous encounter with Steve and his new trailer. I have done business with Rick and his wife Dian before and have found them to be straightforward and honest…that’s all I ask…and they filled the bill admirably.

The final leg home that day was on the familiar Hwy 3 through the Similkameen valley where I passed the slide mentioned in my earlier story, “Motorcycle Friendly”. It was as I had imagined, as I had passed through the slide area only an hour before it happened. There must have been an enormous amount of water come from that August sky to wash that amount of material down from the hills, over about 80 acres of gently sloping land, across the road, through the park on the other side of the road, and down into the Similkameen river. There were apparently three separate slides trapping about 30 people in their cars between slides for a day or so until the road could be cleared. One fellow who witnessed one slide told me that night that he had seen someone trying to drive a Jeep through the slide while it was still moving. His eyes were like saucers while he was telling the story. He was reliving it. Hell, the worst I had to put up with during that great electrical storm was the tablecloths blowing off the patio in Keremeos, taking the cutlery with them, after flapping around like they were in the batcave. Beauty was, nobody got hurt.

A steady rain all the rest of the way home reminded me of a song:
“On a day like this, you know you’re gonna get,
Mighty damn cold and awful damn wet.”

But the interesting parts didn’t stop here they continued all the way home…like the old guy at the Cafe in Princeton, who solved his back problems by using mouse pads for insoles. Skid marks and roadside crosses. There are two more ideas for future stories. Road construction and fresh, slidey mud on a 650 pound bike towing a trailer…that’s an adventure on it’s own.

Its getting late…late in the year and late in the day while I finish this story. Tomorrow’s waiting to revisit my travels and plan for shorter trips as the weather gets colder. The camper is under a tarp and the tent is put away. We’re about a month away from putting stabilizer in the fuel and heaving the old Wing onto the center stand for the winter’s rest and repair. Not much time left before the trees are bare and the rain is a constant. Got to make every riding day count until then.

Bill Gedye
Two Wheel Tales