Thursday, October 20, 2016

Asheville, NC

Intermittently for the last few years a group of friends from Northwestern and our spouses have gathered for several days at a scenic and interesting location for outdoor activities, dining, and reminiscing. This year we (five couples) are in Asheville, North Carolina. Situated in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Asheville is a bustling college and tourist town that is home to many breweries, restaurants, and museums and that has a busy and interesting downtown area. 

Carol and I arrived on Saturday night, October 15, and checked into the Marriott Residence Inn on Biltmore Ave. south of downtown. On Sunday morning we joined the three couples (who had arrived earlier on Saturday) for breakfast and planned the day. We visited the Botanical Gardens in north Asheville, which is bounded by the University campus and spent a couple of hours wandering in the woods an along a creek. It was a pleasantly warm day, and afterwards we drove into downtown Asheville and parked in front of one of the many Asheville brewpubs and had lunch (shrimp and grits, a first for me and excellent). After lunch the ladies entered Topp's shoe store and were lost for the next hour or so. The guys wandered around the downtown area for a few blocks and then walked through an old, restored arcade. There was an interesting church (St. Lawrence Basilica) that was designed by the same architect who designed the underground swimming pool at the Biltmore Estate.

 

 

We met the wives back at Topp's and after a bit more wandering drove back to the Marriott. We decided to walk down to Biltmore Village, about a half mile from the hotel, where we eventually decided on a restaurant for dinner. 

(Monday, October 17) After breakfast at the Marriott we all walked down to Biltmore Village where we checked out an interesting craft store that we had  noticed the previous evening. After an hour of admiring the jewelry, woodworks, and fabrics, we went back to the hotel and then drove to the Asheville Arboretum, which features a large wooded area with trails as well as gardens, including a Bonsai garden. Geo and Annette, who live on 50 acres in Wisconsin, are knowledgeable about plants and so were good trail guides.

 

 

Scattered around the grounds were several animal sculptures made of Lego blocks, and in the visitor's center there was an animated exhibit of giant insects.

 

Heading back to Asheville one group stopped at a farmers' market while the rest went back to the hotel to welcome the fifth and final couple, who drove up from Orlando. That evening we all walked down to Biltmore Village for dinner at Rezaz, a Mediterranean restaurant. We were joined by another couple, old friends, who live in the Smoky Mountains about an hour away. Since this was my birthday there was a little extra celebration. On the way back to the hotel after dinner we stopped at Hi-Wire, a brewery with a small bar and half a dozen picnic tables in the corner of the building. 

(Tuesday, October 18) After breakfast at the hotel we loaded up three cars and drove the few miles to the Blue Ridge Parkway where we stopped first at the Visitors' Center and then at the Crafts Center a few miles away. The Crafts Center has a very interesting museum on the upper level that features local artists - sculptures, wood works, fabrics, and a few paintings. 

It was a beautiful Autumn day and we drove north for 20 miles and stopped at Craggy Peak, where we walked through the woods for about a mile to a knoll that provided an overlook to the east and west. The leaves were changing colors and the cool weather and beautiful scenery made for a delightful hike. 

 

 

 

Back on the Blue Ridge Parkway we went north and stopped at a view area to admire the colorful valley on the east side of the Appalachian watershed. On the Parkway we soon became stuck behind the Love Valley Babtist Church bus, which was doing about 20 miles under the speed limit, and which belched black diesel smoke on the hills, and which declined to pull over at any of the numerous turnouts. The good news is that the slow speed gave us ample opportunity to enjoy the scenery. After 20 miles we went east (and so did the bus) on a small and winding mountain road (80) which we followed to SC 74 and eventually the town of Black Mountain. After an early dinner at the Bistro restaurant next door to the Visitors' Center we walked a couple of blocks to Cherry Street, the old downtown of Black Mountain, where there were cafes, restaurants, crafts stores, gift shops, and an old railroad station, most of which were closed on a weekday evening. 

In a small side lot was an old Mack truck.

 

Back in Asheville (about 20 minutes away) a few of the crew walked down to the Hi-Wire to sample the brews.

(Wednesday, October 19) I'd purchased Biltmore tickets the day before and after breakfast we all drove onto the Biltmore Estate. It is only a few miles, but with the slow speed through the forest surrounding the estate, and then parking and the shuttle bus it was almost an hour before we were standing in front of the house. We decided to do the gardens first and walked through the gardens to the greenhouses, and then on a path to the bass pond. The green houses are filled with many varieties of colorful plants, including orchids, and on the way to the bass pond we passed a Bald Cypress tree with its distinctive "knees" poking up in the surrounding ground.

 

 
 

We had split up into couples, but Carol and I ran into Howard and he and I walked around the bass pond while Carol went back towards the gardens. We all eventually joined up at a patio behind the greenhouses, and made our way to the Stable cafe, where we had an excellent lunch followed by dessert, one of which was a delicious key lime pie. The stable building has several gift shops as well as the cafe, and a bit of shopping went on before and after lunch. 

We walked a hundred yards or so down to the village, which originally contained workshops, houses, and a small farm that supported the estate.  Most of the village is a walking museum with exhibits of equipment and other items in the buildings, although there is also a large gift shop and a tavern nearby. There's also a statue of Cornelia Vanderbilt and her dog Cedric, a St. Bernard. 

 

Near the village are two large hotels. Visitors come to the Biltmore Estate for several days and enjoy the running and walking paths, horseback riding, and there is also, predictably, a golf course. We took the shuttle back to the parking lot and drove back to the hotel. Later we walked down to Hi-Wire and had hot dogs at the food truck which is permanently parked outside the entrance. 

(Thursday, October 20) We'd all purchased tickets for the Biltmore rooftop tour the previous day and after breakfast we drove up to the parking lot, took the shuttle to the house, and embarked on the tour. There were a dozen people on the tour and the guide took us to behind the scenes areas of the house, including the roof. 

Briefly: The house was built between 1889 and 1895, and contains some 250 rooms. George Vanderbilt was very well educated and embraced the latest technology for his house, including some 40 indoor bathrooms, and a coal powered dynamo in the sub-basement that generated electricity for the Otis elevator and the interior lighting. The area on the hill where the house was being built had been denuded by clear cutting, and the landscape architect, Frederick Law Olmsted, who designed Central Park in New York, supervised the planting of thousands of trees as well as designing the extensive gardens. The architect, Richard Hunt, was nearing the end of his career and considered the Biltmore Estate to be his masterwork. He and George Vanderbilt toured Europe and purchased tapestries, whole ceiling paintings, sculptures, and furnishings for the house. The house was opened with a large Christmas party in 1895 and for the next 20 years the Vanderbilts frequently entertained as many as 60 guests, many of whom stayed for weeks at a time. Unfortunately, George died young in 1914 following an emergency appendectomy. His wife, Edith, carried on for a decade, but by 1924 the expense and work of running the estate became too much. In 1930 the city of Asheville suggested that the estate be opened up for tours as a way of supporting the house and also to bring tourism to the area. Today the estate business is run by descendants of the Vanderbilt family and seems to be very successful with 2500 employees and over a million visitors per year. There's a large (one inch equals four feet) architect's model of the house on display in one of the rooms.

 

After lunch at the Stable Cafe we all followed the general tour through the house - the banquet hall, the music room, the pipe organ, the suites, bedrooms, guest rooms, billiard room, etc. ending up in the kitchens, laundry, and a few servants rooms in the basement. By this time it was getting to be late in the afternoon, so we returned to the parking lot and drove back to the Marriott in Asheville, where we picked up pizzas and beer nearby and ate at the hotel patio.

(Friday, October 21) Deena and Howard, our friends from Orlando left in the morning and the rest of us split up into boys and girls - the girls going into Asheville to visit the Craft Fair of the Southern Highlands, and the boys driving to Cherokee to visit the Cherokee museum there. The weather had turned cold and wet overnight, but it was a very pleasant drive to Cherokee, the last half of which was on a two-lane road through Maggie Valley and up and over a ridge. I'd been on the same road three years ago on the motorcycle, but this time we moved along slowly and enjoyed the fall colors and the scenic views. There is a large Harrah's Casino in Cherokee as well as numerous tourist spots, including, strangely, a place called Santa Land. This is a big tourist area and during the recent Hurricane Mathew all the rooms, including the casino, were filled with people who had evacuated the low-lying areas to the east.

The Cherokee Museum is fairly new and well laid out and gives the visitor a good history of the Cherokee Nation beginning in pre-historic times and continuing into the reconciliation of the eastern and western Cherokee just a couple of decades ago. Unfortunately, it is another sad tale of broken promises and broken treaties, ending in displacement, which saw most of the Cherokee Nation forced to relocate (the Trail of Tears) to Oklahoma. We 
spent a couple of hours at the museum and then drove back to Maggie Valley where we ate a late lunch at the Maggie Valley Restaurant.

We'd arranged to meet the ladies back in Black Mountain for dinner and we all arrived at the same time under a light rain. After some time spent in a great hardware store, we went to Cherry Street and wandered around in several gift stores, crafts stores, and a bookstore before going into the Dark City Cafe for dinner. The place looks like it was an old tavern at one time with a funky pub in a back room and a dining area in the front. The food was good, but the service was very slow (not used to ten people at a time, I guess) and we hadn't been served when the open mike entertainment began. Fortunately, the singer was quiet and we were able to ignore him. We had to stop at the ice-cream store for dessert, and after that we drove back to the hotel in a light rain. Emily grew up in Yanceyville, NC, and her family had a cabin near Black Mountain, so she remembers when the town was a sleepy little country town. Somewhere along the way it became gentrified, with antique stores, crafts stores, bars, and a couple of parking lots. I asked Richard, Emaly's husband, if the town was fading or still a very popular place to visit. He said that he thought that is was more bustling and active 20 years ago when he last visited the place. 

(Saturday, October 22, Sunday October 23) Departure day. After breakfast at the hotel, we all went our separate ways - Rich and Em to Virginia, where they were spending the night before going to Washington to visit their son, Geo and Annette and Doris back to Wisconsin, and Carol and I south and east to Okatie, South Carolina. Bill was staying Asheville for a few hours before flying back to San Francisco. 

The drive to Okatie (on Callawassie Island near Hilton Head and Beaufort) was on I-26 and then I-95. There was more traffic than I expected early on a Saturday in October, but then that area of the country has grown a lot in the last 20 years. Carol's sister and her husband live in a community on a marsh by a river. The houses are surrounded by oaks, hickory trees, and palms, and hurricane Mathew toppled many of them. Fortunately, Trilla and Steve's house was mostly spared - a large tree fell on one part of the roof, but didn't do any structural or interior damage, and the tree had been removed and the roof repaired by the time we arrived.  On Sunday morning we walked around the neighborhood and looked at the piles of broken branches and trees alongside the road and watched a tree service lifting the top of a huge pine over a house. If you look very closely you can see a yellow dot in the center top of the tree - that's a worker in the tree. 

 

In this part of the country many of the trees are covered with Spanish Moss.

 

Driving  past the golf course yesterday, I saw a large alligator sunning itself by a water hazard. Carol thought that it was a statue, but Trilla and Steve confirmed that alligators were often seen on the golf course and in the many ponds in the area, all of which are connected by drainage pipes. Driving around on Sunday morning we saw an alligator in the sun, and two others in the water. We had brunch at the country club and will watch football and eat pizza this evening. 








Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Homer to home

(Sunday, August 7) As of today we are heading home. This morning in Anchorage was rainy and about 58 degrees, which it would be most of the day. Even the Alaskans are complaining about the weather. We rode south on the Kenai peninsula along Cook Inlet, which has many viewing areas. Unfortunately, the rain had increased and it was foggy, so they were wasted on us. Perhaps tomorrow on the way back I'll stop and get some pictures. The road goes inland and along the Kenai River in places and by Kenai Lake. 

 

We followed Highway 1, the Sterling Highway, all the way down to Homer, which is as far west as you can go. The end of the road. After lunch in town, we rode out the Homer Spit, a long, slender strip of land with water on both sides. There are charter fishing boats, sea planes, helicopters, working fishing boats, and several large RV camps,  as well as numerous restaurants, gift shops, and the usual tourist stuff. It's all very funky and not at all slick - very Alaska. 
 
 

We stopped at a view area on top of a large hill outside of Homer and the clouds lifted for a bit so you could see the Cook Inlet and the mountains on the other side.

 
 
 

The 70 miles back to Soldotna, where we are spending the night, were a bit of a trial, what with heavy rain at times, and several short stretches of road construction with very large potholes that couldn't be avoided. The Soldotna Hotel is functional and worn but expensive - again very Alaska. (320 miles)

(Monday, August 8) When I went out to pack the bike this morning it was 59 degrees and wet from the rain during the night, but not raining - so, that's an improvement. However,  by the time we left the hotel it was sprinkling, and it would rain off and on the rest of the day, with the temperature mostly around 60 degrees. Still, it was a scenic and pleasant ride back to Anchorage by Kenai Lake, along the river, and through the mountains. This time I did stop along the Cook Inlet to take a picture.

 

We stopped in Anchorage at Alaska Leather (a motorcycle accessory store that has been in Anchorage forever) so John could buy a new heated jacket - his had stopped working. The first time I rode up to Alaska with John and Dan Alaska Leather was in a Quonset hut and they would mount tires if you took your wheel off the bike. They had a covered area next to the building where customers could work on their bikes, and there must have been half a dozen people doing maintenance or pulling the wheels off their motorcycles. We left Anchorage about 1 PM and rode on AK 1, the Glenn Highway, which goes to Glennallen, where we are spending the night. Once out of Palmer the road goes along the Matagnuska River and then through the mountains (highest pass was only 3000 feet) where we could see the Matagnuska Glacier.

 

The road was in good shape for an Alaskan road, with one stretch of one-way through a construction zone. Late in the afternoon I saw a black bear go into the bushes alongside the road. Glennallen is a very small town near the intersection with AK 4, which goes south to Valdez - in fact the intersection is grandly named "The Hub of Alaksa", although it only consists of a small visitors' center, a couple of gas stations, and a motel and restaurant or two. We're staying at the Caribou Hotel, and we ate at the nearby Fireweed restaurant - more of a cafe than a restaurant, but quite good. After dinner we stopped next door at the Fireweed Gift shop, where the young woman was interesting and talkative. It turns out she grew up in Solon, Ohio and her husband went to Lakewood Community College. They moved to Alaska when she was 23. She also said that at that moment her husband was hunting what she called a "nuisance bear" that had broken into her car and had also broken into a neighbor's car. It's raining again. (345 miles) 

(Tuesday, August 9) Cold, wet, and miserable: That's what the weather was like when I loaded up the bike this morning. It was 52 degrees, everything was wet from the rain overnight, and the sky was gray and overcast. By the time we left the hotel it was actually a bit colder and beginning to sprinkle, but that wasn't the major disappointment of the morning. Fifteen miles down the road at the Gakona junction for the Tok cut-off we stopped at Jeannie's Java Hut for much-anticipated rhubarb pie, and she didn't have any. She said that she picked fresh rhubarb yesterday afternoon and that she would be baking pies later in the day, but right now she was out. She also said that she sold four pies yesterday. In addition she also said that she stayed at Ida's Motel in Beaver Creek last September and had a bad experience, and Ida's was our destination for today.

 

With those thoughts in mind and no rhubarb pie to cheer me up we headed east towards Tok. The road climbs through low mountains so it became slightly chillier and the rain increased, but I was dry and almost warm. My heated vest had stopped heating - I suspect a broken wire at the switch. When I first started riding motorcycles around the country I would ride off the road down to a creek and camp rough with no tent and wash up in the creek. Now I whine that my electric vest isn't working.

There was road construction all along the route with two one-lane areas, but there was little traffic and we didn't have to wait more than a few minutes to get through. There were gravel stretches and whoop-de-dos (frost heaves) and bumpy patches, but overall it was a nice ride with scenic views of the valley, hills and curves, and pine forest all around. Before we got to Tok the rain stopped and we saw a moose about 30 feet off the side of the road, just standing there and looking at us. We stopped in Tok for lunch at Fast Eddie's and to dry out and check at motorcycle dealers in Whitehorse for tires for our bikes. John is a bit worried about both tires on his bike, and I'm somewhat concerned about the front on my bike. We'll stop at the Honda dealer tomorrow afternoon and see if they can take care of us, if we decide to get tires. The Alcan south of Tok was more of the same that we'd experienced all through Alaska - some construction, some gravel stretches, and lots of patches and frost heaves - you can't relax. However, the weather dried and began to improve, and by the time we got to the Canadian border it was partly cloudy and 64 degrees. Ida's Motel isn't that bad - certainly not the worst we've stayed at. I walked around Beaver Creek a bit and stopped at the Visitor's Center to talk cars with Sid van dear Meer, one of the people who works there and who parks one of the old cars from his small collection outside. The last time I stopped there 4 years ago he had a bumble-bee (yellow and black) '55 Ford, and when we rode through a few days ago I saw a '49 or '50 Buick. Unfortunately, today was Sid's day off. The Quonset hut Catholic Church is still in town, and they still get the electricity from diesel generators. However, there's a good cell signal and Wi-Fi at the motel. 

 

We both did laundry and attended to our motorcycle's chains (a daily ritual), and had dinner at Buckshot Betty's, which used to be an old log building with low ceilings and a lot of character. Now it's a new and larger log building, but it still has some of the artifacts from the old place. (257 miles)

(Wednesday, August 10) This morning it was partly cloudy but cold when we left the motel before 8 AM. The temperature started at 48 and dropped to below 40 before we stopped for breakfast 60 miles later at Pine Valley where we'd had lunch a few days ago on our way north. Breakfast was crepe with ham and egg - quite good. We huddled by the stove in the dining room and warmed up.

 

Ravens are never out of sight along the Alcan, and this guy was parading around the parking lot:

 

After that there was the 40-50 miles of construction. The water trucks had been by the first part, so the road was muddy and slippery, the second section was dry so there were huge clouds of dust. There were four zones controlled by pilot vehicles, but there wasn't much traffic at that early hour, so we got through it OK and rode around Destruction Bay and along Kluane National Park. The day had turned sunny and warmed up to 60 or so when we stopped  in Haines Junction at the Village Bakery for lunch, where there was also rhubarb pie - the best I've had this trip and up there with Jeannie's and the Cable House Restaurant on Vancouver Island.

 

The scenery along that part of the Alcan is forests, lakes, rivers, and mountains, and we enjoyed the ride to Whitehorse where we stopped at a Honda dealer for tires. I asked the guy behind the counter to take a look at my front tire and he said that it wouldn't make it back to San Francisco, which was my opinion as well. They put on a Metzler Tourance and John, not to be outdone, had them install TK-80 tires front and rear on his bike. That tire has a very aggressive tread pattern, good for serious dirt riding. He's used them before and says they are OK on pavement as well.

 
The chip seal surface of the Alcan (and most of the roads in the north) wears tires rapidly. While we waited for the tires to be installed we had a snack and coffee at the Whitehorse Starbucks, where I always seem to visit when I'm in town.

We left Whitehorse at 6 PM and rode to Teslin, where we are staying at the Yukon Motel. The ride was very pleasant in the early evening with little traffic, good scenery, and I enjoyed riding without having to worry about my tires. (401 miles)

(Thursday, August 11) John had some business to transact over the phone this morning, so we hung around the motel and had breakfast. The strawberry rhubarb pie that John talked me into had too many strawberries and too much jam type filling, so overall a disappointment. When I got up in the morning it was 55 degrees, and had rained overnight. It stopped when I loaded the bike, but we both had our rain gear on when we left. While I waited for John I spoke with a guy on a Yamaha with a sidecar attached. He and his riding companions on two other bikes were from Tennessee and they were headed for Prudhoe Bay. He explained that he has brain cancer and it's affected his left leg, so he can't ride a two-wheeler anymore. He was wearing a half mask on his face to cover the scars from radiation (or chemo). He said that he's been fighting cancer for 16 years, but he wants to go to Prudhoe Bay. Now that's determination. 

We stopped at an overlook just outside of Teslin so John could add some air to his tires, and I took a picture of Nititchuk Bay and Teslin.

 

We continued on the Alcan, Highway 1, covering the same route we'd taken a few days ago. We stopped in Watson Lake for gas and to take a picture of the signpost forest.

 

The Alcan becomes Highway 97 in Watson Lake and we followed it southeast out of the Yukon into British Columbia through Coal River, Liard River, and by Muncho Lake. The Alcan in British Columbia is like a park with a 50 yard buffer of grass between the road and the trees. There's a lot of wildlife and we saw a mama black bear and two cubs (very cute), another black bear, and many bison that wandered in the drainage ditch by the road, in the grassy area, or even on the road. We stopped for lunch in Coal River and another customer there, whose U-Haul truck had broken down, said that he saw us at the Chevron station in Tok, AK two days ago. There were several areas of road construction, and two places with pilot trucks. Luckily, the driver of the pilot truck at the dusty section waved us to the front of the queue so we wouldn't have to ride in a huge dust cloud. The second place was wet and not dusty so we stayed in line. The road construction is to straighten out a very enjoyable twisty section that I remembered from four years ago, but I also remember that on that same section I stopped to help a Harley rider and his wife who had gone off the road. Mucho Lake is a Provincial park and very scenic and a nice ride, but the rain, which had been threatening all day, came on in earnest so we took it easy and focused on staying on the road and seeing where we were going. The whole section of the Alcan between Watson Lake and Fort Nelson goes through low mountains and by lakes and rivers and is quite scenic, but there are no real towns along the way and little in the way of services - just a few scattered lodges, gas stations, and cafes, which are usually all one business.

We are spending the night at Toad River Lodge, where I've stayed before. At dinner we spoke with a guy on a BMW R1200GS Adventure who was riding from Anchorage to Colorado to take a Rawhyde off-road riding class. (379 miles)
 
(Friday, August 12) Today we said good-bye to the Alcan Highway in Fort St. John, BC. We were up early at Toad River Lodge because we knew it was going to be a long day. After breakfast in the lodge restaurant we loaded the bikes and spent some time talking with John, an Australian who had rented a BMW R1200GS in Vancouver so he and his wife could ride around British Columbia and the Yukon. They were in the cabin next to ours, and I quizzed John about how he liked his GS because that will probably be my next bike. It was 55 degrees when we left, but it was dry with only scattered clouds in the sky and the promise of a warmer day ahead. Indeed, it gradually warmed up to 75 or so, which, after the rain and cold of the last week, felt like 90. The road from Toad River to Fort Nelson climbs over a 4000 foot summit and goes through a provincial park and there were lots of curves, hills, creeks and forest as well as a few scattered lodges and campgrounds. At one point I saw a large, black bear in the ditch by the side of the road and he scampered into the woods as I went by. There were a couple of very short construction zones with one-way control but there was no other traffic and the flag person just waved us on through. After 115 miles we stopped in Fort Nelson, which is a sizable town, for gas and to find the Coffee & Crumbs bakery and cafe. After a bit of searching we discovered that it had moved two blocks and changed its name to Gourmet Girl bakery and cafe - same owner. While we were getting gas and riding around town, John and Sue, the Australian couple, had found Gourmet Girl and were sitting in front. John P. and I ordered a snack and coffee (for me) and sat outside and talked with John and Sue. It turns out they met Simon and Lisa Thomas (the English couple who have been on the road for 13 years) at the bear viewing platform outside Hyder, Alaska the day before we met Simon and Lisa at Bell 2. They (John and Sue) live in Melbourne and have been all over the world on motorcycle tours, including South America and Iceland. 

 

South of Fort Nelson the road becomes much less interesting, although it is still pleasant with little traffic and lots of green. We were told that it has been a very rainy summer so we were lucky to arrive when it was dry. There were a few small farms and pastures and hay fields, but mostly the land is undeveloped with small hills and forest and mostly straight road. About a hundred miles from Fort Nelson we began to see signs of the oil industry in the form of instant towns that consisted of dozens of trailers that each have half a dozen rooms. We stopped at Pink Mountain for gas and lunch, and there was a large space inside the front door of the restaurant for the workers to place their muddy boots and jackets. 

 

After Pink Mountain we ran into more construction with one-way control and pilot trucks. One section was dry and dusty, the other had just been watered. The Alcan ends at Milepost 0 in Dawson Creek and there is a small but interesting museum there devoted to the history of the road. Both John and I have been there and done that. Just north of Fort St. John, about 60 miles from Dawson Creek, we left the Alcan and went south on Highway 29, which climbs and curves up and down hills and then descends and goes through the Peace Valley. At an overlook rest area John and I shed our sweaters and overpants and switched to lighter gloves.

 

We went through Hudson's Hope and by a hydroelectric dam on the river, and stopped in Chetwynd where we are spending the night. All the other guests at the motel (and there aren't many) look to be oil workers. (452 miles)

(Saturday, August 13) Breakfast was part of the room fee, so we ate at the Stagecoach restaurant. We were the only customers, all the oil workers having left before 7. Chetwynd has many wood carvings on the access road that parallels 97 - those and a very large timber yard outside of town are the only remarkable things about the place.

 

Back on Highway 97 we immediately hit a short section of road construction, and we would go through road construction off and on during the morning. The highway follows the Pine River and climbs up to Pine Mountain summit, a little less than 3000 feet. We stopped at the Bijoux Falls rest area because we always do, and just as we were getting ready to leave a Harley rider pulled in and we began talking. He said that he always stops there and was surprised to see the parking lot almost deserted. 

 

Highway 97 crosses the Continental Divide and goes by lakes and over hills and through forests. As we got closer to Prince George we began to see a few farms and ranches, but not many. This part of British Columbia is not heavily populated. We stopped for gas just outside Prince George and I followed the GPS around the back of the city to the Yellowhead Highway, Highway 16, which goes east to Jasper. I'd planned to eat in Prince George, but there were no restaurants on the route, so we just kept on going. John pulled into a rest area to check the rear wheel on his bike. Ever since the tire was changed in Whitehorse he'd noticed a clicking noise when he accelerated from a low speed, and he was worried that the shop had installed a bushing or the rubber shock cushions wrong. He couldn't hear anything, so we decided that we'd stop at a place where he could take off the rear wheel and inspect the assembly - hopefully at a place where there was running water to wash his hands. We came to the Purden Lake Resort and John immediately began working on his bike while I went inside to check on lunch options. 

 

While John sweated outside I ate lunch in the restaurant, which had an old motorcycle on display in the dining room (a Puch 175) and also had rhubarb pie. I did go out every now and then to see if John needed help. He couldn't find anything wrong, so he reassembled the wheel and adjusted the chain a bit looser than it had been. He took a test ride and said that everything seemed OK, so he washed up and joined me at the table for lunch. The rhubarb pie turned out to be very good, made with lemon juice and cinnamon, just like Annette does.

 

Back on 16 there's nothing until McBride except a few parks, forest, hills, and pretty scenery. The temperature in the morning had been about 60 under a partly cloudy sky, and it had warmed up to 75 at the restaurant, but soon the temperature dropped and the sky clouded over and the wet road indicated a recent shower. We pulled off to put on rain gloves and overpants, and soon we ran into a real downpour, complete with thunder and lightning. The rain diminished to a little sprinkle by the time we pulled into the Sandman Motel in McBride, where we are spending the night. John said that the clicking noise had returned, and he suspects a wheel bearing. Before dinner at the motel restaurant I walked into McBride and looked around - a nice old train station, a grocery store, and hotel with a bar, a family restaurant, and a small park. Also a quilting store, an antique store, and a hardware store, as well as several empty businesses with for sale signs. (330 miles)

(Sunday, August 14) A day without rain! A day without stops for road construction! We left right at 8 AM under overcast skies with patches of blue showing through. The bikes were wet from the rain overnight, but the road was dry and since the temperature was 55 degrees I was wearing all my cold weather gear. The Yellowhead Highway goes through a long valley along a river with snow-capped mountains to the south. Train tracks also go through the valley and at one point we saw a train making its way through the woods along the river. The road was in good shape with the occasional bumpy or gravel patch, and it had some elevation changes and gentle curves, but mostly it was just a pleasant ride on a Sunday morning with few other vehicles on the road. The fog and clouds drifted over the sides of the mountains and made for an interesting view. At Tete Jaune Cache we went south on CA 5, which follows the North Thompson River and at one point I could see the Thompson Ice Fields. We stopped at Abernathy's Family Restaurant just outside Valemount for breakfast, which was OK but we were there for over an hour and a half. The waitress apologized and said that our order had been lost. They did have strawberry-rhubarb pie, but it had too much strawberry filling and was somewhat disappointing. Or, perhaps my tummy isn't used to pie in the morning.

 

 This part of British Columbia is a popular vacation area and by the time we were back on the road there were many more vehicles sharing the highway. CA 5 is two-lane with a few passing lanes and it is also one of the only north-south routes in that part of the province. Still, the traffic moved along at the limit or slightly over, so we just rolled along with the flow. We stopped at a rest area to shed sweaters and heavy gloves as the temperature had climbed to almost 80 - we saw 85 later in the day. At Kamloops we went east on the Trans Canada Highway, CA 1, which was four-lane divided out of Kamloops. From about 50 miles north of Kamloops the scenery had changed from pine forest to brown hills with few trees - somewhat like California or the drier parts of Utah. After 20 miles CA 1 became two-lane again and went by a long lake with many campgrounds and resorts, and the traffic became quite heavy, although it still moved along well. A few miles past Sorrento we stopped at the Dreamcycle Motorcycle Musuem and Sprocket's Cafe. With the delay at breakfast we arrived just an hour before the museum closed, but it's a small museum and that was enough time to see everything twice. 

 
 
 

This Jawa 350cc two-stroke was sold by Elgar's Department Stores.

 

A Vincent in front of the iconic photograph of Rollie Free at the Bonneville Salt Flats. 

 

We had a late lunch in the cafe and continued on CA 1 and went south on 97B, then 97 to Vernon, which is right on Okanagan Lake and where we are spending the night. This area is the Okanagan Valley, and is well known for it's fruit and vacation spots. (370 miles)

(Monday, August 15) It was a balmy 70 degrees under a cloudless sky when we left a little before 8 AM this morning and continued south on CA 97. This is a main thoroughfare but it goes right through every town along the way, so there are traffic lights and many cross streets in the towns, although at least in Canada the towns do not extend for miles along the highway as they do in the USA. The road was four-lane all the way to Kelowna, which is a large town. This part of the day's ride reminded me of following El Camino Real all the way down the peninsula - except for the lake, of course. All the time we were riding along Okanagan Lake and the shoreline was dotted with vacation homes, marinas, lodges, and other vacationer support. There were also numerous large fruit markets. We stopped for breakfast in Penticton (my first eggs Benedict of the trip) and shortly turned south on CA 3A, which turned into a curvy and hilly road past vineyards and wineries. The brown hills had few trees and overall the scenery was a bit like Napa Valley in the summer. We got gas in Keremeos and then went east on CA 3 towards Osoyoos. This was a very nice ride with good curves and hills, with more vineyards and wineries, a river below, and hills all around. We turned off 3 and crossed the border into the USA at Nighthawk, and in a few miles I stopped in the town of Nighthawk to take a picture. The last time I stopped there (in 1974 or 75) the general store was still open and a dog wandered over and peed on the front wheel of my motorcycle (Boris, the BMW R75/5). This time the two dogs that came over to check us out were more polite. 

 

South of Nighthawk the road follows the Similkameen River and goes along Palmer Lake, and we saw vacation homes and a few parks. The road itself was pleasant and in decent shape, but there were many blind curves and in places a sheer dropoff to the lake so we kept the speed down. 

 

After the town of Loomis I made the bad decision to continue on the road rather than going east to US 97. After a few miles the road turned into a very rough gravel road with dust, washboard surface, rocks and holes. This lasted for about 14 miles and, surprisingly, we saw quite a few pickup trucks and SUVs coming the opposite direction. There may be very good fishing in the river, because we also saw many designated camping areas. Eventually, the road became smooth asphalt again and after a few miles of curves and hills we joined US 97 south. I had noticed that my fairing was slightly loose and when we stopped in Omak for lunch I discovered that one of the two bolts that connects the fairing subframe to a boss on the steering head had fallen off, and the other bolt was loose. This has happened before, and I had a spare bolt in my parts bag, so after ordering lunch I installed the bolt in the restaurant parking lot. John offered assistance by coming out and telling me that my food was on the table and also took a picture. At least this parking lot was paved, unlike the one where John did his wrenching.

 

The day had warmed up to 95 degrees and we continued south on 97 (we would follow the road all the way to Ellensburg) past Lake Chelan and then along the Columbia River to Cashmere where we stopped for fuel and a snack. South of Cashmere the road goes through a mountain area and over a 4000 foot pass. The road was in good shape with little traffic and many places to pass and long uphill passing lanes. All in all today was one of the best riding days of the trip. We are spending the night in Ellensbug and tomorrow John will leave early to visit a BMW shop in Prosser, WA to have his chain and possibly wheel bearings checked out - the noise has returned. (345 miles)

(Tuesday, August 16) John left early for the BMW dealer in Prosser, WA to have his rear wheel/chain/alignment looked at. After breakfast at the motel I left at a more civilized 8:30 AM under clear but hazy sky and 70 degrees temperature. After a few miles on 97/I-82 I could see Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams in the distance. As Prosser was 30 miles off our route, we'd agreed that I would stop at a Starbuck's in Toppenish and call him when I got there to find out the status of his bike. If the shop was going to effect a repair that would take a couple of hours, I'd just continue on, but if nothing was wrong or it was something they could fix quickly, I'd wait at the Starbuck's or ride to the shop and meet him there. As it turned out the tech said that the bike was fine - the chain was worn, but not immediately in need of replacement. He also rode the bike and heard the noise, but said that he's heard the same noise on other bikes. So, John arrived at the Starbuck's in a half hour and we continued south on US 97. 

(In British Columbia and the Yukon (and Alaska) we'd seen very few highway patrol, state troopers, or RCMP - we'd go days without seeing a single cop. However, in the short 40 miles from Ellensburg to Toppenish on I-82 I saw three Washington troopers, two black Chevy SUVs with no markings and no exterior light bars, and one dark gray Charger, again with no markings or exterior light bar. Sneaky. Each of them had a car stopped by the side of the road while the officer wrote up the miscreant.)

US 97 goes through an Indian reservation and the scenery is rolling hills of brown grass. There was little traffic and numerous places to pass when there was. We came to the Columbia River that borders Oregon and crossed over. The Maryhill museum and Stonehenge replica are nearby, but John and I had already seen those attractions. In Oregon the road goes through more hills, and we began to see ranches, hayfields, and the occasional farm. In northern Oregon we could also see Mt. Hood on the western horizon and later as we neared Bend the Three Sisters. This is high desert country not unlike parts of Nevada or Utah. We stopped in Madras for lunch, and then in Bend for fuel. The traffic picked up - 97 is a major north-south route through eastern Oregon - but it moved along at the limit or slightly over, and there were passing lanes every dozen or so miles. John was turning off 97 to go to Crater Lake where his wife was waiting for him in their motor home. We stopped at a rest area and said our farewells, and a few miles down the road John turned east on OR 138 while I continued south on 97. All Oregon two-lane roads used to be 55 mph limit, but since the last time I was there they've bumped it up to 60 or even 65 on long stretches where the sight lines are good and the road is in good shape - way to go, Oregon. 

The scenery had become more interesting with more hills and pine forest, and about 20 miles north of Klamath Falls the road went by Klamath Lake. I stayed on 97 south and went around Klamath Falls and across Butte Valley and into California. The road goes up into some low mountains (5000 foot passes) and I began to see views of Mt. Shasta to the south and the Trinity Alps on the north.

 

I arrived in Weed, CA, where I'm spending the night at the Hi-Lo motel - there is also an RV park and cafe that's part of the establishment. There's a large gift store across from the motel that sells all sorts of Weed paraphernalia - T-shirts, lighters, ash trays, mugs, stickers, etc. There's not much else going on in Weed, so might as well try to capitalize on the town's name. It got up to a high of 95 or so during the day, and it was still 90 when I arrived in Weed at 7 PM. (475 miles) 

(Wednesday, August 17) It was only 60 degrees when I left the motel this morning at 8 AM, but Weed is at 3000 feet and I figured that it would warm rapidly as the day progressed and I got into a lower elevation. I-5 in that part of Northern California isn't a bad experience for an Interstate - hills, curves, and interesting scenery. Lots of traffic, especially trucks, and a couple of construction zones, so one can't relax. After and hour I stopped in the town of Shasta Lake just north of Redding for breakfast. Joe's Giant Orange is a Mexican restaurant that serves conventional breakfasts, and I had eggs and linguica sausage, which was very good.

 

It had warmed up to 70 degrees, and I continued south on I-5, riding on the bridge over Shasta Lake and then going by ranches, farms, orchards, and the towns along the Interstate, none of which was particularly interesting. I'd thought that I'd stop at Granzella's deli in Williams for lunch, but when I arrived there at noon I wasn't hungry, so I just got fuel and continued. I-505 goes southwest from I-5 and joins I-80 in Vacaville and there was the usual heavy traffic all of which was moving at or over the limit. The temperature never got above 90 degrees, which for the Sacramento Valley in August isn't bad. It cooled down to 75 as I passed by the rest area in Vallejo, and then I went on CA 37 to US 101 through Marin County where I saw two new Lamborghinis  weaving in and out of traffic and then south across the Golden Gate Bridge, down Park Presidio, where I followed a new, red Ferrari (welcome back to the Bay Area),  and home by 1:30 PM. I came in through the garage and neither Carol or Walter heard me - Carol was painting in her studio, and Walter was napping in the upstairs hallway. Eventually, they both figured out I was back and I got a good greeting from both of them. 

 

Today was the only day of the trip that I went 200 miles before noon - I was in smelling the barn mode. The total mileage for the trip was over 7500 miles over three weeks, and it was a long but enjoyable ride with great scenery, interesting roads, and only minor bike problems. This was my fourth time to Alaska (five if you count Hyder, AK) and, while I enjoyed every mile, it may be time to think about making some new memories instead of visiting old ones. (310 miles)