07-22-2010 Thursday 7AM. Gold Panner RV Park, Cherryville, BC.
Frank: This time it wasn’t my fault! There we were once again on a narrow, bumpy, pot-holed, rutted remote and scary dirt road, and this time it wasn’t my fault! Someone, who shall remain nameless, (Cheryl) read about two beautiful waterfalls both of which were on one concise day trip. That person (Cheryl) read the descriptions of the two combined trips and that person (Cheryl) decided that as the roads were described as smooth dirt, and the hiking trails were described as “short, smooth and well maintained” that we should take said roads and trails and see the beautiful waterfalls. The first waterfall was a bust as it was simply the overflow from a not so big man-made dam. The second waterfall was spectacularly beautiful, tall, soaring, roaring, wild wet and misty and we were right next to the edge of all of it. Once again I’ll let the nameless one (Cheryl) write the pretty words.
I was able to find a sidestand and all the bits and pieces needed to install it for the bike and it is being FedEx’d to the campsite even as I write this. With luck I should have it installed by noon. Then nameless one (Cheryl) and I are going to ride to a ferry (the longest free ferry in Canada) across a lake and have lunch at a nice restaurant we’ve been told about.
Nameless One. (Cheryl): The hardy Canadian people evidently don’t require asphalt or wheelchair ramps to visit the stunning majesty of their outback. After choosing the “road less taken” that traveled down a small hill and meandered dangerously close to the banks of Sugar Lake, we finally emerged to a much wider, but still gravel road that led us about 20 miles to a tiny road marker and sign to Rainbow Falls.
When at last the narrow cedar-lined road opened into a wide parking area, we were surprised to find a van camper and a pickup camper with BC plates there ahead of us. The two gray-headed Canadians from the van camper were just entering the trail to the falls with their trusty ski pole walking sticks in hand. They obviously had ten years on us, yet they were blithely taking what had been described in our booklet as an easy 5 to 10 minute walk to the falls armed with backpacks and walking sticks. I think they must have been there before because when Frank finally got to the falls, they were already on the viewing platform and told him about a less apparent higher platform up a rather rugged little root tangled trail. They were off into unmarked territory along the river before Peanut and I arrived to take in the grandly misty mighty rainbow falls.
My mouth hung open in awe, and I agreed, for once, with the description in our booklet, “it’s well worth the trip!” We took lots of pictures and videos so you can hear the falls if you want to someday when we catch you off guard with our computer in hand. And that my dear friends, pretty much sums up yesterday’s unexpected back roads day trip.
We arrived at the trailer to find our electricity out due to some incident just south of the campground. It was off until 9:00 p.m., so we read our novel, and since Frank fell asleep, I attempted to bake oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with walnuts sans a recipe, using Bisquick for the flour and baking powder part. Thank goodness for battery powered lights and propane stove! The cookies turned out great! I just had one for breakfast. It looks overcast today, so don’t know if we’ll get our m/c ride in or not.
Keep tuning in for more exciting episodes of Great Canadian Wilderness Explorers – Love, Frank, The Nameless One, Peanut and Cleo
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Wednesday Morning Musings
Frank: We just had a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs, pan fried potatoes and onions, and fresh baked biscuits. I still marvel at how well the appliances in this camper work. The refrigerator and freezer are cold and efficient automatically working on either electric or gas, the microwave is quieter and easier to use than the one at home, the stove and oven get hotter than heck even though they are propane, and the water heater gives us (almost) boiling hot water within a few minutes of turning it on. The built in heating and air conditioning keep us comfortable no matter what is happening outside and we are as snug as bugs in a rug. All in all, RV’ing is not a bad deal.
Yesterday we went to the rally and registered. While there we found that the camp operators or the rally organizers had put the tent campers into the RV sites which have electrical and water hook-ups, and put the RVs into an open field with no hook-ups and are charging $15 per person in each RV to boot. For us that would be $30 per night with no hook-ups rather than the $28 per night we’re paying for a site with water, electric, and sewer. I don’t understand the logic at the rally site but I’m not about to ask, as putting on a National Rally takes two years of hard work and they don’t need my questions. I may be the founder of the club but I no longer hold any position to question how the club operates.
My Norton is vexing me a bit. The speedo died, the left side cover came unhooked twice (thankfully it didn’t come off) and the sidestand left for places unknown on the ride to Lumby. I think the sidestand spring came loose and the stand dragged on the ground and at some point snapped the pivot bolt. I heard it when it happened but thought the center-stand had lost its spring (it has happened before) and was dragging. So I was surprised when I finally was able to pull over and found the sidestand gone. That’s a new one on me. This morning I will call some of my vendors and see if anyone can FedEx me a new side stand and mounting bolt.
Cheryl: Today we thought we might go on a m/c ride to Needles and cross the river on the largest free ferry in North America, but Frank wanted to attend the INOA officers meeting, the chapter meeting and the tech session. We’ll probably do that ride east on Highway 6 on our own since we’re staying through the weekend (if I have my way!). There is a music festival Saturday and Sunday so I’d like to hang around for that.
The puppies have been waking us up with kisses about 5:30 a.m., so one of us is up and out walking the dogs fairly early in the morning. The dog walk goes up a hill and into the woods, so it’s a pleasant morning walk. This morning I spotted bear droppings on the trail and Cleo refused to go any further under her own power. After dog walkin' and checking out where the bear had his breakfast foraging in the trash right behind our trailer, I scurried home for coffee and breakfast.
Yesterday we took off for Lumby on the bike around 10:00 a.m. I’d much rather do Highway 6 on the back of the bike than in the truck. It’s very up and down and curvy, so it’s fun on the bike, but that Dodge truck just doesn’t have a smooth ride that I can enjoy on a road like that. Except for a tense moment when the side cover vibrated itself loose, the ride into Lumby gave Frank a chance to let the Norton just fly, and fly we did! The day was in the 80s, blue sky and just a hint of a breeze. We got our t-shirts, rally pins, maps, wrist bands, and info and met up with Susie Greenwald, the current and beloved president of the INOA. We strolled around the campground looking at bikes and then stopped at Anna’s Pizza for a quick lunch that we ate outside on a bench in the park where we could watch the Nortons zoom past.
We lolly-gagged the afternoon away back at the trailer and then decided to run back into Lumby in the late afternoon. Frank suggested taking the truck, but I wanted to go on the bike again. We stopped when the side stand decided to leave the bike and noticed some dark clouds looming above us. It was sunny all around, so we decided to continue on to Lumby since we were only 10 minutes away. Just as we entered Lumby the first rain drops hit, and by the time we parked the bike and ran for the registration canopy, rain was coming down in buckets. We stood for about an hour under the canopy talking with the Canadian organizers of the rally. Of course, we hadn’t brought our rain suits AGAIN, so we were worried about the trip back to Cherryville we might have to make in this deluge. And then the rain cleared, WHEW! So we walked over to a restaurant in town for supper while the bike dried out. We had scrumptious food at a German restaurant and brought our parsley boiled potatoes home in a piece of foil to frizzle for breakfast. Yummmm! Our dinner in the local pub on Saturday was splendid as well, so I’m thinking we should eat out as often as possible while we’re here, right?
The ride back to the trailer after dinner assaulted our senses with the soft air after the rain filled with the scent of new mown hay swirling around us. Sigh. “It don’t get no better’n this!”
Oh yes, I forgot to mention we ran into Josie our young friend who dog-sat for us at last year’s rally. At 18, she’s full of youthful exuberance and a pleasure to be around. At one of the recent rallies, Frank, Josie, Susie, and I danced up a storm. This year’s dance to be held in the Lumby Town Hall on Friday night promises to be even more fun. There are posters all over town offering tickets to the town folk, so it should be quite a large affair with live music of all kinds.
Well, I think I’ll find a woodland trail to keep the puppies and me busy until Frank gets home. More tomorrow from the exciting world of crazy cyclists, who sit astride 36 year old motorcycles on roads begging to be ridden flat out. Always remember and never forget, “Keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down.”
Love, Evel Knievel, Annie Oakley, Trigger and Buttermilk
Yesterday we went to the rally and registered. While there we found that the camp operators or the rally organizers had put the tent campers into the RV sites which have electrical and water hook-ups, and put the RVs into an open field with no hook-ups and are charging $15 per person in each RV to boot. For us that would be $30 per night with no hook-ups rather than the $28 per night we’re paying for a site with water, electric, and sewer. I don’t understand the logic at the rally site but I’m not about to ask, as putting on a National Rally takes two years of hard work and they don’t need my questions. I may be the founder of the club but I no longer hold any position to question how the club operates.
My Norton is vexing me a bit. The speedo died, the left side cover came unhooked twice (thankfully it didn’t come off) and the sidestand left for places unknown on the ride to Lumby. I think the sidestand spring came loose and the stand dragged on the ground and at some point snapped the pivot bolt. I heard it when it happened but thought the center-stand had lost its spring (it has happened before) and was dragging. So I was surprised when I finally was able to pull over and found the sidestand gone. That’s a new one on me. This morning I will call some of my vendors and see if anyone can FedEx me a new side stand and mounting bolt.
Cheryl: Today we thought we might go on a m/c ride to Needles and cross the river on the largest free ferry in North America, but Frank wanted to attend the INOA officers meeting, the chapter meeting and the tech session. We’ll probably do that ride east on Highway 6 on our own since we’re staying through the weekend (if I have my way!). There is a music festival Saturday and Sunday so I’d like to hang around for that.
The puppies have been waking us up with kisses about 5:30 a.m., so one of us is up and out walking the dogs fairly early in the morning. The dog walk goes up a hill and into the woods, so it’s a pleasant morning walk. This morning I spotted bear droppings on the trail and Cleo refused to go any further under her own power. After dog walkin' and checking out where the bear had his breakfast foraging in the trash right behind our trailer, I scurried home for coffee and breakfast.
Yesterday we took off for Lumby on the bike around 10:00 a.m. I’d much rather do Highway 6 on the back of the bike than in the truck. It’s very up and down and curvy, so it’s fun on the bike, but that Dodge truck just doesn’t have a smooth ride that I can enjoy on a road like that. Except for a tense moment when the side cover vibrated itself loose, the ride into Lumby gave Frank a chance to let the Norton just fly, and fly we did! The day was in the 80s, blue sky and just a hint of a breeze. We got our t-shirts, rally pins, maps, wrist bands, and info and met up with Susie Greenwald, the current and beloved president of the INOA. We strolled around the campground looking at bikes and then stopped at Anna’s Pizza for a quick lunch that we ate outside on a bench in the park where we could watch the Nortons zoom past.
We lolly-gagged the afternoon away back at the trailer and then decided to run back into Lumby in the late afternoon. Frank suggested taking the truck, but I wanted to go on the bike again. We stopped when the side stand decided to leave the bike and noticed some dark clouds looming above us. It was sunny all around, so we decided to continue on to Lumby since we were only 10 minutes away. Just as we entered Lumby the first rain drops hit, and by the time we parked the bike and ran for the registration canopy, rain was coming down in buckets. We stood for about an hour under the canopy talking with the Canadian organizers of the rally. Of course, we hadn’t brought our rain suits AGAIN, so we were worried about the trip back to Cherryville we might have to make in this deluge. And then the rain cleared, WHEW! So we walked over to a restaurant in town for supper while the bike dried out. We had scrumptious food at a German restaurant and brought our parsley boiled potatoes home in a piece of foil to frizzle for breakfast. Yummmm! Our dinner in the local pub on Saturday was splendid as well, so I’m thinking we should eat out as often as possible while we’re here, right?
The ride back to the trailer after dinner assaulted our senses with the soft air after the rain filled with the scent of new mown hay swirling around us. Sigh. “It don’t get no better’n this!”
Oh yes, I forgot to mention we ran into Josie our young friend who dog-sat for us at last year’s rally. At 18, she’s full of youthful exuberance and a pleasure to be around. At one of the recent rallies, Frank, Josie, Susie, and I danced up a storm. This year’s dance to be held in the Lumby Town Hall on Friday night promises to be even more fun. There are posters all over town offering tickets to the town folk, so it should be quite a large affair with live music of all kinds.
Well, I think I’ll find a woodland trail to keep the puppies and me busy until Frank gets home. More tomorrow from the exciting world of crazy cyclists, who sit astride 36 year old motorcycles on roads begging to be ridden flat out. Always remember and never forget, “Keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down.”
Love, Evel Knievel, Annie Oakley, Trigger and Buttermilk
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Photos: OK!!!!
I was usung the "New, Update" Blogspot Software.
I went back to the "Old" version and photo posting works OK.
Some Photos from the last few days. Not.
Here are a few photos we've been meaning to Post:
Oooops. It seems Blogspot has lost the ability to post photos.
I'll try again later.
F.
Oooops. It seems Blogspot has lost the ability to post photos.
I'll try again later.
F.
Dumb Decisions, Mis-Adventures, Surviving Same.
07-19-2010 Monday Revisited or Down the Rabbit Hole!
Cheryl: It’s 8:00 p.m. and Frank is snoring away peacefully because he drove for three hours on a really, really nasty forest logging road! It all started with an innocent left turn after driving 36 very curvy miles to visit the not so lovely marina at Mabel Lake (a very, very, very BIG Canadian lake that would be fabulous if you had a boat to take out on the water, duh, like we don’t). Anyway, the “warning” sign said if you go left here from the Mabel Lake Marina, you will be on a forest service road/not maintained/used heavily by logging trucks. However, on the map, the little black dotted lines show this road going easily from where we were to where we wanted to be next. Therefore, we turned left, trusting our sturdy Dodge 4-wheel drive truck to take us any damn where we wanted to go. So there!
Here’s where Cheryl lost it, about an hour and a half of curvy road with big tall trees crowding either side and an occasional view of a blue very large lake through the tree trunks. On and on went the intrepid pair and their puppies, bouncing up and down and swerving for pot holes, sometimes pulling over for very large trucks stacked with big, in fact, very big, long lodge poles with the bark still on. Whew! But, the really scary part when Cheryl actually shed a few tears happened when we passed not a single car or truck in a whole hour. Then the road got narrower and narrower, and my friends, Cheryl was ready to walk all the way back to the Mabel Lake Marina. However, ever the adventurer, Frank assured her that civilization was just around the next bend in the hmmmm road? Or was it now a path? Maybe a trail? Yiikes, the lake is lapping dangerously close to the left side of the road and then we spot a tent in a little triangle of land next to the lake, but no one is at home. “Can I yell and see if anyone is around?” Cheryl asks. “No!” Frank says, “That would be a sissy thing to do.” Well, maybe he didn’t say exactly that, but I knew what he was thinking. Then we saw a really, really old log cabin with empty windows and doors, so we took its picture a couple of times to make ourselves feel better. In fact, a couple of times we stopped to do things to make ourselves feel better, like when we spotted a rushing mountain steam cascading down the mountain and under the little bridge we drove over. The water looked cleaner than what runs out of our faucet at home. Then there was this little mamma bird on the road in front of the truck. Frank took lots of pictures of her. She wasn’t so little either, about the size of a Roadrunner, but more upright and she had five little guys following her across the road. She had a fan tail and a top-knot and walked sort of like a chicken on downers. It was a giddy moment for me since I temporarily put aside the thought that this road was taking us deeper and deeper into the Canadian wilderness and endlessly around and around this giant forested lake! Ye Gads!!!!
Frank kept reassuring me that the tire tracks ahead of us were fresh, that the little numbered mile markers (we assumed) on the trees were accurate, and that soon we’d hit highway 97 and be home by 6:00 p.m. Then, the real miracle happened since I’d been praying one would – a forest service truck showed up parked along that God-forsaken stretch of road. However, the ranger was missing and again, calling out would be “sissy-like.” So on and on the fearless adventurer drove with his hands glued to the steering wheel and a sure and certain confident expression plastered across his face, while I, clinging to the hand grip by the window and the center console of the truck, had given up being fearless after the first hour and a half, and rode on in abject terror at the outcome. I was sure we were to be the next headline that reads, “Old Man and Wife Found Petrified on Ancient Canadian Logging Road. The sidebar subhead reading, Both Identified as Yanks, It Figures, Eh. And then, just when I was considering what it would feel like to actually be petrified, up ahead a clearing loomed and a car whizzed by on a PAVED highway. Just when you think God is dead, He shows up! Not to mention my brilliant husband, who just kept urging our big Dodge Hemi down that dastardly winding cattletrack.
This posting courtesy of the Canadian Outback Lewis (Frank), who said, “I told you we’d be home by 6:00,” and Clark (Cheryl), who said, “Shut Up,” and their trusty guide dogs, Peanut and Cleo, who remarked, “alls well that ends well, eh.”
07-20-2010 Tuesday AM – A Small, Rough, Pot-Holed, Beat-You-To-Death Road and a Psychotic, Hysterical Woman.
Frank: Headline: "Lost Yanks Photo Rare Bird!" Cheryl was freaked out. She was sure we were going to die. I had made what appeared to be a logical decision to turn left onto a dirt road and take it about 30 KM to intersect with a major highway and then go onto the Canadian Glacier Park. It looked good on paper. It turned out the road, which started out as flat, smooth, well graded hard packed dirt & gravel, turned into a rough, narrow, bumpy, lost forever in the Canadian outback experience. There were long rocky sections with potholes that were axle deep followed by narrow stretches that were literally just two wheel tracks in the grass. At one point we came face-to-face with a humongous log truck and I had to pull over to the left side of the road so he could pass me on the right side. It was so close that after that I folded the side mirrors in against the truck cab to avoid losing them. I was never in doubt we’d make it to the highway OK as long as we kept the lake to our left and stayed on the “main” road. The truck did fine on what turned out to be almost 80 KM of hard four-wheeling, and even if we had had a mechanical problem the tire tracks in the dirt indicated that the road was reasonably well travelled and rescue would have come eventually. Anyway, it was a dumb decision and it will take a bit of time before it becomes a funny story. Remember, “Comedy is tragedy plus time.”
Cheryl: It’s 8:00 p.m. and Frank is snoring away peacefully because he drove for three hours on a really, really nasty forest logging road! It all started with an innocent left turn after driving 36 very curvy miles to visit the not so lovely marina at Mabel Lake (a very, very, very BIG Canadian lake that would be fabulous if you had a boat to take out on the water, duh, like we don’t). Anyway, the “warning” sign said if you go left here from the Mabel Lake Marina, you will be on a forest service road/not maintained/used heavily by logging trucks. However, on the map, the little black dotted lines show this road going easily from where we were to where we wanted to be next. Therefore, we turned left, trusting our sturdy Dodge 4-wheel drive truck to take us any damn where we wanted to go. So there!
Here’s where Cheryl lost it, about an hour and a half of curvy road with big tall trees crowding either side and an occasional view of a blue very large lake through the tree trunks. On and on went the intrepid pair and their puppies, bouncing up and down and swerving for pot holes, sometimes pulling over for very large trucks stacked with big, in fact, very big, long lodge poles with the bark still on. Whew! But, the really scary part when Cheryl actually shed a few tears happened when we passed not a single car or truck in a whole hour. Then the road got narrower and narrower, and my friends, Cheryl was ready to walk all the way back to the Mabel Lake Marina. However, ever the adventurer, Frank assured her that civilization was just around the next bend in the hmmmm road? Or was it now a path? Maybe a trail? Yiikes, the lake is lapping dangerously close to the left side of the road and then we spot a tent in a little triangle of land next to the lake, but no one is at home. “Can I yell and see if anyone is around?” Cheryl asks. “No!” Frank says, “That would be a sissy thing to do.” Well, maybe he didn’t say exactly that, but I knew what he was thinking. Then we saw a really, really old log cabin with empty windows and doors, so we took its picture a couple of times to make ourselves feel better. In fact, a couple of times we stopped to do things to make ourselves feel better, like when we spotted a rushing mountain steam cascading down the mountain and under the little bridge we drove over. The water looked cleaner than what runs out of our faucet at home. Then there was this little mamma bird on the road in front of the truck. Frank took lots of pictures of her. She wasn’t so little either, about the size of a Roadrunner, but more upright and she had five little guys following her across the road. She had a fan tail and a top-knot and walked sort of like a chicken on downers. It was a giddy moment for me since I temporarily put aside the thought that this road was taking us deeper and deeper into the Canadian wilderness and endlessly around and around this giant forested lake! Ye Gads!!!!
Frank kept reassuring me that the tire tracks ahead of us were fresh, that the little numbered mile markers (we assumed) on the trees were accurate, and that soon we’d hit highway 97 and be home by 6:00 p.m. Then, the real miracle happened since I’d been praying one would – a forest service truck showed up parked along that God-forsaken stretch of road. However, the ranger was missing and again, calling out would be “sissy-like.” So on and on the fearless adventurer drove with his hands glued to the steering wheel and a sure and certain confident expression plastered across his face, while I, clinging to the hand grip by the window and the center console of the truck, had given up being fearless after the first hour and a half, and rode on in abject terror at the outcome. I was sure we were to be the next headline that reads, “Old Man and Wife Found Petrified on Ancient Canadian Logging Road. The sidebar subhead reading, Both Identified as Yanks, It Figures, Eh. And then, just when I was considering what it would feel like to actually be petrified, up ahead a clearing loomed and a car whizzed by on a PAVED highway. Just when you think God is dead, He shows up! Not to mention my brilliant husband, who just kept urging our big Dodge Hemi down that dastardly winding cattletrack.
This posting courtesy of the Canadian Outback Lewis (Frank), who said, “I told you we’d be home by 6:00,” and Clark (Cheryl), who said, “Shut Up,” and their trusty guide dogs, Peanut and Cleo, who remarked, “alls well that ends well, eh.”
07-20-2010 Tuesday AM – A Small, Rough, Pot-Holed, Beat-You-To-Death Road and a Psychotic, Hysterical Woman.
Frank: Headline: "Lost Yanks Photo Rare Bird!" Cheryl was freaked out. She was sure we were going to die. I had made what appeared to be a logical decision to turn left onto a dirt road and take it about 30 KM to intersect with a major highway and then go onto the Canadian Glacier Park. It looked good on paper. It turned out the road, which started out as flat, smooth, well graded hard packed dirt & gravel, turned into a rough, narrow, bumpy, lost forever in the Canadian outback experience. There were long rocky sections with potholes that were axle deep followed by narrow stretches that were literally just two wheel tracks in the grass. At one point we came face-to-face with a humongous log truck and I had to pull over to the left side of the road so he could pass me on the right side. It was so close that after that I folded the side mirrors in against the truck cab to avoid losing them. I was never in doubt we’d make it to the highway OK as long as we kept the lake to our left and stayed on the “main” road. The truck did fine on what turned out to be almost 80 KM of hard four-wheeling, and even if we had had a mechanical problem the tire tracks in the dirt indicated that the road was reasonably well travelled and rescue would have come eventually. Anyway, it was a dumb decision and it will take a bit of time before it becomes a funny story. Remember, “Comedy is tragedy plus time.”
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