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August 31st, 2011 - Newfoundland & Labrador By Blacks

I’ve really come to appreciate our form of transportation and our way of travel. I knew when we left that a motorcycle could take you places that not everyone could go and expose you to your surroundings in a unique way that not everyone gets to experience. You feel the rain, the sun, the cold, the heat and can read the road below you as if it’s your own form of brail but I had no idea the extent of that experience. You truly form a bond with your motorcycle and it’s this companionship through the elements that creates that unique experience forming life long memories. In a car a drive in the rain is rarely remembered and just seems to disappear in the back of your head with the other hundreds of rainy day drives. On a motorcycle a ride in the rain is rarely forgotten because you are experiencing it and good or bad at the time, you’re creating memories.

Erin and I will never forget the day we rode into St. Johns, NL soaking wet, cold and exhausted. We had spent the previous two days riding a portion of the Irish Loop, a section of roads spanning the Avalon Peninsula on the south east corner of Newfoundland. We had enjoyed sunshine, a beautiful coastal ride with some amazing views and best of all free camping. Standing in St. Johns the water seemed to pour off of us harder that the rain itself and we decided to pay for a campground and enjoy a hot shower. The next day with patches of blue sky trying to break through we rode over to Cape Spear, the most eastern point of Canada. I found myself enjoying these trivial moments as I stared out at the Atlantic Ocean. “This is it.” I thought to myself. “The end of the road.” Erin and I had now crossed the largest country in the world and it felt great.

Our motorcycles seem to attract attention and will often spark some kind of childish curiosity in people who see them. Even if they don’t catch a glimpse of the licence plate they know that we plan to travel the way we are loaded. This is another great attribute to travelling on a motorcycle that you would rarely get driving. I’ve explained our trip to well over a hundred people and I love it every time. I’m living my dream and it feels great to share it with people. They seem so excited for us they will often offer their assistance in some shape or form even if it’s only advice or recommendations.  The people of Newfoundland take this “roadside manor” to a whole new level. Erin and I have received more acts of kindness and hospitality in our 3 weeks in Newfoundland then I would have ever imagined. We have been sheltered, fed, taken out of the rain and given a hot shower, toured around town by car, escorted to amazing camping spots, entertained around a campfire, given clothes and have been loaded up with food for the road. The people of Newfoundland have gone out of their way to help us and have truly touched our hearts. I realised when I started writing this that I could fill pages and pages with the amazing stories of kindness we received from our new friends in Newfoundland. We experienced so much in our short time in Newfoundland that perhaps some of it is better left for the pages of a book.

The riding and the scenery of Newfoundland continued to amaze us as we rode west for the first time since the beginning of our travels. We slowed down and enjoyed our time at the world famous Gros Morne National Park where we were able to set up camp and enjoy a short hike. It felt good to be active and the narrow trail led us to a secluded beach covered in thin flat stones that sounded like cracking shells when walked over them. One of the wonders of Gros Morne is the former fjords of West Brook Pond and Erin and I had a chance to explore the beauty of these towering cliffs. They were a magnificent sight to see, however Erin and I both agreed afterwards that after seeing the Canadian Rockies we were desensitized and did not find them as mind blowing as many of the people around us did.

Since our first day in Newfoundland people have been talking about the icebergs in St. Anthony so with hopes of spotting some ancient floating ice we headed north. As we followed the coast towards St. Anthony the weather took a turn for the worst and the Northern Peninsula was engulfed in fog. With no chance of spotting icebergs in a dense blanket of fog a last minute change of plans put us on a ferry over to Labrador. I’m sure the ferry was twice my age but at $23 for both of us and the bikes the 90 minute ferry ride seemed like a steal of a deal. The landscape of Labrador was fantastic and seemed to encompass all my favorite parts of Canada. With its vast spaces and lack of people it was a perfect place to explore on a motorcycle. However our stay was short lived due to the overwhelming amount of tiny vicious blood thirsty swarms of flies. I know it sounds crazy but I would happily take mosquitoes over these wicked little flies. They surrounded you by the hundreds filling your nose, ears and mouth eating at your flesh and driving you insane. After one night we made a mad dash back to the ferry not even stopping to make breakfast.

When we arrived back in Newfoundland our Labrador detour had worked perfectly, the fog was gone and the sun was shining. We raced off towards St. Anthony and just as we entered the city limits you see them… Like the stars scattered across the night sky the icebergs filled the bays surrounding St. Anthony. As any good adventure seeker would do I ran down to the shore to capture and devour my very own piece of iceberg.

We spent the next three days camped in the nearby town of St. Lunaire and with a front row seat we watched the icebergs deteriorate from pieces the size of a house to nothing more than ice cubes on our shore. These icebergs had traveled as part of a massive ice island that had broken off a glacier in Greenland and had spent the last year and a half traveling down to Newfoundland. As the island floats off the coast of Newfoundland pieces are breaking off and filling many of the northern bays and some of those pieces measure over a kilometre long. I found it pretty cool that I ate potentially millions of year old ice that traveled all the way from Greenland to my mouth. People that have lived in this area their whole lives said they have never seen the abundance of icebergs they have this year and especially this late in the season.

In between our iceberg watching we managed to fit in some short rides around the area. We rode up to L’Anse aux Meadows, a National Historic site that preserves and re-enacts a Viking settlement. It was one of the more interesting and well presented historic sites we have visited and one that I would recommend visiting. We squeezed in another ride with our new friend and host in St. Lunaire and managed to turn him into an adventure rider as he led us on a rough gravel road into an Ecological Preserve riding his 1976 Harley Davidson. Erin and I really enjoyed our time in St. Lunaire and like any place you feel comfortable it was hard to leave.

Even as we made our way down to Port aux Basque to catch the ferry, Newfoundland seemed to find a way to keep us there longer. It was as if the island knew that I didn’t want to leave but after a final night of fireside hospitality we were given a handful of snacks for the ferry and we made a run for it. The weather was perfect so we rode solid, no stops for 300kms, all the way to the ferry terminal and purchased two tickets for the next ferry. As we sat in the terminal I had a weird feeling almost like butterflies in my stomach. It felt wrong to leave Newfoundland, a place I had so easily fell in love with but at the same time I was excited to finally head south and start exploring the United States. Erin and I would like to thank all our new friends in Newfoundland who made us feel so at home and we look forward to the day we can visit with you all again.


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August 9th, 2011 - Newfoundland By Blacks

We have said goodbye to our good friends Karol and Matt who had used their summer holidays to ride across Canada and spend some time with us. Although it may seem like their trip is over now that they are heading home but that is far from the truth. They still have a 5000km adventure through the United States to make their way back to BC. Erin and I wish them to “have a nice and good safe trip”. It’s been awhile since I wrote a Travel Log because I felt my time with Karol and Matt was precious and I didn’t want to spend it glued to a computer for half a day but now I find myself on a 15 hour ferry to Newfoundland with plenty of time to write.  If I could sum up the past few weeks with one word… drinking… but where did that start?

Erin, Karol and I were heading to Kemptville ONT, to stay with some of Karol’s relatives. As we neared the exit on the highway a red mustang waved us over, it was Karol’s uncle. He escorted us back to his place where there was cold beer waiting and we enjoyed sharing stories over drinks and food. The next day we were treated to a tour of Ottawa and I found it relaxing to be driven around in a car. It was a nice way to experience Canada’s capital city and I found the parliament building more impressive than I would have thought it to be. We made a short trip into Quebec and even more impressive than the parliament building were their local Costco’s 60 packs of beer for $56! We had another excellent night of food and drinks with Matt showing up late that evening. The next day was no different, a tour of the Thousand Islands, a beer run, and another great night of food and drink. The next day we were sad to leave the Szkwarek family’s hospitality, great food and soft beds but it felt good to get back on that saddle.

Matt had arranged for us to visit with some of his relatives in Montreal which isn’t that far from Kemptville but it proved to be an exhausting ride into the city. In all my travels across this county, I can say without a doubt that people in Quebec are the most insane drivers. One of the worst of which was someone who decided to go from 140km an hour in the fast lane across 4 lanes within a couple feet of our bikes to barely miss the concrete divider and sneak off an exit… all with no turn signal. That pretty much seemed to be the way most people in Quebec drove. Matt’s aunt and uncle showed us awesome hospitality with more beers, great food, and another comfortable bed to sleep on. We even got an extensive tour of Montreal from its amazing lookouts to it historic downtown. I really enjoyed my time in Montreal; it’s a fun city even for someone who speaks no French like me.

The following days seemed to fall into a routine, although I must say it was a pretty kickass routine. We would ride till around dinner time, find a beer store and then ride till we found somewhere suitable to consume the beer. We repeated this process for many days, what a life. Eventually we set up camp for two days just outside Hopewell Rocks, New Brunswick. During the day we went down and explored the rocks and at night we made gourmet camping meals, drank beer and played guitars. Matt had also hauled a guitar across Canada and it was awesome to have another person to play guitar with. Hopewell Rocks however crowded with tourists was an awesome experience and one that I would recommend to anyone.

Our final morning with Karol and Matt we decided on one last ride together to the greatly named town of Sackville in New Brunswick. After a picture in Sackville the boys rode away and I found myself feeling a bit lost. For the past few weeks Erin and I had been more or less following Karol and Matt’s schedule and now I was left to be a leader once again. We had told the boys that we where planning on riding up to P.E. I. but after talking to a fellow BMW rider in Sackville we decided to take advantage of the sunshine and ride to the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. Along the way we pulled over to take a picture of a Mastodon and Erin noticed an alarming jerking coming from the rear end of her bike. Her chain was toast… In all our time with the boys I had neglected Erin’s chain which was in need of adjustment a week ago. I cleaned, oiled and tightened her chain the best I could with hopes of getting one in Halifax. Somewhere in that process we managed to miss place a bag of wet wipes that we were using to clean our hands. I went for a quick ride to see if I had dropped them on the road and as I pulled over to take a look a bike pulled in behind me. It was a local on a 1200cc street bike and he started off with the usual questions. “Long way from home. Where you headed?”  I told him about our world travel plans and his next question was not so usual. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

I accepted his invite and we rode up to his house and parked on his lawn where he introduced himself as Stephen Densmore and showed inside. We enjoyed yet another great night of beer, food and a comfortable bed. Over drinks I also found out the town we were in was Stewiacke, population 750. The next morning Stephen made a complicated series of phone calls and managed to get Erin a chain brought up from Halifax. The Densmore family showed us amazing hospitality and that day we joined them at their cottage on a local lake. I was thrilled to go water skiing behind Stephen’s boat because it had been 13 years since I last water skied but to my surprise I got up on the ski’s my first try. I feel very privileged to have met and been a part of the Densmore family and may have to take them up on their open invitation to come visit them again. For now though my body is happy to end an 11 day drinking binge and relax on the ferry to Newfoundland.

So I leave you with these words… In bad weather the scenic route doesn’t really exist. Long beautiful views are nothing more than short grey blurry views and exhilarating winding roads are nothing more than long wet detours. Luckily it doesn’t rain in Newfoundland…

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July 25th, 2011 - Adventure in Manitoba By Blacks

Adventure in Manitoba

After a long day across the Canadian prairies our now group of three find ourselves in Indian Head, Saskatchewan.  Tired and sticky from the days extreme heat we roll into a KOA campground around midnight to find the office closed and what appeared to be the entire campground asleep. We had been stopping at every campground as far back as Regina only to find them all completely full, not even room for 3 bikes and two small tents. One problem with the prairies is that there’s nowhere to pull over and camp because the fields belong to someone and there’s nowhere to hide a bright coloured tent in a field. Surprised by the amount of tourists in the Regina area we were very relieved when two figures emerged from the darkness of the campground to find us a vacant spot and check us in.

The next morning we decided to head North in an effort to escape the direct and uneventful route of the Trans Canada Hwy. On the internet Karol was able to find a campground on Lake Manitoba that cost only $10 for a tent site, so I typed the town of Meadow Portage into the GPS and away we went. Crossing the provincial boarder into Manitoba we noticed the increase in trees and lush green brush lining the road. We made a stop for gas and caught a glimpse of the attendants watching the local weather radar on their computer. They said there was a storm warning out for the area with heavy thunder showers and even the possibility of hale.  I found the idea of hale kind of farfetched considering the temperature was a boiling 47 degrees Celsius with the humidity, but you never know with mother nature. As we rode out of town we couldn’t help but stare in our rear view mirrors at the horizon decomposing into a state of glooming black clouds. Having faith in the GPS we pressed on towards Meadow Portage heading North allowing us to enjoy the bolts of electricity through the clouds to the left of us. The farther we pressed North the more the fields became saturated with water, to the point where it looked like small lakes that had always been there.  Was this the flooding everyone talked about in Manitoba?

A few turns later and a couple dozen splattered dragon flies we were on the final stretch. (I’ve never seen dragon flies like that before. Tons!)  The rain began to spit as if to warn us but I ignored it knowing that the town was only 900 meters ahead. Surely I should be able to see it by now? I look down at the GPS to see, “Arrived at Destination”.  There are fields on both sides of us and with no signs of anything different ahead my thoughts turn to the riders behind me. Where have I led them?  With the hope of civilization ahead I open the throttle and accelerate as if now scared and wish to out run the rains.  Out of nowhere a church appears followed by a community hall; I brake and pull into the clearly closed and lifeless community hall. We agree that there has to be more of a community ahead and Karol now takes the lead as we continue North. Within a few hundred meters a sign comes into view, “Hill’s Resort next right”.  As we pull into the driveway a man spots us and disappears inside the front door of his house. By the time we reach the house the garage door is opening.  “You guys looking for shelter from the storm?” We look up at the black clouds which apparently can travel faster than we can ride because they managed to stock us the whole way here and now surround us. As the rains begin to pick up we gladly accept his offer and roll the bikes into his garage. He disappears inside the house once again this time returning with three ice cold beers. Awesome! Shelter and beer! He invites us to watch the storm out on his porch where he was sitting before we rode in. Enjoying the beer and the progressing storm we talk about our days travels and he is surprised to hear that he (Hill’s Resort) was our days destination. He was even more surprised to hear that we planned on tenting and mentioned that he had cabins for rent for $70 a night. I told him that was too much for our budget and we were happy to tent. He said if we were going to tent we were welcome to stay for free. The storm was now pushing hard. The thunder sounded as if someone standing next to you was firing a shotgun and it shook your ribs. I’ve never heard thunder like that before. The rain was heavy and thick blurring our view with a grey blanket of water. I’ve never seen rain like that before. A van pulls into the driveway and the man’s wife and kids make a mad dash for the front door. The wind picks up and slams blankets of rain against us even as far back as 5 feet hitting the front door of the house. I’ve never seen wind like that before.  We retreat back into the garage where another round of ice cold beers is dispensed and the attention moves to our bikes and travel plans.

Just as I finish my second beer Erin says “There’s blue sky out there.” That’s it? That wasn’t that bad…  We emerge out into 4 inches of water that had blown in and accumulated by the front door. There where leaves and branches all over the lawn and the property owners front field had significantly more water in it compared to when we rode in. We walked around the corner to find his newly installed playground structure complete with swing set laying on its side and in pieces. The wind had slayed it, ripping the rebar anchors right out of the ground and snapping many of the wood posts. (Unfortunately travelling everyday and meeting many people I can’t be sure on the man’s name that owned the property, but we think it was Roger… so for the rest of this tale I shall refer to him as Roger.) Roger then took us down to the lake and along the way pointed out a spot that he thought would be best to set up our tents. We passed by what used to be the camp sites which were now a pond with RV hook ups sticking out of the water.  As we walked past the submerged campsites our attention turned to more destruction left behind by the storm. Two trees were blown over and now laid across a number of boat and the outhouses also lay blown over by the wind.

Near the edge of the lake a system of dykes and dams were set up, keeping the water out of the property. Roger tells us that the lake is 5 ft over its maximum water level and if you look at the size of Lake Manitoba, that’s a lot of water! There was a large pump running off a diesel tank that moves water through an 8 inch hose 24 hours a day. We headed back to the garage to retrieve the bikes and within 2 minutes of conversation with Roger and his wife, they kindly offer us the earlier mentioned cabin for free. We gladly except the offer as it’s only the 3rd night we’ll have spent in a bed so far on our travels. The storm had knocked out the power but we were still thrilled and cooked dinner on our stoves by the light of our head lamps.  The next morning we packed and cleaned the cabin to the state we were offered it and went to thank our hosts but they were gone for the day. Luckily we ran into Roger in a town about an hour south and were able to thank him once again.

We are now well into Ontario and loving the abundance of “BC” landscapes and free campsites. From the free WIFI of McDonalds in Sault Ste Marie, cya next time kids.

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July 10th, 2011 - Alberta By Coburn

Well it’s back on the highways and the kilometers just seem to fly by as we make our way south east towards Alberta. The wildlife continues to amazing us with herds of bison and numerous bear sightings. One day just along the edge of the highway we managed to see eight bears and we would stop to take a peek just a little too close for comfort. Heading south we are leaving the land of the never setting sun and although we have yet to see any stars we have been able to enjoy some stunning and colorful sunsets.

It makes me feel good at the end of the day when we have found a free campsite, some better than others but still free… One morning after enjoying the free campsites at Inga Lake we packed up and headed back for the freeway only to find the 2km gravel road leading to the lake had turned to mud in the overnight rains. After nearly laying my bike down I managed to watch in my mirror as Erin slid out and rode into the ditch. The worst feeling rushed through my body as I sat stunned with what to do. I hit the kill switch and left my bike in the center of the road, keys in it and lights still on I start running back my boots sliding out from under me on every muddy step. You can’t imagine the ridiculous amount of emotions and fear that you can cycle through in a 50 ft run when it seems like 50 miles. I arrive to Erin standing on the road looking disappointed at the mess in the ditch. She’s OK. Just as fast as all the emotions and fears rushed through me they melted away. What a relief I thought as my head cleared and my now working brain turned my attention to moving my bike off to the side of the road and switching the ignition off.  The first step to getting Erin’s bike out of the ditch was to take all the luggage system off the bike. We then had to push it down the ditch 150 meters to where it was shallower for any chance of pulling it out. The clay and mud mix made it almost impossible to ride the bike out, so we laid it back down and dragged the front tire out of the ditch. Now the bike was facing across the road and with Erin pushing from behind and me beside it walking the clutch, we shot it back up on the road. Only to confirm the roads terrible condition an F350 4×4 went by sliding and drifting on the slick muddy mess. The front tire and fender where so packed with mud that the front wheel wouldn’t turn so we spent a good chunk of time removing mud from the bike. For the next 1.5kms I leap-frogged the bikes back to highway, riding one 200 meters then walking back and riding the other next one 200 meters past the first one.  The whole ordeal from accident to getting back to the highway took about an hour and a half and was a long exhausting process in full motorcycle gear.

It’s experiences like that which build solid memories and granted that nobody got hurt it’s all part of the adventure. Sometimes it’s the hardships that you can look back on and smile knowing that you persevered and now have a gnarly story to tell.

Sorry that I don’t have any pictures of that whole mess but with the rain and my muddy hands I didn’t feel like running my camera. So enjoy these Bison!?! We are now stuck in the rains and with flood warnings out on most of the highways we head south out of Grand Prairie.

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July 4th, 2011 - Dempster By Coburn Black

Dempster Highway is a 740 km gravel experience that reaches far into the Arctic Circle. Named after RCMP inspector William Dempster, the highway is loosely based off a dog sled route he used to travel between Dawson City and Fort McPherson. Originally built for the prospect of oil in the North, the road now attracts tourists, photographers, hiker and adventure seekers from all over the world. It is the only all season road that connects to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories. In the winter the highway extends even farther north through a series of ice roads to the northern village of Tuktoyaktuk.

When I started researching riding a motorcycle around the world there where many destinations that caught my eye, from Mongolia to Bolivia and beyond. Dempster Highway was one of these destinations for me and it was right here in my own back yard in Canada. After the photo shoot with the sign at the beginning of the road I had goose bumps as I accelerated into what felt like a dream. As we rode into the Dempster the everyday shrubs and trees of an average logging road started to melt away beside us and opened up to soft rolling green hills and endless horizons littered with timeworn mountains. A single road meandered its way through this northern landscape a road that now belonged to Erin and me.

This road begged to be ridden and taunted me to go faster and faster with its smooth ever stretching surface but after riding for 23 minutes we had only traveled 3 km’s. How do you get anywhere when you have to stop every 5 seconds to take a picture or run up a random hill just for the sake of doing it. Although the adrenaline junky in me wanted to max out the bike and float into the never setting sun, I found myself stuck in first and second gear trying not to ride off the road as my eyes were glued to the scenery. We laughed at our ridiculously slow pace and decided that we needed to start grabbing gears if we were to finish the Dempster in anything short of a month. As we rode on the scenery constantly changed surprising us around every turn to a point where I even thought I was riding on the moon. Reaching the Arctic Circle was more rewarding than I had imagined and I really enjoyed trying to capture the moment though a lens.

With our slow pace we spent an amazing 3 days to reach Inuvik and although the 3rd day was exhausting plowing through some new round gravel that had been graded over the last 200 km’s we looked forward to that victory beer. To our disappointment when we arrived we discovered that with the time change and the summer hours of the liquor store there was no victory beer.

Through all our days up and down the Dempster we never encountered any of the horrible myths that people seems to spread like wildfire. Talks about the black shale that will shred your tires, mosquitoes the size of wasps and even mud three feet deep. Perhaps it has been our amazing luck with the weather that we never encountered any horrors of the Dempster. After riding for about a month now we’ve only had 4 days of rain and only rode in 2 of them. Even coming off the Dempster and riding over the Top of the World Highway to loop through Alaska the black clouds always seemed to part for us and we road through the only pocket of blue sky. Back in Whitehorse the hospitality has been outstanding, our friend Chad treated us to the best bison burger in town and I can say it’s one of the best burgers I’ve ever eaten. Chad is still loyally rocking his MTI hat and as you can see in the picture it has been through a few seasons.

We had originally only planned on staying one day in Whitehorse but after an amazing offer from Chad’s brother Scott to take us out fishing, we had to stay and enjoy more of this northern hospitality. Although we didn’t catch any fish there was no better way to spend a Sunday, floating around on Fish Lake surrounded by beautiful Yukon mountains. After a full day on the lake Scott opened up his home to us where his wife Wendy had prepared a chicken feast complete with peach pie and ice cream for dessert. We also gladly accepted the offer to use their shower and get all squeaky clean before hitting the open road. Now you can see how hard it is for us to leave Whitehorse and our good friends and their great hospitality. I’m excited to get back on the road and discover more of the beauty that Canada has to offer but it’s hard leaving a place you feel so comfortable and can really just be yourself. Come on, it’s ride the world together not ride the Yukon together! Until next time kids…

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June 19th, 2011 - Start of Blacks’ Expedition

The road to Tahsis truly is the road to adventure.  They say Tahsis is the birthplace of British Columbia, but it is in no way a big city. The village consists mainly of a pub/beer store, a marina and a few unique houses. On our first visit we merely filled our gas tanks and picked up a few beers to share. We camped at a free forestry campsite 2 km’s out of town and were the only people there. I found it therapeutic to slay wood and enjoyed using my newly sharpened axe (Mr. Whiskers). The next morning the sun broke through the previous days overcast, perfectly complimenting our hot breakfast of coffee and oatmeal. I felt an urge to see more of Tahsis as the first visit seemed nothing more than a beer run so I rode solo back into town with the hopes of making some kind of connection to the small village. As I walked the docks, now deprived of any activity, I could see what used to be a booming fishing community. Situated on an inlet, Tahsis is a prime location for fishing but has become obsolete due to its remote location.

As I rode back to camp I realised that I had found that connection that I was looking for, not in Tahsis itself, but in the road to Tahsis, a road that cuts through mountains and valleys in an epic gravel adventure! The road is 64 km’s long of pristinely graded gravel that winds its way past rivers, lakes, waterfalls, caves, old growth trees and plenty of wildlife. One black bear had a look of sheer terror as we sent him running up the bank. I’ve never seen a bear look so scared. I can say without a doubt that I enjoyed every inch of that road. Erin on the other hand didn’t share my love for the road to Tahsis. Still not fully comfortable with gravel she found the road exhausting and was drained of any livelihood when we stopped at Gold River. The original plan was to head north on a gravel road through the mountains and pop out at the town of Woss, not too far from Port Hardy. In an attempt to remedy Erin’s mood I opted for the long way around back to Campbell River and then north to Port Hardy. This route was all nicely paved highways and I hoped it would lighten Erin’s spirits. However, as the day continued I found Erin doing 65 km’s an hour in a 90 zone… She was done for the day and we made camp outside the town of Sayward. The next morning after a talk with a fellow camper and local scrapper, who hooked us up with some free kielbasa, we headed north to Port Hardy. Erin was rejuvenated and rode like a veteran of the road keeping up a good pace behind me.

So here I am, on the vessel Northern Expedition, on route to Prince Rupert. This ferry has done an excellent job of showcasing B.C.’s coastline and for the most part travels ridiculously close to the shore. We even saw a short glimpse of some killer whales… too short to get any pictures but I did manage to photograph a little grey whale. The bikes patiently await their next adventure, strapped securely in the belly of the ship. Upwards on onwards we go to the great north and the Arctic Circle.

PS, If anyone talks to Phoenix, ask him to update the GPS thingy, I sent him an email to his interncomic…. but haven’t heard back. Also tried calling him.  The dotted line in the ocean is me conserving the battery on the GPS, but that was the ferry route. Also I seem to have lost the track from Qualicum Beach to Campbell River, Oh Well.


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