August 5th - Kitwanga first, then on to Vanderhoof - the geographical center of BC

Finally got hot weather today, so hot in fact I had to remove the last liners from my outfit. At first it seemed like a nice change but after roasting for a few miles it began to lose it's appeal. Starting out this morning everything not covered up was soaked with dew, probably coming off the nearby lake. I broke camp early and rode a few miles to warm up the chain, then stopped to oil it and wash out that pesky air filter. Boy when that thing gets dirty all hell breaks loose, the bike barely runs and the gas mileage goes to the red zone.

Riding down the Cassiar I saw three blackies, one of which would rival the big boy I saw yesterday. I always wonder how the bicycle riders deal with them...

I stopped for gas and a late breakfast at the village of Kitwanga where I met a couple of great ladies who cook all orders from scratch. Also got to chat it up with one of the old timers who's lived there forever. Lots of interesting stories about early life and logging in the area.

After that it was onward into the central inferno, not a lot of fun, had to stop several times just to drink some water and oil the chain again. Tomorrow I'm going to see if I can either buy a jack so I can adjust the bugger or locate a shop with frugal rates and have it done. At present it's slapping like the dickens and will surely bust if I don't do something about it.

Tonight I'm holed up in the North Country Inn where I stayed two years ago. Nice clean place, reasonable rates and a good restaurant next door. I washed off my personal road grime, had a good dinner and look forward to a clean bed. Did you know Vanderhoof is the geographical center of British Columbia? I didn't take any photos of this little town, not much to see so I'll just post the ones of Kitwanga. Zzzzzzzzz....zzzzzzzzzzzzz

August 4th - Parting company, Mac heads to Montana and I head south on the Cassiar

It was an early morning start for both of us today, we said our goodbye's and each headed our separate way. Mac is going to Montana to meet up with a guy we met in Chicken who said he could help with his tire requirements and I'm back on the Cassiar highway. I stopped for breakfast at Sally's at Junction 37, my 3rd or 4th visit to this little roadside cafe. This time I decided to ask the gal who waits tables - all 3 of them - if she was Sally and she said "No, that's my husband's nickname." Somehow I'd guessed as much so she introduced us and I thanked him for fixing me great tasty meals whenever I'd passed through their way. She baked bread for 26 years and taught Sally how to do it so now it's his job. They've owned the cafe for 5 years and this coming winter will be the first one they'll be closed, time to go see the kids and hang out in warmer climes.

After leaving Sally's I rode on down the Cassiar passing Jade where I stopped to look at the tourist traps but declined to leave any of my tightly held cash. One can only use so many things in this life and Linda and I are pretty well topped off. (Sorry Honey, no jade for either of us...)

I gassed up several times today, added a reserve can at the Jade stop, then topped off at Dease Lake where I was approached by a skinny old geezer wearing a black leather Harley vest adorned with more silver hardware and doo-dads than I've ever seen in one place. His mission in life (outside of wearing all the HD doo-dads) was to advise me of the lack of fuel availability that I could expect to encounter as I headed south on the Cassiar. I thanked him for his advice but told him I'd passed that way before. He was overly concerned though and kept up his banter so I asked him if he'd ever heard of Deadhorse. "Nope" he said. Then I asked if he'd ever heard of Prudhoe Bay. "Nope" he said. Finally I asked him if he'd heard of the Arctic ocean and that rang his bell. "Yeah, Jesus, did you ride up there?" he asked... Dammit I love it when I connect with people.

I continued south and gassed up again at a little roadside camp of which I cannot recall the name and finally at Bell II where I also had a late lunch. There I met a guy and his wife who were moving from Fairbanks to Colorado. The guy couldn't believe I'd ridden the hack all the way to Deadhorse and survived. Uh... Seems he'd driven it once in a car and that was enough for him...can't say as I blame him, I doubt I'll do it again, it really raises hell with your equipment. One time though, it's worth it.

Just before arriving at Meziadin Provincial campground I spotted two blackies within a few miles of each other. The first was average size but the 2nd was huge, definitely not one I'd care to meet up close and personal. Fortunately neither one wanted anything to do with me or the hack so we all went our separate ways. The campground proved to be a great find, it's right on the lake and they have really nice sites. Gravel of course as that's the Canadian way and no water either as that's also the Canadian way. Eh? Eh? After arriving and getting my tent set up two of the guys next to me came over to chat and although neither ride bikes they were more than willing to point out the body English and lean requirements one must observe while riding, particularly relating to sidecars. Thanks guys. That's the Canadian way...eh?

August 3rd - Watson Lake campground

Boy did we ever haul a-- today, for some reason we made really good time and arrived at Watson Lake in the late afternoon. Getting gas and refreshing our liquor supply took a lot longer than expected as the locals were busy buying Bud and cashing in their lottery/Keno tickets but eventually we got it done. The weather was nice so we headed out of town a few miles and set up camp at the local Watson Lake Provincial campground. No water but free firewood and at $12.00 it's still a bargain. Mac made another memorable fire after we had dinner, he cooked his usual gourmet noodles and I feasted on corned beef hash and fried eggs, just what my girlish figure needs. The long day's ride had us both pooped so we hung it up around 9:00pm. Mac took some pics of our camp and he'll send them when he gets home, in the mean time I took a couple of the sign village. I only stayed a few minutes as it's mind boggling.

August 2nd - Haines Junction - nearly as bad as the Haul road

This will be short, we rode through nasty road construction projects today, one after another. Several bikes went down and we were grateful for our sidehacks. Strong cross winds nearly blew us off the road and by the time we arrived in Haines Junction we were both beat. We checked in at the Cozy Corner motel since camping out required too much effort and after brief dinners of snack food and noodles we called it a day. That would be great if it were true but the ding-dongs next door to us are hard at it doing laundry and banging on anything solid they can get their hands on so it doesn't look like we'll get much rest tonight. So be it.

August 1st - Back to Tok

Man oh man was it ever raining this morning. Yesterday we'd had our tires worked on and my beast developed a new nasty noise as a result. Not wanting to chance further issues on the road we decided Mac may as well head out and I'd stay in Fairbanks until my bike was fixed. We didn't know if it was serious or not but there was nothing to be gained by both of us hanging around. With that said we did our goodbyes and off he went while I headed back to the shop. Luck favored me this day as it turned out to be nothing more than three links in my chain were binding up and clattering to beat hell. We soaked them with all sorts of magic oils and eventually they broke free so I set out to Tok, only a couple of hours behind Mac. On the way I stopped for lunch at a place we'd visited on the way up and while there bought a stained glass sockeye salmon, my first and only souvenir. Mac and I ran into each other just as I arrived in Tok; he'd already registered at the same campground as before so I set up camp with him. For a change the weather favored us and we had a decent night of it.

July 31st - Fairbanks in the rain at the mercy of bike dealers

We started our day at the local car wash attempting to dislodge the mud and grime from our bikes. The idea being that any bike shop would be more willing to work on them if they weren't covered in crud and we both needed tire changes. There aren't a whole bunch of bike shops in Fairbanks so we started with the Harley-BMW dealer. They were willing to fix Mac's tire as he had it off the bike and ready to look at. Mine was a different story as both tires needed to be replaced and I couldn't just take them off and hand them over. "Sorry but it's a liability issue" was what they said. Hmm.... that's what I'd call pure bullshit; I'd operated a service shop for years and liability doesn't have squat to do with it, they simply didn't want to work on an Aprilia. This was particularly aggravating since they're supposed to be a BMW dealer and my Aprilia is exactly the same as a bimmer, only the name plate differs. Aprilia built BMW's 650F model for years and that's what mine is by any other name. In any event they did me a true favor by recommending another shop across town who might do the deed. Turned out to be just fine, they not only did the tire swap, they also installed new rear brake pads and solved the noise problem coming from the undercarriage. I'm forever grateful to them.

July 30th - Wiseman to Fairbanks and the Great Diesel Fuel Disaster

Dang it anyway, I just realized I posted the diesel fuel disaster on the wrong day, it actually happened on the 30th when we rode from Wiseman (Coldfoot) to Fairbanks. Duh... Guess I must have been tired when I accessed the blog so I'll do a brief re-do of the events. One thing I've yet to figure out on this blog site is how to copy and paste text, it just doesn't look possible so if anyone reading this knows how please post a comment on how to do it. Thenkuvermuch...

Anyway, onward to the day after our run down from Deadhorse to Wiseman. This was not our best day.

Imagine if you will what happens when a person of advancing years is yakking it up with someone else while at the same time attempting to refuel his bike... Moreover imagine that same said person has two choices of fuel to be dispensed from the same pump albeit from identical blue hoses but with different nozzels, one green for diesel and the other black for benzino (gasoline, eh?) Yakkety yak yak yak... Moving right along inquiring minds might pose the question "Just how far might an Aprilia go when presented with a full tank of #2 diesel? 5 miles perhaps?" Yesiree, 5 miles to be exact. After that it's kaput, d-e-d, the end. In a previous blog entry I went to great lengths to be clever about this entire incident and then in the true spirit of things posted it to the wrong date. After discovering the error of this I've decided enough damage has already been done and admission to this ridiculous blunder will no doubt provide adequate entertainment by itself. In short we spent several hours removing and draining the fuel tank, cleaning the spark plug, returning to Coldfoot to refuel and sell the remaining 5 gallons of diesel stored in my back-up fuel cans before finally getting back on the road.

ONWARD we said and so we did. For several hours in fact. Unfortunately while leaving the Yukon river camp restaurant I heard an ominous grinding clunking scary-as-hell noise coming from the undercarriage. Mac had already left a few minutes earlier so I stopped to see wuz up. It turned out that the chain was clogged with mud and debris from our latest slog through the local water hazard so I hosed it down with chain spray. That seemed to help but after riding a few miles it became noisier and I stopped to adjust the chain slack. Nope, not possible without a jack and guess who had the only one? Not me. Deciding the only course of action left was to ride on at greatly reduced speed I set out and after a few miles spotted Mac on his way back looking for me. We jacked the damn thing up, adjusted out the excess slack and once more set out for Fairbanks. We arrived in Fairbanks at 12:30am only to discover the liquor stores close at midnight, a very inhospitable ordinance if I may say so. Cruising around after midnight covered with mud and looking for a motel isn't the easiest thing to accomplish but we located one desperate enough to accept us (Motel 8) and we were in for the night. Mac's brain had apparently gone into superwarp mode as he decided he needed to do laundry while mine opted for gin & tonics. I admit there are times when my superior intellect shines through.

PS - The photo of me draining the diesel may appear as some bodily function. It is not that.