What is it with bike trips, hasn’t anyone ever heard of gentleman’s hours. 0315 and I’m climbing into the shower. I must be insane. Ah, well I think of the upcoming ride and camaraderie and a smile crosses my face, it’s probably the only good looking thing on this ageing body as I step out of the water. Twenty minutes later the bike is warming up in the garage and I go back upstairs to give the wife a kiss good-bye.

It’s dark at 0415 as I pull into the Spencer Rd Shell Station. So far only Garry Shrive and his shining 1200 are there. Soon we’re joined by Stirling, Guy, and Pierino and Sylvia. A quick coffee for those who need it and it’s time to head off to Nanaimo. The air has a fall coolness in it and a quiet that only those motorcyclists who drive Wings can appreciate. As the gang heads up over the Malahat the CB’s are buzzing with the delight of driving this portion of the highway with absolutely no one else on the road but us.

We arrive at the ferry terminal at 0530. It feels good to put the feet down and stretch a bit. The ticket booths have yet to open up to accept traffic for the 0630 to Horseshoe Bay. Someone mentions how fast we got here and that perhaps we could’ve enjoyed another half hour in bed. Stirling, who planned the ride, mentions something about how his place is further from the terminal than the Spencer Rd Shell and he added that time to the planned departure time without thinking. We all agree that in fact, he wasn’t thinking. The humour of the situation sinks in and I’m sure we were all laughing quietly inside. Suddenly the sprinklers in the dog walk area start up and Sylvia and Pierino’s bike which is parked right next to it gets nice and wet. The previously hidden laughter is brought to the surface for most of us; Pierino and Sylvia still internalize.

Getting off the ferry we allow Stirling to lead since he seems to be the only one who knows where we’re going. A good thing too since we had to cross three lanes of ferry traffic maniacs in about 300 metres to get to our exit to Squamish. Once on the Sea to Sky highway we start to enjoy the beautiful views and lovely twisties. We also witness the near death of a Harley driver and his passenger. We’re climbing a slight hill and this biker pulls up behind us and is very impatient to get by. In the right lane are a few slow moving vehicles, in the left is an empty dump truck, us and then the Harley. Suddenly the hog starts to pass us all on the passing line markings just as the truck starts to pull into the right lane. The Harley then narrowly misses the right rear of the truck and scoots along the right shoulder and out in front of the truck and off into the distance looking for another way to kill himself. Except for this event the ride is very enjoyable all the way to Whistler. By now I am insisting on a liquid exchange at the nearest gas station. I promise to leave the same amount of used tea behind as I take in gas from the pumps. Just don’t make me go over one more bump on the road. So the first gas station we see in Whistler gets all of our business.

Driving from Whistler to Pemberton we notice some of the places that were affected by the floods last year, including the new bridge where some unfortunate souls lost their lives when their vehicle came around the corner on the way home from a night shift up at Whistler and drove into the raging swollen river that had destroyed the old bridge. Sober thoughts for those who today are driving the same highway for pleasure.

Blowing through the town of Pemberton we head off to Lillooet. By now the group has gelled into a professional disciplined riding team. Distances between bikes are solid and safe. Radio discipline is admirable so when the call “Look out, cow on the right side” is heard I think “so what” this is farm country . But sure enough here comes a bull crashing through the undergrowth on the wrong side of the fence. A stunning sight to be sure, this could do serious damage to my bike and ME. Fortunately we all get by without incident. I don’t where that bull was going but he obviously had steered away from the herd. Get it…steered. No one else laughed either.

We leave the valley and start to climb up into the mountains on a nice quiet road with loads of twisties and good pavement. Stirling mentions that this can be a hell of a road to drive if you end up behind a semi or motor home. Luckily we don’t meet either for at least 30 seconds. We only spend a few minutes behind him since he was a goodly soul and pulled onto the shoulder so we could pass by. What a lovely man. A few minutes later were up at the alpine meadow level and that wonderful pine scent that you only experience at altitude permeates the air. I mention how much I love that smell and how it reminds me of the Rockies. The others mention how little they care about how much I love the smell. I get the hint. We then encounter another Winger, he is solo and taking his time. He looks to be about 140 years old. God Bless him. As he pulls over to let us pass we all wave and honk as we go by. It seems to terrify him and he holds onto his handle bars for dear life. I don’t think group riding is in his skill set. Further on we do a quick photo stop at a beautiful blue/green lake. While there we notice an old man on a Wing go putting on by, and then a motor home with a familiar looking license plate. Oh well, we get by ‘em again.

As we come down out of the alpine on what has to be the steepest turningist, most death if your brakes fail and you don’t have a parachute highway I’ve yet seen we enter into the semi-desert outside Lillooet and the temperature finally starts to heat up. With the hotter temperature also comes the first smell of smoke. The forest fires burning up here will make their presence known to us for the next 3 hours of riding. Pulling into Lillooet we see a few restaurants and gas stations. We discuss stopping but decide to push on to Lytton where we think the picking’s will be better. WRONG! After driving along a climbing twisting highway with almost all the views obscured by smoke so thick you’d think you were a salmon having a bad day, we reach a part of the highway that scares the living daylights outta me. The road is running up the side of hill beside the Thompson River. This means that the distance between the two continuously increases. We’re at a point where we all comment that it sure is a long way down (about 1200 feet straight down) when Stirling (our ride educator) mentions that you often go where you look. A feeling of being gutted tears through me as I lock my eyes onto the yellow line. This relaxes me until suddenly not only does the yellow line disappear but so does about a third of the road, the shoulder, and the safety barrier. Apparently we’re at a point that was washed out in the spring and only has a temporary fix. I turn and try judge the near vertical distance down to the Thompson and then with a terrified thought (“you often go where you look”) rip my eyes from the thin line that is the Thompson River and lock ‘em onto Stirlings’ tail lights. Good man that Stirling, he better stay on the road though or the last thing to go through my mind will be his butt.

Nearing Lytton we all start to need food and a rest stop. We cruise through the sleepy town and on the advice of the tourist info bureau head to the Blue Acacia Restaurant for lunch and some needed air conditioning. Our riding discipline so finally honed during our ride degenerates into a keystone cops parking farce, no one going the same way or on the same side of the road or whatever. 5 minutes later we salvage our dignity, and head into the restaurant. 20 minutes later we walk out, fed, drained and watered. Let’s keep going.

The rest of the trip is a pleasant back road motorcycle ride until we get to Merritt where we gas up and then back track to the Logan Lake exit and hit some fairly fresh chip sealing. Concentration is intense for the next little while until we near Kamloops and the road turns friendly.

We are now about 1 ½ hours behind schedule so we stop at a gas station in order to call our hosts to tell them we’ll be a bit late for supper. It is at this point that I come to the conclusion that I have a 600 Km tolerance for riding. Yep, after about 600k my ass turns into a beehive of irritation. I really look forward to the next 210 km to Kelowna. Back on the road again we enjoy cooling temperatures, no smoke and swiftly moving traffic. Before we know it we’re in Vernon and then as we pull into the outskirts of Kelowna we come upon the first full stop we’ve had to make since Kamloops. Just as I start to let out the clutch, the bike stalls. How embarrassing, I start it up again and then continue on. I do that two more times until we reach our destination. I comment to the others that I’m obviously tired and need a rest, that’s all. But I’m not so sure, something doesn’t seem right with the transmission. Please not here I think.

Bad clutching is soon forgotten as we meet our dinner hosts Bob and Sue. They have cold beer and barbeque ribs with fresh white corn, thick slices of tomatoes and a salad with a delightful vinaigrette dressing (Bob's favourite Sue says!), some white wine, red wine, and ice cold water. What a delightful ending to the day. Later as the only person staying in a hotel I head off to a hot tub for my shoulders and butt, and a bed for my weary mind. My fears of transmission problems solidify as I try to back into a parking spot with the clutch all the way in and the bike insisting on going forward. I promise to investigate tomorrow morning. I need sleep.

The next morning I get up and head off the breakfast meeting at the Specialty Bakery, a local bakery/restaurant. Every Saturday the local chapter meets here. After we stuff our faces with a wonderful breakfast we are welcomed to the meeting. Guy then gets up and presents the BC Traveling Trophy to Bob and Sue. Finally we’re rid of it and it can now float around the province again. The chapter doesn’t seem too worried. They leave us with the impression that by next week it’ll be in Kamloops hands. Oh well, not my problem.

It’s time to go, but first I mention to my traveling companions that I am having trouble and that I don’t have the ability to shift or clutch properly. Luckily the local Honda dealership is just over the highway. With Guy riding shotgun I manage to clunk my way to the dealership and beg into the shop in front of another appointment. It really makes me feel good that not only do all my traveling companions stick around waiting to see what’s wrong but I am told by Bob and Sue that their house is open to me if I have to wait through the weekend for parts. Fortunately I get away with a clutch system flush;1 hour and 60 bucks later we’re ready to head home. At this point we say farewell to Sylvia and Pierino as they leave us heading south for a few weeks of random exploration. What a life.

We drive out of Kelowna heading south and take the connector to Merrit. A very scenic trip with lots of turns and up hill climbs. Of course at the other end there was a very steep downhill portion to balance the earlier climbing. We drive through Merritt with only a quick stop for gas. Then we’re off to the Fraser Canyon. Unfortunately the first half of the canyon is marred by the smoke from the nearby fires. The scenery certainly suffered but the road itself was still a lot of fun to drive. If only there had been no one else on the road. That would make the Canyon the best drive in the world. Halfway down we see a bunch of helicopters attacking one of the main fires. Just as we pass the fires the air starts to clear up and voila! Smoke free.
“Uh did anyone else feel rain?”
Nah, let’s just motor on and dress up in Hope. We never made it that far the weather starts to turn ugly fast so we stop on the side of the road in a little pull out and put on wet weather gear. Stirling runs behind a ‘you are here’ sign to change his pants(into rain pants folks). 2 minutes later we were driving through what could only be called the deluge of the century. I was in the lead and at times Stirling who was riding tail said that he couldn’t even see me. Just outside of Chilliwack traffic came to a standstill as the wet and very slippery road had claimed its first victims. A BMW and a pick-up truck tried to make a sandwich with a white mini van. With traffic continuing on at about “my clutch hand is killing me” speed we have even more time to appreciate the quantity of rain that is falling. This continues all the way to Abbotsford. The rest of the ride to the ferry was uneventful except for the quick jolt of excitement we had when we thought we’d catch the 5 o’ clock. Our hopes were soon crushed as the gates came down just as we arrived at the front of the line. Oh well.

The ferry ride was quiet as we all continued to dry out. We spent a large portion of time down on the car deck enjoying the scenery and discussing the trip. As we neared Victoria the sun broke out of the clouds and the air started to warm up. What a welcome the change of weather is as we tootle on down the Pat Bay. First to go is Guy with some smarmy comment of “if you lived here like me, you’d be home by now.” Then Gary and Stirling peeled off at the McKenzie and Island highway intersection and it was just me driving on down the road to Langford. I had noticed all the way from the ferry that my bike seat was feeling a bit uncomfortable. I checked my odometer, sure enough, 604 Km since we left Kelowna, a bath was going to feel real good on my posterior.