We were up late that morning having enjoyed a good nights sleep after a fantastic two days of riding. I leisurely took my bike to Deeley's and left it for the day to get the first service completed in preparation for the trip east. The day was then spent hanging around the hotel with my Bro awaiting the third arrival. Nuthin'. Not a peep. All day. I went back and picked up my hog before closing time.
Bro and I went out, had dinner and a few pints and scoped the ball game on the box at a local. We walked back to the hotel around 11PM. There is a note pined to our hotel room door. The La-Dee-Da-Dee-Doo has arrived. He is now somewhere in the immediate vicinity. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
We looked around the hotel and rang his room but he and his bike were nowhere to be found. The front desk clerk had seen 'em though 'cause he was in his face earlier about signing some papers. Bro and I have just closed the door to our room when there comes a knock and lo and behold........ it is he!! And he's feeling pretty damn good about himself. To us, he looks like shit. With the skin on his face all pulled back from the wind and his eyes buggin' out. And he was babblin' a mile a minute, something about giant bugs drillin his head at a hundred miles an hour, forty four hours ridin' at Warp 9, gallons of caffeine etc.etc. We slow him down best we can and soon he was able to fill us in on the details.
He departed his home in Toronto Saturday, September 15th at 2:30 in the morning, crossing Windsor to Detroit at six AM. The trip, up to and including Chicago, was relatively sane. West of Chicago, the Bat Out of Hell broke loose. Seems that the northern prairie states have little in the way of law enforcement when it comes to upholding speed limits. As he tells it, during daylight hours anyway, no one really cares how fast you drive.
The BMW RT 1100 is built to take rider and passenger at speeds of over 160km/h all day long. And that is just what he did. Minus the passenger. Or so he claims. Near as he recalls, much of the Prairie leg of the trip averaged over 170kph, stopping once for a seven hour nap at a motel in North Dakota nineteen miles from the Montana border. And he stopped once a day to eat a sub sandwich. Oh yeah, and gas. He did stop for gas. I think.
Montana state troopers on the other hand aren't quite so forgiving as those in the Prairies 'cause there was a cop who he met who thought that 95 mph in a 75 zone warranted a prize that cost our hero forty bucks.
He reached the US / Canada border south of Vancouver Sunday evening in thirty three and one half hours after entering the states in Detroit and the conversation with the customs official in B.C. went something like this:
"Citizenship"?
"Canadian".
"Where and when did you enter the States"?
"Detroit, Michigan at 6AM Saturday".
Pause, pause, pause, while our Nut Bar watches the border guard doing the math in his head.
"Well I guess you don't have anything to declare. Welcome home". Says the official.
If I was the border guard, knowing our pal like I do, I woulda come to a different conclusion about lettin' him back in.
By now it was about 11:30 Sunday night and he was wired to the max. In spite of only six hours sleep in the last thirty nine or so, I found myself wondering how he was ever going to deflate and stop vibrating enough to get a few winks. 'Cause sleep would be the best thing right now. For us all. Tomorrow's a huge day.
Epilogue
Our hero pulled off a stunning achievement. Not with standing that, having arrived and hooked up with us on time, he would then go on to ride another 600 kilometers on Monday and, on Tuesday he would turn around and begin the trip back home with me, he had just completed damn close to 4,440 K in forty seven hours including a sleep of seven hours! Forty hours driving time door to door. And he had all the gas receipts to prove it. His introduction to the front desk manager had him verifying and signing off on his arrival time.All of this documentation would later be sent to the Iron Butt Association. He requested their entry level recognition of:
1,000 miles in 24 hours and
1,500 miles in 48 hours
The IBA wrote him back and congratulated him on his error in submission and they were very please to upgrade his achievement to:
The Bun Burner Award for completing 1,500 miles in 24 hours and
The Saddle Sore Award for 2,000 miles in 48 hours.
All miles. Not our girlie K's.
The plaques are on his wall at his home. I've seen 'em.
To this day, now eleven years hence, he still suggests that he hasn't been able to walk properly since.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Our Break Out - Post #28
She took me directly to the hotel and I checked ............. me in. She stayed in the parking lot. Honest. No sign of my Bro yet, or the Nut Bar for that matter, in person or by way of a message. I stripped down, showered and dressed to do some light riding. I left a note at the front desk for them both and set off to cruise. I drove to the nearest highway and set off. Highway break in is better than the stop and start of the city in the early hours. I was out for over six. Returning to the hotel to find that my brother had arrived.
He fills me in on the details of his journey. Due to the heightened security there were no flights. He did drive all the way, having to swap rentals at the border 'cause they rental he had wasn't permitted to cross into Canada. He traded it in on one that could and carried on. All told, about sixteen hours. By this time it was now pushing nine PM Thursday night. So we walked to a nearby steak house, chowed down and called it a night.
First thing Friday morning, my bro caught a cab to Deeley's. He rented his cycle and we met up back at the hotel. We packed the bikes for the weekend and set out.
Our route took us north, past the cut off east to Whistler, up the Sunshine Coast through Horseshoe Bay, Langdale, Earls Cove, Saltery Bay, Powell River, concluding our first day in the very picturesque Town of Lund. There we stay the night then back track to Powell River in the morning to catch the northern most ferry across The Strait of Georgia to land at Comox on Vancouver Island. From there our choice was a right to Port Hardy at the northern tip of the island or a left and west to Tofino on the Pacific coast.
I had this idea in my head from the beginning, that I needed to baptize the bike with some Pacific Ocean from the most westerly point in Canada that I could find, with the hope that, someday, the same could be done with the Atlantic in the east. Consulting the map, we realize the only substantial north south highway on Vancouver Island is located on the east coast due to the numerous inlets, coves, rivers and lakes along the west coast. Accessing the west coast by heading north was going to take a lot more time than we had available. This pointed us in the direction of a trip south then west, through the Redwood forest, to the Pacific coast of the island.
We set out from Comax south, hanging a right at Parksville, and on to Port Alberni. I will never forget as long as I live, the Redwood forest of Vancouver Island. There was an immense canopy of trees blocking the sun from a clear blue sky, the entire way across the island. And the temperature in among the trees was significantly higher than before we entered in spite of the lack of sunlight. There was a low lying fog hugging the ground cover and the earthy smell of the peat and the humidity of the forest was incredibly pronounced. That's what riding a bike was for. In a car you travel through a scene without the interface. On a bike you are in the scene. Apart of it. And all of your senses are working overtime to take it all in. Absolutely a remarkable experience.
We make the coast just north of Ucluelet and hang a right to Tofino arriving in time for a late lunch in the small harbour town. But first we took the bikes to the Pacific Rim National Park where there was direct access to a boat launch and parking near the water I scooped up a cup full of the pounding surf and flang that wholly water at the gas tank while saying a few words about the life I live, how lucky I am etc. etc. The ceremony behind us, we moved on to flang a few beverages into us.
Later that afternoon we began to retrace our route back through the forest and make the ferry crossing at Nanimo to arrive at our hotel by ten o'clock Saturday night. Still no sign of our third Stooge. Lights out.
He fills me in on the details of his journey. Due to the heightened security there were no flights. He did drive all the way, having to swap rentals at the border 'cause they rental he had wasn't permitted to cross into Canada. He traded it in on one that could and carried on. All told, about sixteen hours. By this time it was now pushing nine PM Thursday night. So we walked to a nearby steak house, chowed down and called it a night.
First thing Friday morning, my bro caught a cab to Deeley's. He rented his cycle and we met up back at the hotel. We packed the bikes for the weekend and set out.
Our route took us north, past the cut off east to Whistler, up the Sunshine Coast through Horseshoe Bay, Langdale, Earls Cove, Saltery Bay, Powell River, concluding our first day in the very picturesque Town of Lund. There we stay the night then back track to Powell River in the morning to catch the northern most ferry across The Strait of Georgia to land at Comox on Vancouver Island. From there our choice was a right to Port Hardy at the northern tip of the island or a left and west to Tofino on the Pacific coast.
I had this idea in my head from the beginning, that I needed to baptize the bike with some Pacific Ocean from the most westerly point in Canada that I could find, with the hope that, someday, the same could be done with the Atlantic in the east. Consulting the map, we realize the only substantial north south highway on Vancouver Island is located on the east coast due to the numerous inlets, coves, rivers and lakes along the west coast. Accessing the west coast by heading north was going to take a lot more time than we had available. This pointed us in the direction of a trip south then west, through the Redwood forest, to the Pacific coast of the island.
We set out from Comax south, hanging a right at Parksville, and on to Port Alberni. I will never forget as long as I live, the Redwood forest of Vancouver Island. There was an immense canopy of trees blocking the sun from a clear blue sky, the entire way across the island. And the temperature in among the trees was significantly higher than before we entered in spite of the lack of sunlight. There was a low lying fog hugging the ground cover and the earthy smell of the peat and the humidity of the forest was incredibly pronounced. That's what riding a bike was for. In a car you travel through a scene without the interface. On a bike you are in the scene. Apart of it. And all of your senses are working overtime to take it all in. Absolutely a remarkable experience.
We make the coast just north of Ucluelet and hang a right to Tofino arriving in time for a late lunch in the small harbour town. But first we took the bikes to the Pacific Rim National Park where there was direct access to a boat launch and parking near the water I scooped up a cup full of the pounding surf and flang that wholly water at the gas tank while saying a few words about the life I live, how lucky I am etc. etc. The ceremony behind us, we moved on to flang a few beverages into us.
Later that afternoon we began to retrace our route back through the forest and make the ferry crossing at Nanimo to arrive at our hotel by ten o'clock Saturday night. Still no sign of our third Stooge. Lights out.
Departure Day - Post 27
I had to travel light. Everything I needed for the next eight days had to pack on the bike. And there was a pile of very heavy leather, a helmet, boots, rain gear, etc. And the most efficient way to transport the boots and the leather was to wear it. All I had as luggage was a Harley bag that was made to strap on the bike behind the back rest. I carried a disposable bag that had miscellaneous stuff, the rain gear etc. that I would dump when I transferred everything to the saddle bags.
I arrived at the airport, on time, the morning of, dressed like Arnold Shwarzenegger in The Terminator. Including the wrap arounds, with my helmet tucked under one arm. Security was a little aghast. Especially in the aftermath of the events of two days ago. Needless to say I was scrutinized rather extensively. Fortunately I had arrived early cause in the end, we departed right on schedule. The first plane out of Toronto following 9/11. And the best part was as the plane started to back away from the terminal I reached down picked up my helmet and put it on my head. That got a few people laughing and we struck up a conversation during the flight where I shared what was really going on with the costume.
Fortunately the helmet was not required. We landed as planned in Vancouver. I took a cab directly to Deeleys. My bike was waiting for me front and center in the parking lot upon arrival. I spied 'er immediately. I went in and introduced myself to Gigi.
You know how you talk to someone on the phone, never having met, and you kinda formulate an image in your mind as to what the caller may look like? This isn't something that just I do right? Well having talked to Gigi a number of times getting the deal done I admit, I contemplated, just once, maybe twice, what she would be like.
The fact that she was in the finance department left me with the impression, likely a middle age accountant type, whatever that is. Wrong. Guess I should have known better cause it is a cycle shop first and foremost. Yikes! I'm a wee bit tongue tied at first greeting cause this gal is a drop dead gorgeous brunette that is every inch a very classy biker babe through and through. I try and stick with the business at hand rather than saying something completely stupid while trying to be cute. Always the better policy when you're not all that suave and debonaire to begin with.
She escorts me outside to make formal introductions between me and my pig. Love at first sight. It takes no more than twenty minutes where by the plates are installed, the standard, newbie overview of facts and features of the bike was concluded and the 1449cc, V-Twin with fuel injection..........fuel injection......... is fired to life. There is not a prettier sound on all of God's green earth. I try and contain my excitement as I began loading my gear while my baby hummed and got to warming up.
As I was ready to mount up, Mr Deeley and a number of the sales and maintenance folks came out to greet, shake hands and congratulate me on my putting it all together. A very kind conclusion to such and epic journey. Harley owners really are a family, or a brotherhood if you will, and they do live that image. So with a promise to return in three days time for the service before heading east to Toronto, I bid a fond fare well. No wheelies. No burnout off the lot. Just a controlled exit with no popping the clutch or stalling. Smooth. We were made for each other.
I arrived at the airport, on time, the morning of, dressed like Arnold Shwarzenegger in The Terminator. Including the wrap arounds, with my helmet tucked under one arm. Security was a little aghast. Especially in the aftermath of the events of two days ago. Needless to say I was scrutinized rather extensively. Fortunately I had arrived early cause in the end, we departed right on schedule. The first plane out of Toronto following 9/11. And the best part was as the plane started to back away from the terminal I reached down picked up my helmet and put it on my head. That got a few people laughing and we struck up a conversation during the flight where I shared what was really going on with the costume.
Fortunately the helmet was not required. We landed as planned in Vancouver. I took a cab directly to Deeleys. My bike was waiting for me front and center in the parking lot upon arrival. I spied 'er immediately. I went in and introduced myself to Gigi.
You know how you talk to someone on the phone, never having met, and you kinda formulate an image in your mind as to what the caller may look like? This isn't something that just I do right? Well having talked to Gigi a number of times getting the deal done I admit, I contemplated, just once, maybe twice, what she would be like.
The fact that she was in the finance department left me with the impression, likely a middle age accountant type, whatever that is. Wrong. Guess I should have known better cause it is a cycle shop first and foremost. Yikes! I'm a wee bit tongue tied at first greeting cause this gal is a drop dead gorgeous brunette that is every inch a very classy biker babe through and through. I try and stick with the business at hand rather than saying something completely stupid while trying to be cute. Always the better policy when you're not all that suave and debonaire to begin with.
She escorts me outside to make formal introductions between me and my pig. Love at first sight. It takes no more than twenty minutes where by the plates are installed, the standard, newbie overview of facts and features of the bike was concluded and the 1449cc, V-Twin with fuel injection..........fuel injection......... is fired to life. There is not a prettier sound on all of God's green earth. I try and contain my excitement as I began loading my gear while my baby hummed and got to warming up.
As I was ready to mount up, Mr Deeley and a number of the sales and maintenance folks came out to greet, shake hands and congratulate me on my putting it all together. A very kind conclusion to such and epic journey. Harley owners really are a family, or a brotherhood if you will, and they do live that image. So with a promise to return in three days time for the service before heading east to Toronto, I bid a fond fare well. No wheelies. No burnout off the lot. Just a controlled exit with no popping the clutch or stalling. Smooth. We were made for each other.
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