I’m stubborn. I admit it. I really, really wanted to try to make Hyder. I’ve resisted my own advice that the journey (which has been beautiful beyond compare), is more important than the destination. So, I pushed hard and at the end of the 3rd day racked up another massive 500 km day and arrived in Smithers, utterly exhausted again, with a lot more pictures to show for it and…
Wet. Very wet.
It started raining in Houston. Well, actually East of there at called Rose Lake. It was funny, because that’s just moments before, while filling up Niobe’s tank in Burns Lake, I’d asked a Forest Ranger (who was also filling up, alas not a motorcycle), if the clouds meant rain for these parts. He said yes, but said “You might get lucky.”
I got wet. I have pretty good gear, but I had forgotten to close all the air vents in the jacket and within a few moments, I felt the trickles begin on my skin.
And the wind was kicking up. A lot. Blowing the bike back and forth on the road as much as those big wood product trucks. Not so good.
I pulled over in the next town, Houston, and took shelter in an A&W (they are as ubiquitous as Tim Hortons it seems). After a hot cup of coffee, I changed my shirt to something dry and carefully went vent by vent in the jacket, taking care of all those things I had left undone.
Properly buttoned up, I still arrived a bit wet on the inside in Smithers last night.
And Friday was to bring more of that severe weather to the area, so I decided it would be best to keep heading West, capture as many sights as I could see, to get closer to Prince Rupert so that, come Friday, I wouldn’t have to be in the tough weather as long.
So tonight, with a sore back, a bit disappointed for not seeing Hyder, but grateful for the beauty I have seen thus far, I am kicking back for the night in Terrace.
And it is about the journey, and I still cannot believe what I have seen thus far. As a fellow biker I met at a little bakery in Vanderhoof told me, this is “God’s country.”
Just like yesterday, I have far more to say, but it will have to wait for now. Tomorrow into the storm and into Prince Rupert.
I’ve logged about 1000 km in the first two days and the natural wonders I’ve seen are simply breathtaking. I’ve found myself completely exhausted at the end of each day, plopping onto the bed and having no appetite at all. The ride from Snohomish to Sumas was familiar and uneventful, if a bit cool, even bundled in my good coat, liner and winter gloves. The marine clouds yielded just a few moments before I reached the border.
The Canadian border guard was expectedly cordial and asked all the right questions (do you own the bike, do you own all the stuff on it, do you have reservations, how long are you staying, do you really have national health care now?) And then I was on my way into a foreign country on a motorcycle. I screamed and cried in my helmet with delight (after getting sufficiently far away from the guard, of course.)
About six hours later, I rolled into Kamloops utterly amazed and exhausted.
And this morning, I got started an hour earlier and repeated the process to arrive in Quesnel just before dinnertime.
This short summary does not, of course, do the trip thus far even the slightest bit of justice – I haven’t yet mentioned the terror of the massive tractor trailers hauling the wood products of Canada barreling down the highway with a legion of unmerciful turbulence alongside them.
And I haven’t mentioned the other riders with who I’ve already had the pleasure of a few moments of shared adventures.
I’ve also decided that 500 km a day is too much J So, I’m changing plans a bit and slowing down – I’m going to complete a great circle of BC, leaving for Vanderhoof tomorrow, then Smithers, then Prince Rupert, then Vancouver island. The journey is the point, after all. No Alaska destination this trip – I want more time for little side trips and photographs and creative writing in obscure places J
Yamaha Midnight Warrior, Kuryakyn GranTour Bag with lumbar support (sweet!), reinforced gas can. I’m loaded for bear…. literally 
I head out on my Alaska sabbatical on Monday morning.
This morning I wrote the last entry in my journal – I’ve run out of space and will start a new journal tomorrow. This journal feels like the second movie in a trilogy – a time of transition, a time of learning, building up to the climax that will be found in the next movie – or next journal. I’ve found that journaling helps me in many ways.
Mood Stabilization. Creative types can be, well, alternately euphoric and bitchy in the space of a week. Really bitchy (and really euphoric). I’ve found that having a safe place to write down my feelings – triumph and despair, anger and hope – helps me process them and keep a more even hand on life’s throttle.
Prayer. I get why David wrote the Psalms – I think I do some of my best praying by journaling. As I write this, I wonder what sort of lyrics I might be able to find should I turn through the pages of the last three year’s journal.
Discipline. Daily journaling has helped me accept more structure in my creativity. In War of Art, one writer exclaims that inspiration comes to him every day – at exactly 9 am – because he sits down and, like a professional, does the task. Daily practice establishes rhythms that at first may chafe us creatives, but ultimately serve to support us in the creation of our art. They become a “home” for our heart – a familiar safe place.
Mood stabilization, prayer and discipline – if you’d like more of these in your life, journaling may help you as much as it did me.
Keep the shiny side up.