Vancouver

Arriving in Vancouver on a Saturday morning, I made my way to the local BMW dealership.  Having called ahead, they were expecting me and my bike.  New tires had been ordered, and the dealership generously allowed me to store all my riding gear while the bike was being serviced.

Leaving the dealership with a small drybag (Vickie had all my cruise wear in another suitcase she was bringing), I pulled up Uber on my phone, only to learn neither Uber or Lyft are allowed in Vancouver.  So, after waiting almost an hour for a cab, I arrived at the Rosewood Hotel in downtown Vancouver.

Vickie's flight was not due until the evening, so I explored the city a bit, eventually taking the train to the airport and meeting Vickie with all our luggage for the cruise and after cruise travel.

We decided the best way to see the city was by a guide led bicycle tour.  Vancouver is intentionally very bike and pedestrian friendly, having been voted one of the top five most livable cities in the world.  With a population of just over 600,000; most people live in glass high rise apartments so that they can enjoy amazing 360 views of the ocean and the mountains.  The downside is that Vancouver is also one of the most expensive cities to live in, with many people pushed out to the surrounding areas, with a metro population of almost 3 million.  Vancouver is one of the warmest cities in Canada, due to its' proximity to the Pacific, and also the wettest, although while we were there, they were experiencing a drought.

Vancouver is very diverse, with over 50% of the residents having English as their second language.  Persons of Chinese heritage are the largest population group, followed by other Asian ethnic groups, such as Punjabi, Indo-Canadian, Japanese, and Korean.

Our cycle group was led by a local Vancouverite, who was understandably proud of his city, and gave us an insider's view (and opinion) of everything from local politics to the long and storied history of the city.  In keeping with the diversity theme our group included a family from Merida, Mexico, whose daughter was about to attend college in Canada.

Highlights of the tour included the massive Stanley Park, the third largest park in North America.  The totems were a highlight as was the seawall and magnificent views.  Granville Island was amazing, with many restaurants, brewpubs, and shopping.  Most interesting were the mini ferry boats taking everyone back and forth from the island to the city.  Vancouver is a city of neighborhoods, each with its' own ethnic and cultural mix.

Our day ended with a walk around the cruise terminal, Canada Place, where millions of tourists depart for Alaska annually, us included.

Great customer service.  Not only did they store my gear and bike for 10 days, after the service; I also saved $$ due to the exchange rate.

The best way to experience Vancouver. 

A remembrance of the indigenous peoples of Vancouver in Stanley Park.

Where all the broom props for the Harry Potter movies are made.

My beauty observing the beauty of Vancouver.  And worried about that seaplane in the background. More about that in the next post........

Canada, Eh?

The Canadian border crossing on WA Hwy 31 is definitely in the "boonies".  Twenty miles from a town either on the US side or the Canadian side, business was slow the morning I crossed.  The agent hadn't seen anyone from Texas on a motorcycle before, and her main question she wanted answered was whether or not I was carrying a firearm.  Assuring her I wasn't, after showing my passport and the recording of my license plate, I was on my way to explore the southern mountains of Canada.

Canada Highway 3, also called Crowsnest Highway, http://www.crowsnest-highway.ca/, is a historic route across BC.  This portion from Salmo to Vancouver was as varied a terrain as I could imagine.  From soaring snow covered peaks to huge fruit orchards and vineyards at Osoyoos, this portion of the ride was both surprising and challenging.

Midway into the morning, the rain and sleet started to fall, so I found a roadside camping area and geared up with wet weather gear.  I added my heated vest as the temperature was dropping, and continued on, at a much slower pace as the road was both twisty and wet.

After a couple of hours, the skies cleared, I topped a mountain pass, and the road began a sharp descent.  Lake Osoyoos and the town of Osoyoos came into view.  I learned that Lake Osoyoos is the warmest lake in BC, and this is a popular tourist and retirement destination for those Canadians wanting to escape the cold, but unable to afford the Southern US.  Many of the buildings were built in the '60's to resemble the southwest US, with adobe structure and red tile roofs.  With the many orchards, it felt as if I had stumbled into Southern California.

I stopped for lunch, a glass of wine, and unusual for me, a haircut.  With what little hair I have, I had neglected to bring my clippers, so I was getting a little shaggy.

Wanting to get a few more miles in, I continued east towards Vancouver, and ended the day in a small town called Princeton, about 200 miles east of Vancouver, my destination for the next day.

Canada, like the US, is a land of immigrants.  Canadians, wherever they are from originally, are some of the friendliest people on the planet.  And, many of them love the US.  I spoke to several Canadians who spend the winter months in the US, and would stay longer, and spend more of their money here, if our government would let them.  There are some crazy immigration rules, however, for Canadians, allowing them only limited time here in the US to enjoy their vacation homes, and our warmer climate.

Next stop is Vancouver, where I will drop off the bike at Vancouver BMW for new tires and a 10k service.  Then, pick up Vickie at the airport and get ready for our cruise departure to Alaska.  More to come........

Lake Osoyoos, feels more like Southern California than British Columbia

Mike had a story to tell.  His story took longer than my haircut:)

This little motel, pretty much unchanged since the owners, from Russia, bought it in the '50's.  One of my road rules; no chain motels.

Main Street, Princeton, BC. Pretty quiet on a Friday night.

Metaline Falls

Riding north on WA Hwy 31, the recommendation I received from the nice lady at the tourist information stop was to spend the night in Metaline Falls, WA, about 20 miles from the Canadian border crossing.  A highway sign warned that the border crossing was only open during daylight hours, and this little town was the last stop before the border.

  Borders are an odd thing to me, in many places unmarked, just a line on a map.  Our southern border is much more apparent and the differences are vast.  Up here, culture is similar and the most noticeable differences are the phone service, money, and the metric system.

Metaline Falls is a quirky little town of about 200 people.  Once a large mining and cement manufacturing hub, today it's a beautiful, quiet hideaway. Its' claim to fame is the Kevin Costner flop of a movie, The Postman. The movie was filmed here, and there is a nice tribute in the sometimes used train station.  On weekends, in the summer, a vintage steam train takes tourists into the mountains.

The most unusual thing to me was that there were a significant number of displaced indigent people living here.  I was told that the state of Washington offers free or reduced rent housing in an old but well kept apartment building left over from the days when a large factory was still in operation.  There were dozens of people living in the building; unemployed, without transportation, but seemingly content to draw their unemployment, medicaid, or disability and live a simple life.  I met one resident, oddly enough born in Garland, TX.  She had re-located from a life in Alaska to this quiet little town.  Her story was an epic tale, and her weathered appearance bore the signs of a life lived hard.  She was reluctant to have her photo taken, however I snapped one when she wasn't looking.

Needless to say, lodging was minimal.  The one motel outside of town, near a state park, had the "NO VACANCY" sign lit, so I tried the only other place, The Washington Hotel.  The sign on the unlocked door directed me across the street to the local bar for info.  Inquiring, the bartender said there were plenty of rooms available, in fact I was the only guest, and it was $40 cash for the night.  "Pick any clean room", she said.  "Bathroom is down the hall; the owner will be back tomorrow."

Following the signs pointing upstairs, I found a place straight out of the "40's, in my mind.  About 12 rooms along a long hallway, a communal bathroom and showers, and a feeling that it had been a while since any other guests had been brave enough to spend the night.  My chosen room was clean with fresh sheets and towels, and a fan in the open window.  No lock on the door, no lock on the entrance downstairs, and a distinct feeling I had wandered not into the Hotel Washington, but Hotel California.

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

 Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax, " said the night man,
"We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! "

As you can see I was able to leave, after a fitful night's sleep, and plenty of memories to share.

Cindy's Cafe next door served a wonderful breakfast, with several trucks full of fire fighters converging on the place as soon as the doors opened at 7am.  Three firefighters had died a few miles away the day before having been caught behind a fire line, and these brave men and women were gearing up for another day of danger and duty.  God bless them and all the others that were risking their lives.

With the bike loaded, and a full stomach, I set out for Canada and an exciting ride through the Canadian mountains.  To be continued....................

Metaline Falls claim to fame

A fellow Texan, by way of Alaska.  Now a resident of Metaline Falls.  She was not willing to pose for a photo, so I sneaked this one.

I might have been the first guest since 1906.

Being the only guest in an old hotel with no locks on any doors was a little creepy.

This place was a time capsule.

Vancouver bound August 2015

After five days and four nights of enjoying Yellowstone's back country, a hot shower and a real bed was a welcome relief.

Waking up after that rest, there was frost on the bike and the thermometer outside my room registered 30 degrees.  I decided to have a leisurely breakfast and spent some time re-packing everything for the ride toward Vancouver.

A  mid-morning departure was in order and my route took me Northwest on US 287 across the lower part of Montana.  Stopping at the Big Hole National Battlefield, I learned about the demise of the Nez Perce Indians.  A nomadic tribe from Oregon, these people had been ordered by the US military to settle on a reservation in Idaho, (b/c gold had been discovered on their reservation and the settlers wanted the gold).  

Running from the soldiers, the tribe had hoped to escape to Canada.  They were surprised at dawn by the 7th Infantry and many were killed, including the women and children.  Many soldiers were also killed in a counter-attack, but as usual the military prevailed and the Nez Perce tribe was put out of existance.

Crossing the Bitterroot mountain range that separates Idaho and Montana, I turned west on the Lolo highway, a scenic highway that many motorcyclists enjoy each summer.  Testing my patience, I had to turn around, however, due to the many forest fires in the area.  I back-tracked to Missoula, MT where I spent the night.  The sky was gray and everything smelled like smoke.

The bike packed and ready to leave for Vancouver after a restful night in West Yellowstone, MT

The day started early as I had a 6am conference call.  With today's technology, business can be transacted on the road almost as easily as at home.  After taking care of business, and knowing that the fires were worsening, I decided to go north and try to ride around the problem.  Riding up I-90 toward Spokane, I took a break and stopped at a small town, Mullen, MT.  A coffee shop had advertised on the interstate their specialty of Huckleberry milkshakes.  Having had one before years earlier when in Montana, I decided to try it again.  While waiting, a man in the shop asked where i was from, and having said Arlington, TX, he surprisingly noted that he lived in Dallas.  He introduced himself, and Patrick and I had a great time talking.  He had been born in Mullen, and had decided to come back for the summer to take care of family property.  He is a massage therapist, and splits his time between Montana and Texas, enjoying the best seasons of both.

Learning more about the fires, I exited the interstate at Couer d'Alene, Idaho and continued north toward the Canadian border.  Just before  crossing into Washington, I stopped for lunch in Spirit Lake, Idaho.  A small lake town with four bars on the one block main street, a local suggested the the "Linger Longer Lounge" had the best food.  He was not wrong, the sandwich and tater tots, washed down with a local beer hit the spot.  Two locals, having whiskey for lunch, gave me all the local weather and hunting news, largely complaining about the drought and heat, and the fact that the elk population had been decimated by wolves.  According to them, the re-introduction of the wolf to Yellowstone several years ago had gone wrong, with the wolves migrating north and multiplying much as the wild hogs have done in Texas.  In Idaho, it is now open season for wolves 9 months of the year, only requiring a $11 wolf tag to hunt them.  They gave me more local fire info, and I again re-routed my trip further north, deciding to bypass my western route across Washington state.

As I got closer to the Canadian border, I stopped at the information general store in Ione Washington, 20 miles from the border.  The nice lady there (who winters in San Antonio) suggested that I stop for the night in Metaline Falls, a small former mining and cement town 12 miles from the border.  This little town deserves a post all its' own, so stay tuned.

Apparently, a favorite locals hangout.  One of four bars on the block.