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The three of us in front of Muncho Lake, near Toad River B.C.
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Former residents of Whitehorse 25 years ago, word of a H.O.G.® rally being held there
gave Gladys and I all the excuse we needed to go. A good friend of ours, "Handsome
Dave" (on the right, above), was also going there, so we decided to join forces
and resources.
It's rumoured that almost everyone riding to the rally will stick to the better
maintained Alaska Highway. Wanting to see as many new places as possible, we opted
for a less-travelled, more remote route on the way up. We will go straight west
from Edmonton, Alberta on Hwy 16 until we near the west coast of British Columbia.
From there, we'll turn north on Hwy 37 (the Cassiar Highway) until we reach the
Yukon Territory. We can always take the well-travelled Alaska Highway later, when
returning home.
The chosen route to Whitehorse and back
(red to get to Whitehorse, blue back to Edmonton).
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Friends of ours, who have ridden the Cassiar Highway before, encouraged us to take
our time and soak up the rich history of northern B.C. They also advised us to not
count on lots of miles per day. Rather, we should expect long, unpaved stretches
and plenty of road construction - both of which can make things difficult if we
encounter rainy weather at the same time. That in mind, we give ourselves a generous
5 days to reach the rally from Edmonton.
So, enough planning. Let's do this thing.
On the road towards Jasper National Park
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New T-Bag for the Sporty
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Enjoying the sun in the Rockies
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Dave, adjusting the load on his spanking-new '08 Road King.
We've already hit some rain, as the fly over Gladys' T-Bag indicates.
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Stopping briefly in Jasper for gas, we rode on to McBride B.C., in time to snag
a cheap motel room for our first night. The place was perfect, having a communal
BBQ, which set the stage for a sirloin steak dinner. It was a nice way to get the
trip started.
It's the first night and there's 3 of us to share a room for the next 10 days on
the road. How well is this going to work out? Just fine, except for one thing...
as we prepare to to kick back for the evening, what do I see Dave pulling out of
his bag?
He brought a blasted computer along!
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A laptop computer on the trip... Great! My work - which involves pounding on computers
all day - is what I'm trying to get away from. "Keep that thing away from me, man!"
Later on, as Dave uses his wireless connection to access weather forecasts on the
Net, I've got to admit it's pretty handy though.
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The motel in McBride
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The next day, after passing through Prince George, we make a side trip to the historic
trading post called Fort St. James; about a 100 km detour. Stuff like this is why
we planned on taking 5 days to reach Whitehorse. Too often on long trips, the temptation
is to get to a destination in as little time as possible; resulting in missing so
much in between.
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On the way to Fort St. James
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Our native guide picking strawberries and myself, making a minor repair
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We find that Fort St. James is predominantly a native community. Based on what we
were told by the locals, there had been a move underway years ago, initiated by
certain wealthy backers, to transport the entire remains of the fort to the east.
The community stepped up, opposed it and decided to restore the buildings themselves,
making it into a historical site.
A worthwhile decision, as this was one of the last, true trading outposts in Canada.
Right up into the 1950's, barter was still the only form of currency used. The resulting
tourist dollars now help to offset what was lost in terms of substinance provided
by fishing the lake, since the water has been contaminated with pollutants (mercury?).
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At the risk of dating her, Gladys used to travel
on horse-drawn carts when she was young
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Dave, in the restored men's quarters
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Gladys demonstrating what being a
swinger meant in the old days
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As we prepared to leave, I noticed one of the exhaust heat shields is breaking
off.
So I finished the job. Don't need that thing anyway.
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Having returned to the main route and finding a room in a small town that evening,
we took a stroll to the nearby bar, filled with boisterous, young locals spending
their paychecks. Dave proceeds to nearly start a riot, suggesting they act gay.
Dog gone it, Dave!
At the motel.
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Don, it's broke. Fix it!
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Happy now? (blasted skull mirrors)
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Rolling into Smithers, we decided to check out the Harley-Davidson dealer and see
if they had a heat shield for my exhaust. As it turned out, it's a good thing they
didn't. A part like that costs around $100 new, but I managed to snag a used one
for free after we returned home.
It was raining pretty steady so our rain gear was being worn all the time now. Stopping
at the Smithers District Chamber of Commerce, we picked up some detailed maps of
the northern leg of our route, since that junction was coming soon.
Hmmm... All these nights sharing the same room... Am I failing to pick up on
something?
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Finally, at Kitwanga, we can start turning north, up Hwy 37 - the Cassiar Highway.
A narrower, less-maintained and far more remote road, this is where we expect things
to get more interesting. We stop for a picture and mark this stage in our journey
(You never know... it might be the last anyone ever sees of us!).
Although it's cool and rainy, we still plan on making Hyder, Alaska before nightfall.
The sign-post marking our way north.
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The route from Kitwanga to Hyder.
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Changing to a less-travelled road was like a breath of fresh (albeit wet) air. Nice
and curvy is what the bikes like too. We eventually arrived at the junction where
we will turn off towards Hyder and gobbled down a few sandwiches Gladys had made
(a woman is so handy have along).
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Turning off towards Hyder.
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The scenery from this point forward is truly amazing. The mountains rise up on either
side steeper and higher than anywhere I have seen. Awesome are the works of the
Lord.
Unfortunately, we couldn't stop anywhere for long because we had to get to Hyder
before nightfall. On bikes, riding at night in country with so much wild game is
just not a good idea. We promised ourselves to take more time when we retraced this
portion of the route back to the Cassiar highway the next day.
Speaking of Hyder, have you ever heard of getting Hyderized? If not, let me explain.
In a certain bar there, they serve this special, hi-test drink - so strong that
if you can drink it all you get it for free. Should you complete the challenge,
you can then truly say you were "Hyderized" in Hyder.
So, with the need to get to the Hyder bar before closing time and disregarding objections
from Gladys who wants to stay in nearby Stewart (on the Canadian side), we proceeded
on through the driving, cold rain and make it to Hyder.
A store in Hyder.
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Our 4 star motel for the night.
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When we get to the border we are expecting to lose some time at Customs. But not
a problem. There's not even a Customs booth! Unimpeded, we ride straight into the
town and find a room (way cheaper than anything in Stewart, by the way).
Gear unloaded, I head straight for the main bar to take care of business, as it's
getting late... Darn. It closed just as we got there! No Hyderization for me then.
Taking one look at us coming through the type of weather we did, they probably figured
they'd be paying for my drink for sure!
So back to the motel room and, from there, getting something to eat in the attached
bar. This was a pretty humble-looking establishment but man, I gotta tell ya, we
had our best eating of the whole trip there. They had these hamburger and donair
dishes made from fresh salmon and smothered in some special sauce. We ate (and drank)
until we could barely get up from the table later.
Gladys, impressing our with her Ninja skills in the motel room.
She will protect us!
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While in conversation with a grizzled, elderly Hyder resident, I mentioned my surprise
over the lack of a Customs check point. "I hear all this stuff about Homeland Security...
So what's with that?"
The old guy looks at me, gives a sly smile and says, "We ALL have guns here you
know. And besides, this is the end of the road. If you do something wrong, where
do you think you're gonna run?"
Heh, heh. Okay, some valid points there!
The next morning the weather continued on the cool side, accompanied by a steady
drizzle, but we resolved to spend some time exploring Hyder anyway. The first destination
was the end of the wharf that overlooks a huge bay bordering the town.
After taking in the view of the bay, we headed the other direction to see a grizzly
bear observation site we had heard about. It was about 6 miles of rain-slicked,
unpaved road to get there, but worth it. The observation area had many bridges criss-crossing
a salmon-spawning stream. At the right time of year it attracts many grizzlies.
Unfortunately for us, the peak of the salmon spawning season was yet 2 weeks away,
so there were no grizzlies to see.
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Overlooking the bay in Hyder.
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As we had promised ourselves the day before, we now took our time riding the stretch
of highway leading back to the Hwy 37 junction.
Even in dreary, rainy weather the scenery was still stunning. Hard to do it justice
here, but the glacier in the picture below looked like an enormous, translucent
gem, perfectly cradled between the mountain slopes on either side.
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A glacier bordering the road back from Hyder.
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Back on Hwy 37 again, we resumed our trek northward. A long day's ride resulted
in our rolling into Dease Lake just before 8:00 PM.
8 o'clock is a consequential time in this region because everything - and I mean
everything like gas stations, convenience stores, restaurants, the works - closes
at 8:00 PM. Fortunately, a restaurant owned by a terrific lady (shown below) opened
its doors to us after hours. The restaurant goes by her name, "Momma Z's", so make
a point of stopping there if you ever pass through.
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"Mama Z" in Dease Lake - who opened her
restaurant to us after hours.
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A poor, widdow birdie who didn't move out
of the way fast enough.
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The next morning we are out on the road again.
In a steady rain again.
To make it interesting, we will discover the next stretch of road is unpaved for
24 kilometers - all made up of windy curves and long, steep hills.
Not a single sign was posted to warn of the unpaved portion either. One moment we're
clipping along at 100 km/hr uphill and then, right at the crest (a point where there's
no visibility ahead), the asphalt is gone and rain-soaked, gravel takes its place!
My years in road-construction tell me the material in this region is mostly silt
- not the clay we usually have back home. Clay becomes greasy and soft in wet conditions,
but silt holds up well - even after being subjected to steady rain like this for
several days. The surface appears to provide pretty good traction and has remained
mostly unrutted in spite of the heavy truck traffic in the area.
So I guess things could have been worse. We cut back on our speed, take our time
and pick our way through. Nothing impossible for a bike.
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Putting along through the unpaved section of Hwy 37, Gladys in the lead.
As you can see, the road surface was mostly free of ruts, in spite of the
rain and truck traffic.
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At long last, we get out of the rainy weather for awhile and, after one more stretch
of road construction, land in Watson Lake - arriving at the Alaska Highway. This
concludes our ride on Hwy 37.
As an aside, if you ever plan on travelling Highway 37 or a road like it, you might
do well to receive scare-stories you hear with a pinch of skepticism - even when
those stories come from locals. To hear people tell it, this road we just went through
was so bad that big semis were losing their bumpers and motorhomes were sinking
in mud to their axles.
We even heard such things from riders. Some talk like you need a dual-purpose bike
(a Harley definitely out of the question, of course) to get through.
Just keep in mind that people like to exaggerate. It makes their own exploits seem
a bit grander that way. Don't ask me how much I was tempted to do the same, to make
the story more interesting!
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A little more road construction and Poor Ol' Elijah finally gets his kiss.
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We had booked ahead for a room in Whitehorse; which was fortunate, since there weren't
many vacancies left once we arrived. Unloading our gear we got the rally registration
business out of the way and then figured out where the Harley dealership was located.
That evening we went out on the town. To Dave's delight, Gladys was rapidly befriended
by several local gals who were eager to show us a good time. Leaving our bikes,
we piled into their Cadillac and the evening kicked into high gear. They wouldn't
let us pay for any drinks the entire night.
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At the rally registration center
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The townspeople of Whitehorse were very welcoming!
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We get started a bit late the next day. Being out past 3:00 AM might have had something
to do with it.
Heading downtown, we bump into Robert (who I know from Alaska), his wife Samantha
and sister Lynn. They had also ridden in for the ralley.
Dave has been hankering to ride to Lake LaBerge so he can read that famous Robert
Service poem about Sam McGee on its shores. Dave, you're so weird! But sure, we'll
go to Lake LaBerge with ya.
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Robert, his wife Samantha and sister Lynn with Gladys.
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Dave, reading the "The Cremation of Sam McGee"
on the marge of Lake LaBerge.
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Influenced by an old photo at the site's
exhibit, Dave and Gladys replicate
the way people posed in those days.
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We get back from Lake La Barge and... no sooner do we begin to relax, when we hear
knocks on the motel window. It's our gracious hosts from last night; wondering if
we're interested in hitting the town's night spots again!
I'm now trying to think of something else we could do. I don't mind going to a bar
once in awhile but, really, I could do that in Edmonton. I'd rather see a bit more
of Whitehorse. So I ask if they know of a picnicing area - a place where we can
build a campfire, pop a few beers and maybe roast a weiner or two.
I don't want to push our luck further with the bar scene anyway, as things got a
little dicey the previous night. Near the evening's end we had got into it with
the bouncers a bit. Then Gladys comes over to tell me her leather jacket has gone
missing from her chair... Oh man, that's not good.
We eventually figured out there was an innocent explanation: One of the gals in
our group, thinking a brawl would break out, had run out of the bar - taking Gladys'
jacket with her for safe-keeping.
That was a relief - not just because Gladys needs her jacket for travelling, but
also because she had all our cash for the trip in its pocket!
Uh oh... Here we go again!
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When you're in Whitehorse at this time of year, it doesn't get truly dark the whole
night. Birds still fly around at 3:00 in the morning; perfect for late nights in
the country.
Stopping at a government campground to pick up some firewood, we headed - us on
our bikes - to a perfect spot on the banks of the Yukon River. In addition to wood,
the ladies had brought beer, hot dogs and condiments in their car.
They also brought a guitar and, man, those women knew how to sing. Leah had appeared
on the Nashville Network once. She knew all the old standards by heart; having been
steeped in the old-timey stuff by her grandfather.
When it got to about 3 in the morning, we decided it's best to head back to the
motel. We don't want to miss the rally events planned for tomor... er, today!
By the time we rode off, a few friends of our hostesses had arrived, so they weren't
left high and dry (despite Dave's best efforts).
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Dave in his glory.
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The next day we managed to get up in time to attend the Bike Rodeo - where riders
from all over would compete to bring biker glory to their respective chapters.
Not picky (and having no shame), Gladys and I decided we'd just go ahead and compete
in every event they had. The prime event for Dave is the Slow Race - he's always
been real good at that and is interested to see how he does on his new Road King.
In case you don't know, 'Slow Races' are where riders compete to see who can cross
the finish line last, while staying in their lane and not putting a foot down.
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The Edmonton Gang
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Let's do this!
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Boot half-way on, trying to escape through the
pretend bedroom window in "Honey! I'm Home!"
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Chris and Elaine, from our Edmonton Chapter.
(Elaine did the filming of the videos, below)
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Dave, getting Star's phone number... on the back of a
condom package, handed out with the Ralley Kit.
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Gladys with Leah, who sang so well
the night before.
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The temperature went up to almost 40 celsius
the day of the bike rodeo.
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The Bike rodeo kicked off with the Slow Races.
Since my bike has nearly 200,000 kms on its original clutch, I was a bit reluctant
to participate. I didn't want to chance wearing out the clutch so far from home.
But temptation eventually overcame good sense and I entered anyway. To see videos
of the Slow Races and other competitions we participated in, check out any of the
videos below. |
Whitehorse Bike Rodeo Videos
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 |  | | Me and Dave in the Slow Race. And I'm in the lead!
Oh. That's not good, right?
| Gladys and me, readying for the
Weiner Bite contest.
|  |  | | Gladys trying her best in the Balloon Toss...
| ...and me in the Slow Race.
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Remember I said I was concerned about competing in the slow race with my bike's old clutch? As it turned out, it was the clutch of the newest bike in our group - Dave's spanking new, '08 Road King - that burned up! It was almost gone in the first elimination round already - pretty much ruining his chances of winning.
My theory is that the clutch in Dave's bike was not adjusted correctly when we left Edmonton and it had been slipping (just slightly) the entire trip to Whitehorse. I guess we can be thankful his bike didn't fail while we were out in the middle of nowhere.
 | | Dave - bike in the shop for repairs - being given a ride to the Rally Reception.
Of course, I had to ride him around the parking lot several times before letting him get off. |
Since we need to leave Whitehorse to begin our trip back to Edmonton the next day, we head straight for the Harley dealer after the bike rodeo to see what can be done. Normally closed on Sunday, the dealer is staying open on account of the Rally.
Bad news. They don't have any clutches in stock and it will take a few days to get one shipped up. Well, we don't have that kind of time so we persuaded them to take a clutch pack out of a used bike and, within an hour or two, Dave's bike is ready to roll again.
 |  | | Doin' our best, but no cigar... or weiner!
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About a month after this trip, a friend of ours - who also attended the rally but stayed a few days longer than us - handed me a few copies of the Yukon News, saying I might find them interesting.
Well dog gone. There we are, on the front pages!
 HOGging the front page of the Yukon News!
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We left Whitehorse the next morning, to begin our journey home - for which we planned to take 3 days. Dave had let us know he wanted to pull into Watson Lake to see their famous "Signpost Forest". His dad, many years before had contributed a sign to the forest, so he wanted to get a picture.
Man, there's a lot of signs there. I'm not sure if Dave found his dad's, but he wandered around in there for awhile.
Gladys, meanwhile, is impatient to get going. This will become more of a factor, as we get closer to home. I know her well enough to know what's going on. Her thoughts are turning to home and seeing our kids and grandchildren again. Not a factor at the beginning of our trips but, on the return route once that notion sets in... If you look closely, you can see the first hints of this on her face, in the picture below.
 |  | | Stopping in Watson Lake to see the Signpost Forest
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There is one thing that will make Gladys' forget about grandkids for awhile: Bison. Her aversion to these beasts had been evident on other occasions already; including the previous year, when we rode to (Yellowknife).
And bison is what we encountered next - just before getting to Liard River, where we planned to stay for the night.
For the first half hour, small groups and solitary bulls were here and there alongside the roadway. No big problem, as they were at a good enough distance away.
But then, as we crested a large hill, we encountered the scene you can see below; an entire herd, calves with protective mothers, bedded down on both shoulders of the road, animals periodically crossing from one side to the other.
 | | Blocked (for all practical purposes as far as Gladys was concerned) by a herd of bison near Liard River. |
I'm in the lead and, as I see this, I know it's going to be a problem for Gladys. "If we get this over with before she has time to think, it will be easiest", I say to myself. So, hoping Gladys will follow, I putt through the herd at a very slow, quiet pace - so as not to trigger the cows' protective instincts for their calves.
In short order, I'm safely through, but Gladys has not followed. Darn.
Once off my bike I can hear Dave, on the other side of the herd, trying to persuade her it will be okay. After a few minutes she's crying. I guess Dave's efforts are not succeeding.
Maybe I should go back. Trouble is, it isn't the safest thing to do, riding through a herd of cows with calves like that. Best to keep that to a minimum if possible.
After about 15 minutes of Dave's reassuring (and me, yelling from the other side of the herd), a very reluctant Gladys finally takes off... slowly... riding with her eyes closed! Oh well. She made it through at least. Now we can continue to Liard River and maybe get there before all the rooms are gone.
 | | Dave and Gladys, stuck on the other side of the herd - Gladys refusing to go.
You can see from this that the bison were occasionally crossing. |
When we finally roll into Liard we find there's no vacancy. But a waitress working there tells us she and her husband have a couple of small, trapper's cabins on their property for rent. Perfect.
We get to the trapper's cabins and are pleasantly surprised - both with the price and the rustic style. No water, but the landowner brings a 5 gallon pail-full over. That, with the abundant firewood and fire pit is all we need. Very cool.
 | | The rustic cabin we stayed in at Liard River. |
Besides ours, there was another cabin for rent. A young mom, along with her 2 daughters, came and checked the other one out. Dave and I then watched as they immediately got back into their car and drove away.
That got me and Dave wondering what was in there so, video camera in hand, we went to take a look. The video below shows what that lead to (at Gladys' expense).
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Once we got things set up in the cabin we had to check out the famous Liard Hot Springs. It was a bit of a hike but, once there, we were pleased to see how well things were set up. Good thing we decided to pack swim suits and towels.
The springs are made up of a stream that gets increasingly hot as you wade towards the source; so hot that you can only proceed so far. Mighty nice and relaxing after the long ride we had - probably just what Gladys needed after our episode with the bison.
The following day we heard that the springs turn into a skinny dipping affair after midnight; well-attended by campers from the nearby government campground. Hmmm. I guess we wouldn't have needed to pack swim gear after all.
 |  | | Taking a dip in the Liard River Hot Springs. |
The next morning should be our second-last day on the road. Gladys is really itchin' to see those grandkids again. We get out on the road early and set our sights on Dawson Creek. The day starts off quite nice and gradually degrades into cold and rain. Heat vests plugged in? Check.
 |  | | On the way to Dawson Creek. The weather's still quite good at this time. |
Finally arriving in Dawson Creek, we got a motel room, parked the bikes and went for dinner - a nice, fancy dinner. This was to celebrate the last night the 3 of us would spend together. I've heard so many stories about people riding together getting on each others' nerves but, in our case, we still get along as well as we did when we left Edmonton 9 days ago.
This is largely due to Dave's easy-going, cheerful disposition actually. As he puts it, "I get into a bad mood maybe once a year and, after 15 minutes, it passes." Gladys and I, on the other hand, haven't always been super-nice... leaving poor Dave behind to catch up once or twice (he takes so long to put his gloves on!).
Dave's good nature was going to be severely tested by Gladys the following day...
 | | Dawson Creek - our last night on the road. |
Remember I said something about how Gladys' demeanor changes on the ride home, once her need to see our grandkids sets in? Well, here we are with one more day's ride before she can see them. They are all she's thinking of now and nothing will deter her from reaching her goal.
I guess this was not a good day for Dave and me to have made a change to the route without telling her.
But you got to understand Dave was homesick too - just for a different place. He used to live in a small town called Spirit River for 20 odd years. We were passing so close to it, he wondered if we could take a little detour. He wanted to ride past his old house.
Sounds reasonable to me. We even work out a route that won't require additional time for getting to Edmonton. We'll just skip going through Grande Prairie and cut east towards High Prairie instead.
So we get to Spirit River - Gladys having no idea where we are and still believing we're on our way to Grande Prairie. We pass through Dave's old neighbourhood and then pull into a nearby restaurant for breakfast.
When we sit down, Gladys unfolds the map and asks where we are. I point to Spirit River - which is a few hundred miles Northeast of Grand Prairie. "What the f*** are we doing up here? We're supposed to be down there!!!", she says, pointing to Grande Prairie. Oh no. This is not going good; she's just beside herself now as she adds, "All this time I thought we were getting closer to home and we're still way up north! What are you guys doing?"
This is when a naive, unsuspecting Dave decides it might be a good idea to politely argue in favour of the altered route. Bad move, Dave. I knew better; weather the initial storm and let her get it out of her system for awhile first. So, as Dave begins to speak, Gladys now really lays into him. By the end of it, she's so mad she can't even eat breakfast and Dave is wondering where that truck that just ran over him came from.
I take Dave aside, tell him this is only temporary and assure him it will blow over. We'll let her cry and calm down for a few minutes first. Then, when the time is right, we'll go over the new route with her and she'll see it won't take any longer to get home (and see the grandkids).
So that's what we do. In about a half hour, things are all worked out - so well worked out that I think we even managed to convince her the new route will get us home quicker. At any rate, Dave has had a good chance to get to know Gladys better!
 | | On the road after the Spirit River 'blow up' - Dave stayin' far out of Gladys' way! |
Everyone now on board with the new route plan, we ride eastward from Spirit River on a little-used highway - one we can substantially exceed the speed limit on - until we get to High Prairie and then turn south in the direction of Edmonton.
Approaching Swan Hills was one of those situations where you can see a daunting storm well ahead of the time you reach it. The skies ahead were pitch black, so thick were the thunderheads. Gonna get wet soon! Dave and Gladys pulled over to put on their rain gear.
Myself, I said, "Screw it. We're almost home anyway." As long as I have chaps on, electric grips and a heat vest to plug in, I can take a bit of a drenching, since I won't have to wear these clothes tomorrow anyway. In fact, I almost look forward to this storm. And I can see clear, blue sky on the other side of that dark bank of clouds, so I know this won't last long.
As expected, the storm didn't last long but, while it did, man, it really came down. And thunder - just like 747's taking off overhead. You don't fully experience a storm's fury inside a car the way you do on a bike.
By the time we reached Swan Hills, we were coming out the other side of the storm. But, knowing it was moving in the same direction we were headed, we kept riding hard to stay in front of it. And chase us that storm did; all the way back to Edmonton. The next time the clouds burst overhead was as Gladys and I unpacked the gear from our bikes inside the safety of our garage. So good to be home again.
Next stop: Hop in the truck and go see those grandkids.
Thanks for reading and sharing the journey with us. Ride safe.
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