We rode past Mt Rainier National Park where we ran into a storm worse than the one we left on the coast. Discouraged but not beaten, we continued up a steep hill that led over White Pass. It was only at 4,500 feet elevation, but the rain turned to snow near the top. It was dark by this time, and nothing was open this time of year, so we had no choice but to keep going. The snow wasn't sticking to the ground yet, but I had to keep wiping my face shield to keep the snow off. I still couldn't see well since it was constantly fogging up because of the difference in temperatures inside and outside my helmet. I could barely see Cyrus' taillight ahead of me, so I just focused on following that. My fingers were completely frozen and I was having trouble working my controls. We stopped a few times to try and warm up, but that was hard to do with the wind blowing as hard as it was. Finally we made it to lower elevations where the temperature rose enough for it to stop snowing. We pulled over at the first building we saw. It was closed, but we sat under its awning for over half an hour, waiting for our extremities to warm up. I don't mean to be a drama queen, but I honestly can't remember a time that I've been in more pain.
We made it to a small town and enquired about a room, but couldn't find anything in our price range. We moved on to the larger town of Yakima, where we found a room at "Tourist Motel" for $30. "Crack Den" would have been a more appropriate name. This was by far the sketchiest place I've ever stayed. And that includes Iraq.
The manager told us in broken English to be sure to take everything of value off the bikes and lock them in our room. Most of the residents seemed to be squatters. Lots of cars pulling up to rooms, people running in and out, then driving off. The doors weren't numbered well, so we were having trouble finding ours. A prostitute was kind enough to help us find number 14 while she waited for her cab. Our room had bloodstained sheets and a microwave that didn't work. At least they had cable. Cyrus tried to bring his motorcycle into the room, but his handlebars were too wide to get through the door. We unloaded all our gear then parked them close together and covered them with a tarp. We both woke up several times during the night and checked on them.
In the morning while watching the local news we learned that the pass we'd gone over had accumulated several feet of snow, trapping a few truckers. Good thing we didn't stop. On our way out of town we stopped at a Harley store to check on a new front tire for my bike, since it was getting pretty worn. They had the tire, but not the time to work on it, but I bought a good pair of waterproof motorcycle pants to replace the hiking pants I'd been wearing.
We found a Honda shop that couldn't work on my bike either, but they put us in touch with a shop farther north on our route that could fit us in if we hurried. The town was 2 hours north, and the shop was pretty busy. They said they could get to me faster if I took the wheel off the bike myself. Luckily Cyrus was there, and with an old car jack that he'd brought, we raised the front of my bike in the parking lot and removed the wheel without any problems. The new tire, mount and balance cost me $150 and pretty soon we were back on the road.
It warmed up a little while we were in town so we had a nice ride north along a very beautiful section of the Columbia river. We stopped at a grocery store for wine, and also bought some cheap steaks. We made it nearly to the Canadian border and stopped at a state park that was apparently closed, but we set up camp anyway. We found barely enough sticks to cook our steaks with, but still had a good night.
In the morning we gassed up and got to the border crossing. We both got sent inside for additional screening where they checked our criminal records. I guess they didn't find anything too bad, cause they let us through eventually. They never searched our bikes though. I'm not sure if the bear spray or hatchet would have been a problem, and Cyrus had a bowie knife with a 9" blade that he was worried they might confiscate.
It rained a little as we headed north through British Columbia, but cleared up later as we got into some truly beautiful scenery and it even warmed up some. It was a really dry climate, which I love, but with plenty of vegetation and big pine trees, like northern Arizona. Big valleys with clear rivers and sparsely populated towns. I could easily see myself living there.
Both Cyrus and I had problems with our credit cards when we got to Canada so we had to call our banks and sort things out. Later we stumbled upon a nice campground at Timothy Lake. It was free, and we got the last available site, which was really secluded, right by the lake.
The next day the skies were clear, but became overcast as soon as we got on the road. Got pretty cold too, raining off and on. At a gas station an older gentleman noticed my Indiana plates and said "You're a long way from home!" I just smiled and said "Yeah, I like it that way." People out here have been really friendly, as I expected. They always end our conversations with "Have a nice trip, eh." We stopped at a Wal-Mart to get a frisbee that day. When I walked inside I immediately felt like I was back in America. I didn't like that. I was surprised that despite Canada's higher gas prices, a lot of people still drive SUV's and full size pick-up trucks. Their economy's doing so much better than ours that I guess they can get away with it. Of course their winters are more intense than ours as well. We spent that night at an empty RV site for $13 bucks, which included free firewood and showers.
Forgotten River Towns Tour
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Both Cyrus and I had problems with our credit cards when we got to Canada so we had to call our banks and sort things out. Later we stumbled upon a nice campground at Timothy Lake. It was free, and we got the last available site, which was really secluded, right by the lake.
