October 14, 2013 – What to do on a sunny, but cool, holiday Monday?
Why. . . ride. . . of course!
We got going an hour earlier today, I’m not sure that was altogether a good thing, but it may not have really made a difference at this end of the ride anyway. We were heading south again, but had opted to cross at Sumas and head down to the Blue Mountain Grill for lunch. Since Highway #1 is still a construction mess, we decided to take the back route through Port Moody and along the Lougheed. The problem is that the Barnet Highway pretty much never sees sun at this time of year, so the road is damp, dark, and cold. And on a frigid morning such as today, that means slick.
The Sumas border isn’t the smartest setup, and drawing the Nexus duty must be a mite boring at that crossing. The lead-up is a single lane, and it splits into two for a bit, but you can’t actually get to the Nexus line until the last few hundred metres. Unless you are on a motorcycle, then you can sneak down the side and get to it. The last time we crossed here we encountered the grouchiest border guard imaginable. Not so today though.
Kirk went through first, and apparently his question was “What’s your relationship to her?”, pointing back at me waiting behind. If I’d gotten that question I’d have probably said something like “Oh, he just started following me about 25 odd years ago, think I should keep him?” Kirk just said “She’s my wife.”
When I crossed, my question was “When were you last in the US?”
“Yesterday”
“Where did you go?”
“Oh, down and back up Chuckanut, lunch in Edison, just out for a ride”
“So, do you ever ride in Canada?”
“Not so much”
“Any particular reason?”
“Your drivers have more respect for riders and tend to not try to kill me so often!”
“Huh, have a nice ride!”
And off we went.
Getting ready to get back on the road at the Blue Mountain Grill on SR9
We wound our way along Mount Baker Highway, and then turned South down Highway 9, stopping at The Blue Mountain Grill for something warm. When the waitress asked if we’d like a coffee Kirk gave an affirmative. I asked if a mocha was possible. . . “No”. . . Ok, I’ll just have a hot chocolate. But when she brought it she said, “I added a shot of coffee for you” and every time she brought the pot over for Kirk she topped up my mug with some additional coffee too. 🙂 We weren’t terribly hungry, so we ordered some potato skins and an order of Blue Mountain Bread. WOW, was THAT ever good. Toasted bread, a layer of creamy blue cheese, topped off with a layer of shredded cheddar and mozzarella, then toasted until meltingly gooey and delicious.
Went for the Blue Mountain Bread over the Breaded Fried Gizzards
She came by and almost chastised us “You’re burning daylight hours!” which prompted us to gear back up and get back on the road. But not before a couple on a VFR arrived and chatted us up.
The VFR rider takes a picture of us at the Blue Mountain Grill
We continued down SR9 and (not surprisingly) took the wrong turn in an attempt to find a new road. Again, not surprisingly, the right road was the next one along SR9. Along the way we pulled a U-turn to house that had a collection of old farm equipment being used as a fence. It was just kind of neat. . . weird, but neat.
We had found our new road, but the ride was short lived as we rounded a corner and encountered a “Road Closed” sign.
Damn!
Back to SR9 and down to Sedro Woolley, then back up to Prairie where there was another directional choice. I said to Kirk “I think it’s this way, which pretty much guarantees that it is actually the other way.”
I was right, I was wrong.
So, an alternate route up 99 and a right at the old Caddy on to Parson Creek Road, then a left onto Butler Creek Road, and a nice ride over to Alger and across to Colony Road and back out to Chuckanut.
At the parking lot at the South end of Chuckanut Drive we pulled out for a stretch break where we watched a bike come flying down the last stretch, pause, turn around, and race back up to do it again. Then we watched a sports car do the same. Yes, it’s that kind of road, especially when it’s a quiet day for traffic. We enjoyed the late afternoon sunshine and looked over the bikes. Most of the secondary roads in Washington are covered in chipseal. and in general it is something to get used to riding on. It’s rough, and one would think that would make it grippy, but one would be wrong much of the time. The aggregate comes loose and much of the time the ride feels like your tires are always tipping and slipping. Mainly because they are. You are always riding on a surface littered with small loose stones, and you can hear them tinging off the underside of the bike. When we pulled over at the bottom of Chuckanut I looked under my bike and could see a layer of black chipseal pebbles sitting inside the fairing and on top of where the exhaust splits to the pipes. The bikes are going to need a thorough cleaning.
Taking a break at the South end of Chuckanut Drive
Off we went and about 5 minutes into the ride I rounded a corner and had one of those “Oh Fuck” moments. I had that flash of a thought that went something like “Here it is, the moment I go down in a corner at speed”.
The back wheel shot to the left, then the right, then somehow found purchase and everything was right in the world again. There was no panic, no tall-and-skinny, not handful of brakes, just a shift of weight this way, then that, then settle and make the corner without getting too close to the centre line.
I thought about pulling over, but chose not to. Strangely, my heart rate didn’t even increase. I don’t tend to panic easily, and I’ve never done so on any of the bikes. I did take the next few corners a bit more gingerly, because I had no idea what I’d hit that had sent the bike off. I thought a tar snake possibly, they are so slick when it’s damp and cold.
But I had to stop thinking about it fairly quickly as I rounded a corner with a cyclist coming up the other direction and the driver coming up behind him figured that I didn’t deserve the lane I was in and just took half of it, ensuring that both Kirk and I had to get out of his way, in our own lane.
And just another moment or two down the road, a truck carrying a camper pulled right out into our lane, on a blind corner, without even checking to see if anyone was coming. That one did result in a bit of hard braking and an illegal pass on the next clear stretch!
I finally pulled off when we arrived in Fairhaven and Kirk just asked how I was doing. I said tat I just had one question. . .
“What did THAT look like from behind?”
He said that I’d hit sand, but that he hadn’t seen it either, at least not until I skidded to the left on it and he saw it spray out sideways. He said it was convenient that I had cleared a path for him through it.
Hadn’t felt convenient to me.
The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful, at least compared to that little jog. Some of the roads had a lovely green centre, the chipseal slick with algae or moss. We kept a safe distance from that potential skid strip. Red River Road provided some additional obstacles – tractors were busy clearing the fields and their entry and exit points were littered with clods of mud and soil.
Enjoying a few minutes of warmth at Birch Bay State Park
We stopped in Birch Bay to stretch and warm up, and to check my odometer to see how close I was to the Ninja’s 10K milestone, then on to Blaine to fuel up and head for the border. The border line was long, as was the Nexus line, but we hardly put a foot down. The line flew through!
We almost made it home, but that odometer was going to roll over just a short distance before there, so we pulled out into Stanley Park and rode slowly along until it rolled over to 10,000 km. Not bad for a 6 months of rising, and it didn’t even really seem like I rode that much.
Photo Op!
Six months of riding, not every week even, and somehow I managed 10,000 km on the new motorcycle
I don’t know if we will do any further riding this fall, other than to the new home at the end of the month. But if we don’t, I can happily put the bike to bed. This will be the first year since starting to ride that I haven’t insured a motorcycle through the winter. But the Ninja is just too twitchy and riding much later is just asking for trouble. I will settle for the scooter for the next few months.
But you never know, maybe there will be another day before the plates are removed. . . .
361.5 km today, here was our track. That makes just shy of 700 km this weekend. Not a shabby Thanksgiving 🙂
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