This morning’s plan was to turn right and ride back a few blocks to Sullivan Lake road for a little loop trip that would bring us out onto the highway just above Metaline Falls, and then we’d head to the border.
We had a little walk down to the water and enjoyed the quiet morning on the river for a bit, then we loaded the bikes, said thank you to the lovely owner of the motel, flipped the signal to turn left, and rode to Metaline where we fuelled up with the most expensive gas we’d found yet, and asked someone if there was anywhere in town for breakfast. They told us to keep riding to Metaline Falls, a few miles down the road.
So we did.
In Metaline Falls we could smell breakfast and so we followed our noses and found the Farmhouse Cafe, an absolute gem of a place that even had espresso based coffees. We ordered breakfast and coffee and said we’d sit outside at one of the two tables out front. The woman gave us each a large glass of water…in a plastic cup, with a plastic lid, and a plastic straw.
Maybe not a polished gem.
While we were waiting for our food we watched someone ride into town on a quad and go inside to pick up some baked goods. We’d seen a lot of quads being driven on city roads all over the place, no licence plates, some helmets, no one batted an eye. We also realized that we have ridden almost all of SR20 across Washington, the only stretch we have missed yet is from Tiger down to Newport at the border of Idaho.
When our breakfasts were brought out to us, they were in styrofoam clamshells, with plastic cutlery. She apologized that Kirk’s toast was still being made and she’d bring that momentarily.
It arrived in another styrofoam clamshell box.
As we sat and looked at the eco-nightmare that our absolutely delicious breakfast was served in, I suddenly realized we’d completely missed the ride around Sullivan Lake Road!
It was only 15 minutes back so once we’d finished breakfast we rode the 15 or 20 minutes back to Ione and found the road we’d intended to ride before breakfast. It was a nice little detour and at one point an eagle was flying alongside us. There were funny road names, like Bob Newman Road (how does one get their own road name anyway?), Seeing is Believing Lane, and Rocking ChairPlace.
When we popped back out onto highway on the other side of Metaline Falls it was a 12 mile shot to the border through a corner of Colville National Forest.
Easy.
A mile on it turned into freshly laid, freshly oiled, loose chip-seal.
Fabulous, my favourite!
At the end of the nightmarish road surface was a border crossing that neither of us can understand. Its existence makes no sense.
Nelway.
On either side there is nothing but forest. No community, no industry, no homes…..just forest. It makes no sense.
We stopped at the border and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. We turned off our engines and wondered if the order guard was napping somewhere. Do we honk? Probably a bad idea. So we waited. And eventually a semi truck with a trailer pulled up beside us.
And we all waited.
Finally a border guard appeared at the window and waved me forward. He asked the standard questions..where are you from, where are you going, how long have you been away, what are you bringing back, what is your relationship with the rider behind you….what is the story on your little yellow passenger…?
“Oh yes, Wall-E. Our friend couldn’t be with us on this trip, so he’s here in spirit!”
And then we were back in Canada and on our way to Toad Rock Motorcycle Campground by way of Fruitvale-Trail-Rossland-Castlegar-Slocan-New Denver-Kaslo-Ainsworth.
There are people who think riding a motorcycle is cost effective and fuel efficient. Those people have never ridden a motorcycle.
Along the way there were three unidentified roadkills plus a weasel and a deer. A coyote ran across the highway in front of me on the way between Newly and Castlegar, and he looked like he’d seen better days.
When we were leaving Rossland, something felt funny on my bike and I pulled over. Kirk asked what was wrong and I said that there was a vibration of some sort…not the engine….I could feel it under my heels, more so on the left side. I looked thins over and nothing seemed out of order. So we rode on. It was more noticeable at lower speeds. In Castlegar we stopped at a gas station and I let Kirk take a ride to feel it….then we looked online to see if there were any motorcycle shops nearby….Google directed us to a Honda dealership….but it was an auto dealer. Kirk went in to ask about a bike shop and came back with a fellow who worked there, and was a rider. It was Monday, so nothing open. We exchanged thoughts and came up dry. He suggested a nail in a tire, but nothing was obvious. He thought a bead may have come loose inside the tire. Maybe…maybe not. Didn’t seem major whatever it was.
So on we went. We decided that we’d still head on to Toad Rock and then go into Nelson for breakfast tomorrow morning and take the bike into the Kawasaki dealership there to get a better opinion.
The road from South Slocan to New Denver was fabulous. Winding highway along the edge of a cliff high above the water. Gorgeous. We stopped in Slocan for a check-in…nothing was getting any worse, so worrying less. In New Denver we thought we’d grab an early dinner and then be able to settle in at Toad Rock.
We thought wrong. All three restaurants were permanently closed. We looked online to see what was available in Kaslo. Nothing…the few eateries are all closed on Mondays. The closest place for dinner….the ONLY place for dinner, was in Balfour, ten minutes ride past the campground. So we decided to get to the campground first, dump our stuff, and then ride to Balfour.
The road between New Denver and Kaslo was everything I remember. An excellent stretch of pavement with little traffic and wonderful curves. There was also a very large, very fresh, bear pile in the middle of our lane. Someone had “just” been there ahead of us.
We refilled in Kaslo and headed for Toad Rock.
Turkeys.
Yes, turkeys.
We have had our eyes peeled for chipmunks, squirrels, deer…..but we came around the corner coming out of Kaslo and were confronted by a flock of wild turkeys in the middle of the road….casually meandering across at a snail’s pace. They didn’t care less about us, of the truck and camper, or any of our collective horns honking.
I recall hating the road between Balfour and Kaslo the last time we rode it. But it has been repaved since then and it was a wonderful stretch of pavement to ride. Toad Rock Motorcycle campground is easy to miss, but we didn’t. It’s and odd place with quite the collection of “stuff”, including a variety of “shelters” in which to bunk down for the night. They range from little tiny cabins, to old trailers, a boat, a bus, a mini-bus, a VW van, and so on. There are five dogs and a pot bellied pig named Happy who will open coolers to access beer if coolers are left outside. We did not see Happy, which was disappointing.
Out shelter was a half a cabin duplex (Bob’s Cabin), and our neighbour was Dennis, a fellow from Burnaby, riding a Vstrom 650, and he was on his first trip to the Kootenays. The little cabin had a mini carport that we regretted parking in because it was on a bit of a hill and almost impossible to get the bike back out of. After dinner we opted to park alongside instead.
Dinner at the Duck and Dock was delicious, and we enjoyed a sunset while eating outside overlooking the beach and watching the ferry come and go.
Back at the campground we did a little walk to stretch our legs and then we called it a day.