Along the way, I stopped in Smithers to visit an old friend who works for Justice Canada. Brett Weber is one of those lawyers for whom no task is to great, too small, or to in-between. A great guy, he also served the Crown as a Judge in one of those Caribbean island provinces. As I called him from a parking lot to see if he might be available for lunch or coffee, I found him in a restaurant with some colleagues, just finishing lunch. There had been a fire that morning near their office which caused a great hullabaloo. But I rode over and found Brett in his cycling gear, as he was riding his bike that day. He admitted he did not look very lawyerly in that get up. But his colleagues were all appropriately attired, and we gossiped like lawyers. I told them about my adventures in PG, and they howled with delight, telling me stories about PG that made me wonder if perhaps I had been very fortunate whilst staying where I stayed. After a great hour, and a visit to Brett's office, I remounted and headed off.
It was along this stretch of road that one particular motorhome pulling an SUV became a kind of nemesis. Riding through a smallish town, he was in a right turn only lane approaching the intersection, and suddenly, without signaling, swerved into my lane forcing me to take hasty action. I survived without going down, but it was pretty close. Many miles later, he had pulled off for some reason. As I came riding down the highway at speed, he suddenly just pulled out in front of me, but only accelerating slowly. This was getting old. At the next available passing opportunity, I accelerated sharply around him, and left him there. I saw him once again later that day, as he had passed me when I stopped for gas. But I chose not to stop and speak to him about our earlier interactions, being in a foreign country and all, and not wishing to get into trouble with the locals.
I spent the night in a provincial campground, which was very nice. I met a man who wanted to talk about motorcycles, and Alaska, and Viet Nam, and all things related and unrelated. We chatted for quite awhile, until his wife came down the hill and took him home to dinner. The people in the next campsite were from Wasilla, and were trailering a custom Harley to the States where they hoped to sell it for a better price than they had been offered in Alaska. I looked at it, and it was a really nice bike, with an awesome paint job. I hope they got their money.
The next morning I got up and headed north, wondering what the northern half of the Cassiar looked like. Well, the road became narrower, the brush in places encroaching on the road, there were plenty of black bear, and it started to rain. Moreover, the electrical inter tie they were building meant there was more heavy truck traffic, which in turn was degrading the road. The chip seal was breaking up, and road chews were out repairing the breaks. The road was fairly crowned, and so the big trucks liked to drive int he middle to keep their loads balanced. This made for interesting interactions 'twixt trucks and everything else on the road.
And it rained. I failed to get my rain liner into my riding pants in time, and I got soaked. To make matters worse, I couldn't keep my visor clear. It just kept fogging up. When I opened it up to get air in, the rain pelted my face, stinging quite a bit. I became more than damp. I finally hit the Alaska Highway, and turned West, hoping for relief. Relief was sporadic, and I knew I had better get to some shelter quickly. Near Rancheria, at the Continental Divide Motel, I stopped and got a room.
It was a room in an ATCO trailer motel, just down the hall from a laundry room. I took advantage of that, getting my gear dry right away. After a hot shower, I went over for dinner, and to watch the people. A mining crew was staying there, with the lead guy looking a lot like Clint Eastwood, and the young guys all studly young men. A young woman tourist was traveling through, and had stopped there as well. She was hilarious to watch, as she flirted with each of the young guys. I don't know if she wound up with anyone of them for the night, but she had them all trying very, very hard to be chosen. Her car was still there when I left the next morning.
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