Watson Lake, YT >> Fort Nelson, BC 340 miles ridden/7 hours
Well, it finally happened last night, and now that it has, I’m surprised it took this long: I broke the tent.
I ignored one of my own rules: “Don’t take shortcuts” and am now paying the price. While shortcuts may work 80% of the time, when they don’t, the results are often disastrous. Sure enough, as I leaned out of the tent to unhook the rain flap – instead of getting out and facing the mosquito swarm as I should have – I heard a loud SNAP and the roof went all akimbo. Seems one of the male tube ends broke off, and that released the tension that gives my tent its dome shape. It sure looked like a hillbilly contraption after this mishap, but the tent kept the rain and bugs on the outside, so it still proved functional, aesthetics aside. I assume it’s something a little duct tape can fix… (As it turned out, this was not the case.)
In writing my glowing review of Moose Creek Campground last night, I forgot to mention the place was so nice, even the mosquitos had manners! They took turns knocking on my tent flap and asking (rather politely, I might add) if I wouldn’t mind making a donation to support their family, and were kind enough to oblige when I deferred.
Was up before the sun this morning and got a good fire going. Still not sure if I’ll camp at Liard River Hot Springs tonight, but planning on taking it easy today. Maybe ride to Fort Nelson if not and prep for tomorrow’s detour to the Northwest Territories. I’m tired, but feeling good. Oh yeah, and I can see the sun… That means for once, it’s not cloudy or raining!
At today’s breakfast stop there were no empty tables, so I asked a guy sitting alone if he’d mind if I joined him. He said no and we got to talking… Turns out Glen is a self-described “Newfie” (a slang term for Newfoundlanders) working on an oil project in the area; his company flies him out for a few months of work, then flies him back home for a few weeks of vacation so he can spend time with his family. Crazy schedule.
I told him a bit of my story and that I was headed east, and he mentioned that about 30 klicks up the road, there’d be a herd of bison mulling about, which could make for a good photo op. Riiiiight, I thought. Like there’s gonna be a bunch of bison just hanging out on the side of the road. My meal finished, I thanked him for the table space and the travel tip, and wished him well, secretly thinking he was perhaps a bit crazy. But, sure enough, after about 20 minutes of riding, there they were! I was flabbergasted and ashamed I doubted the wisdom of a local, even a part-time one.
A bit further up the road I encountered another, smaller group of these majestic beasts: if you’re not familiar with bison, they’re shaggy, smelly, stocky and the size of a Volkswagen beetle. Since mingling among the crowd of creatures to snap photos hadn’t been an issue with the first group, I thought nothing of strolling into this herd for a closer shot.
Ignoring snuffs and snorts at my own peril, it only took one bluff charge to realize what a mistake I’d made… I scampered up a cliff, realizing this thing was waaaay faster on its four legs than I am on both of mine. Once he backed off, I hopped on my bike and continued along my merry way through the Canadian Rockies.
Although my pride was wounded on two counts by this point in the day, my wallet was in for an even bigger hit as I was quickly approaching the scourge of all travelers: the town of Muncho Lake, where the price of gas was an eye-popping $12/gallon! (For once I was thankful my tank only held 3 gallons.) What a buzzkill after letting all my worries soak away at the Liard River Hot Springs.
At the campground by Fort Nelson there was a semi-humorous segregation among motorcyclists: BMW riders had staked out one area, while Harley riders established a compound of their own a few dozen meters away. Once I’d set up my (broken) tent, I chatted with both groups. A Harley rider noticed my shelter was a bit hurting and asked what happened. When I explained how I’d snapped a supporting rod, he suggested going to Home Hardware (a Canadian chain similar to Home Depot) and having them cut a section of copper pipe to slide over the broken peg to maintain tension… Voila, instant fix!
Tonight I decreed that Rule of the Road #2 was: Never pass laundry.
