Carol & I have been riding motorcycles together
since before our daughter was born {who will be 44 in 2007} and have
encountered a number of unique people and places along the way.
This story is
about our trip to Canada. After riding north through the Eastern Sierras
and across Northern California into Oregon, we made it to Vancouver, BC and
were having a good time. After seeing the sights in and around Vancouver we
decided to ride to Baniff and Lake Louise. We had been traveling for about
2 hours and had just entered the Frazier Valley when a cold rain started.
As it was the 3rd of July, we were surprised how really cold it was. We
stopped at what appeared to be an abandoned gas station from the 40’s or
50’s. The pumps and all the other appearances were long gone. The building
itself hadn’t seen paint since it was built and had the gray colored wood of
a well-weathered building. The building had much green growth of Ivy and
other plants growing up and around it. This to do the fact that the valley
we were in was known for growing fine fruits, vegetables and other
produce. The climate is mild and damp due to its location. While sitting
on our bikes and talking about what our next move would be, the door of the
building opened. Needless to say, both of us jumped out of our rain suits.
Who greeted us looked like someone you would expect to meet in the English
Countryside at one of those Mansions you see in the English travel films.
He was dressed in rich looking English tweed complete with scarf, jacket and
all the other vestments. At first Carol and I wondered if we were seeing
what we were seeing. However when he spoke with the thick English accent
that thus far we had not encountered in Canada we suspected that somehow we
had stepped through some portal and were no longer in Canada. However the
English Gentleman asked us if we would like to come in out of the rain and
enjoy a cup of tea with him. I looked at Carol, she looked at me, and
instantly we knew we were in for one of those rare experiences that we
almost come to expect on our trips. We spent a good two hours listening to
him tell us how he came to be in Canada and why he had settled in the
Frazier Valley. The inside of the building had been completely remodeled
and looked like any other well appointed English gentleman’s study. Carol
and I would not trade these experiences and stories we have learned for
anything and we do not believe that traveling in a 4-wheeler allows you to
experience and enjoy meeting the wonderful people we have met when riding
the bikes.
When we left, the
rain had stopped the sun was shining and we proceeded east on Canadian
Highway 1. About an hour later, Carol pulled up beside me, as she was on
her own motorcycle and told me to STOP. I stopped as quickly as I could and
discovered that the rack assembly supporting the load we were carrying on my
bike was broken (before large tote boxes or trailers for bikes). I did what
I could to allow us to go on down the road, with plans to get it welded when
we got to the next town. If you had ever traveled this highway in the mid
70’s you would know that places to get repairs were few and far between.
But as luck would have, not 15 minutes after we discovered the problem, I
spotted a small sign on the side of the road at a driveway entrance that
simply said, “WELDING”. As we could not see anything from the road and were
in desperate need of help, we followed the dirt roadway back into the woods
and found a farmhouse, barn and a young man who was able to weld the rack so
it would carry our load. The young man would not allow us to pay him
anything for his labors as he said I have often needed help and someone was
there for me. Told us he hoped we enjoyed our stay in his country, which we
did.
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