West to Alaska

Mount Robson

After arriving in Jasper around noon it was easy to see that one could get real comfortable in Jasper.  From this location there seemed to be an endless list of possible summer time things to do: from hiking and camping, canoeing, kayaking, whitewater rafting, fishing, bicycling or just     strolling around the small community and taking pictures.  Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), as the case may be, none of the above was on my agenda for the time being, and I needed to get out of Jasper before the day was done; I had a mission - West to Alaska!

Checking my map, it appeared that Prince George was within striking distance if I could finish my "look-over" of Jasper and get on the road by 2:00 PM at the latest.

The ride to Prince George was a pleasant, but other than the great view of the glacier topped Mount Robson (the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies), an unspectacular ride; given what I just ridden through, I was now somehow almost jaded by all of the beauty of British Columbia, and no longer so easily impressed (a feeling that thankfully did not last long).

It was about 8:30 PM when I arrived in Prince George, giving me plenty of time to find a campground and set up my tent before dark, or so I thought.

Prince George is an industrial city with a sizeable population of over 70,000 people; it known as, "the Northern capital of British Columbia."  With that kind of high praise one would think that finding a campground would be a breeze; but, that was not the case.

After riding on highway 16 from one side of the city to the other (getting lost in the process), and still finding nothing, a local directed me to what must be the only campground in Prince George; Sintich RV Park (south of the city on highway 97), is an excellent RV park.

Bear Glacier

Must have been too excellent!  I spent two days there just catching things up and planning the next move.

There are not always a lot of choices (the highway options are limited when going to Alaska), but from Prince George I could ride up the Alaskan Highway (highway 97) to Fort St. John or continue west on the Yellowhead Highway 16.

Highway 97 was safe, sure, secure and a route I had already traveled on during the snowmobile trip in February-March.  The Yellowhead would offer a new and (for me) un-traveled route; but represented more of a challenge when it connected to highway 37 (the Cassiar Highway) with some gravel and many unknowns - I headed west on the Yellowhead Highway 16.
    

Bear Glacier

Actually, the Yellowhead held one distinct advantage.  It would lead to the southern most highway entry into Alaska (via Stewart, British Columbia) at Hyder, Alaska; and this was the determining factor in selection the route.

It was after 2:00 PM before I departed. It was chilly (no, it was COLD!), and threatening clouds loomed overhead.  Things didn't look good.  The distance from Prince George to Stewart was 434 miles and Mapquest listed it as an 8 1/2 hour ride.  It was too far for me to make it with my late start, and I would have to find a campground en-route.

The threatening clouds began to release a few sprinkles but fortunately just as I was entering the town of McBride - I welcomed the opportunity to grab a coffee and suit up with rain gear.

Predictably after suiting up with rain gear the rain stopped and the sun came out.  I ditched my jacket and kept the pants and boot covers in place (it was easy to replace the jacket if needed and the other attire was still comfortable even with the sun out).

Old Empress Hotel

The Glacier View RV Park, a small campground west of Smithers worked out fine for the night; and the next morning while braking camp and preparing for whatever the day might bring, I struck up a conversation with the girl in the adjacent tent site.  We agreed that since we were both traveling alone and in the same direction, we might as well ride together (at least for a while).

Over breakfast I learned that in fact Lori-Ann Muenzer is a bit of a celebrity.  She informed me that six years ago she had a life changing experience.  Somewhat hesitant (curious, but not wanting to be probing into personal matters), I asked if she cared to share her experience - she responded positively.

I was amazed and impressed to learn that six years ago, at the age of 38, Lori-Ann won Canada's first ever (and to this day only) Olympic Gold Medal in cycling.

Stewart Museum

At an age when most women are enjoying the leisurely life of attending their grand children's sporting events, school band and a host of other activities, Lori- Ann was "beating the pants off" other competitors (some of whom, where perhaps half her age!)

Apparently not one to rest on her laurels, Lori-Ann has her own public speaking company, and is currently working on her degree in photography.

We rode together for the day and eventually connected with highway 37A south and passed through the beautiful Bear Glacier on the way to Stewart, British Columbia.

Stewart British Columbia

Highway 37A south is a short, but fabulously beautiful route which in terms of the glaciations even rivals the Columbia Icefields along the Icefields Parkway (the Bear Glacier's frozen river of ice was an amazing aquamarine color which is sadly lost in the small internet photo).

During its "heyday" it had a population of about 10,000, but today the population of Stewart is less than 500 years-around residents (the summertime population doubles).

In the years following the Klondike Gold Strike, Stewart was a center Canadian mining activity and the Canadian Pacific Railway.  Tucked into a large bay and surrounded by glacier topped mountains, it still has the look of an old Canadian mining town.

Lori-Ann Muenzer in Hyder 

Stewart's huge old Empress Hotel once served as housing for the employees of the Canadian Pacific Railway.  Built in 1908, it still appears - square and upright - as if it were in repairable condition; but (sadly) for what need?


In a similar way, the Stewart Museum serves as stately reminder of better times long past.

From Stewart, British Columbia to Hyder, Alaska is less than three miles; how "neat" it was, to get up in British Columbia, and ride to Alaska for BREAKFAST.

Hyder, Alaska is even smaller than Stewart with a population of only 85 (they must have been hiding when we were there).  Our breakfast was at the  Glacier Inn in Hyder.  It had the atmosphere of an old Western saloon; the "wall-paper" was what must be literally thousands of one dollar bills from nations around the globe, but predominately from the United States.  It seemed as if Wild Bill Hickok could have been dealt his "Dead-Mans Hand" right on this spot.

Glacier Inn in Hyder Alaska

Despite the fact that neither of us had a real travel agenda, we had separate missions and goals which required that we go our separate ways.

We had camped at the same campgrounds Stewart and rode together to as far north as Watson Lake, Yukon Territory before departing on our separate journeys.  Many thanks to Lori-Ann for a "putting-up with me" and Best of Luck with all of your future endeavors.

Places Along the Way

My destination was the Aztec Ruins National Monument northwest of Taos near the Four Corners region of New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona; to far to go in one day, given my normal (got to fix this) late start.

Not allowing extra travel time is not wise thing, especially given the areas wide open spaces between towns and the infrequent availability of gas.  It was a pretty safe bet that there would a campground at the Aztec ruins or in the city of Aztec, but in between - Who knows?

Therefore, it seemed best to just "wing it" and hope to a find a campground somewhere along the way; if worse came to worse, as one goodhearted passerby put it, "Your in the country - you can sleep anywhere!"

Going north out of Taos on highway 64 (the route of choice to take me within a few miles of the Aztec Ruins National Monument), I was thinking that the scenery, was nothing special for New Mexico, when seemingly out of nowhere there was this magnificent gorge - the Grand Canyon Gorge of New Mexico.  This gorge, at the bottom of which flows the Rio Grande, was a total unexpected surprise.  My map showed the Rio Grande crossing highway 64, but made no mention of the gorge itself and it's spectacular!

After taking numerous photographs I got back on my Harley and traveled less than a mile before coming to an unusual looking set of buildings with a sign in front reading, "Earthship Biotecture & Biodiesel - Visitors Center."  My first thought was, "Why in the H---, would anyone build here - in the middle of No Where!"  It was a question for which I never got a good answer; perhaps it was the water - but at the bottom of a 500 foot gorge?

Yet another surprise, twice in one day, first the Grand Canyon Gorge and then Earthship.

Unfortunately, once again, I was too late.  The sign on the door read "Tours - $5 per person, (Hours 8:00 AM to 4:30 PM)".  It was 4:40 PM!

Having heard or read about Earthship somewhere in my past, and having been a "pseudo" builder and building trade's teacher, I really wanted explore the workings of Earthship; but, it was not to be.

Added to that, was the fact, that Earthship was miles from anywhere and I knew that returning on another day was, also, not an option.

Even so, there was no harm in walking around the house and taking photographs.

The design is kind of exotic or other worldly.  Lacking the square corners of a typical house, it appears (as it no doubt was) to have been molded and shaped my hand, as if, one was playing with modeling clay.
Too my surprise, architecturally, it seemed to display a Moorish influence.

An added surprise was that (given their eco-friendly environmental consciousness) the place seemed to be inexcusably trashy; but then - don't look in my garage!

I knew that the concept of Earthship was to use of
waste materials such as bottles and tires as "fill material," which is combined with inexpensive straw and compacted mother earth, as the basic building materials.  

While walking around the outside, other visitors pulled up to site only to be equally dismayed at having missed an opportunity to take the tour of the inside.  One of the assumed visitors was an attractive "40-ish" lady, who introduced herself as Christine and explained that she was from Hawaii and had come to "Earthship" to learn about its inner workings; especially (not surprisingly given her Hawaii origin) with regard to Earthships water recycling system.

Christine further explained, to my surprise, that there were approximately 40 Earthship structures in the surrounding area (I later discovered that they have been built in many parts of the world).  They are all "nearly" totally self-sufficient, producing there own energy and being so well insulated that they were comfortable all year around.

Unfortunately, she had only been there for two days; and was hence, as she explained, "not an authority on Earthship.

Without any stops (an unlikely event) the nearest town along highway 64 was Chama; at least a two hour drive and by that time gas would be an issue - there was no time for further delays!

Men in Blue

With things to tend too, it was after 4: OO PM before I left Naples. With the late departure I was already having doubts about finding a campground before dark, but I knew it was time to get out of Naples. The $58 per night for a tent site with no electric was blowing my budget. After 30 days on the road things were getting tight.

Traveling on I-75, in an effort to north as far and as fast possible, I spied a sign for a State Park. To my disappointment the State Park, was a beach and not a campground at all. No camping permitted.

The park ranger advised me that there was another State Park just to the north where they had campsites. He called ahead to see if any campsites were available. Campsites were available, but the campground would close at sunset which was only 20 minutes away. The ranger (still on the phone) advised them that I was on a motorcycle and should be able to make it within the 20 minute time frame. He was wrong; and to my misfortune they didn't - "leave the lights on for me" - or the gate open either. I hadn't timed the trip, but it seemed like less than 20 minutes. No matter - the gate was, still CLOSED.

Sitting, despondently, in front of the gate, I thought back to when (in Pennsylvania) I had pitched my tent outside of a "roadhouse" restaurant and, more less, gotten away my pursuit without any difficulty.

Looking around, there was plenty of area where I could pitch my tent and probably, ...possibly, ...perhaps, ...maybe, not be noticed; but, where would I put the motorcycle? The ground was questionable soft, and even if it were not, I would be in real trouble if caught riding on the grass in the State Park (even I, thought that this would be worthy of punishment).

I returned the highway to consider my options.

While gassing up, I sighted a car wash separated from the gas station by a wide driveway. Investigating, it looked perfect. I could pitch my tent out of site behind the car wash, and park my motorcycle nearby (out of sight of most anyone). Wrong again!

About 3: 30 AM, while resting soundly, I was alerted by the sound voices and "flashlights'" approaching my tent.

"Is there anyone in there," asked one of my unwanted guests.

"Yes," I replied.

"Who's with you?"

"I'm alone"

"Come out here."

"I've got to get my pants on."

Brief pause, "Do you have any guns?"

"No," I replied.

"Hurry up."

I'm putting my pants on."

"Come on, you're not going to a prom"

Out side the tent now, they (four males and a female officer) continue, "Where are you from"

"I'm from Michigan," I replied,

"What are you doing down here?"

"I'm just traveling around the country and writing a blog as I go."

"Probably robbing banks," replied, "my nemesis", sarcastically.

"Sit down," ordered someone else.

Looking at the dew soaked ground, I hesitated.

"Sit down now!" he barked unkindly.

Sitting on the dew soaked grass, one of them felt my pockets and asked, "What's this?"

Not waiting for my reply, he shouted, "Do you have any knives?"

"I don't any weapons," I replied.

To which "my nemesis," obviously impressed with himself, interjected (a comment which he would repeat, to my utter contempt, several times) "he's just here robbing banks."

In the end, despite "my nemesis," urging, they must have determined that I was neither a bank robber nor "Jack-the-Ripper." After "my nemesis" offered one final admonishment, "just keep from robbing banks, and you'll be alright," they allowed me finish what was - a restless sleep at best.

I awoke later, thinking to myself, "They were just doing their job;" but, I hadn't really done anything to be ashamed of - so why was I feeling so ashamed? "If your going to act like a vagrant, you've got to be able to roll with the punches," I told myself.

However, "I am not a vagrant", and I'm not sure that I am up to the task.

All of the officers, save one, had treated me with respect; which, in my opinion, was our mutual responsibility (and was greatly appreciated from my perspective). "My nemesis," on the other hand (in my humble opinion), brings shame to uniform.