First, some photos to catch up for the past few days of limited connectivity.

The most Dangerous road in Canada, Prince George to Prince Rupert

Start of the Cassiar. I am now officially on the way to Alaska

The Stewart Cassiar Highway

Stewart Cassiar Scenery

Bell2 Lodge where I stayed for the night

Dease Lake on the Cassiar

8% downhill on the Cassiar followed by sharp gravel bends. Brown marks everywhere due to Harley riders shitting themselves. . Bridge has metal grate floor just to sort out remaining piles clad in now wet leathers. BMW GS heaven!

Max. From Russia with “love”. This is Russian for bike. What you see is all the kit he has for the trip.

On the Cassiar. I had to stop at this lake. The view was so perfect

Honeymoon bed in Watson Lake. Glimpse of Jacuzzi and mirror. Still waiting for response from Honey!

Furniture from the Hantam House Calvinia, specially imported to Watson Lake along with the noise of passing trucks

Yesterday on the way from Whitehorse I ride out to the airport. There parked with absolutely zero security are the Snowbird’s Tudor jets, two Lockheed Hercules, an airforce Canadair CL 604 executive jet, two Caribous, a P 3 maritime Search and Rescue aircraft plus a few helicopters. This is all part of a “ show the flag” mission run by the airforce to bring what it does to people in remote areas. They have been all over the northern areas of Canada during the past two weeks.

Snowbirds line up at Watson Lake. Twin Otter chaperones Tudors

Bonnie stands guard. Hercules in the background at Watson Lake

Sign Post Forest

More forest views

On the way back I stop off at the amazing signpost forest and then head off for Teslin some 280 kms away. An easy ride. It will take me less than 3 hours and I will be there by 13h00. So time for a bit of dawdling. The road is excellent with a few gravel patches. The trickiest bit is over the bridges, many of which have either a wooden or a grated metal sheet floor. The front wheel feels as if it is in a rut and it is very disconcerting as it sways back and forth. The technique required to have a happy rider and mount is to stand, hands very lightly on the handles, legs away from Bonnie and then let her sway and buck, as she needs to, every so often a gentle touch to get her back in the right direction. It is also important, as always, to keep the forward momentum going otherwise there is the ever-present danger of slipping out of the slot and off.

Teslin. Long metal Grated Bridge. GS riders do it standing up. Harley riders slink across

Moose Cow drinking in river on the side of the Alaska Highway

View from my cottage

My home for the next day and a half is a small cottage on Lake Teslin. This lake is fed by the Yukon River and is about 70 km long. It is home to some of the finest Lake Trout, Grayling and at the right time of the year salmon fishing in Canada. So much so, that one of the two other cottages on the lake are occupied by a group that has flown all the way from Toronto via Vancouver and Whitehorse, to fish here. They have been here for a week and have averaged trout of just over 8 lbs with the biggest being close to 15 lbs. Much like our experience at Lake Taupo in New Zealand all of the fishing is done out of boats and involves spinning and trolling.

The other cabin is occupied by a couple from the Gulf Islands, near Victoria Island BC. They are touring together on a motorbike. Two up and my age! There is hope for me.

The Dawson Peak resort is situated on the Alaska Highway near the town of Teslin. Teslin is a very important area in the life cycle of the Coho Salmon, for it is here where they come to spawn.

They swim here all the way from the Bering Sea. This involves a distance of nearly 2000 miles, up against the flow of the Yukon River. They do not feed at all on this mammoth swim, relying only on their own fat reserves. On arrival at the gravel beds they spawn, fertilize their eggs and die. This starts a cycle. The rotting carcasses feed small aquatic animals. The eggs hatch and the fingerlings start to feed off the very same aquatic animals. They then spend about a year in the river and this lake. Then driven by the forces of nature, they swim down the Yukon all the way to the Bering Ocean, off the west coast of Alaska between it and Siberia. This is where Max crossed from the Russia into Alaska on his bicycle.

They spend between six and seven years in the ocean, until once again nature calls and it is time to breed and die. So they swim back up the river to where they were born and the process begins all over again. Imagine, I think, if we knew that the act of making our children would result in our certain death. I wonder how many less children there would be? On the other hand the drive to procreate is so strong, and us humans so over confident that we would probably believe we could cheat the grim reaper.

Life Cycle of the Coho Salmon. Life starts and ends in teslin

I have been away from home for six weeks and without a woman for at least that long. So a ride to take a look at Whitehorse, where there are more than a thousand fit and probably over sexed young woman partaking in the Woman’s World Fastball Championship, is playing on my mind. I figure I would qualify as a really fast ball!

I weigh up the risks of knowing there is no accommodation and not, under any circumstances wanting to spend a night in a tent, on my own apart from a million mosquitoes versus what I will potentially get out of it. I weigh it up and my scale of 1 – 10 of potential trouble and strikeouts. It would be in the middle.

Definitely not a 10, which is an indiscretion, such that if you are caught doing it or admit to doing it if not actually trapped in situ,  –  will result in a definite “OUT”. This entails collecting your marching orders, most probably without even the right to first come home and collect your kit. At best, a limited selection of non-matching, out of date and unwashed stuff will be at the top of the drive in a smelly kit bag, waiting for you.

So what comprises a 10?

At this point I just want to add that everything is purely theoretical. Merely the musings of a Biker Pilot in the middle of the Yukon, with nothing better to do. All my examples also assume that no one who lands up in this situation is gay. The reason for this is, if you are caught with someone of the same sex and you are involved in what your partner believed to be a strictly heterosexual relationship, it is definitely “time over” , forget just strike out.

Before all the girls get uptight, I have written these musings from a male perspective and you are welcome to substitute brother in law for sister in law, brother for sister, Wife’s best friend for Husband’s best friend, daughters gorgeous friend for son’s hulky jock or tennis pro friend etc.. I fully accept that what is good for the gander is also good for the goose.

It is also written tongue in cheek and for a good laugh although it may touch some raw spots. Life is life and this stuff happens. As the pilot motto goes – “There are only two types of pilots, those who have done a wheels up landing and those who are going to do one”. Shit happens to everyone.

So a definite 10  and probably top of the list is being caught in a very compromising position with your sister in law or mother in law. “Compromising” is not just sitting close to each other or touching. It is clothes off, in flagrante delicti. For the non-Latin speakers this is in the act of fertilization. There are no extenuating circumstances or plausible excuses. The old Japanese adage that “ I had too much to drink and a different person, who looked like me was the culprit, will not wash.” Nor does claiming you were wearing a condom and therefore no intimate touching was involved. Offers for your spouse to join in the fun will inflame the situation. Do not try this line under any circumstances whatsoever. Probably the best thing to do is to put on a Yarmulke as quickly as possible and start praying.

This situation is not going to be an issue in my life. Darling has three sisters. The oldest, Mimi has been like a mother to me. Listening to Simon and Garfunkel on the road had me thinking about this. Many, many years ago, as a 18 year old I had my Mrs. Robinson moment. It was not with Mimi. Mimi does not fit the bill. So no worries here.

Sister no 2, Coo. 35 years ago this was potentially a risk. She and I dallied in our single years, briefly. A kiss here and a touch there. Nothing serious. Then her taste went down hill. Friends of mine at UCT, all of inferior breeding. Then for years the waifs and strays. Every lost cause in the Cape. Then the good-looking idiots with the big schlongs and finally the teddy bears. So scratch her out as well.

Then the baby sister, Peta. Once this was very dangerous. We worked together. She was good looking (as all the sisters are – Mimi and Coo were but are now packing a few too many pounds) and highly efficient, something I always find very attractive. However we have not spoken until recently, for about 20 years, as a result of a work related fall out. I do not think she has suddenly grown to like me so much that a new danger exists.

So no worries here. No risk of a 10 strike out for Biker Pilot

Then onto the 9’s

Firstly, at the top of the 9’s is being caught with your wife’s best friend. Once again you are probably going straight out the door. An offer to join in is an outside possibility, worth a try but one which will, for sure, only delay the inevitable. Fortunately I have no problems here for I do not do morning mass and best friend does not really like me much. Also I do not do Hail Mary’s for performances that are not up to scratch. Flagellation is not in my nature.

The best friend sex is arguably the cause of more relationship break ups than that due to any other party and there are logical reasons for this. Both parties know each other very well. They feel comfortable with each other and probably know when things are not going along swimmingly at home. Expert judges at when it is a  good time to offer a friendly shoulder to cry on, especially if best friends home fires are also not glowing brightly. From there onwards it is a slippery slope into a slippery place.

I know this for sure, as this is the position my sister found herself in with ex husband and now decidedly ex best friend. Hell hath no fury in circumstances like this.

Sometimes I wonder why, particularly if it is “sport sex” involved as opposed to “love sex”. Better to know where everything has been and with whom, rather than with some random and potentially high risk unknown third parties. This is why the French have and accept mistresses and dalliances with known third parties.

A close second in the 9’s, is being caught with daughter’s, or if you are a woman with son’s best friend. Here an invite to join is just going to piss her off, as would an invite to join wife with son’s strapping jock friend, upset me. The comparison makes it difficult to perform. Top of my concerns would be my being Rogered by strapping Jock if he was an ex St. Johns, Michaelhouse or Bishops boy whilst I was trying to show Darling who the real man was.

I think there is an outside chance to talk one’s way out of this situation, as it one could reasonably claim to have been a case of a momentary lack of concentration and there cannot be a long term future, hence no real worries for Darling. A period of suitable penance will be needed. Great attention to home details and when the moment comes, an epic performance.

Daughter or son’s best friend will never again be welcome or spoken about. This is always a very high-risk area when you are as young as I am and the girls are only between 25 and 30 years younger. This is not much different to the age differential between my mother and father. In fact my mom was the same age as his two nieces were. He regarded and treated them as his own children. She could easily have been one of their friends. If this ever happens to me I will be sure to turn to her for advice.

Younger Daughter’s best friend – darling would have to understand

Son’s jock friend. A big worry!

I will finish the 9’s and some of the lesser levels in later blogs and then consolidate them in one table, for I have been invited to go fishing with the group of Canadian guys next door. There are five of them, Bill, Paul, Darryl who is coming to South Africa to hunt in February, Chris and Larry.

A few minutes before starting to write this I had walked down to the water to talk to a group of canoeists who had paddled in. They had been on a 7-day expedition. Dropped off by floatplane some 50 miles down stream somewhere, they had paddled and camped their way to this point and had apparently had a great time. Everyone was still talking to each other. They saw wolves with cubs, moose galore and bears. This is an Orange River trip on steroids.

canoeists finish 7 day journey

One of the guys, there are two guys and two girls plus the guide, tells me he loves South African wine, He is a Pommie, Mike is his name and he owns and runs a restaurant called Pollyanna on Victoria Island. I tell him about Miss Molly. He also likes Weimeraners. I leave him a Le Quartier card as I am almost out of Môreson cards and still need some for some meetings in Whitehorse and Anchorage.

Harold, he has the new Nikon D800 camera. You do not need a D4. Check this piece of kit out.

We only return from the fishing at 23h00 and the sun is still shining. I did not catch anything but some of the guys caught some Lake Trout, all about 10 lbs. in size and full of fight. The scenery is magnificent with the peaks of the Dawson Mountains in the background, still snow covered. It is hot when we go out but rapidly cools off. In my haste not to miss the boat I am not properly equipped. Fortunately Bill from Halliburton Ontario, near Toronto, does not feel the cold and lends me his warm top. Thank you Bill.

We talk about the real estate market and the effects of the meltdown on peoples futures and retirements. We discuss fishing, which is what these guys live for, spending more than 50 days a year beating the water. I think that now that I have  a bit more time, I need to do more of it as it is something that I really enjoy. Maybe I can really live by the ideal of only “eating what I hunt, catch or grow”? I know Arnie is always a bit of a “poeftha “ with his gardening, but the idea of a world class vegetable garden appeals to me.

This blog has to end. It is 09h00 and I need to get to the small restaurant here, as that is where the Internet connection is. Dave and Caroline, who have built, owned and run this place over the past 21 years, are clearly nearing the end of their time here. Once a passion, they have no children to pass it on to, I suspect it is now a mission. Caroline used to run a full service restaurant, but now restricts it to breakfast and a very limited menu for lunch and dinner. On Sundays it is breakfast only and it ends at 10h00 sharp.

The season here is very short. The Lake starts freezing in early September and by December the ice is 6 feet thick. You can drive a truck across it. It has ice in it until early June. As long as the days are now, so are they short in December. The economic meltdown has meant a precipitous drop off in American tourists in the huge RV’s, with money borrowed against then overvalued properties burning holes in their pockets and Alaskan trips in their dreams.

I suspect that Dave and Catherine are also, like so many others, about to find out that the property that they have built and nurtured is worth a whole lot less that they believe. That is if they can sell it at all. All along the route there are similar places that have simply shut down. They tell me they do not intend selling it for now and will wait for prices to improve. In the interim they will not open it from next summer as they want to spend these short months exploring the Yukon and Alaska, not working here. This place does have the lakefront. Maybe this would be the place for our summer North American family camp I muse. It is too far and the water is too cold.

So if you see this post I have been successful in uploading it from the restaurant area. I will spend the balance of the day reading and writing. There is nowhere to walk and far too many mossies.

On the way up to breakfast I stop and talk to Lindsay and Marian. They are my neighbours, the retired couple from Pender Island which is next to Salt Spring Island (near Vancouver Island). They are on a KTM 990, a bike similar to Bonnie. They have traveled a bit over 30k kms on it in the 20 months in which they have owned it. Notice it is not a “her” as KTM’s, although great adventure bikes, do not have the personality of a BMW. They are Austrian and hence a bit sexless. One of my first real rides was on an Austrian and the memories have not etched themselves favourably. Marian rides her own bike but prefers to sit behind Lindsay on the big trips. They are heading to Anchorage, Fairbanks and then Inuvik, which is on the Arctic Circle. We discuss long trips and mine being solo.

She tells me I have to have someone with me to share the trip with and to keep me warm at night. I tell her that I know this. She also says it is important also to have “someone to tell you what to do when things go wrong”!

These Canadian women impress me more and more. Marian packs the Austrian. Maybe she will not let Lindsay have a BMW as a mistress.

The perfect riding partner, hard at it. Lindsay watches.

Later on they join me for breakfast. We have a fascinating discussion about SA and Canada. Lindsay did business in SA and with South African companies in his former life as an executive with Alcan. We are then joined by Dave, the owner of Dawson Peak. Dave knows a good friend of theirs. They discuss their various trips into China in the late 60’s, Thailand before Phuket was a tourist mecca, South America. Trips Dave and Catherine are planning in the Yukon by boat and motorbike. Dave’s history of coming here, about 39 years ago. Building the lodge, being attacked by and shooting bears on the patio. It is fascinating and will be the subject of my next blog.

Then Marian climbs on behind Lindsay, wraps her legs around him, gives him a pat on the back and off they go. I am very jealous. We will probably cross paths again on this trip.

So from Teslin in the Yukon.

Good Morning and good luck.

Very fortunately I decided to book ahead of time, having had an inkling of the problems which lay ahead when I tried to book a room at Whitehorse for Sunday evening. Virtually very room in the Yukon is booked up. Not because of tourists, but because this is event season. They have three months of summer and do they use it. So Whitehorse has the World Fastball Championship starting tomorrow and continuing for the week. Fastball is a form of softball in which they throw the ball harder. 2000 women in Whitehorse and I cannot get a room!
In Watson Lake which is at the end of the Stewart Cassiar Highway, the road I have travelled up from Dempster and Bell2 on, they have an airshow tomorrow. So the Snowbirds are in town! Scully and Greyballs will know this, but for the rest of you, the Snowbirds are the Canadian Airforce Aerobatic team, somewhat like the Red Arrows. Red but without the Arrows. So with their support teams and all the other airforce personnel virtually every room in town is taken.

There are only two reasonable hotels in town and the Big Horn, which is where I am staying, is not one of them. But, I have the best room, the honeymoon suite complete with Jacuzzi and kitchenette. So her I am with a big horn and no honey!

This is a room to make Susan green with envy. A multi coloured floral bed spread direct from PEP, A wooden headboard/bookshelf complete with requisite mirror to watch action on the night in question. A chest of drawers from Calvinia’s Hantam Huis. A broken window pane. No toilet roll holder. A combined soap, shampoo and conditioner dispenser. It is right in the main road, presumably honeymoon couples do not hear anything other than themselves. On the positive side it has a fan and a great TV set.

But beggars can’t be choosers. with the size and number of Mosquitoes and bugs in this part of the world, camping other than in a huge RV, is not really an option. It reminds me of the story told by friends of my parents who were driving in Scotland when the weather turned unexpectedly and the encountered blizzards for much of the afternoon. Eventually they came across an hotel, not the one they had booked at. Exhausted they went in and inquired about a room. The manager informed them that only the honeymoon suite was available. The man said to him that given there age would it not be more appropriate for him to give this room to someone a bit younger and them a normal room. Quick as a flash the manager replied ” Sir, if I gave you the ballroom I would not expect you dance all night.

I will send pictures of this shit heap when I get to somewhere with a decent internet connection. This one is at the same standard as the hotel. In the hotels defense I think that 50 members of the Canadian Armed forces are all using the internet at the same time.

On a more positive note, today was the ride Bonnie and I have been waiting for. The weather was great. Sunny skies and the scenery spectacular. After a great night’s sleep, I did not repeat the mistakes of the previous day. Up early, packed, breakfast and on route by 08h00. Dressed up for the Arctic. Five layers meant I was as warm as bug in a rug.

I saw my first bears, three in total. The first walked past the restaurant during breakfast eliciting the same response as lions do when they walk past a camp in the bush. Everyone instantly up and at the windows. The other two were alongside the road. All Brown bears which are very small and shy. no pictures unfortunately. Then a number of eagles, almost identical to our fish eagles and some grey and white antelope. I will look up the name of these but help would be appreciated. The lakes more beautiful than anything I have seen to date.

The road was fair to average but nothing difficult by African Standards. Further than I calculated, mixing Km and Miles up I think. It made no difference as I was in no hurry, soaking up the riding and scenery. On the more testing stretches I stood. The different position was invigorating as it always is. The good old missionary position may be tried and tested, but once in a while standing is also great.

Last night over dinner I meet Kelly. We share a table. He is from Kentucky and has recently sold his business. A pool installation and maintenance business. I mentioned that there was a South African family who owned some race horse stud farms in Lexington, which is where his business was based. He knew the Beck’s and had done a number of pools for them. Small world. He is riding his bike for the next few months until he works out what he wants to do next. He also has a blog. Sound familiar?

As soon as I can get onto the Net properly I will look at it and forward the details. The night before, at the lodge, I am told that there was a South African who has been riding around the world for the past 24 months. I am also trying to get his details.

In Dease Lake I bump into a group of New Zealanders, about 23 in total, all riding. Half of them are ladies. Granny’s by the look of things or maybe being an All Black supporter ages you prematurely. We all talk and exchange road notes. I have lunch at Madame Z and meet the lady herself. She arrived in Dease Lake 7 years ago, husbandless and with 3 children. With CD 6500 in her pocket she started this business. Now she owns the property and appears to have a good business. A major new mine is being opened up nearby which wil employ 4500 people, no doubt adding to her clientele. The restaurant looked great and the food was even better. A complete surprise. She will be busy tonight as all the New Zealanders will be eating there on my recommendation. She undertakes to look at serving Miss Molly.

Most of the time I am completely alone. Once in a while the odd motorcycle or car passes me. Then a large group of motorcyclists with a support vehicle. Every so often an RV. These look like huge tourist buses but are in fact a self propelled mobile home with all the mod con’s, including a large car being towed behind.

Near French Creak I come across a lone cyclist who has stopped. I also stop to see if he needs help. earlier I had passed to woman also cycling. I cannot see the attraction of riding for these huge distances day after day. Anyhow Max is his name. He is Russian and has cycled from Siberia. He sleeps on the side of the road and his only concern was bears. We shake hands and go our own ways,more than likely never to meet again in this life!

Soon I am at Cassiar, after which the highway is named. Once a bustling mining town, it is now deserted with only a Jade shop. I stop for a free coffee. This is how they get you in. I look for something for the twins, but everything suitable will go straight in their mouths and the bigger stuff is too heavy. I buy some “happy bears” for their Granny.

Other than in the small towns en-route there is no sign of human life. Nearer to the Alaskan Highway I start seeing some cottages on the nicer lakes and then squatters! These are known in Canada as the First Nations and they are entitled to fish wherever they please, even in the reserves. This is what I am seeing as they are catching the salmon at the very best spots, which are normally protected.
A little bit further I pass the 5000 mile /8200 km mark of my trip. Bonnie and I are welded at the hip. I pat her and take photographs. Soon we are at the Alaska Highway. This will be our road for the next 900 miles before we hit Tok and turn down to Anchorage, a further 280 miles on, in four days time. Of these only three will be riding as we have Sunday off at Dawsons Peak, our next stop.

I have made dinner for myself in my kitchenette using some of my stock laid in for this eventuality. My washing is done and I am going to try and get some sleep. This will be difficult. It is hot and there in minimal ventilation. these buildings are designed to keep heat in, not out. The road is very noisy and to top it all off the main filling station is next door. I hope my earplugs and the Tabard work.
Good night and good luck.

This was meant to be a highlight ride. The scenery between Smithers and up the Cassiar Highway is world renowned. When I was able to get a glimpse of it, through the rain and low clouds, it looked awesome. But that was it as I rode in the rain the whole way.

As I left Smithers I knew I was in trouble. Rain spots started appearing on my windscreen and soon I had to stop to put on my rain gear. Harold, if you have not used the one piece suit Neil Berry sold you, take it back for a refund. It keeps you dry for sure. However it is a nightmare to get on and off. So you stop on the side of the road. Then you take one boot off at a time and get that leg into the suit, followed by the second leg. Then you try and get the arms of the suit on over your riding jacket, like you would an overall. The main problem is  that on most occasions the rain spits for a while and you only need your riding jacket covered. Then later on, whenever you want to get anything out of your pockets you have to start from the top and work down to the bottom. It does keep you dry but the two piece option is so much more practical.

I desperation I stopped at the Harley shop in Smithers. They had very nice two piece suits, but I could not bring myself to wear one of these on my Bonnie. Anyhow four very long, wet and increasingly cold hours and here I am at Bell2.

This is a lodge and a gas pump in the middle of nowhere. It is also the heli skiing capital of Canada. It is called Lost Frontiers There are three choppers based here, currently doing work for mining companies operating in the area. In winter, this is it. So Georg and Uli if you are following my blog, this is where we need to be.

I had hoped to turn off the 37 down to Stewart, which lies on the coast and is nestled between the snow covered mountains, a glacier and the sea. It is meant to be even more beautiful than Banff and Lake Louise. However the extra 150 km I would have ended up doing, did not seem like a good idea, particularly as my core was starting to get cold and all I had was a Mars bar for sustenance.

So here I am. Disappointed, but pleased to be somewhere warm. At one point I had four layers on and it was insufficient. Tomorrow I will have five as I have bought a fleece top here. I do have some photos which I will upload tomorrow, from my Watson Lake motel, provided I have a better connection than exists here. This is a satellite connection and is very slow.

The lodge is full of bikers, most on the way back from Alaska. They all look exhausted!

My mind has been full of thoughts. In addition to the normal ones, today I thought about how the bankers have screwed the world up. I delved over those, with whom I had dealt and how few of them were really good at what they were meant to be doing. So in addition to my 10 degrees of being in the shit, which has yet to come out, I am going to publish my SA Bankers – The good, the bad and the indifferent! Arnie you are safe on this one.

Tonight I am going to lie in the hot tub and then dinner and an early evening for a change. Tomorrow I would like to be on the road by 08h00 and breakfast is at 07h00. I need to be at the door, ready.
Till tomorrow.

Good Night and Good Luck

This has been my biggest mileage day to date. About 800 km which is close on 500 miles. As Edmund Hillary said when he reached the summit of Everest, “knocked the bastard on the head”. That’s how I feel. I knew it would be a big day and was up early. Unfortunately I had to take care of a number of housekeeping items that my dear PA had left undone in her haste to depart.

Some of these were really important, like organizing the insurance renewals for my aircraft and my Iridium SAT phone annual renewal. These wait for no bike trip. So the beauty of the Internet is I could take care of these from Williams Lake in upper BC. Eventually I leave around 08h00, about 2 hours later than I wanted to.

Given the heat of the previous day and the distances involved, I wanted to get as much of my riding done in the cooler hours before midday. I also had to rectify a couple of mistakes I made the previous day. The first was when I arrived, it was 42C and sunny. So I did not cover Bonnie. The next thing I knew it was hosing rain and everything was soaked, including my sheepskin saddle cover. This all had to be dried.

The second thing was that there was no restaurant nearby and all my food is freeze-dried and non-microwave cook able unless you have a dish, which I do not have. I have a small gas cooker but the dish on it is an integral part of the unit. So although I had a kitchenette, it was useless unless I rode into town and did some shopping, in which case I could go for dinner.I wanted to write and rest up, so dinner was my last can of Tuna and some dried apples.

Quesnel War Memorial. No Politician ever sent their son to war. Nothing Glorious about your head shot off

So both of these mistakes will not be repeated. Bonnie has already been wrapped up for the night in her waterproof jacket and I stopped in Quesnel, as there was a Safeway supermarket and topped up on the Instant noodles, rice and tuna. But things happen for a reason. It was not mere coincidence that I had a puncture in Idaho and decided to stay in Walla Walla. Without that I would never have met Cynthia and Miranda.

Now the Enns and the Friedman’s  now have friends and a valuable contact in each of two important wine making regions. I will be punting their wines, as I am sure they will once they have tasted Môreson wines. Incidentally David and Cynthia a bottle of 2003 Magia, which won the Fairburn trophy for the best South African red, is on its way to you. It will take a few months as it is coming with a regular shipment of Miss Molly wines to our agent in BC and this takes about three months door to door.

Had Miranda been a bit sharper she and her husband would also have been in the loop. I dare to say that if the Halladay’s accompany the Enns to South Africa, they will also receive customary Friedman hospitality. If you read the Elephant Island web site, it looks as if Miranda’s grandmother was like my own Mrs. Mac.

Anyway back to the story. VV, Vivacious Vicky, my new boss in BC had sent me a list of BCLB wine stores to visit on my way. As if I have nothing else to do. I mean forget 9 hours of riding, just make sure you visit one store in Quesnel and three in Prince George! Fuck me with a pickaxe! What does she think I am riding, the Concorde!

However opposite the Safeway in Quesnel is the BCLB store. So in I go and introduce myself to the manager who soon has Amy, the assistant manager and Patricia out for a photo shoot with Miss Molly Hoity Toity and yours truly.

Patricia, Biker Pilot, Miss Molly and Amy in BCLB Quesnel

Miss Molly on the shelves. Bottles sold

I text VV, so she knows  for sure that I have been there.

I then stop again in Quesnel to top up my Iridium phone. I had already done this via the Internet earlier this morning. On receipt of the documentation I noticed that the invoice was for an “Africa only” service. This was obviously on of no use to me in my current situation. I called the agents in SA, Blue Sky Communications. They are normally super efficient. However because Iridium is a law unto themselves, there was no way to undo the transaction. If they loaded a World or North American pack onto my SIM, I would loose all the African minutes I had just bought. I was not about to kiss USD 300 worth of minutes away.

The solution was a new SIM. They offered to courier a card to me in Anchorage for Wednesday next week. This was not a solution, as I really hit the wilds tomorrow, from Smithers, which is where I now am, to Watson Lake in the Yukon. Over the next two days I have about 900 km of nothing. This includes my first dirt roads, just to make it more interesting.

I figured that in this remote part of Canada, there had to be an Iridium Service Provider. I was not disappointed and found via Google BK Telecoms, with outlets in Quesnel and Prince George. The Quesnel branch did not have an Iridium SIM in stock, but their main branch in Prince George did and one phone call later, the SIM was reserved and waiting for pick up.

Now, none of my girls are world-class early morning starters and if I want to ride them hard, first thing in the morning, a certain amount of finesse is needed. Spot is the quickest off the mark. I think this is because she lives in the warmest climate. Jayne is generally not bad, but sometimes a bit fidgety in the winters. Particularly when I have not been around and she has not been ridden for a while. Bonnie is the most temperamental. Given a cold and wet night outside, I was cognisant that she would need a slow build up before I really turned it on. I wanted to get going and get there as quickly as possible.

However given my experiences I let her amble along until she reached operating temperature. Then I started picking up the tempo. Faster and faster. She responds instantly to my touch and her purring starts changing to a low roar. I have an opportunity to overtake a number of slower vehicles up a hill that has a passing lane. I slam it in, to a lower gear, for more torque. She needs no more urging and leaps forward for the crest, her engine screaming. Then we are there, past everyone and through the gate. As we go over the top I ease off and let her down gently. I know today is going to be a series of great rides. There will be many such peaks. Pacing ourselves will be the key.

It never really gets hot. This is cold country and yesterdays heat is not normal. In Ashcroft, where I stopped for lunch yesterday at Annie’s Bistro, Annie tells me that Ashcroft is a refuge for people from Alaska in winter. The reason for this is that in Ashcroft the average winter temperature is only around -15C with cold days at -30C. In Alaska the average is at -30c with cold days dropping down to -55C.

Ashcroft used to be a major stopping off point for Canadian Pacific Railways. In fact I see a CP train going through the town. It is all of 2km long. Now days no one travels by train. However CP Railways is in my past, indelibly etched. My father always spoke of his trip on CP across Canada from Toronto to Calgary, Jasper, Banff and Lake Louise. I will miss these places on this trip but have been before.

I also lived the Jack London stories of “White Fang” and “Call of the Wild”. All of these were about the Canadian wilderness. I idolized the Mounties “who always got their man”. For the youngsters of today this was the nickname for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.  Then reputed to be the worlds best police force. Today this reputation is in tatters, riddled with corruption they cannot even solve the problem that is making the road I am traveling on today, the most dangerous road in North America for female hitchhikers. From Prince George to Prince Rupert has, in the past ten years, seen over 37 girls and a few boys who were hitchhiking or camping, go missing. The epicenter is a place called Vanderhoof.

I stop there for lunch. It is a nothing place. Whereas Prince George is big, about the size of Port Elizabeth, modern and with a university. Vanderhoof is like Parys without the potholes. I can see why the girls are hitching to get out. There are reward notices everywhere, in particular for Madison Scott, currently the latest case.

Modern day horse in Vanderhoof. Note the Gun. Mounties have given up trying to solve the cases and called in Nature Conservation. Must suspect a Grizzlie is eating the missing girls

Shortly after Vanderhoof, near Burnt Lake, I see my first moose. A youngster, with small antlers. I am still waiting to see my first bear. Twice I think that I see one, but it is a large dog and a cow! At Burnt Lake I see the ultimate lake holiday house. The owner has two float planes in the front drive. A beaver and a husky!

The cattle in Canada are mainly Herefords, or Herfords as they refer to them here. Loved by my father, he scoured the world for these white faced beauties and then brought them back to peace and tranquility in Koster. In the US I only saw Black Angus’s. I think about Morningside Farm and growing up there. Of the cattle and the open space and freedom we enjoyed. Dry dusty winters. Fires and dogs around us all the time. Running in the roads for hours. Baboons eating my fathers maize (Corn). Digby and Tim stealing our clothes while a girl friend and I were getting to know each other better on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Leaving them outside my parents house so that we would have to get there to reclaim them.

The level of farming has also tapered off along the way. Fairly intensive near Williams Lake and Quesnel, it is now only ranching. All the farmers are cutting hay. No doubt “making hay while the sun shines”. They do not have pastures but simply cut the natural grass and bale it. It is very green everywhere. I try and identify the trees. I can see Maples, Aspens, Pines and I think there are also Ash trees. The sky is ultra blue, I work out that this is because there is none of the African dust in it. Snow lines the mountains near Smithers. The clouds point to a cold front. Not good seeing as I may have dirt roads tomorrow.

The front reminds me of the first TV weather forecast I watched in the then newly independent Zimbabwe. The forecasters description of the approaching cold front was “ A cold front is approaching from the Racist South”! Here the cold fronts come from the White Arctic and are COLD!

Soon I am in Smithers at my hotel. The Hudson Bay Lodge. It is very nice and appears to have a great pub and restaurant, so no need to cook for myself. They also have a Liquor Store, so I am in there and I introduce myself to Cindy who is on duty. Tomorrow I meeting Penny the manager at 09h00.

My routine on arrival is getting waxed. Offload Bonnie onto trolley. Kit into the room. Items to be recharged hooked up. Washing in hotel guest laundry or basin. Unpack, shower, shave and start the computer. The days are now very long as I am far north and going to get longer. The sun sets at about 23h00 and it is light at 04h00. On arrival here I look for the air conditioner, as the room is a bit warm. They do not do aircon here. The under floor heating is on and there is an electric fire. I turn these off. The temperature will be around 9C tonight.

Tomorrow I have around 280 miles that, provided the road condition is good, should be doable in about 5 hours. I will be staying north of Stewart at a place named Bell2. It has a legendary reputation.

If I have time, I will also answer a question that I received from one of my followers as to whether Jayne, Spot and Bonnie would be upset about my being so smitten by Lithe Leggy Leslie and writing about it.

Today I have given great thought to what comprises a “one strike and you are out” dalliance and what would be a “ I don’t care”. So there is a scale from 1-10. With one being the level at which “Darling” will take no notice and Ten being the “You are out of here” level!

Until next time.

Good Night and Good Luck

Thinking about not thinking about it.

Lithe Leslie

Bonnie and Leslie. Showdown time between my girl and the interloper

I will not bore you with descriptions of scenery, rivers, rain, heat and great riding. I had all of it today.

For the record I rode from Naramata. The name of the small town near Penticton, where I was staying, to Williams Lake, also in BC. This was about 500 km of route and most of this is in a Northerly direction. So I am moving towards Alaska in leaps and bounds. I have now ridden over 4200 miles, about 6900 km since I started.

As I was nearing Penticton I saw two things that really tickled my sense of humour. The first was a sign for the local cemetery “Lakeview Cemetery”. Like the view is really important. I always figured that I would be cremated after my organs had been harvested for a good use. Like a heart transplant for Julius Malema! But now I want to be buried in a cemetery with a view.

Then a sign for a winery called, wait for this, “Releasing the Monster”. All I have been thinking is about not thinking about it! Away from home and a WODES for so long, leaves one a bit strung out. Over loaded so to speak. So until Sunday evening when I was exposed to Lithe Leslie I had been trying this new technique, namely “thinking about not thinking about it”. It is a cross between meditation and self inflicted torture. In Hebrew it is called “A mind fuck”.

From Sunday onwards it has been increasingly difficult and my mind has been wandering. I will not lie, my short term memory is improving and I can still remember her. Too vividly for my own good. To make matters worse the questions she asked about my reasons for the trip have made me think about these as well. So it has been mind medley relays. Crawl one way, breast stroke the other way. A bit of backstroke and some butterfly as well.

So I have been thinking about unleashing the monster, not just releasing it. On Friday, in Vancouver at the BMW dealer, they had a promotion for a new range of biker underwear. To deal with the problem of bits of the male anatomy getting caught up in the wrong and an uncomfortable position which cannot be rectified without stopping, getting off the bike, rearranging things and then getting back on. These underpants have a little pocket. The sales lady described it as “A pocket for your Rocket”. Little did she realise that after this length of time in a WODES I am dealing with an ICBM, a fearsome weapon of mass destruction. This “Pocket for my Rocket” is also on my mind. Please send copper sulphate to Anchorage.

Most importantly this has all fired up my creative juices in a big way. I have started mapping out my next big thing. Last night I registered my new Domain name for this idea and even started developing my own website. I am learning to do all this shit on this trip. I can blog, twitter, do social intercourse and now develop websites.

It was actually really funny because to register my domain I recalled the children using a site with the name Daddy in it. So I typed in BigDaddy.com and lo and behold if I was not at this major gay men’s site. Fortunately it had a disclaimer “ BMW bikers will not feel welcome here”. I then went to the correct site, which is called GoDaddy.com and a few minutes later and more than a few dollars poorer I am up and running. More about this in the future.

Then today I stopped for gas and a cool drink in 70 Mile House. Next thing a BMW 1200 GSA, like Bonnie, pulls up. It is muddy and also has spare tires strapped to the pannier. I figure he has come from Alaska. So he has. Dan is his name. We talk. He informs me that he left Anchorage just over 48 hours ago. I shake my head and ask him to repeat this. He does. It is over 2400 miles and he has done this in two days. He tells me he originally only set aside 4 days to get back to Idaho. This is an Iron Butt everyday. He tells me he has four bikes, sadly a Harley or two and that he does 35k miles a year on the bikes. The BMW is obviously is favourite. He proudly shows me where he came off in the mud and we compare the mods we have done. The bikes are photographed together and we part company.

Dan the Man and his Girl. Note the shit on his bike. Tires were knobblies. Now smoothies

Bonnie and Dan’s girl

I now know that the trip from Alaska back to Michigan is doable in the ten days I have allocated to myself. This gives me renewed energy. The heat today has been sapping. I am checked in. Laundry is done. I will go into town for dinner and then an early night. Tomorrow is a big day. Tiring enough with worrying about Lithe Leslie or all my other ladies. I have to stay focused as I start on the Stewart Cassiar Highway. This is the real thing and the road to Alaska.
This is BMW country and Alaska is the destination. Another GS has arrived and is parked at the hotel.

Incidentally this past weekend saw the celebration by my old school mates of the 40^th anniversary of our Matric year. Seems impossible that we finished high school so long ago. I handed in my apologies and have sent the wine for the events. I am sure that they are happier to see the wine than me. Better not to see how everyone has aged.

Good night and good luck

Wet and cold – riding to Penticton and more

As I looked out of my window in Vancouver I knew it was the morning that I wanted the least. Not because I wanted to remain in Vancouver, where I had a great time and really enjoyed being involved in selling our wines, but because it was raining and Bonnie, now back with me, had new tires on.

New tires and wet weather are a nightmare, with every line in the road becoming a veritable skidpan. This was not going to be an easy day. 290 miles, much of it through the mountains in the wet. The most dangerous piece would be the first section out of Vancouver, for it is here that all the lines are in great shape and there are many.

But Bikerpilots do not flinch from riding in most conditions. Bikers may not ride in the rain but real pilots handle virtually any weather. So I have often flown in atrocious conditions and done many a let down to minima. It is always essential to begin the approach. You set yourself a minima and if the weather deteriorates below that, you overshoot and go on elsewhere. But if you don’t begin the approach you will never land. So it is a bit like hitting the put past the hole. No put hit short ever has a chance of sinking and neither does faint heart with maiden fair.

So with this in mind, Bonnie is packed and readied. I get into my wet weather gear and look like a bright yellow astronaut. It does keep me dry but is as hot has hell. I mount Bonnie, push her button and we are off.

Soon I am in a part of Vancouver that shocks me. Most cities have a poor area and these are normally on the outskirts. This area of the city has food line after food line and hordes of really poor people. It is not what I expect here and certainly not these numbers. I guess the flip side is that most of them do not want a job rather than cannot get one.

Then I am on the highway, which surprisingly for a Sunday morning is very busy. The rain belts down, getting heavier not lighter. It does not hold up. I leave the Canada 1 Highway for the Canada 3 Highway, even though the 1 is the faster route according to the GPS. I do so because Vicky has told me to go on that route as it much better scenery. I am not sure how much I will see.

It soon proves to be an excellent suggestion as the traffic diminishes, as does the rain for a while. I will not bore you with descriptions of the scenery, as every time I think it cannot be more magnificent, I have to eat my words. Trees and water surround me. Majestic. Low clouds everywhere. Reminds me of when Eveanne and I went by helicopter from our floating hotel near Prince Rupert to fish inland for trout some 10 years ago.

I arrive at Princeton and am ravenous. I am still avoiding McDonalds and try a Canadian outfit called A and W, mainly because of the large number of Motorbikes outside. A disastrous choice. This is the worst service, meal and dirtiest store I have eaten in since KFC in Matatiele in 1998.

Penticton Airport

Morning view from my room

and the evening view

Back on the road and into Penticton at about 16h30 after 8 hours of wet roads and hard riding. I am tired but I have big night ahead of me. Cynthia and her husband Dave have invited me for dinner. Cynthia is one of the gorgeous girls from Walla Walla. Two of their friends will pick me up in their “Big white truck”. This happens at 19h00 when John and Rosalie arrive. They have their friends John and Leslie (this is spelt right and is a lady Leslie not Lesley). I will be in trouble because the back seat is cramped. She is next to me and is blonde, in great shape and in a “nothing on red” dress. I have not had a flesh and blood woman this close to me for ages. I concentrate on Bonnie, Jayne and Spot to distract me.

We arrive at the Enn’s. Their winery and farm is named “Laughing Stock Wine Farm” They have a beautiful house overlooking the Lake Okanagan. The winery is yards away. The scene is reminiscent of New Zealand South Island.

We have a great evening. Everyone is into wine. There are also the owners of another winery in the area. And John and Leslie. Dave was an Investment manager and Cynthia has an MBA and was also in the investment business. They now run the Farm and business on their own. Dave makes the wine and Cynthia runs the vineyards, sales and admin. They are both super smart, knowledgeable about wine and food and on top of the game.

More importantly they make great wine. His Chardonnay is almost as good as ours and his Bordeaux Blend briefly touches the Magia stratosphere. We also have some other great wines, which have been brought out for the evening.

I know it is going to be a tough morning. I have hired a car to be picked up at 08h00. I do not want to be visiting wine farms, tasting wine and riding Bonnie. I decline the Port. This is offered as a nightcap at 01h00. I am getting smarter.

I am also being very careful. Leslie has been asking me some very challenging and insightful questions about my trip and the real reason for me doing the ride and why I am blogging about it. I realise that she is no airhead. She tells me that she is a producer for Discovery Channel in Canada. But I have to think and I am worried about my answers and the thoughts she has provoked worry me as well.

This is a great adventure, but I am away from all near and dear for months. I am lonely at night and want to share my experiences firsthand. I actually think about this for the rest of the evening and most of today as well.

Thankfully we are on our way before I make a fool of myself and I collapse into bed at about 02h00 and pass out. I wake up surprisingly easily and feeling not too worse for wear. This is a sign that the wine was excellent.

A quick breakfast and the owner of my B and B drops me at Budget in Penticton. Here I am upgraded at a nominal cost to a Mustang convertible.

Off I go to my first appointment, one of my “Big Things”. Red Rooster Winery. Karen Gillis the winemaker is waiting for me and we have an excellent and very informative two hours. There are no special tricks in the game. This is confirmed. But I always learn from these visits and in particular the little details around the winery. I take pictures and make mental notes for Nikki, Clayton and James.

Red Rooster

Red Rooster Vineyard View over Lake Okanagan

Then back to the B and B. While I have Internet connectivity I decide to try and book some lodging at Whitehorse, Haines Junction and Tok as these do not look to be good camping options. I cannot get a single bed in any one of 12 hotels in Whitehorse. There is some competition in the Yukon over that period and rooms are like hens teeth. I decide to spend a bit of time and sort out rooms the whole way up to Anchorage. I have to be in Whitehorse to visit the Yukon Liquor Board, because Miss Molly is sold there, on the Monday morning just a week from today.

It takes about two hours and between my mobile and the Internet I am now organised all the way to Anchorage on Wednesday next week. I am getting closer all the time.

Then, down to Oliver for lunch and a visit to Covert Farms. Jes Covert is one of Vicky’s suppliers and he runs a completely organic wine and vegetable farm with a small restaurant. Shortly before arriving I call Vicky to tell her that I have once again listened to her. As I arrive, Jes come running to meet me. He has also received instructions from Vicky. We have a great lunch and I learn a lot about organic farming. We cannot do it, of this I am sure.

Then back to Penticton. I am meant to visit Miranda (The other Walla Walla hottie) and her husband at their farm, Elephant Island. I am running too late and excuse myself and go straight to meet with David Enns. He and I tour his winery and talk wine and motorcycles. He has been to South America three years in a row, doing the ride I will be undertaking with Simon next year. He confirms it is an awesome ride. Simon get ready!

His winery is super functional and he and one assistant winemaker handle the production of 5000 cases per year with no other help in the winery. He has some great ideas which I like and the fermentation eggs are on my list for our winery upgrade. Because of their shape the reactions during fermentation continually cause the juice to be strirred. He also has some very interesting 500l barrels for red wine whole bunch fermentation and used compressed air for his punch downs and pump overs.

Laughing Stock winery. Small but super functional

Fermentation Eggs

Cynthia and Dave, once again a huge thank you for your hospitality. I look forward to spoiling you in South Africa.

Before closing up for the evening, I am making dinner for myself at the B and B tonight and finishing the bottle of Red Rooster Chardonnay Reserve that Karen opened for us this morning, I decide to go for a swim at the beach.

This is in front of our B and B and a dinkum beach. Sand, sea gulls but also ducks. It is a fresh water sea and a magnificent temperature. No glacial lake this. I wallow and enjoy the water. Kids everywhere enjoying the summer break.

Tomorrow I ride north. I am really on the way to Alaska. I sleep at Williams Lake near Prince George. The next night I am at the Hudson Lodge near Stewart and then at a lodge named Bell2. The following night sees me at Watson Lake. Then the weekend at a fishing resort at Dawson Peaks. I have booked a fishing guide for the Sunday.

On Monday 23 July I ride to Whitehorse for my meeting and then overnight at Haines Junction.

On Tuesday I cross back into the US (Alaska is  part of the US, Nita please take note of this geographical fact. The 49 states which are on the mainland are known as the lower 49 and also the contiguous US and then there are Alaska and Hawaii ) and then I sleep in Tok.

Then on Wednesday I should arrive in Anchorage. I am into the real meat of the trip. Hot weather until I reach the Yukon. Much rain is then forecast, so I am now well practiced

Good Night and good Luck

Really busy in Vancouver

Not quite like sleepless in Seattle, as no one is on line to text with, but VVV and her crew have kept me really busy in Vancouver. This has exceeded my expectations in terms of the market and response to Miss Molly and our wines in general.

So I mentioned that on Thursday evening we were serving Miss Molly at a function in the evening, “Bottles on the Bay” on the 35^th floor of the Coast Plaza Hotel. The function is in support of a charity that provides assistance to Terminally Ill patients, mainly those with HIV. There are about 20 wineries, each with a separate table.

We are in great demand from the outset. To cap it all, Sam, his wife Ann and their two Weimeraners, Molly and Brit have come in especially for the function. I have to have photo’s taken with Sam and a bottle of the wine which I have signed to Molly with love! I am presented with Miss Molly chocolates that they have had specially made and packaged for the event and an article on our wines and Miss Molly in the BC Law Journal. Sam is a lawyer.

Sam. If you think I am nuts about Weimeraners, think again

Sam and signed Miss Molly bottle

Miss Molly BC

Molly and Brit enjoying the best wine in Canada

Then down to the basement where Molly and Brit are waiting for a formal introduction to me. More photographs. Instant friends, but Molly is as badly behaved as my baby in SA. Both Molly and Brit are “Rescue Dogs”. This means that they were abandoned and in a pound before Sam found them. It amazes me that people can abandon beautiful animals like this.

With Molly and Brit

Our stand is the star of the day and we run out of wine before the evening ends. Our wines speak for themselves and are in great demand. VVV takes me to her favourite Japanese restaurant for a late dinner and Sake. This is a really simple and typical restaurant. Vicky speaks fluent Japanese having lived there for 8 years. I learn something new. The best Sake is served cold and not hot. No wonder I had to sleep in park all those years ago, I drank hot sake. The meal is simple, elegant and delicious as all good Japanese food is.

Vancouver from the Function venue

Friday morning’s paper headline is “ SIMON WHITFIELD TO BEAR OUR FLAG” He is Canada’s top triathlete and has been selected to lead the Canadian team into the Olympic arena. How great that this is the top news of the day. I reflect on the fact that the Canadian team will be over 300 people strong, from a nation of little more than 35 million people. SA has nearly 50 million people and we cannot get a team of much more than 50 people to London.

Politics messed up our sport for 50 years under the Nationalist government and now history is being repeated. One example is SA’s top young rower, a chap named Pete Lambert. On his own accord he made his way to Henley this year and defeated the very best in the world in the single Sculls. He is not going to the Olympics because of the politics in Rowing SA. A sure medal prospect, this is a tragedy.

The day is once again busy. The BC Liquor Board first, where I meet the buyer responsible for SA. We have an excellent meeting and it lasts much longer than scheduled. She confirms what I have known for the past twenty years. SA has done itself no favours in the world wine industry. We have been left behind by New Zealand, Australia, Chile and even Argentina. I mean Argentina could not even beat the Winging Poms in their own backyard! Our failure is in my view due to the very short sighted decisions made in the early days of the New SA by the KWV and WOSA and the lack of a few national champions.

The SA wine press have also to bear some responsibility for this. In Australia, New Zealand and the USA the wine press are full on behind their industry and give them an ongoing punt. In SA, far too many of our wine writers have massive conflicts of interests with their involvement as consultants, show organisers and even in some cases as importers and distributors. This clouds their judgement and impairs their credibility. This is however, another subject, for another day.

Then on to Liberty Liquors, a private store and one of six odd stores owned by the same partners. This is another very nice store and has, as do all the other liquor stores, professional and enthusiastic staff.

Liberty Liquor

The big surprise is the BC Liquor Board flagship store. Vicky’s assistant Monica insists I must see it because they stock Miss Molly. I am a bit frazzled and reluctant. She is persistent. I am blown away. It knocks every store I have seen to date away. This is a government run business! To say this is one of the best liquor stores I have ever seen anywhere does not do it justice. It just shows it can be done. The secret is that they have employed the best people and let them get on with it to make money for the government.

BCLB Superstore

South Africa in Superstore. Not much exposure.

“Miss Molly Hoity Toity” on the shelves. Selling strongly

Actively promoting wine. Impressive

This morning another run. First a mental stretch, I am a bit slow this morning. Then much the same route. Jenny Bean is still there. No luck for the owner. Everything is being primped in the sales areas. Saturday is obviously a busy day. Chinese signs everywhere. They are the ones with the money. During the past few days I have heard many stories of their love of the most expensive red wines available. They are the consumers propping up the rarefied end of the world wine market.

So the story I like the best is as follows. A smart dinner party and everyone is expected to bring a good bottle of red wine. This means French First Growth’s only. So it is Mouton Rothschild, Laffite, Latour, Lynch Barge and maybe stooping to a Penfold Grange. Average price per bottle in the $3000 range. Everyone arrives. They have a huge punch bowl in the middle of the table, Riedel glasses for all. The wines are opened by the waiters. Each attendee ceremoniously pours their bottle of wine into the bowl to make a new blend. A waiter then brings two 5 liter bottles of Coke and adds this to the mixture to ensure it is sweet enough. Everyone is happy! I was under the belief that it was only in the Bosveld that Red Wine and Coke was the order of the day. It seems that it is only the cost of the wine which varies.

I cannot see Nova Spirit. More nubile Miss BC’s being entertained this weekend? I pass the sea plane harbour, running strongly. A Beaver starts up. Remember I described this aircraft in an earlier blog. It has what is known as a radial engine. So this is a piston engine with about twelve cylinders which are arranged in a ring around the center and hence the name radial. These engines always idle roughly and make a low rumbling sound, similar to a female grizzly bear about to have an orgasm!

I know you will want to know how I know this? Remember I have had a very interesting and varied life. As a young BP. Not a Biker Pilot but a Boy Pilot in SAA one was exposed to many things and all sorts of people. So you will have heard of one baggers, two baggers and coyotes. Well there are Grizzly Bears as well. They all look hugable, but they are very, very dangerous!

My time in Vancouver is sadly coming to an end, but I am ready for the big adventure ahead. There is lunch left with Gary Combrink and his wife Bronwyn. This is not my late ex friend Alan’s brother, but an ex South African whom I met on the first night. Both really nice people who have come in especially to have lunch with me.

My final planning for the trip will be completed tonight.

My grand father shopping is completed. Redfish, the top baby clothes store is emptier. Presents for Gregg (aka Moshe) and Stevi are Fedexing their way back to Michigan. My life is changing. Gone are the visits to Apple shops and electronic stores.

It is now baby shops and Lululemon etc.. If you don’t know Lululemon guys, you had better look it up.

I ride to Penticton tomorrow. It looks as if the weather will continue to be good. Thankfully, because new tires and wet weather are not the first prize. I am going to ride into the mountains and then enter the Okanagan valley via Oliver as I have been told this is a stunningly beautiful route.

Dinner is with my new best friends from Walla Walla and their husbands.

Monday will be spent visiting three wineries. I have hired a car, as motorbikes and wine tasting do not mix. Then on Tuesday I head north with eight days to get to Anchorage. One interesting aside, the Liquor Board of the Yukon has heard that I am passing through. Miss Molly is stocked and sold in Whitehorse, the largest town in the Yukon, so on Monday 23 July I am running an in store tasting in Whitehorse! I am sure no South African wine salesman has ever arrived in the Yukon on a motorbike.

I am not sure what the Internet availability will be like for the next week and will use what is available to keep you updated.

Good night and good luck.

Running through Vancouver yesterday morning I reflected on how proud Canadians are of the country. This is not the “in your face” patriotism of the USA where you are expected to visibly demonstrate your love for your country. This is a quiet pride in who they are and what their country stands for.

Starting with the national anthem which lets you know immediately who they are: “ O Canada …” through the displays of support for the Olympic team and the massive level of competition to be the one who carries the flag and leads the team into the Olympic Stadium in London. The person concerned was announced yesterday in front of the parliament and congratulated by the Prime Minister.

So down Robson Street I rumbled. No longer the sleek running machine of 2o years ago, when I ran in every city that I visited in the world. I thought nothing of running 15 miles in London on a Sunday morning when staying at the Grosvenor House. This way I saw and learnt my way around many of the great cities of the world. London, Paris, New York, San Francisco, Silicon Valley, Boston, Frankfurt and Munich were my beats.

Then, I used to pass all these old joggers and think to myself how slow they were. Now I am the one being passed. At least I am out and the fresh coastal air smells great. The noise of the seagulls reminds me that this is a coastal city. This is the first time I have been on the road running since I left Michigan three weeks ago. I left with great intentions of running every morning before setting off. I was clearly smoking something, because there is no ways I could have managed a run, shower, breakfast, pack and leave before 09h30 and still then have ridden for eight hours in a day. As it has been, I am whacked when I get in.

Back home I have been fortunate to have a determined running partner without whom I would probably never have kept going. This is in addition to my many four legged running mates who never let me down. So Jean, you have been missed on this trip as no running partner means no motivation to get up. You would also have really enjoyed Vancouver  and some of the other places in which I really should have got to be running.

So this morning, no stretching, no dogs howling out “hurry up! We have been waiting for you for hours! Come on! Come on. Why are you stretching? We don’t need to you. You stupid humans waste so much time! If you won’t hurry up we will keep on barking and wake everyone up! Come on! Come on! Fortunately I can speak dog speak so I am able to  relay this all to you.

So no external energy to rely on, only my own dilapidated body. No stretching this morning, just a slow stroll to start and then off I go. Along the road I pass one Starbucks, then a second, then a third. In about 2 kms of road there are more than 5 Starbucks. Starbucks have launched a new drink here today, called a Refresher. It is a cold fruit flavoured Green Coffee. Between 12h00 and 15h00 today and tomorrow they are handing out free samples throughout North America. I had one towards lunchtime. They are delicious. Not sweet and utterly refreshing plus caffeine! This is going to be a winner for sure.

But back to yesterday. I get to the water close to the Vancouver Rowing Club, where I was the evening before and then turn right along the waters edge.  Boats everywhere. Many for sale. Of course these owners have now realised that the best day of their boat owning lives are at hand – that being the day you sell your boat! I have had too many boats and took too long to realise that this day, was the best one.

I see one called Jenny Bean. Which love was this named after? Has the owner decided to sell her because he is moving to a bigger mistake or because he and “Jenny” have parted company. I think of my ex brother in law John. My sister has told me that he has left wife/partner no 3 and moved in with young and nubile partner no 4. Nothing changes. Tired of the one and off to the next as long as they will have you. Who cares about the damage left in your wake.

Then I see Nova Spirit. This yacht was in Salt Spring over the weekend. It is about 180’ long and magnificent. I have been told it belongs to Jimmy Pattison, the Richest man in BC. Which ex Miss BC was he wining and dining on it over the weekend? I think this must be the biggest and the best here.

I am wrong because moored next to the restaurant where I had lunch today is Paul Allen of Microsoft’s smaller boat, the original Meduse. This is 200’ long. He had it built in 2003. Subsequently he has also taken delivery of two bigger boats and he still own all three. The next in line is called Tatoosh and is 300’ feet long and in 2010 he took delivery of the worlds biggest private boat that is 414’ long, the Octopus, at a cost of $160M.

Meduse. Now no 3 in Paul Allen’s stable of mega yachts. Note the helicopter.

The Meduse is magnificent enough with all the toys on it including a helicopter on the top rear deck. Google these boats and your mind will wobble. Reputedly they cost him $380k per week to run.

So on I run, past Canada Place, which is where the big Alaskan Cruise liners dowc. There is one from Rotterdam in and I realise that Paul Allan’s biggest yacht is about two thirds of the size of this monster. Past the Sea Plane harbour which is now busy with the morning commuters to and from the islands. They approach up the river flying South and then turn and land directly towards the front for a short taxi.

Activity has built up. Bikers, not the real thing but the push pedal wankers, roller bladers and pedestrians. No one jay walks here. A cop here would have  a heart attack in Cape Town. Up the hill I go. Running more smoothly now. Sweating which is what I want. The dogs would be proud of me. Past the famous Fairmont hotel. Famous because of its typically Canadian look and architecture. This is the chateau like roof. Then I am back at the hotel. Straight to the gym. Some weights and now a gentle stretch. Not the more vigorous one I should have had before running. I reflect on my karate days of yore. Those workouts and stretch routines would result in paralysis now.

Vicky our wine agent picks me up at 10h30 and today we visit three liquor stores. Each one is magnificently laid out. We do not have one comparable store in SA. Clean, spacious, great selections and very pleasant and knowledgeable staff.

Wine Shops. All very smart

On the job. Miss Molly sold in copious quantities

With Lesley. Not the Lesley. The top Miss Molly fan in Vancouver.

Miss Molly on the shelves

All three stock Miss Molly and the wine is selling well. Soon we will introduce Môreson wines to Canada and we therefore taste Mata Mata. This goes down really well. The wines perform fantastically. Well done to Nikki, Clayton, Marozanne, James and our team, you have done us proud. I reflect back to 1993 when Eveanne, Klaas and I made the first wines in our shed. How far we have come. Nothing beats seeing your own products in all these exotic places. I remember how Rod Forrester and I used to feel when we walked in the doors at the BMW head office in Munich in the early days.

At 13h00 I have drop Bonnie off for her beauty treatment at Vancouver Motorrad. I am sad to leave her, but Vicky picks me up, so one woman swapped for another. Not quite like good old john though. I will be back for Bonnie. One in every town is what every good BP needs, or so they say. Vicky is super professional, highly organized and great to work with. I now have my life organized by these super efficient and demanding women. Nikki and Vicky! I thank the patron saint of motorcycles, Erotica, for my more pliant ones. Bonnie, Jayne and Spot. Not Lesley. Like Molly she has a mind of her own. No ride on Lesley is ever going to be predictable!

So three tastings later and the day is done. I am dropped off at the hotel and decide to stay in and do dinner in the bar. The Wedgewood Hotel has a great bar restaurant that is perfect for single travellers. I want to read and write and chill. This is what I do and enjoy the time. I have to organize my thoughts and plans for Alaska.

The Alaskan travel bible is a publication called the Mile Post. It is about two inches thick and weighs about four pounds. There is a digital version. To access the digital version you have to buy a paper edition and there is a unique one-time code in each book. I had ordered one via Amazon before I left. I downloaded the app on my iPad and the digital version with the code. Given the size and weight I decided to leave the paper edition in Michigan. The digital edition is less than useless, as you have to have access to high speed internet every time you start it up. How you do this in the middle of Alaska I do not know. So when you are lost and pull out your iPad, you are f—ed. A bit like a sawn off wet dream.

I realize this is a very cunning marketing, because you only realise this when on the road and therefore have to rush out to buy a second copy, which I have now done in Vancouver. So Mile Post paper version in room, the detailed planning will start this evening. That is after a wine event at which we are pouring Miss Molly at a roof top penthouse over looking the city, I am told and have no reason to doubt Miss Organised. After that a Japanese dinner. Vicky lived and worked in Japan for eight years, so she knows the drill. I will stay off the sake tonight. No sleeping in the park tomorrow.

More Miss Molly and Mata Mata on the way out the bottle

Bonnie is ready and has to be picked up tomorrow. I will be like a nervous new lover. She will be clean and powdered for me. Ready to go. Tomorrow I also have a big meeting at the BC Liquor Board with the buyer who handles SA wines. This is really important and I will have to reserve my best performance for her.

Good night and good luck!

The following article appeared in this morning’s Vancouver newspaper.

The debate rages on!!

Fifty shades of money

Women like their erotica dressed up with narrative. The market for racy stories will never be obsolete

Vancouver

This is a marvelous city. At first glance not as pretty as Seattle, but the more time one spends here, the more it grows on you. In general Canada and the Canadians are gentler in their approach to life than the counter parts south of the border.

You can hear it in their accents, which have a slight lilt, see it in the pace of life and the way they go about dealing with everything. Salt Spring Island is not a good example as I think a large portion of the population is floating, not walking and the balance are affected by the fumes. Vancouver is, however, the second largest city in Canada after Toronto and the major city in BC. It was host to the Winter Olympics two years ago and is the gateway for Canada to the Pacific.

There is very large Asian community and virtually every second person is of Chinese or Indian decent. Some great food is on the horizon.

So this is not just a stop on way to Alaska. BC is a growing market for our wines and in particular Miss Molly. All wines and alcohol in Canada has to be imported and distributed by or through the Government Liquor Boards. So our distributor, the live wire Vicky has to order from us through the BCLB, which stands for the British Columbia Liquor Board. The BCLB then places the official order and we ship to an approved freight agent and logistics company. Everything then is placed in bond in an approved warehouse and then supplied, on Vicky’s instructions, by them to the retailers or to distributors if it is going to restaurants.

Bonnie in the front of the queue for ferry – Fulford Harbour

To get here from Salt Spring Island I did not take the direct ferry as planned. This only left at 15h30 and would have arrived at the Tsaswassen terminal, Vancouver’s main ferry hub to and from the Gulf Islands  and Vancouver Island at 18h45 and then it is a further 35 kms to my hotel. So I caught the return ferry on which I had originally arrived, from Fulford harbour back to Sidney on Victoria Island and from there, one of the huge, three car deck ferry to the mainland. This service runs on the hour, every hour and has all the facilities. Three restaurants, Starbucks for the addicts, a business center, shop, casino and wi-fi.

On the ferry from Fulford I meet Bill who idles over to talk bikes. He tells me he owned a BMW R60, one of the classics. He is 79 and was riding it until four years ago when he found himself unhappy with the increase in traffic around him. His wife, who is the same age, rode with him on most weekends and was upset when he sold his bike. I think one should keep old bikes. Like horses and other things near and dear to you, they should only be put out to pasture, not to the dog food company and then only when they are truly well past their prime. Start them up once in a while. Take them for a short ride for old times sake and to keep the oil flowing and then put them back to bed for a good rest. He and his wife now undertake road trips by car, but he tells me he misses riding his old girl.

Bill who just wants to talk bikes. BMW’s. A real biker!

The trip takes 01h30 and is smooth sailing, for most of the time as the route takes one through the gulf islands which shelters the waters. At one point we passed a ferry coming in the opposite direction whilst we were sailing through the narrowest of straits with less than a 100 meters between us and the side and the same for the second ferry. An impressive sight. The turn around on and off the ferry is also impressive. They have it absolutely waxed. Over 500 vehicles on and off in under 10 minutes. From off it is a mad rush by everyone to get out of the terminal. So no slouching, motor ready as the ferry drops the bow and off or you will get flattened.

The Ferry is full. Sidney to Tsaswassen Vancouver

The ride into town is uneventful, but a huge amount of traffic. The last bit is slow and through the suburbs. I remember this road from my last visit in 2002. Not much has changed in the look. I could be in Molesey or Pinelands. This definitely has a British heritage.

I arrive at the Wedgewood Hotel which is in the center of downtown, right behind the Supreme Court. A great position. Bonnie is loaded to the gills. The doorman struggles to come to terms with what has arrived. He asks whether I am at the right place. When I confirm this he asks for my name and rushes inside to check that I actually have a booking. He  returns and welcomes me. We offload everything including the metal side and top panniers ,as Bonnie is checked in for a detox and health farm treatment at the local BMW dealer. This all fills the baggage trolley to the hilt. I am horrified as to how much I have loaded on to her. Two more staff members who are bikers, are summonsed to see what comes off my girl. They too are flabbergasted. We all talk.

I am taken to my room and have been upgraded to a small suite. Than you Philip Meyer and your staff at the Wedgewood. All the staff at the Hastings House and now at the Wedgewood have gone out of their way to look after me and make me feel at home. I make a note to remind Susan of how important these upgrades are for visiting members of Relais properties and other regulars. They really make one feel wanted and needed. I am not feeling either particularly wanted or needed at present.

The trip in in the tough” it out stage”. Like hitting the wall in a marathon. I think about home a lot. Eveanne, the dogs, my new grandchildren and Nikki and Andrew. I would like to help the boys who are taking on an additional business load. They probably do not need me. Charley is on the way to visit a friend in Paris and from there to go yachting in Croatia for ten days and then back to England to start her new life.

I am loving the riding and the seeing and meeting new people but the nights are lonely.

I make contact with Vicky, tell her I have arrived and she arranges to pick me up at 18h00 for an event at the Vancouver Rowing Club. It is an industry fundraiser for bursaries for deserving students to further their wine related studies. The “who is who” of the BC Liquor industry will be there. This is good. The weather is fantastic and at 25C hot for BC! Everyone is outdoors as the sun is shining. Vicky collects me. She is as I expected. A very active and driven person, she is full of energy and in great shape. We hit it off immediately.

VVV Very Vivacious Vicky – Vin Allegro

She gives me a tour of the central city, which is all on an island much like Manhattan, only physically spectacularly beautiful. Stanley Park is at the north end of the island and this is teeming with people running, riding, skateboarding and just enjoying the weather and being out. This is a dog city as well. Eventually we get to the Rowing Club. This is a grand building in pole position. In the middle of the yacht club, it is surrounded by hundreds of boats and enjoys a wonderful view of downtown Vancouver. There cannot be many Rowing Clubs this spectacular anywhere. Nubile bodies exercising increase my awareness of how nice this city is. I think winter is a different story and I am constantly reminded of this, by everyone. When they remark on the unusually good weather, I tell them “yes, I brought it with me as a present to you from Africa”

Vancouver Rowing Club

Rowing Club launching pad

Sun sets over downtown Vancouver. View from the club

Everyone is super friendly. Vikki knows everyone and soon I am talking to a group of her suppliers and customers. Many of the people here are ex South Africans and some want to practice their Afrikaans. They all love Vancouver but the ties of the Bushveld are strong. The key players in the BC alcohol scene are a few ex South African Jews. All from families, which like mine, originally came to South Africa from Lithuania and the dispersed again within two generations. Once again I think about how much South Africa has lost in terms of human capital over the years. Both the Nationalist Government in 1949 and our present government have pursued similarly shortsighted policies in respect of talent acquisition and retention.

In 1949 the Nationalists, having just come to power, were afraid of loosing the next elections and they stopped the masses of people who were desperate to leave the war ravaged destruction of Europe and make new lives for themselves and their families. Tens of millions of highly educated and motivated people emigrated to the USA, Canada, Australia and South America amongst others where they added massively to the human wealth of those nations. Imagine South Africa today with an additional 10m to 15m people of European decent.

Now we have a government that is doing nothing to prevent an ongoing brain drain and the country is being denuded of the skills it needs for the future. Better not to have whites competing for jobs and no skills around! Countries such as Canada are only two happy to welcome South African’s. They are regarded as hard working and entrepreneurial. Only doctors find it difficult to get in here and elsewhere. Maybe Canada knows something the rest of us don’t. I think bankers might also not be very welcome. Wine Farm owners, potential investors and Biker Pilots are at the top of the Wanted in Canada list, I am assured.

I have a great evening. Friendly company is a tonic and the setting, food and atmosphere is great. It is salmon season and they braai fresh wild salmon here like we do boerewors in SA. They have it waxed and perfected down to a tee. This wild spring salmon is unlike any farmed salmon, which I do not like. It is bright red in colour and succulent in taste. Between it and Alaskan King Crab plus the occasional oyster, clam and scallop, I will be a happy man this trip.

The Old and the New in Vancouver

Eventually we leave around 21h30 and Monica, Vicky’s assistant gives us all a lift. Vicky is dropped off at her flat and me at the Wedgewood. I try to read but my head hits the iPad and it bounces off my chest.

I wake up very early, but refreshed. I feel like a run for the first time this trip and some serious morning exercise. I should stretch but I am in a hurry. So off I go.

Vancouver and it waterfront in the morning is worthy of its own blog, which it will get. It is better than Cape Town and Sea Point. I also have a day of wine selling and Bonnie needs to be taken to her Health and Beauty appointment.

This all in tomorrow’s blog.

Good Night and good Luck