1984 – First Long Solo Tour

I got my motorcycle and car licenses almost simultaneously when I turned 16. My dad had been riding motorcycles and touring for years. To date he has certainly travelled north of a million kilometers by bike. At 16  it was pretty cool for me to then start taking short trips and eventually as you will see elsewhere in this blog some much longer adventures together. As I started developing this blog I had a notion that at some point I would pause and reflect on what was my first long solo tour from the summer of 1984.

Pause …..reflect….strain to remember…..reflect…..where did I store that memory….oh yes here we go, file accessed.

I had a job at the time and was going to school to tidy up a few things so I might be in a better position to focus on a career path. Translation didn’t care particularly for school then realized very quickly how essential it was going to be to any kind of meaningful future, drat.

I had an idea for a trip to the west coast and once I got started in a career I knew that for a few years anyway this would become infinitely more complicated. I would like to take full credit for this idea but the inspiration came from a similar trip my father had taken by land yacht around 1958 with a friend of his. Though if you talk to him about it, it was a way bigger adventure.

I believe Ecclesiastes 3 speaks to there being “A Time for Everything” and goes on to note 14 different items. I am confident had motorcycles been invented they would have made the list at 15.  I think The Byrds put this biblical verse to music with “Turn, Turn, Turn” and the exclusion of motorcycling was simply an oversight on their part or perhaps lyrically it is difficult to rythme anything with motorcycle. Bicycle……icicle……popsicle……ya complicated.

I digress. At the same time the stars aligned in the spring of 84′ to repair some damage I had done to my knee. By early June, with considerable effort, physio was ahead of schedule so with the blessing of the therapist I was good to go so I surmised if this was going to happen this was indeed the time for this thing.

The following are from notes I made in a journal each day. Keep in mind I’m trying to capture the thoughts I had as a 21 year old.

9751km but this does not count a couple little side trips. One being a day in San Francisco from my aunts home in Woodland, California. I tried to reconstruct this with the aid of modern GPS mapping software but my map program didn’t like it when I tried to navigate around San Fran……as I recall I didn’t much care for it either at the time so I completely understand.

Download file: 1984.gpx

June 14th, 1984 – Day 1 – Armed with my CAA trip planner I departed London, Ontario at 5 am heading for the border crossing at Sarnia. I crossed over into the U.S. at 6 am, pre passport days, and apparently pre global warming because I’ve noted that the temperature by the time I reached Bay City, Michigan was still only 56 degrees.

Passing over the bridge just north of Mackinaw the skies began to clear and the temperature instantly jumped. I must have been quite chilled at this point because I was quite excited to see the sun and clearing overhead because I noted it was like passing into Paradise Lost. Taking Hwy 2 west at this point I recall how pretty northern Michigan was. About 50 miles east of Ironwood it became overcast once again but the temperature remained warmer.

I passed by Duluth, Minnesota at 6:45 PM and started putting my mind to find a place to camp for the night. A task easier said than done. This is where I discovered one of the shortcomings of the trip planner, a bit thin on details for accommodation and camping. The only camping indicated in the material I had was in Grand Rapids, Minnesota another 70 some miles. I stopped and asked a few people but no one could offer any suggestions. Around 8:45 a short distance west of Warba, Minnesota I found a campground on the north side of the highway. I set up the tent in record time and threw my gear inside, This world land speed record of tent set ups was due to the ridiculous volume of a unique species of Minnesota pterodactyl mosquitos which I was convinced were attempting to carry my motorcycle off across the lake. (a Google search today would suggest this could have been either Rice Lake or Sand Lake). I was forced to join my gear in the protection of tent. I’d been on the road for almost 16 hours. I had travelled 1351 kilometers and was primed to sleep. I have noted that my fuel costs for the day were $22…..bahahahahaha!

Day 2 – June 15th, 1984 – Warba, Minnesota. I woke up, shaved and cleaned up, packed the bike, then paused to look at the time. It was scarcely 6 am and I was on my way. The scenery was much the same as the day before and was still overcast and cool. I stopped for breakfast in Grand Forks and put on my rain gear. It didn’t rain but the entire area was shrouded in a heavy damp mist. A gas attendant I spoke with indicated that it had been like this for nearly 2 weeks. The road visibility was OK but there seemed to be less visibility to my left and right so I have no idea what scenery I might be missing.

By the time I reached Rugby, North Dakota it occurred to me that I has seen about 2 1/2 hours of sun since I left. I was about to changed the focus of the trip to “In quest of the sun” when I reached  Minot, North Dakota only to discover that they had been hiding it there all along.

Fueled up in Minot and headed north. Apparently I was following another motorcyclist and we both managed to get pulled over and dinged for 68 in a 55.

I head north for the border on hwy 52, at a modified rate of speed. This stretch of 52 from Minot to border I noted was beautiful. No need to describe as I have picture. (or I did, damn. Guess I should have described it. Guess I’ll just have to go back one day).

I stopped in Estevan, Saskatchewan and got a TD (when it was just TD) money order for the ticket and promptly went to the post office and mailed it off.

I headed northeast on 39 stopping again in Weyburn for film (ah yes pre digital) the absence of film cost me to miss a really unique sight. Unique to an Ontario boy in Saskatchewan for the first time anyway. I don’t need film to recall this because to me it was so unusual I remember it still today. As I travelled between Estevan and Weyburn the sky above was for the most part sunny and clear and yet there was a light rain falling on me.  Had I been more to the east, roughly in the direction of Brandon, Manitoba this might have made more sense as the sky was eerie and foreboding dark blue grey. If you are not from a part of  the U.S. or Canada that is flat then the terrain here has to be seen to be believed.  It is so absent of contour that you can see for miles (we’ve all heard the watch you dog run away for days reference). This lent to having a front row seat to the awesomeness of what must have been two storm fronts colliding. The clouds to my left where very dark with a distinctive flat bottom side. The clouds to my right were less distinctive and a slightly different shade of grey. As they came together the flat bottoms of the clouds to the left began to curve toward the ground as though being forced under the other front. This same area was providing a violent and incredible display of lightning strikes.

I stopped in Moosejaw for a bite and struck up a conversation with a couple from Regina. I explain what I had seen and they informed my that it really wasn’t that unusual. Well it may be common in these parts but for me it was spec-frickin-tacular. I hope I never take such incredible sights for granted.

It was about 8:30 in the evening when I set up camp just beyond the west edge of Moosejaw in a campground just off the Trans Canada. Another long day of riding at a bit over 14 hours since I started out this morning. 1087 kilometres to be precise.

A pleasant evening I set up camp and got cleaned up before sitting at a picnic table and writing down the days concluding thoughts. I watched as the sun dipped below the horizon in the west and the light slowly, I mean really slowly diminished. I looked at my watch to discover it was nearly 11. Another first for me, how late dusk was. Definitely time to turn it as I imagine the converse is true very early in the morning and the tend does little to shade the bright sun.

Day 3 – June 16th, 1984 –Up and away just before 7 under overcast skies. I crossed a time zone somewhere and gain an hour which would be eaten away a short time later when I stopped for some much needed gas only to find the station was not yet opened, curses. Breakfast in Swift Current and on went the rain gear. Thankfully I was able to shed it just prior to reaching Walsh, Alberta. I recall the rest of the afternoon was a mostly clear, pleasant and uneventful ride until somewhere around Strathmore, Alberta, about 50 kilometres from Calgary. If you have traveled west then you know what I started to see on the horizon. It’s hard to put into words how I felt. Excited for sure. By the time I passed through Calgary and could get a full unobstructed view of them it was magnificent. I could send a great deal of time trying to explain what the mountains looked like, the feelings they stir inside you through their sheer size and beauty, feelings that have a tendency to put perspective on our place on this planet. I suspect thats why I have found, in general, that the folks I met living in the shadow of the Rockies have a different perspective on what is important. Nature is to be protected.

I have noted that I took a lot of pictures. Regrettably at this point I have been able to uncover only a handful. Good lesson in that though. Pictures can be important and its wonderful to view them later on and reminisce but there is no substitute for taking the time to be in the moment and fully absorb your surroundings. All you need is a powerful memory etched where it can be retrieved by your minds eye.

I stopped in Banff briefly and described it as a very cute place. I did not stopped in Lake Louise as it was pouring rain at the time. I took a number of photos as a I passed through the Rockies, Rogers Pass (wowzers) and other glaciers that could be seen from the Trans Canada. Keeping in mind photography came at a cost with the use of film. Realizing no picture would ever capture the beauty I chose the shots carefully.

I noted that I passed through some pretty towns through the Rockies such as Sicamous, Salmon Arms and lest I forget the unbelievable beauty of the The Valley Gap area.

Around 9:30 in the evening it was drizzling and had become quite windy. Another long day of 1253 kilometers had led me to the Monte Vista Motel in Kamloops and my camping for the night.

Day 4 – June 17th, 1984 – On the road around 7 am and although this leg of the journey was still quite pretty it was difficult to really inspired when one compared it to the scenery from the previous day.  Crossing the Port Mann bridge I got a bit turned around and had trouble finding my uncle and aunts. Eventually successful I arrived at 1:45 PM after covering just 425 km. Compared to the past three days this was a brief ride.

Vancouver is quite an incredible place. I would have said at that point in my life if I could have lived anywhere else in Canada then somewhere around Vancouver would have been the place. Although it’s a bit of mystery to me how anyone can afford to live there.

I stayed in Vancouver until my departure July 25th. Humph, 8 days, reflecting back they must have wondered if I was ever gonna leave. I don’t remember intending to stay in Vancouver that long but, well, hey it’s Vancouver and not knowing when I might ever return I think I was delaying moving on. (For the record I still have not been back. It’s on the list).

While overstaying my welcome in Vancouver I took in some of what the city has to offer for the average tourist, Stanley Park, a trip to the top of Mt. Seymour with an incredible view to Mt. Baker almost 80 miles away, a drive up to Squamish, a ferry ride to Victoria and Mt Douglas, a tour of Gastown, tram ride up Grousse mountain, the Capilanno  suspension bridge and we took in a BC Lions exhibition game. BC place was a pretty cool stadium and I came inches from catch a ball after a field goal by BC. It went right over my head. I made a valiant attempt to catch it and it landed in the lap of the guy sitting behind me. He broke his finger catching it.

I also had the opportunity to partake in something that I suspect most tourists would not. I managed to arrange a ride a long with the Vancouver Police. This was quite an unbelievable evening. I got a glimpse of a side of the city that most wouldn’t care to see, quite the eye opener. I’d share a story or two but most people would likely prefer not to here about this kind of stuff so I’ve chosen to withhold the details for this eveneing in the spirit of maintaining a positive flow to this adventure but let me say this, what a cool job! I can’t imagine there many dull moments. My hat is off to the men and women of the Vancouver Police, for managing the shenanigans of the cities generally non-contributing zero’s.

Somewhere amongst the sight seeing I change the oil on my bike and after a week with one of my favorite uncles and aunts and of course my bestest cousin, it was time to move on.

Day 12 – June 25th, 1984 – Departing around 0845 hrs I headed south into the US taking Interstate 5 down though Seattle. Looking back now I see I really missed out. I should have made my way onto the coastal Highway 1 much sooner.  Another time perhaps, I digress, I stayed on 5 all the way to Portland.

It was an interesting route despite being an Interstate. I could see Mt Rainier by the time I reached Seattle. Mt Rainier is 87km S/E of Seattle and at 14,411 ft, give or take a foot,  it makes for an impressive backdrop.  Mt Rainier is a dormant volcano, last erupting in 1894. If you are old enough to remember the eruption of Mt St Helens then you can imagine what this eruption might have been like.

Long before reaching Portland ,Oregon I could make out Mt St. Helens off to the east. It is actually about 80km N/E of Portland as a point reference.  Much smaller than Mt Rainier at a little more than 8,300 ft it still stands out in the landscape. Last erupting in May of 1980 in what has been described as a catastrophic event.

Just south of Portland I made my way west to Lincoln City at the coast of the Pacific and legendary Hwy 1.

I followed the coast and had a beautiful day of riding covering about 710 km before stopping about 2015 hrs. I made camp in a place called Alder Lake National Park right alongside Hwy 1. After I set up the tent I remember seeing  sign that said the ocean was a mere 2 mile hike away. I thought it would make for a nice evening jog distance. (I think back in this, that I would even consider a 4 mile round trip run after nearly 12 hours of riding and only 8 weeks after knee surgery I must have been a bit spun).  I jogged west for about a half hour before realizing that running in sand felt a bit like pulling a boat. With the ocean no where in sight I retraced my steps back to camp and made a fire before turnig in for what I am sure must have been a very sound sleep.

Day 13 – June 26th, 1984 – Setting out just before 7 it was overcast and damp.  Lovely ride along the coast. It warmed and dried up nicely by the time I reached Eureka, Cal. South of Eureka was one of the highlights of the trip as I ventured off Hwy 1 along the Avenue of Giants. An extraordinary ride through a redwood forest. I stop in a rest area and went for a walk. In my diary I write about the magnitude of these giants (pictures to follow), I can still see many of the places in my mind but regrettably with the passing years many photos have been misplaced. It is incredible when you consider that the largest among these giants were here 700 or more years before European settlers ventured this far west.

I do recall vividly one tree in particular along the path I followed for a short hike. It stood out amongst the other trees. If memory serves me, and I’m not certain it does, this tree had a circumference in excess of 65′ (Yeah, found the photo and I was close 67′).

Laying on the opposite side of the path was a downed tree. There was a plaque affix to what was now a neatly sawed cross section of the tree and upon closer inspection I read that this was not a downed tree at all but a limb that had broken off the aforementioned gargantuan Redwood. This limb had broken off a year two before during a violent storm. I propped my camera on a fence post and set the timer so I could capture an image of me standing beside this limb. Now I’m sure you are thinking a limb big deal, hardly photo worthy. When I tell you however that the diameter of this branch was almost the same as my height (6′) so, well……..in the immortal words of Paul Harvey, “and now you know the rest of the story.”

After marvelling for a while surround by these giants I decided it was time to push on. The plan was to make to an aunt’s by the evening.

I continued south on 1 for a short distance before cutting inland on Hwy 101 eventually connecting with Hwy 20 around Clear Lake toward Woodland, my destination.

Every so often an event occurs in life, I assume this happens to everyone, when you find yourself taking things for granted. You may contemplate what the grand plan for your life is or whether there even is one. It was along this section of Hwy 20 around Clear Lake that I had such a moment.

It was getting to be late afternoon. I had started out before 7 am so it had been a long day. What had started off cool and damp had become sunny with a temperature in the mid 90’s. I had resolved to make it to my aunts and thus was pushing it a bit.  what the speed was along this stretch of highway but lets assume 45 or 50 mph so I was going a bit faster than that, likely 60 or 65. I found myself closing in on the car ahead of me. I looked further down the road to see the way was clear. As I reached the car I vered out to the left to execute a pass. Now as I executed this maneuver I was going faster than the car and judged that I would pass it quickly so for whatever reason I didn’t move very far left. I suspect, in reflection, that I was riding right along the painted centre line. Now this happened very quickly. At just about the moment I was passing the drivers door of the car there was a flash on my left side. It took me only a split second to absorb what had just occurred, there was a car going the other way and I had passed right between them.

After I purged myself of the surge of adrenaline and my heart rate restored to a more acceptable level I began to consider how unbelievably lucky I had been. Then the philosophical internal dialogue took over and there was quite a discussion about luck vs. guardian angel vs. God vs. forces of some description at work in the universe. At 22 this conversation was short lived but I can tell you I have reflected on that moment often as I’ve gotten older. Apparently I was meant to do something.

By 7:30 PM I reached Woodland and this one more travel day under my belt, 814 km covered.

Day 14, 15 and 16 – June 27-29, 1984 – Woodland, California – Three days spent relaxing a touring the area round Woodland, Sacramento area. I did a day trip into San Francisco and reflecting back I missed some key touristy things but is was interesting nonetheless.

A trip to Sacramento to the local Honda dealer to arrange for a much needed tire which led to being without the bike for a day but my aunt was nice enough to tour me around a bit. I seemed to have been enthralled by this marvelous store called Price Club, lol. We had nothing like it in London back then. By todays standards it would by Costco and….no big deal.

I was big into the martial arts at this time in my life so I visited a martial arts supply store and was very impressed by the array of weaponry available that could not be obtained in Canada. I’m not saying I did but there is a possibility that certain items may have made the return trip with me. I can neither confirm nor deny that some items may still exist.

I made a not that it was still close to 100 degrees after 4 in the afternoon. Refreshing considering the daytime temperatures exceeding 110F.

I think it was this that prompted me to decide that my departure would be later in the day and I would travel well into the night to escape the heat.

Day 17 and 18 – June 30, 1984 – Ok, here we are day 17 and departing Woodland California. Hold on because the riding gets a bit stupid from here on out by most people’s standards.

Now every cowboy knows that when you are out on the range riding a horse, that a horse will do pretty much anything you ask of it but when you make the turn for home the horse knows it. It becomes filled with a single minded purpose, get home.

Well it seems that some people have this gene. It was true at this young age and is true today. More than once I find the pull to home after the midway point in long tours. It becomes more powerful the closer I get and it is not uncommon to find me and often my somewhat reluctant travel partners putting in a couple long kilometer days the last couple days of a trip. A cross I bare and a burden to those riding with me.

Now when I say long kilometre days I guess that is a relative term because I set the bar quite high on this trip on a few days but not like the trip home.

I waved and pulled away from my aunt and uncle’s at about 7:30 PM heading east. The down side to night time travel is the utter and total absence of scenery and as I came to learn later in life on another trip, some unique and incredible scenery.

My first significant stop for anything other than gas was Reno, Nevada and Harrah’s Casino. I took a predetermined amount of money from one pocket and put it in what we will refer to henceforth as “the gambling pocket”. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot of fun but I thought that given the surroundings it was exceptionally responsible of me.

I entered Harrah’s and was blown away by the opulent surrounds. I played some slots and…..30 minutes later I was on my way having lost every penny of the aforementioned allocated amount and not a penny more.

I travelled through the night only to discover that in these parts, at night in absence of the sun and much of anything to hold the heat the temperature drops. Now when I say drops it went from 110 in Woodland during the day to what I estimated to be about 45F. I say this because as the sun was rising and I rolled into Alko, Nevada (700km) it was warming up and I passed business with a temperature display on a sign that indicated 50F. I had put on every layer of anything long sleeved that I owned including my rain gear to cut the wind. Soooo…..this idea I’ll put down as an interesting experience but a big, fat fail.

As I sat in the parking lot of a Chevron eating a two pack of stale donuts and drinking a Coor’s (breakfast) I contemplate how far to travel this day. Perhaps through the day and stop tonight and get back into the travelling by day cycle. I had gotten my second wind so I decided to carry on for as long as that lasted. Had I possessed  a greater understanding of human physiology and role of serotonin in regulating the sleep/ wake cycle I would have been less impressed by this sudden renewed alertness. Later I would discover the parallels between intoxication and sleep deprivation.

A short time later, somewhere between Wells and Wendover, Nevada I met up with another eastbound, wayward traveller who began to follow me. When I stopped for gas we spoke and agreed to travelled together until Laramie, Wyoming where he would turn south to Denver.

From Wendover we continued east on 80 through the Salt Flats, which were for the most part under water at this time as a result of record amounts of rain in 1983-84. We scooted along together stopping only for gas. We arrived in Laramie late in the day and he waved and head south to his destination in Denver. A couple more hours riding for him and he would be home.

I rode on stopping in Cheyenne, Wyoming. 1805 km from Woodland. Cal and my last proper rest. It was nice to get a proper sleep.

Day 19 – June 2, 1984 – Waking around 8:30 feeling quite refreshed I located a bike shop for some soon to be needed oil. By 10 I was again on my way. I don’t recall a lot from this leg of the journey other than east of Cheyenne and particularly through Iowa there isn’t really much in the way of much worth commenting on. The highways running through/ around Chicago were and remain today, some of my least favorite highways.

Stopping only for gas and the occasional 20 to 30 minute power nap I forged on all the way home, arriving shortly after 7 PM June 3rd. This leg was 2050 km and took 33.5 hours.

It’s always fun to tour but there is nothing like coming home to the ones you love.

Little did I know at the time the seed to tour that had been planted in me that would take root and last decades.