Day 2 – Victoria to Ucluelet
Breton
Woke up Friday morning suffering from altitude sickness causing by drinking too many martinis at lower elevations. Yeah, a wee bit foggy but still anxious to ride. Of course, before we headed out, Mark had to install all of the electronics needed to undertake a perilous journey of this magnitude; iPod mounts, heated vests, GPS and radar detector. While he did his open heart surgery on the bikes, I occupied myself reading the liability clauses of our rental agreement. I found the section on prohibiting modifications to the bikes particularly amusing. …in a we’re-so-screwed kind of way.
Yes, martinis at lower elevations do take their toll.
Now, some might question the actual need for all this equipment. You might say” GPS! What do you need a GPS for?!? You’re on a freakin island with only one main road up the centre!!”. Without going down the slippery slope of motorcycling wants vs. needs, let’s just say a trip like this is fraught with danger. One wrong turn and a thousand mile swim and we could end up in Siberia!!!
By 10:30 am the bike mods were completed and, armed with more electronics than Air Force One, we set out. Not to the open road. No, we had to first stop at the wine market in Oak Bay to stock up on decent wines. Riding motorcycles inherently involves risk but running out of good wine is not one we were willing to take!
A quick (?!?) stop for gas & air and then with Moneypenny, Mark’s trusty GPS voice, guiding us we were on the island highway. I guess you could say the weather was “variable”. Variable as in we had hail in Goldstream, snow on the Malahat, sun in Ladysmith, clouds in Nanaimo, flurries thru Cathedral Grove and full on rain coming into Ucluelet. Still, it was awesome to be back out riding again. The highway to Nanaimo was moderate with traffic but once we cut off to Parksville, it was fantastic. Nice sweeping curves with great pavement and beautiful scenery. I really loved the pass just before Ucluelet. It was a stunning landscape of snow covered mountains with a black ribbon of highway snaking through it. As we approached Ucluelet, the road quality diminished significantly, the curves became tighter and the rain became steadier. As Mark so eloquently put it, “that was a few pucker moments!”.
Weather said ‘variable’. Hmm….
We rolled into Ucluelet around 6 pm and proceeded to find our lodging for the night. Through pissing rain and foggy visors we saw the sign for Terrace Beach Cabins and quickly pulled in. A little shocked to find the office closed… With increasing agitation and lowering body temperatures, we paced around trying to figure out who to contact. Mark started to get that stern, emotionless look on his face that he means he’s really pissed. Then he remembered we were suppose to be in cabin #6 so we decided to check if they’d left it open for us. However, as we approached the cabin, we could see lights on and boots, etc. on the front porch. Mark thundered “Who has their boots at MY cabin door!!”. I was going to mention to Mark that he reminded me of a great big red bear in some Russian children’s story but an overwhelming desire to live came over me and I refrained. Seconds before the Hell’s Angels stormed the cabin and terrorized some young family, Mark located the owner and found out we were, uh, at the wrong resort…
Having located the right cabin #6, we unloaded our gear and headed in. Our original plan was to go down to the marina pub for dinner but the rain and cold changed out minds. Under Plan B, Mark headed off to buy steaks & fixin’s and I prepared the cabin for the evening (which meant dropping my bags at the front door, stripping off my wet riding gear and tossing it over the kitchen chairs, flopping down on the nice leather couch and turning on the TV to watch the news until Mark returned). Successful in his quest for provisions, Mark returned and we spent a relaxing evening dining on barbequed steak, drinking good wine and watching the riveting broadcast of the live webcam view of the local lighthouse.
It’s good we took the time to find the right cabin!
Mark
As I wrote this, Breton was watching a webcam feed of the Ucluelet lighthouse on the TV in the cabin. In rapt contemplation. With updates on plot development. ‘The red flashing light still hasn’t moved.’ ‘You can see the lighthouse light flashing now.’ ‘It’s getting really dark out there.’ I’ve mentioned to him the channel that shows the burning fireplace on Shaw cable on Christmas Day. I think he’ll like it.
Terrace Beach Resort, Ucluelet. Well, we made it. Finally. Judging by my performance in packing and getting the bike ready to leave, that outcome was in some doubt.
Up at 6:30 to an incessant pressure in my frontal lobes that I just couldn’t reconcile to my activities of last night. I shouldn’t be able to get that sort of headache from just 2 martinis, a glass of champagne and half a bottle of really good wine.
Arriving at the dining room, Breton confirms that such an outcome is both possible and repeatable.
After a fabulous breakfast, served by a delightfully cynical and sardonic waiter, it’s off to get the bikes ready. (Note to CycleBC: if you ever read this: We never did this to your bikes. Honest.)
First step was wiring up power for jackets, and for the GPS on mine. Breton’s was easily completed, mine not so much. For starters, I got the wrong bike, so the mount for the radar detector isn’t going on. Excursions into supra-legal speeds will need to be curtailed. Significantly. To add insult to injury, I haven’t a clue as to how to remove the seat from my bike. I’m sure you can. However, to this day, I don’t know what that method is. Exploration of the innards reveals a likely location for the battery, though, and popping off a side panel (harder than it sounds) results in success.
Checked out, panniers packed, we’re ready to ride. Breton has his bike started and idling, and waits for me to finish mounting my tank bag. And waits. And waits. And waits. To his credit, he never actually said anything during this period. But I’m sure he thought it.
Finally ready to hit the road. Really. Well… almost.
Pick up some wine, get gas, fill with air, and Breton’s waiting again as I get my iPod sorted out. But that’s OK. The day is early. Breton will have pee stops ahead, I’m sure. I, too, shall become familiar with waiting.
The ride up island was good. Traffic was heavy in Victoria, stupid in Nanaimo, but otherwise light. Highway 4 west over the island was spectacular. Fast, sweeping curves through astonishing scenery. And highly varied weather. We had sun, bright sun, dark overcast, light grey mist, general gloom, full on rain, damp drizzle, ethereal mist, and snow. Repeatedly.
Yes, that’s snow. In March. So if we go in to Ucluelet, will we get back out?
As we neared Ucluelet, the road became much steeper (I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an 18% grade before) and curvier. And rougher. Switchbacks over cracked pavement, in the rain, with oncoming traffic is – I discover – cause for a few pucker moments. I have gained newfound respect for my bike.
By the time we arrive in Ucluelet, it’s full on raining. We arrive at the hotel to discover the office is closed. And there are shoes in front of cabin 6. And it doesn’t quite look as nice as it did on pictures on the internet. And no one answers our repeated phone calls. I knock on the owner’s door, and find out why. Wrong hotel.
With that problem addressed, we get to our cabin, and an executive decision gets made. It’s cold. And wet. And we’re not going back out for dinner. Once more I venture out into the rain to get food. I succeed, mere minutes before the Co-op closes. Our luck is changing. This could bode well.