Day 4 – Back to Victoria
Breton
Woke up Sunday to the sound of running water. Prince MaMu was having his morning jacuzzi. Excellent, that meant I had another two hours to sleep! I settled back into my comfy, warm bed and contemplated life while I listened to the waves crashing on the shore below. Shortly thereafter, hunger got the better of me and I decided to get showered and packed for the ride to Victoria. I cranked on the water and jumped into an astonishingly cold shower. How much hot water could one man use!?!
Prince MaMu in his happy place…
Ten minutes later I was dressed, packed and ready to ride. Prince MaMu was still enjoying his bubbles and tea. Finding myself with time on my hands, I sat down to catch the latest episode of “Lighthouse”. Contrary to Mark’s assertion that nothing ever happens on “Lighthouse”, they interrupted their regular scheduled programming to announce Ucluelet was expecting a storm that afternoon with 4-8 meter waves. I suggested to His Cleanliness that we get the heck outta Dodge. He agreed so we quickly packed up, fired up the bikes and roared off to the cafe for breakfast. Well, they DID say afternoon and it was a bit chilly to go stampeding over mountain passes…
Fortified with a lovely breakfast and a pot of coffee, we were ready to ride. It had rained a lot during the night and the roads were still wet. “No problem” I thought. We turned off at the hwy 4 junction and started into the twisties. Barely into it and my front wheel skids sideways on a patch of ice going through a shady corner. I breathe deeply and focus on relaxing my rectal muscles. “No problem” I thought. A little further up, we rode into snow on the sides of the road. “No problem” I thought. A few more tight corners and I noticed lovely waterfalls flowing down the ice covered cliffs …and across the highway. “No problem” I thought. I checked the temperature gauge on my bike. Outside temperature was 5 degrees. “No problem” I thought. Then I watched it slowly drop to 4, 3, 2, 1, …0, …-1?, …-2!! Road was still wet but I started wondering at what point does it turn to ice? “No problem” I thought. As we continued to climb, the snow on the side of the road started accumulating at an alarming rate. No longer content to lie peacefully by the side of the road, the snow started falling on my helmet from the overhanging trees. “No problem” I thought. “How bad could it get?” I said as my visor fogged over. “No problem” I thought. As I rode on through twisty curves, with water sloshing across a highway cold enough to freeze, in a winter wonderland that’s tossing snowballs at my head, I passed… a snowplow. “What the hell are we doing riding motorcycles down this freakin nightmare of a road!?! ” I thought.
An impromptu stop to adjust equipment. Again. We’re now even for the time spent setting out.
We pulled into a gas station just before Port Alberni. Mark casually commented he quite enjoyed that last stretch. He said something to the effect that the secret to motorcycling is to maintain your cool, keep an iron clad grip on your emotions and not let your fears run away on you. “Oh, bite me, Buddha” I thought.
With my newfound appreciation for religion, we headed to the drive-in burger place highly recommended by Princess JWo. And found it closed. The vein on the side of Mark’s forehead started pulsating. Apparently, he was looking quite forward to the burgers. Fearing the return of the russian goldie-bear, I quickly suggested we head to Parksville for lunch. Actually ended up at a great burger place overlooking Qualicum Beach. Demonic rampage averted, we began our final run into Victoria.
They don’t have a Princess JWo Special, but it’ll do…
All went well until we passed Nanaimo. Then we got rain. Lots of rain… Rain that lasted until we arrived in Victoria. But arrive we did. While Mark “de-mod”ed the bikes in a Petro Canada parking lot, I searched for a bathroom. Bikes restored to their virginal state, we made our way to the Empress to retrieve our luggage. There was no place to repack our gear so we did so in the lobby of the Empress. Man, you’d think those little old ladies had never seen a pair of bikini briefs before…
Gear offloaded, we returned the bikes and, with a Zen-like feeling of the circle being complete, made our way back to the Bengal Lounge for cocktails and post ride analysis. Then it was off to the airport to catch our flights home. Plane is pretty full as I saunter onboard. I stuff my Guzzi jacket up top, stow my helmet under my seat and sit down beside the adorable brunette in the window seat. She looks at my helmet and says “I love motorcycles! What do you ride?” Hmmm, don’t think I’ll need a wingman for this one…
Mark
Overnight, the pass between Ucluelet and Port Alberni got about 4 inches of snow. Which made for spectacular scenery, but some interesting experiences travelling. Drifts were piled by the side of the road, while the trees periodically let go a cascade of snow onto the shoulder, all making for a beautiful environment. And not a certain amount of trepidation when your mode of travel only has two wheels.
The road had been plowed prior to us riding through (we know, because we passed the plow along the way). The road itself was wet, rather than snow covered, so the riding was reasonably straightforward, if rather cautious. I let Breton set the pace, although I didn’t quite appreciate that his hesitation was due to his front tire slipping out as we went through a bend. I was equally oblivious to the fact that his temperature was reading -2 C, while mine was indicating a much more assuring +2.
We stopped in Port Alberni in anticipation of a Princess JWo special. Sadly, this was not to be. The J&L drive-in does indeed exist, but it was locked up tight, with no hours of business posted on the doors. Sadly, our burgers and shakes were simply not to be. Cool place, though. It’s truly a drive-in of the original mould, right down to the trays that clip on to your lowered window. Not really sure how that will work on a motorcycle, but you better believe I’m going to come back and try.
What’s a little damp, when you’re having fun?
Coming south through Duncan, the promised rain finally found us. In spades. All the way down the highway to Victoria, we rode through a torrential downpour. Smooth, relaxed riding was the order of the day. As we neared the Malahat, I started to play a game with myself, seeing how far I could go without touching the brakes, only using the throttle and an awareness of traffic to control my speed. As it turns out, that would be all the way up one side and down the other, finally needing to brake to a stop at the traffic lights at the turnoff for the airport and ferries. While fun, and an interesting exercise, the downside of this strategy was that the brakes were now more than a little wet. From that point on, every time I tried to use the rear brake the bike made a sound like a beached whale.
Arriving at the Empress we began the process of transferring our supplies from the bikes to our suitcases. Breton commented that the lobby of the Empress didn’t really seem to be the ideal place to do that. Something about airing dirty laundry in public.
It is a bit of an adventure, though, seeing how far you can take the idea of service before they finally draw a line in the sand and say, “enough”. As far as the Fairmont goes, I still don’t know where that line is. Imagine, if you will, two guys in helmets, soaking wet, commandeering a corner of the lobby as they transfer clothes from dripping panniers to sprawling pullmans. Clothes transferred, we entrusted our bags once again to the hotel, and rode off one final time to return the bikes. All that remained was a puddle of water on the lobby floor to remember us by.
Bikes returned, we started back through the rain to the hotel. Turning to Breton, I said, “C’mon. Let’s get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini.”
Epilogue
And so, our trip ended where it began, over martinis at the Bengal Lounge. As we sat down, the sun came flooding in the windows as if to mock us, as we spread our belongings over nearby chairs to dry. Seeing our plight, a server came over, grabbed my jacket, hauled over a coat tree to the fireplace, and hung it to dry. Now that’s service.
The sun, however, was fleeting. It was quickly displaced by cloud, wind and rain. Back where we started our day, not only was Ucluelet expecting waves of between 4 and 6 metres, but the forecast now anticipated at least 2 cm of snow. The weather truly doesn’t know what it wants to do, but chances are very good that whatever came next, we would be glad not to be in it.
As I write these final words, on a 737 bound for Edmonton, a blizzard starts blowing past the airplane window. Clearly, we got back just in time. The trip was great, but being safe, warm and headed home is an equally happy prospect. Although I still want to know how my bags left Edmonton weighing only 45 pounds, and went back weighing 56, when all that I added to the load was 3 books I picked up in Ucluelet. Breton figures that the rest is water from the ride back.