Chris' Ultimate Coast to Coast Ride

I awoke with a start a little later as the Meanie announced it was time to rise and greet a new day. As I got into the shower, I noticed for the first time my body was beginning to show some wear. My muscles were sore and tired. I had my usual power bar breakfast and got dressed. I loaded the bike and went to the front desk to check out. The young lady behind the desk made some comment about me getting an early start on the day, which I found somewhat odd, because I didn’t think it was that early. I was operating on east coast time and had once again, forgot about the time change. I was actually checking out of the hotel around 2:30 AM PST. No wonder she thought it was early.

I went out to the bike and started suiting up to ride. The night air was noticeably colder than it had been just a few hours earlier. I put my heated jacket on, but rejected other cold weather gear, as I thought the sun would be up in an hour or two. I was seriously mistaken and would ride a long time before the sun came up.

As I started to pull out, the desk clerk came running out frantically waving at me. I stopped to see what she wanted. She was saying something about Fort Nelson. I was anxious to get going and did not want to get into a conversation with her, especially since I was wearing ear plugs and could not hear much of what she was saying. She said something again about Fort Nelson and I replied, “Yes, I am going to Fort Nelson.” She just stood there and stared at me. I gave her a friendly wave and headed off into the night. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was going to be a very long day. A very long day indeed.

Since I had started riding on the Alaska Highway, I had seen numerous moose warning signs. I had mixed reactions to them. I really wanted to see a moose on the trip, but I was also aware of the hazard they posed to motorcyclists. I figured it would be nice to see them by the side of the road, at a good distance. As I left Fort St. John, moose signs became more frequent. In fact, they were so frequent I came to expect a moose around every corner. They were never there.

I was pretty sure I was in deer, elk or caribou country. Some type of four legged creature that could ruin my trip was probably lurking about. I was also pretty sure there was a bear or two in the woods around me. I cut my speed way back. I was significantly below the speed limit, constantly scanning the road side for those tell tale signs. I never saw anything.

What did happen was that I was getting cold very quickly. After an hour or so, my hands and feet were very cold. I kept looking at the clock on the bike and wondering when the sun comes up around here. I didn’t want to stop and take the time to put my heated socks on, nor did I want to switch to my heavy winter gloves just yet. So I rode on thinking the sun would be coming up any minute. I began thinking no wonder the sun is out at midnight up here. It doesn’t even rise until 9:00 AM!

Eventually, as I approached Fort Nelson, the sun started creeping above the horizon. I drove on the wrong side of the road trying to catch the sun’s rays. Slowly, I began to warm up. It looked like it was going to be a glorious day. I didn’t notice it at the time, but I had not seen one vehicle on the road since leaving Fort St. John. Nearly 250 miles passed without a vehicle coming or going. I would soon see why.

As I got closer to Fort Nelson, I started seeing the devastation. Along both sides of the road, trees had been splintered and thrown down by an incredible force. Power and telephone lines were strewn amongst the trees. Some of the trees were across the road, though the road was still very passable. Ice glistened off the fallen trees. It was all very eerie yet quite beautiful. The destruction was in pockets and spread out over a large area leading into Fort Nelson.

I pulled into the first gas station in town. The trip odometer moved up toward 270 miles, so I was approaching the limits of my range. Two sawhorses stood in front of the pumps with a simple sign on both. “No Power No Gas”. It hit me like a sledgehammer. In an instant I knew what the hotel clerk had been trying to tell me. I could read her lips in my mind. “Fort Nelson has no power!” I was not immediately worried, but I could see ‘worry’ from where I was. Surely, out here in the middle of nowhere, somebody would be operating on generator power. I moved on through town to the next gas station. Again, there was no power. They were not even open. It was the same story all over town.

I saw a man trying to use a pay phone around the side of the station with no success. I rode over to him to see if I could find out what had happened. He told me that a series of tornados had come through two days ago and the town had been without power since then. Two Days!? Now I was officially worried. He had been stranded there with his wife waiting for the power to come back on. No one seemed to know when that would be. Based upon what I saw riding into town, I didn’t think it would be too soon. He did not know how far north the power outage extended as he was traveling south. He did know he could not make the next 100 mile stretch south to the next town. As the saying goes, “Houston, we have a problem.”

I started ticking off my options. I could stay and wait to see if the power was restored this morning. I thought this to be a long shot. The next town on my map was Summit Lake, over 100 miles away. No one knew if they had power or not, but it did not matter. I knew I could probably eek out another 60, maybe 70 miles using the fuel left in the bike and the gallon I carried in reserve, but I would never make 100 miles. I could backtrack 100 miles to Sikanni, fill up and then set out for Summit Lake. This was a safe, but time consuming option. There was another option, but I didn’t see it at the time. With no idea of what to do, I continued north, praying that there would be some source of fuel along the way. As a last resort, I thought I could wave someone down and get gas from them. I reasoned everyone up here must carry extra fuel. Of course, it would probably be diesel fuel.

I rode north, keeping my speed way down and trying to be steady with the throttle. I coasted down hills, I climbed slowly. Mostly I stared at the fuel gauge, willing it not to move. I left town with two bars still on the gauge. A few miles outside of town, it dropped to one bar. I pressed on. It then occurred to me what I should have done back in town. I should have stood in the middle of town and yelled at the top of my lungs that I would pay $100.00 for 8 gallons of gas. I carried a siphon hose with me for just such an occasion. I never should have left town without being certain I could make it to the next town. As I silently cursed myself again, the last remaining fuel bar disappeared from the gauge. It was like being stabbed in the heart. I knew I had about 30-40 miles left on reserve, plus the one gallon I carried.

I fought the urge to turn around and pressed on. I ducked low behind the windshield to make myself more aerodynamic. I still had not seen any vehicles on the road since leaving the Fort St. John. I had gone nearly 300 miles without passing anyone. I thought to myself, well at least it couldn’t get much worse. The weather was good and if I had to wait by the side of the road to be rescued, well so be it. I began planning when I would put the extra gallon in the tank. I did not want to run the engine dry and risk having problems with a restart. I decided to put it in after hitting 30 miles into the reserve.

A few miles later, I rounded a curve and saw a large black object in the middle of the road. My mood lightened. My first moose! At least I was going to see some wildlife. I wanted to get close enough for a picture without startling it. As I got closer, I killed the engine and glided to a stop some 50 yards from the moose. But it was not a moose. It was a bear. A very large bear. Things had just gotten worse.

There he sat. Smack dab in the middle of the road. His butt could not have been more centered on the road. He sat on the center line with paws in each lane like a big, black dog. He looked at me. I looked at him. There we sat, neither one of us doing a thing. I tried to figure out what he was doing, but had no clue. Maybe bears up here like to scratch their bums on the road. Who knew? An old joke ran through my head. What can a large bear do when sitting in the middle of the road? Anything he wants. Ha…Ha!

I thought about honking the horn to scare him off. Then I remembered reading an article before I left about some motorcyclist honking his horn at a moose or bear or some other type of woodland creature. It startled the animal into charging right at the bike. I scratched horn honking off of my to-do list. At least I was not running out of gas while sitting there. I then tried to decide what kind of bear it was. I know little about bears, but I did know he wasn’t white, so he wasn’t polar bear. I classified him the only way I could. He was a non-polar, big bear! I suddenly became worried about being to close to him. The roadway was only one lane each way here, with very narrow shoulders. Swinging a quick u-turn while a bear charged could present a problem. Riding past him was not an option. There just wasn’t enough room to be sure you would safely make it without being swatted, or worse.

I slowly began backing the bike, my eyes still transfixed on my new found friend. I switched on the ignition to put some distance between us. And then, he just got up. His movement startled me at first. He had sat so still for so long. As if bored with our encounter, he slowly sauntered into the woods. He was gone, just like that. I started up the bike and cautiously rode on. Running out of gas might be a little more complicated than just sitting by the side of road and waiting for help. I tried to decide if a bear could smell power bars. I also regretted not picking up any bear spray.

Shortly after my bear incident, I came across a small store sitting beside the road. Some trailers were also there, probably serving as hotel rooms, but more importantly, two gas pumps were there. My heart leapt. I let out a huge scream. I was not going to get eaten by a bear. Oh Happy Day! There was a long line of vehicles waiting at the pumps. I pulled right up to the front, not even thinking about cutting in front of everyone else. I didn’t care. I was not going to be eaten by a bear. That was all that mattered.

Some other cars were parked in the muddy lot in front of the store. People were just starting to mill about. Apparently, many had spent the night there, sleeping in their cars waiting to buy gas when the store opened in the morning. After parking the bike I went up to the door to see when they opened. It appeared the store was also the home of the husband and wife that owned the store. The sign stated they opened up at 10:00 AM. It also said they would be closed for a week starting later on today for vacation. Timing is everything, I thought.

Fuel Stop in Steamboat

I looked at my east coast watch and saw that it was after 11:00 AM. What the heck is going on? Don’t these people want to make money? I began walking around the house/store banging on windows to see if anyone was around. In essence, I was making an ass out of myself, since it was really only a little after 8:00 AM here. The wife came out and stated she would open up as soon as she took a shower. They had power to pump gas. It was around then I realized what time it really was. From that point on, I was very careful to pay more attention to the time changes and the correct local time.

As things turned out, the couple could not have been nicer. The husband manned the cash register and provided free coffee to all the weary travelers. Everyone talked about where they were going and where they had come from. It felt good to have some interaction with other people, if even only for a few minutes. The wife stated that they were down to only 700 liters of gas in their tank. She expected to be out of gas by noon. With no success, she had tried to arrange an emergency delivery of gas for today. She did not know how long they would be out of gas. Everyone knew Fort Nelson was out of power, which is why they had stopped there and not continued on south.

Once again fortune smiled upon me. The wife gassed my bike up first, her rationale being that the other trucks and vehicles in line would seriously dent her supply. She would have to ration sales to make sure that everyone got something. I paid for my gas, profusely thanking everyone for letting me go first and to the couple for opening up early. I looked at the receipt as I got ready to pull off. Steamboat, British Columbia. Not on my map, nor is it in Streets and Trips, nor on the GPS. But I can tell you that the two residents of Steamboat have my thanks and appreciation. I wish I had gotten their names so I could drop a note of thanks. If anyone is ever in Steamboat, BC, stop in, have cup of coffee and tell them I will remember their hospitality for a long time.

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