Porcupines can actually run rather fast. I heard they can run up to 30 mph.
I also heard that Megan Fox has not been showing up for the Transformers 2 after party’s cause she’s been hurrying back to her hotel room pining away for my phone call.
I’m playing hard to get.
I’m really not sure if any of those above statements are true, but what IS true is I do not have quills protruding from my pair of Dunlop’s, so fast he must be.
I got a relatively early start this morning, despite the fact that I only have 280 miles to cover today.
Leaving Whitehorse, Yukon, I soon cross the Yukon River Bridge, cover about 80 miles or so under a refulgent morning orb before I hit Johnson’s Crossing for my first fuel stop.
They are a decent size RV campsite, with bakery and gas on premises. The bakery advertises that they have “Scrumptious home baking” and “World Famous Cinnamon Buns” so after fueling up; I grab a “World Famous Cinnamon Bun”, a tall jug of milk (not advertised), and have a sit on a park bench to indulge in some breakfast and sunshine.
The World Famous Cinnamon Bun WAS good, but I’ve had better this past week, but they must’ve had something going for them, for after eating half of one, I swore I saw a large Fox stride by me and disappear under a SunDancer model 19 foot RV. I took another bite and that little sucker re-appeared and took off from where he came from.
Funny thing was, the campground was busy with activity, and I was the only one who noticed this.
I was also the only one with a World Famous Cinnamon Bun in hand, so I have to speculate what “secret” ingredient is in the heart of this recipe.
I continue South on the ALCan, enjoying a different view of the mountains that were in my rear view mirror just a short week ago, cross the long grated bridge over the confluence of the Nisutlin River and the Teslin Lake, stretch Kai’s legs out for another 70 miles or so and roll into the Rancheria Lodge for lunch.
If you recall some days back, I stopped at Rancheria for breakfast that I couldn’t finish, so I literally squealed with delight when I found to be in the area for lunch. I do so love coming back down the same way I went up, as all the places I enjoyed eating at, I get to try a different thing on the menu AND they all remember me, asking me how my trip went and the like. Some of these people and places really resonate and I’m already looking forward to my next trip here.
Its only 80 miles from Rancheria to Watson Lake and The Airforce Lodge once again, and I make that 80 miles in just under an hour, as the roads were clear and friendly.
I tried to keep Kai on a short leash; I tried to calm her down,
But you can’t fight the Seether
I walk in, dripping of motorcycle and Mike greets me at the door with a broad smile and meaty handshake, surprised to see me back so soon. I tell him due to a little bout of homesickness I am returning 2 days early, but not to worry, as tomorrow I enter the Cassiar Highway and wind my way down into more uncharted territory, so even though I’m heading back, it’s still new from here on out.
2 BMW’s roll in as Mike and I were catching up, and soon 2 MORE BMW’s stumble in, and 20 mins later 2 Harley’s rumble in, and soon we were all trading fun stories and I find, since I am now the Veteran of the ALCan, I am inundated with questions on what to expect. I give some details, but coy with most. Don’t wanna take ALL the adventure out of their ride.
The first 2 BMW riders, Tim and John, are really nice guys. Tim is the talky one though, and find out he is a pharmaceutical salesman, which makes sense, as he is doing that obvious trick by mentioning my name at the end of EVERY question he asks, a trick that is not only there to help remember ones name, but to also make the potential client feel special.
He and John are both from Nebraska, and I wish John would talk more. He seems like he’s got a lot to say actually, if Tim wasn’t so busy saying my name 100 times.
I feel like stopping him later and telling him he’s been calling me by the wrong name this whole time, if only for my own amusement.
The two others on the BMW’s mention their names, but they are German and they talk funny, and since I’m racist, I didn’t even bother learning their names.
Maybe if they introduced themselves in front of Tim, I’d remember their names.
Dale and Tom are on the Harleys and man oh man, do we a spectacle here.
Kai looks absolutely malnourished compared to what all the other bikes are hauling, but Dale and Tom brought their entire homes with them.
Holy Shit I have never seen such STUFF.
And btw Dale and Tom are very, VERY large men. Only saying that if you remember the Iowa/shower situation the last time I was here.
They remove bungees, then collectively begin ripping down tents, camping utensils (we are at a LODGE parking lot btw), empty Jerri Cans (a lot of good that 2 gallons of emptiness will do for ya in an emergency), water bottles, and walking sticks
WALKING STICKS, as if you can’t find a stick in the woods to fashion into a walking one.
And that’s just the stuff they removed BEFORE getting to their tourpacks and saddlebags.
The Dale and Tom show belly laughed at me and my gear and ask me how long do I plan on heading North for, and that’s when I surprised them all and told them I’ve been on the road for 18 days now and this is all I need with. Mid sentence, I lift my luggage off in ONE complete motion, haul it inside and I’m done.
To be fair, I was still in school when the Trapper Keepers came out, so I am so much the master of compartmentalizing.
Then they all start ragging on my gear, or lack thereof, but then I started to inform them of the wonders of living on the cheap and surviving just as well, and I can see the sweet sweet hue of jealousy green seep into their eyes.
I just hope no-one trys to copy me, my goodness it would be bedlam. I can’t even get a close up view of Teslin Lake for fear I’ll see my reflection in the ripples and fall in love.
This whole trip has been hauntingly perfect as far as the road conversation is concerned, and it continues in the Airforce parking lot, with everyone talking about fun weather, wildlife spotting, slight mishaps, fires, mudslides, gas prices, camping, great food and the like, but now Tom here is screwing it all up, as he starts going into great detail about what he’s done to his Harley.
There are very few things on Earth I care about less, then talking about how many goodies you’ve slapped on your Harley.
Even if I had to make something up that I cared less about than how many goodies you’ve slapped on your Harley, it would most likely end up suspiciously sounding like how many goodies you’ve slapped on your Harley.
Holy Strawberries Batman, I’m in a Jam.
If only I could push a button concealed within a bust of Shakespeare that stood on a desk, causing a bookcase to slide back and reveal a Batpole that I could slide down and escape this conversation.
Luckily a German unveiled Vodka from his pannier and Tom was immediately distracted.
Tune in tomorrow, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
For its time to ride the Cassiar Highway!!
Peace Grease and Beats
Peace Grease and Beats
