British Columbia is a beautiful province. Says so right on our (way too big) motorcycle license plates. That's not an assertion that too many people are likely to challenge, but just the same I thought a little photographic proof would be in order. These photographs are from the Duffins to Duffylake run.
Dave Spicer of Disaster Clothing and Norm Anderson of Motorcycho 'zine rounded up a ragtag crew of motorheads to ride a loop starting and ending in Vancouver by way of Whistler, Pemberton, Lilooet, Cashe Creek, Spences Bridge, and Hope. Everyone was to meet at Duffin's Donuts on Main St. and ride along the picturesque "Seat to Sky" highway up to what Dave told me is a secret campsite. Dave is very secretive. I haven't been able to figure out why; presumably that's a secret, too.
Simple as the itenerary was, I managed to botch it, because I'm sort of an idiot savant. Or at least I would be if I was really, really good at anything. I knew the final destination, but not the route, so I went the wrong way around the loop and rode the long twothirds. But luckily, I'm lucky, so after about ten hours in the saddle, having already given up any hope of meeting up with the group I spotted my friend Dylan by the side of the road. He was scavenging for kindling or something.
It was great to relax by the fire and swap stories. I had more than my share, having dumped my bike when a big rig turned left in front of me while I was stopped (nearly taking my shoulder with him); having my battery die, forcing me to roll-start my bike and fill up with gas while the bike was running; riding a bit too close to a grizzly cub; getting pulled over for speeding, and finally getting a jacket (which was bungeed to my fender) caught in my final drive, bringing me to a very abrupt stop around a blind corner. The rest of the gang, by contrast, had a very pleasant and uneventful ride up the coast where they stopped for a leisurely lunch and occasionally just to enjoy the serene (secret) views. I looked forward to falling in with the pack and coasting on their good karma, and the rest of the trip was more or less trouble free even for the older machines. I'll tell ya, it's a good feeling to be running alongside a proper Knucklehead, cobbled together out of parts from the '30s and '40s.
Old bikes, windy roads, mountain views, fireside beers, roadside bears, free campsites, crystal clear freshwater swimming spots-hell yeah, we're gonna do it again. Maybe this time I'll show up a little earlier.