SATURDAY night.  After a long day. 

We worked on setting the tile for our jet tub in the master bedroom today... yet another job the hired hands failed to complete...

Between that and working on a manual lift for the Big Bear, it was another full day.

The Warn winch and rotary control unit, is really not suited to the job requirement of lifting the plow blade the 6-8 inches from the deck.  The constant wear and tear, not to mention the strain it puts on the rather smallish battery just wasn't acceptable to me.

Back in the day, when I first began using ATV's for snow clearing, plows came with foot or arm lifts, typically a lever contraption that gave you leverage to raise the blade.  They were awkward to use and required muscle, but with the small plows then available, they did the trick.  This big blade mounted on the Yammie, is too heavy to lift with such a device even if it were supplied.

What I did was bought some pulleys, cable and a small capacity boat winch.  A piece of aluminum plate and some angle iron from my neighborhood welding shop, just down the road from me, and voila!  Manual lift mechanism I can operate with 1 hand.  (I'll have photos tomorrow)  Dwight (my new buddy) has a very nice little shop only 2km and 5 minutes by quad.  I can see I'll be spending some time over there... its a guy thing, right!

Anyway, after a decent pizza (you ever notice that frozen za's have improved a great deal from the cardboard paper days of old.)  Even though there is a pizza store in K'Ton... there ain't no use getting pizza's there.  By the time we were in the garage at home, it would be cold.

Once the kid was in bed, I suggested we go for a moonlit walk.  So at 10 pm, with the full moon bright and directly overhead, we walked to Irishtown road and back, a distance of 3km.  Hard to see the constellations on such a bright night but I could faintly make out Orion's belt and the little dipper.  On dark clear nights, there is a spectacular show!

Yup... there is something romantic about walking on a deserted beach with your honey, or a moonlit stroll on snow, glistening winter night...

:)

'Bilin...'

Brenda doing something different.

I haven't ridden a sled for many years now.

Back in the day, during those long Fort     MacMurray winter days of 30 below zero, we used to go out quite regularly, mostly with a group of 3 or more.

Out there a breakdown could mean a very long walk or being stranded and pretty sure of not living to tell the tale.

Lots of open fields between the trees.

That was trail riding through cut lines, frozen streams and rivers and forest.  Some days we'd ride a hundred miles or more, carrying extra belts, plugs, rope, and crazy carpets*.  There were no groomers, signage or autobahn smooth trail.  Nope... we broke it ourselves much of the time.

The machines were fragile with small fuel capacities, and prone to breakdown.  Most often starting was strictly recoil rope and the odd time the thing would break, which necessitated taking apart the mechanisms and re-attaching the handle, with frozen fingers!  

My digs.

It wasn't unusual to have to change plugs which would sometimes foul if you left your fan cooled engine idling too long.

Like most everything else, the machinery improved, our gear got better and we worried less.

Once moved to Calgary, my riding required transport to a designated zone.  No more taking off from the shop or house and heading out into the bush.

Diesel, our part time dog.

It could be a couple of hours or more before you would unload fire up and go.

The terrain became steeper, the powder deeper and the highs, higher.

Riding the Rockies was terrifying at times.  Every year riders are killed in avalanches and of course the cost of travel became prohibitive for me.  Working for someone else in a shop left little spare time and change in the pocket.

Pretty cool huh :)

One of the things I have always thought of before the move back to the Island, was the fun we had traveling around here on Enticers or Phazers or Trappers.  

Gerard** and I would meet up at Brookvale, midway between my Charlottetown store and Miscouche (Summerside).

Others times Rob and I would load up a couple of Bravo Trappers and putter around amongst the back roads that weren't typically plowed, or across field and streams. 

Powder!

     This is how we came across Toronto PEI, Alaska and Skinner's Pond.  All my shops had their pic of demo sleds for the guys to ride, we at our shop normally would pick a small lightweight long track.  I left the fast stuff to the other guys.

Now that I have moved here permanently (well near as I can tell :) I wasted no time in finding us a suitable snowmobile.  Much of what is selling here are far too fast and costly to run (easy to blow $50 of fuel in a day)

Just me.

I was looking for something I could manhandle if I got stuck (which I have already) with a long track for better flotation and a simple engine.

The Indy Lite is 340cc, fan cooled, has a tall windshield and besides being economical to operate, has an electric starter!  When I'm feeling frisky... I use the rope.

As you can see... I'm still smiling!


*When all else fails, you tie the thing under your sled and get a tow.
** Gerard was my C'Town store manager when we first opened up.  He went through the ice one winter and was killed.  RIP Gerard.

Cabin fever... or worse?!

On the road to Crown King AZ

OKAY...

I admit, I'm getting antsy in the pantsy (whatever that means)  This has been a crap weekend.  Began with Sunshine, then snow, then rain melted the new snow, then snow again, then freezing rain, followed by snow.  Not much mind you, but enough to give me the above. All gloriously mixed together by howling winds.

Nakusp Hot Springs BC

2012 was a year of massive change.  Sure, another dream was being fulfilled, but in the meanwhile, back at the ranch so to speak, I hadn't ridden much.  In fact the only real rides I took last year was a loop in Phoenix and one out to Kananaski's, in the Rockies.

Doin' the Jack.

Too busy, too tired, too stressed, too too too!

IN truth, the winter hasn't been bad here on the Island, I've been out on the Polaris a handful of times, the quad has been fun pushing snow, but I miss riding my bike.

Brandenburg Gate Berlin

A couple of weeks ago, I pulled the Trumpet out from under its cover and after the once over twice, began the task of prepping it after several years of little use.  I love that bike.  It took me two years to find one.  She came from Victoria B.C. and when I talked to the previous original owner, he told me two buyers were coming that weekend from the mainland.

Back Roads AB

I begged Jon to hold it for me, even had him place a call to John Campbell at Canadian Biker to confirm I wasn't a tire kicker.  This I don't know if he did, but when I met him at the airport, he was sporting a new CB ballcap!

The Forestry Trunk Rd.

ANYWAY... I've had just about enough of this winter, enough of fixing things that contractors should have done correctly or just done, and I'm tired of sitting on my butt reading old motorcycle magazines and looking at my old photos.

Tatra mountains Slovakia

Passport to Mulege, Baja Sur

AS I was preparing my supper, I pulled out the pickle jar, nothing like a good dill pickle at times... then it hit me like a ton of potato chips...

I didn't want a pickle...

I just wanna ride ma Moto-sicle!

Riding the KVR

Babaloo

Thirty.  What does that sound like to you?

Today is my younger daughter's birthday.  She has reached this exciting pinnacle.  I remember well what it was like for moi as I turned the three O.  It was 1985, I had recently bought out my business partner and opened a new store in Charlottetown.  Planning stages had begun for purchasing property and building the most modern motorcycle shop on the Island.  Heady stuff!

Thirty is a real coming of age decade.  In my twenties, I was solidifying my beliefs and passions, increasing my earning potential, setting and reaching goals.  I had a family, a motorcycle business, a new home and a highly regarded National Motorcycle program here in Summerside PEI.  My thirties began well and ended well.  In between... not so good, but that's another story.

In the conversations I've had over the years with my grown daughters, we've talked about possibilities, ideas, action.  We've learned lots, traveled, gained experience on many levels.  For Lisa, this decade beginning will be exciting for her.  I suspect there will be changes galore and probably for her as well, a strengthening of her basic values and goals.

Happy Birthday Lisa... may this decade truly be good for and to you!

Dad with Holly and Lisa at the Budapest airport in 2008.

Dad.

Hero's...

I've found the year I've been officially "retired" to be busier than the proverbial fox in the unguarded hen-house.  There has been no shortage of work to do.  Planning a huge move into a self-designed house, across the country, wrapping up the loose ends of a business sale, insuring things are settled in Phoenix since I won't be driving there regularly any longer... downsizing not only my own life, but Brenda's and Anna's too.  Saying farewell's to long time friends, hello's to old/new ones, to the more mundane aspects of life in general.  Getting groceries, finishing work that should have been done by the people that were hired to do it, right down to clearing snow from the decks and driveway.

Yup lots to do.

In all this, I've been working at keeping grounded, having some sense of order in what has amounted to truckloads (and trailer) of chaos much of the time.  Just yesterday my Warn winch abruptly stopped working while I was on the last swipes of road-clearing.  That took several hours to diagnose.  Gave me satisfaction in doing it.  Working on my Triumph (bike) getting it roadworthy in anticipation of a summer's riding this old hood.

During all this time, I do my best to stay in touch with friends old and new.  After all, we are social creatures aren't we.  Just yesterday I talked via telephone to perhaps my longest living friend Rusty, back in Calgary, and my oldest PEI friend Mike stopped by for a chat as well.  

Something Mike said stuck in my mind.  In the course of the conversation he said "you're my hero..."

Sure we often use such terms describing certain characteristics of people, as in the Darwin Awards (look it up) "That guy is an idiot!" or "He's not the sharpest pencil in the drawer..." or "He's got a horseshoe up his butt..." or, "He's my hero..." 

We hear this stuff everyday in some context or other and most often it really slips by without thought.  In the course of our conversation, Mike was referring to some of the motorcycle travels over my lifetime, something I have heard before although not necessarily in those words.

This morning, after the snowplow finally came by clearing out drifted over, dead end in winter, County Line Rd, I got to thinking.  In fact I looked up the definition in my online Oxford's dictionary as seen below.

Definition of hero

noun (plural heroes)

• 1 a person, typically a man, who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities: a war hero
• the chief male character in a book, play, or film, who is typically identified with good qualities, and with whom the reader is expected to sympathize: the hero of Kipling’s story
• (in mythology and folklore) a person of superhuman qualities and often semi-divine origin, in particular one whose exploits were the subject of ancient Greek myths.

• 2 (also hero sandwich) North American term for Hogie
  
  
  So here's what I know... I'm not a sandwich although at times I'm between a rock and a hard place.  As far as I know, I have not been the chief male character in a book or play, unless you can call a life as such.  Nor have I ever worn a uniform. 
  Some people considered Baron Von Richthofen to be a hero during WW1 while others thought of him as just a killer.  I certainly don't qualify on either of those accounts, so what was MJ thinking?  Why would he think I qualify even to him?  As far as I can recollect... I haven't saved anyone from drowning, nor climbed Everest or even written the Great American novel, and I'm certainly not a fighter pilot!  I'm pretty ordinary, in fact... boringly so. In the strictest definition, I am certainly no hero.
  
  
  I will answer my own question this way.  Many of us look up to someone that is doing something that we ourselves could see us doing but for whatever reason, don't.  It may not be death defying as a fighter pilot, nor glamorous as a Hollywood movie star.  In fact in could be something as simple as watching a swimmer gliding with little effort across a pool.  Maybe seeing a talented person playing a musical instrument or singing a melody.  More likely to me, its knowing that there are people out there (as opposed to sandwiches) that are doing things for the planet or community that are selfless and beneficial. Those are the people that I consider to be my hero's and heroine's... 
  
  
  I guess in someone's eye, we are all Hero's to some extent.  It could be a child's, a friends, or a co-worker.  Point I think Mike was making was this; 'you can do something that just may end up inspiring someone else'  
  
  
  Live your life to suit who you are.  By doing so, you will encourage others to think outside the box, take a few risks, set some goal or other, and be my hero...

Back in Baja!

I'd ridden barely a quarter of a mile since gingerly getting back in the saddle.  Somewhere over the mountains was the village of San Jose De Commondu.  Beyond that about 40 km was Loreto.  Directly in my path was a wide but steep hill, with 200' of loose flat shale all the way to the top.

It was hot, no shade at all.  My leg was in varying degrees of pain, seeping through me in waves.  I couldn't place any weight on it at all.  Standing on the pegs to climb the hill was out of the question, in fact walking was nearly impossible.  What to do...

Home sweet home!

I'm only 60 km from my nights destination.  Its still early and at these latitudes, on the mountain tops, I'd have sun for several hours... but I didn't know the way, I did know I had damaged my ankle, perhaps badly.  I was beginning to think this was more than a simple sprain.

On the other hand, it was 40 km or so back to highway 1 and of course I knew the route.  There was a few sections where I would have to be extremely careful, mostly washed out ravines on mountain paths and rocky dry riverbeds.  I can't ride "trials" like standing on the pegs for a lower center of gravity, nor could I ride on the saddle spreading my body weight equally onto the cleated foot-pegs.  There was little time to think and no helpful trees to block the sun.  Food was no problem, nor was fuel.  The little engine that could, was extremely fuel efficient and I always carried a spare liter good for a) about 40-50km or b)  lighting my bike on fire to attract a rescue helicopter!

Didn't take long to make up my mind.  Adventurous as I am, discretion in this case made a lot more sense.  I had to turn around and re trace my tracks.

The beach.

Needless to say, the ride to the pavement took a long time at low speeds, wobbling as I was on a single leg for support.  By the time I reached the Trans Peninsular, I was drenched in sweat and plumb near worn out.  The few times I inadvertently put my foot down, I thought I was going to pass out!  At least on the pavement I could relax somewhat.  I rode the 60km back to Las Cocos late in the afternoon, arriving as it was in the early evening.  My ankle mushroomed after my boot came off.  I sought out the help and advice of one of my Cdn compatriots that had been an emergency room nurse for many years.  She iced and wrapped me up and suggested I get a drive into Santa Rosalia, where I may be able to get medical attention.  Being the "tough guy" (read foolish) that I am, I declined, after all, there was no guarantee I could get a cast locally and then what?  Barb was going to be arriving at the Loreto aeropuerto in mere days! Besides I told myself, its only a bad strain... even though Patty assured me it was most likely broken.  In fact, when I arrived home in Calgary a month later and did visit the Docs/Xray clinic, I found out it was a vertical fracture!

Feeding the gulls, wrapped up!

Strange brew...

It's winter...

No, it's spring.

February 3rd, 2013

Wrong again, its winter.

February 3rd, 2013

In the space of four days, we went from riding the Indy Lite, to bare earth, to this.

February 3rd, 2013

The newly arrived Yamaha Big Bear, made a big difference!

Weather report!

Looking South

February 1, 2013.

Looking North.

After two days of rain and heavy winds... this is what we wake up to.  Snow is gone, grass is greening up.  Could it be the end of winter???

Only Mr. Murphy knows for certain...