Trip report 1.
Boarding the little Ski-Doo jet , after getting my toes wet crossing the ramp at a rainy Charlottetown airport, I hopped across the country in spurts.
From PEI to Ottawa, onto Calgary, and finally at 14,000 ft on an ancient Dash7... Edmonton International. We bounced around trying to shake a thunderhead complete with lightning bolts and boy was I glad to touch tarmac at Nisku.
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| Are these things powered by Rotax? |
After a weekend visiting and preparing the 1985 Japanese import LS 650, I packed my saddlebags like some old cow poke hitting the Chisholm Trail. Waking to 2C Monday weather I delayed until 10 am and left the city of Leduc shivering in 7 degree heat(?) on my nostalgia western swing.
I'd ridden these very same roads many times over the decades that I lived in the West and let me tell you, I was plenty excited heading down the Yellowhead to the distant Rockies. Entwistle, Edson, the huge pulp mill in Hinton, the closed down service station where I met my Father after having driven my Mother to meet him in our Ford Fairlane.
I was 15. Didn't have a car operators license and had a plump cushion under my butt!
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| 33,000 feet heading West |
Leaving Hinton I got my first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains, with the biggest gosh darn grin on my face you can imagine. This trip is all about nostalgia and believe you me... I was feeling downright choked up with emotion.
My earliest rides from Edmonton in my youth, were west of the city. As far as I could ride in a single day and back before nightfall on my 1966 Honda Super 90.
As the displacement increased to 100 cc, then 250, 305, 350... I rode as far as Vancouver. Talk about feeling Free! I'd later name my cycle shop just that; Freedom Cycle.
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| Dash 7 |
I'm going to cover a lot of ground during the coming days, riding not a BMW R 60/5 with it's 4 speed shaft driven, twin cylinder air cooled engine, as I did across Canada exactly 40 years ago; but something very similar. I am riding Kazue's imported Japanese spec LS 650 Savage that now belongs to my eldest niece.
The Savage is also air cooled, four speed but with slightly more displacement at 652.8cc driving through a belt drive and with similar horsepower, this was going to be a ummm... leisurely ride, which was fine by me.
As one gets older, one maybe slows down, just a little bit.
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| Glenmore Reservoir leaving Cow Town |
After the obligatory visiting with old friends Merv and Richard, meeting the new baby Madison and carting her around as if I were her grand pa (!) Liz and I had some time together to yak about family matters, hopes and dreams and cats and dogs, mostly cats. I had the pleasure of Trouble's company to get my cat fix while missing my own brood back East.
By Sunday night I was packed, the 10 L fuel tank filled to the brim and the anticipation of heading onto the road, sharp in my senses. To say I was 'raring to go' might be a small understatement in the fashion of saying Little Boy was a firecracker!
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| Trouble and I getting re-acquainted once again. |
With 35,000 kilometres turning on the clock just prior to leaving, Liz bid me adieu as she left for work, doing her best motherly best to make certain I didn't forget anything, that I was warm enough and to be safe.
I have no idea how many miles have passed under this bony butt of mine that was certainly not going to be coddled by the Savage's sparsely padded perch, but I wouldn't be far off if I said maybe a million kilometres.
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| Fitting |
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