No mountains... lotsa water!

PEOPLE have asked me what i would miss about living in western Canada

"That's easy" I said, "the Rockies.... and my daughters!"

If you've ever lived near a substantial mountain range, like the Rockies or the Dolomites or the Alps or the Andes... you know what I am talking about.

How can you not be in awe of such a spectacle!

THERE are no mountains on Prince Edward Island.  In fact the highest point is under 500'  That's five hundred feet if you didn't get that.

Let me put that into perspective...

I've stood on a bridge at Lee's Ferry... five hundred feet above the Colorado river.

I'VE had my hands on the controls of an ultralight aircraft at five hundred feet.

Five hundred feet is not much longer than a football field.

Of course this is an Island and much of it is well below five hundred feet in height.

IF you want "mountains" you go to Quebec or Cape Breton highlands or south to the Appalachians.  Even these are no rivals for the Rockies.

Nope, what we got here my friends is water!

Not just water, but Atlantic Ocean water.

From here you can get to Newfoundland, Iceland, Bermuda...

YOU can get to Jolly Old England, or France or Italy.  You can get to Venice, or North Africa or Turkey.

From here you can get to the Bahama's, Cuba or Argentina.  In fact from here you can get to Japan, Indonesia, or Australia.

You can even get to the North pole from here.







YOU can even get to the Isle de Madeline...

There may not be mountains but there is ocean.  Lots of it, as in three fourths of the globes surface, Ocean.








PEI, being an Island, is surrounded by the stuff.  It may not be the wealthiest of Provinces, nor the largest, nor even the prettiest... but it sure is 'lovely' as Brenda says.






THIS past weekend, we took a driving trip, one of my favorite things to do here, did a little sightseeing, from our home in Spring Valley all the way to Souris*.  Got there just in time to see the car ferry come and go, while sitting at the restaurant overlooking the port.

We covered over 400km, a long day's drive on PEI.  Almost no one about except for local traffic.

It's true... she is a lovely little Island.

* Pronounced Sooo ree.

Progress

 HAS been somewhat, ahem... slow on the new digs.

Given the myriad of problems associated with building a home 5000 km away, when those very people that tell you they are "connected" can't be bothered even answering questions that are paramount to the ultimate success or failure of the project, the complexities of preparing and selling a long time home, dealing with the countless problems and stresses brought on by such things... it's no wonder.

WE'RE here.

Not all of our possesions are, but at least the living breathing portions have landed.

Downstairs there are a literal ton of boxes yet to be emptied.  Others yet to arrive.  Hopefully in the not too distant future.

AFTER a month or so of cat and mouse with the guys doing our excavation, finally we got co-ordinated and had the crew out to finish the exterior leveling and laying the driveway surface.

We are using a recycled asphalt over a shale bed.  This stuff is laid on and then tamped and rolled. 

 


YESTERDAY we had a construction driveway, complete with wash-outs and various sized pot holes... today we have a well defined, semi hard surfaced parking pad and driveway.

Still lots to do around the exterior of the place, seeding the newly arrived topsoil for spring grass.

THE Old/New homestead is beginning to take shape. 

Inside has seen a building project of new dressers and bookcases, setting appliances out on still unfinished cabinets, wondering if we will ever have a finished home.  There are lights to put in place, sinks to finish and of course the ongoing debate about our cupboards is still up in the air...





FORTUNATELY
the exterior is coming along and none too soon either, after all... it is nearly the end of October, we are way behind.

Made in...

Early on in my budding young motorcycle career, I made a point of first, riding my bicycle to the nearest motorcycle shops, then Edmonton Transit to those farther afield.  Once I was actually motorized at age thirteen, I was truly "liberated" and it was nothing for me to ride over to United Cycle on White Avenue or Alberta Cycle out on 118th.  Even Northern Cycle (sold Ducati's and various home appliances)





Most of the bikes you saw on dealership floors in them days were Harley's, BSA's, Triumph's, Norton's.  There were Jawa's and CZ's at the specialty shops as well some truly weird stuff like the odd James or Villiers or Velocette's here and there.


A few shops were carrying then newly arrived Japanese bikes, mostly small stuff as that was all they made.

Honda's of course, Yamaha's, Suzuki's and here and there... Kawasaki's, with the occasional Bridgestone 175 on a showroom floor.

Some of the shops were really old fashioned like Al Klatt's HD on 95St (if memory serves) some were ultra modern like United Cycle for example.

As I rode from shop to shop on my S-90, I envied the Brits and the Sportster's and the Italians.

Pretty much everywhere you went, the old boys still ruled, but of course the Japanese were beginning to become commonplace.  There were more Honda's on the showroom floor at Alberta Cycle than BSA's by then.  Even when I bought my first BIG bike, an R60/5 BMW, I had to "order it"  Indeed they only sold about a dozen of them but I would suspect hundreds of little Honda's.

It was not uncommon to hear the expressions "Jap junk/Jap scrap" regularly amongst the faithfull!

Indeed, it seemed they only made small bikes, not "real" bikes.  Of course we all know what happened to the Old timers' ... most of them went the way of the Dodo and Unicorn... off into the sunset of motorcycle oblivion, extinct.

Since making this huge move, which has been such a pleasure at times (!?@#) I have had the opportunity to buy a bunch of stuff from various country's, there has been "made in" signs on a variety of items.

These days we hear an awful lot about the Chinese making cheap crap that doesn't fit, won't last, is junk... Hmmm deja vu, where have I heard that before.  Cheap crap scooters, cheap crap desks and chairs, cheap crap T.V.'s...

Here's what I have found in my impromptu survey taken over the last 5 weeks assembling stuff from around the globe.

Made in USA has been typically well built, directions in concise (but not always) English and hardware has been generally of good quality and all there.

Made in Mexico is on par with the US stuff and only now and again some awkward English translations.

Made in Canada has been generally the poorest quality and in some cases astoundingly poor.  Makes me wonder how some of these companies can stay in business.  Typically the greatest amount of returns have been home made stuff!  I usually look for the Maple Leaf and all too often, it is becoming rare to find.

Then there's those nasty Chinese, the current scourge of every protectionist lobby out there.  What have I found...

Well apart from some truly laughable directions which are reminiscent of  early Japanese owner's manuals, their stuff has been well labeled, easy to assemble and of pretty good quality, on par in fact with the USA.

Here's the kicker... guys, we have been living in a global economy for decades now.  Get with the program.  The largest market for motorized two wheelers is located in China, and of course it's neighboring countries.  I'm not commenting on cheap labor or asbestos/lead in toys/human rights issues in this Blog... what I am saying that in my wee little world putting together furniture as of late, the Chinese have got it down pretty well, and in most cases better than their CDN counterparts.

MONEY FER NOTHIN'...

AND CHICKS FOR FREE!

So, let's talk money for a bit.

                    

Just how important to you are your Euro's, dollar's, Pesos, Rubles, Yaun...  On a scale of 1-10 where does it sit, or is it really important at all (a redundant question, or is it...) 

I mean let's face it, unless you have a vegetable garden or farm in a warm climate, or have seafood popping from the ocean onto your plate like Capt Hi-Liner does... like most people, you buy your groceries.  You buy your car, you fill your tank, you go to the movies, you watch TV, you surf the net, you go on vacay's, you spend money.

We really can't go back to trading seashells for trinkets like the old days now can we. 

It seems that money is high on most people's lists.  I have always thought that to me, it ranks maybe, about 4th or 5th.  I won't tell you what the top 3 are, you figure it out.

Why do I say this?

Sometimes we focus too much on "money".  Sure you can buy a bike you like or that faux fur coat maybe, but sometimes money indirectly buys something more valuable. 

Take this whole friggin'* mess caused by my trailer.  I have spent more than a G note to modify what the factory should have done in the first place.  I've driven the equivalent of Calgary to Phoenix and nearly back again... in four days!  In crappy weather!!

I've spent in dollars, about half the cost of the trailer for fuel, food and accomo's back and forth to Wawa.  And... I'm spending yet another 1300 bucks to truck what didn't fit on my rig, to the Island.

In all, this back and forth SH stuff will total a cool 5 G's or more!

Talk about stress!

Well what did I get out of this, besides a sore butt... I met Magan.

This 23year old young gal renewed my faith in mankind, for awhile at least.  Today I was cut off three times very close, while driving through Montreal, that brought me right back to Earth once again. 

In monetary terms, that most everyone can understand... Magan Gagnon's helpful, cheerful attitude was worth, let's say half the 5 large all this running around has cost me.

Thanks yet again Magan...

Shit Happens, and Angels arrive in the nick of time!

Here I sit, at the Old saw Mill Motel in Blind River ON, sipping on a too hot coffee made in my little room decanter, and munching on cold pizza.  I pulled off the road around 9 last night after another in a series of lonnnnng and frustrating days.

You see, I was back to Wawa.

 

A month ago, given all the troubles with our brand new CargoMate trailer, I had to stop for repairs and in the process, left behind some of our belongings.  Around our new as yet "unfinished/finished" home, more on that later, the saying "that must be in Wawa" has become all to commonplace.  On this trip with the Blazer and my recently bought 5X8 utility trailer... I was still not able to pack it all in.  Honestly... I was on the verge of tears standing in the door of the warehouse where the stuff was stored, big flakes of wet heavy snow coming down around my head, hair dripping wet, I felt like a defeated lost old dog.




What to do next...

Long story shortened somewhat, I was introduced to Magan Gagnon, a young, vivacious beautiful woman, working the reception desk at Mission Motors GMC.  Once this young woman heard my plight, and believe me when I say, plight... she took the situation in hand and in a few short hours, was able to do what I and several others has not been in a month of trying.  She used her contacts and found me a shipper that would come pick the stuff up this morning and finally get it to the Island. 

Like an angel sent from heaven, she not only solved this ongoing and at times crushing dilemma, but more importantly, renewed my flagging faith in mankind!

In the "SH" department, I have had my proverbial septic tank, overflowing for so long now, I've resorted to wearing scuba gear.




Old time friend RM, emails me that yet another of his friends has died.  Early 50's, out on a trip and bango, dead.

So, my friends, we've all had car troubles late at night, or maybe something we ordered online didn't arrive, or perhaps our beloved cat/dog died, maybe you found out your wife was cheating, maybe you even had medical problems. 

Life has no guarantee's other than the death and taxes, written in stone one, best to get on up outa bed, don't let the SH defeat you and do something.  Even it's it's something as seemingly simple as helping a stranger out of a jam. 

Young Magan Gagnon probably has no idea how great it was to have fate cross our paths yesterday, even after my profuse offerings of gratitude, she seemed unfazed, "just made a couple of phone calls..."

If you are ever passing through Wawa ON, population 3700, please stop in and treat Magan to something, anything.  Let her know that her simple act of kindness and good deed for the day, has pulled this writer from the near depths of despair at a time when he needed it alot!

My helmet is off to you Magan, may your life be blessed in abundance...

FLASHBACK Ancient Greece

THOUGHT I'd take us back to Albania today.  How's that?!

Where there are more Mercedes Benz' than anywhere but So Cal.  In a country so poor, the donkey's have no shoes, you can smell both old money (oil) and new money (guns, drugs?) mixed in with the acid choking from bitumen drenched land. 

Once through this tiny and rugged country that still shows many of the scars of the 90's ethnic war, I crossed into a yet older civilization.  Greeted by a 60's F 104 Starfighter gate guardian, I was in the land of Alexander,* Spartacus, Hercules and Diana, and of course, Helen.

 

Quite the contrast, hustling bustling cities, much better quality roads and ruins dotting the countrysides.  After a very rainy first day's ride, I'd pulled off at a beautiful Hotel in Preveza.  My search for a rain-suit however, came up dry!

Crossing an incredible span separating the Gulf of Patras from the Gulf of Corinth, the next day... Divvie and I traveled roughly SW along the shoreline towards Athens.  There was no rain here but skyrocketing October temperatures.  A very long day brought me into Athens ("You what Dad!  Rode your bike in Athens... are you crazy!!!") about mid afternoon.  Holly's words!

 

Athens is an amazing city, there are no words to describe the utter chaos of traffic that seemingly has no direction whatsoever.  A couple of friendly cops advised me to 'just follow other moto's and do what they did, that way I stood a good chance of staying alive!'  

I did just that! 

I sliced through traffic to the head of each line, crossing over into the oncoming lane when necessary, squeezing past mirrors on tiny lorries and cars.  Easily out accelerating everyone including the hordes of scooters of every description imaginable, my 600 sailed clear until the next set of traffic lights or roundabouts brought us to a halt.  Talk about a WILD AND HAIRY ride!  You would not believe it.  Athens has been since described to me as "much like Rome... except chaotic" 

As if Rome were well organized!



Rounding the hill that the Acropolis occupies, I found a very nice hotel on the west side of the ruins within 3 subway stops.  Once the Divvie was parked underground and my bod was parked on the 20 something floor, I was able to relax for a couple of hours and unwind from my E ticket ride through the city. 

The next three days were wisely spent exploring the city on foot, visiting the Parthenon of course, and spending an entire day in the 35C heat, rubbing shoulders with Hungarians, Germans, Croats, Turks and of course the smattering of Canadians and Americans stopped over on the cruise ships!

 

I'd walked through plush parks, had cafe at street side outlets, strolled warily by junkies shooting up at clapboard buildings with police in plain site, stuffed myself on pastries, wore out my sandals! 

What an experience!

Not knowing if I'd be able to leave the city alive... I opted to depart at 4 am on the fourth morning, getting me well outside the urban zone before the "rush hour"** really began.






Following route "1" the E 75 north, I skirted inlets of the Med all the way up to near Thessaloniki, veering


to the disputed border with Macedonia.

There I had a frustrating 2 hour wait while we stood in lines at a building the size of a large outhouse getting insurance for the bike (they wouldn't accept my EU insurance papers) then back to the gate only to be told once again, I needed insurance.  In line for yet another 30 minutes, to the same 'gent' who now sold me (gladly I might ad) insurance for myself!  Extortion, that's what it was.  They had no problem relieving me of 120E... but they wouldn't accept my Euro insurance policy.

Macedonia is the size of a (very beautiful) postage stamp, excellent roads, high speed sweeping curves, mountainous terrain, crystal clear streams and bang!  It took me less time to pass right through the country than it took to get into it!!

 

After some very tense moments crossing into Serbia proper where I was accosted by several security policemen brandishing automatic weapons urging me to move on quickly while adding a jacket and putting documents into pockets, it occurred to me that perhaps in past times, Muslim motorcyclists carrying explosives had detonated many of them in searing fire balls and shrapnel... there is something to be said for hurrying one along while 3 or 4 men pointing machine guns in your direction and yelling at you can do for your urgency!

Passports and documentation packed away, I accelerated the 600 rapidly.

Within miles of the crossing, my heart still racing at redline, the rains began... my mid thirty Athens weather was now low teens, the water having long ago seeped through my Prexports, gloves and riding gear.  It was, after all... October.



* Alexander of course was actually Macedonian, hence the disputed territory even today.

** Yeah , right... rush hour. 

Thanks Giving

I heard that Calgary had some snow this week, and the night time temps are dropping below zero already.  Where has the year gone...

 

Remember when you were a kid?  I do.  Changing the date of my birthday on my student card, two years older, 15 when I was only 13.  Fibbing to girls that were in high school while still taking shop at Wellington Jr.  I thought I was believable, why?  Because I had a bike, I was mobile.  Most of my generation was still relying on parents to transport them, and in the days prior to multiple family cars, many of my peers were restricted to bicycles, Edmonton transit and yes, the dreaded foot-mobile.  In retrospect, not such a bad thing, we were fit and healthy for our PT classes.

                                    

But I had a bike, I was mobile, I could ride across the city to the Children's (Story Land Valley Zoo) or all the way out to Elk Island National Park to the east or Lake Wabamun in the west.  I could take a passenger (read girl) on the back of my Honda S 90 or Suzuki A100 street scrambler, and later as I matured, my Suzuki X6 Hustler.

                                                                              

By the time I was in high school, guys were getting old cars to drive, and the girls preferred to ride along with them.  No matter, there was always a chick that went apart from the crowd, that wanted to feel the rush of air tearing at their arms as the bike came close to the 90 mph mark.  The bikes I rode in my youth couldn't make the "ton."  That would come later.

As we get older, I feel in many ways we move backwards in time.  Responsibility, credit/debt, growth, experience, relationships, a little more growth.  Marriage in some cases, in others divorce.  Bigger homes, cars, family-mobiles, bigger bikes with windshields, fairings then factory windshields and fairings.  Sound systems, yet larger engines, more weight, maybe another marriage and another divorce.

All seems so complicated don't it?!           

The simplest things in life, the little joys are oft times lost or in some cases... never had.

                                 

Here I am, been to far off places, was married and was divorced.  Pushing 60 yoa and glad for the youth, not that which has been long lost but the youth that comes from experiences, the constant pushing of the envelope* of having had the experiences, the heartache, the heart attacks, the knowing that you have lived to tell the tale as I am doing right now.  The grateful youth of time.




It's Thanks Giving weekend.  Little Phoenix who has grown up, is rubbing against my jeans, tail curling this way and that. Holly and Kevin came over from their studies in Halifax to join us first for dinner and today over at her Mother's family.  Brenda and I with Anna in tow, drove the length of County Line road 6km to the north shore to explore the beach.  Like those Lava Life ads, all those lonely people wishing for the long walk on the beach... we were doing the long walk on the beach.  

The Gulf of St Lawrence where sailing ships once sailed, where U Boats prowled and sank merchant ships, where waves have endlessly rolled onto the sandy shores of this red Island, we walked and talked.  A nice fall day, 14C, sunny and bright with a breeze billowing our jackets slightly.





Yes there is still plenty of stress associated with the build, yes I still have a home in Calgary to sell, yes, money can be tight, yes there are always pressures endlessly rolling across our lives like the warmest water north of the Caribbean.

Still, I am grateful and thankful for my life, what it's meant, how I've lived (most of) it.
                        
 

Yesterday, as I ride my dirt bike around my little grass track, Kevin snapping photos and Holly shooting some video, turkey dinner done like turkey, coffee and pie safe in my belly, them telling the story of their past year, I yet again come to the conclusion that the important things in this life are not the big house, leather buckets and quadrophonic stereo sound, big screen televisions or silicone breasts; but the simplest pleasures of sharing time, doing what you choose to do, appreciating family, friends and riding a little blue dirt bike around a grass track.

I spent a couple of hours with Mike Smith today after our beach foray, going over the techniques of riding that I used to teach to hundreds of others over the years across the sands and indeed the seas of time.  Mike says to me, "I think I should maybe sell the bike, maybe I can't do this..."  or words to that effect and I realize once again that we are all unique, different yet all the same, because what Mike lacks is not intelligence, he's plenty smart... it's not money, although we could all use some more right, it's not even motivation... after all he's been talking incessantly to me over the last 30 years since I first taught him to ride... it's faith. 



                                         
After all, riding a motorcycle in nothing really all that different from driving a car, or flying an aircraft, or learning to swim.  There is no magic (that comes later) it's just paying attention, learning the skills, perfecting them everyday and giving it the old college try.  Then repeating over and over.

So... Happy Thanksgiving to all.  Be grateful, even for the shit, because only by living through that, will you realize the life can indeed by sweet.





*Pushing the envelope comes from test pilots in the early days being handed the day's requirements for testing the latest machine.  Often they would go beyond the what was expected, hence... pushing the envelope.