tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44520246980825374232024-03-13T07:32:18.498-07:00250cc SuperheroA short scooterist on a long ride.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.comBlogger564125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-51696827158929844462019-05-08T15:38:00.000-07:002019-05-08T15:38:48.402-07:00250 Superhero: New Blog Who Dis<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://250superhero.com/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://250superhero.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/garage-800x800.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please update your bookmarks to <a href="http://250superhero.com/">250Superhero.com</a>.</td></tr>
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<br />
Hello!<br />
<br />
Thank you for visiting Steph's Vespa travel blog. Remember how <a href="https://250superhero.com/2018/11/14/its-been-quiet-around-here-but-change-is-in-the-air/" target="_blank">change was in the air</a>? You found her depreciated Blogspot, saved (for now) for posterity. In May of 2019 we moved to a new home:<br />
<br />
<h2>
<a href="http://250superhero.com/">250Superhero.com</a></h2>
<br />
564 posts were penned within the familiar Blogger platform, which makes me a bit nostalgic. But alas, no more.<br />
<br />
Please update your bookmarks and check there for the latest news!<br />
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Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-53404644058052524852018-11-16T11:57:00.000-08:002018-12-11T11:44:18.117-08:00Where's Steph: Winter 2018-19<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7zFiEdbES74/W-3PlEEJMxI/AAAAAAAAGGY/PDIt8XUKz2QErtahomRHkALOmwhi25tOQCLcBGAs/s1600/Be-Good-Scooter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7zFiEdbES74/W-3PlEEJMxI/AAAAAAAAGGY/PDIt8XUKz2QErtahomRHkALOmwhi25tOQCLcBGAs/s400/Be-Good-Scooter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Here's my itinerary for winter 2018-19. Old Blue won't be with me this winter, but here's to some adventures on foot, or on borrowed/rented wheels! As always, most updated photos will appear on my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/quezzie/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, and please say hi if you find yourself in the same part of the world.<br />
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<h2>
<b><u>Boston, MA → San Francisco, CA</u></b></h2>
Now - Dec 16: Cambridge, MA.<br />
Dec 17 - 24: San Francisco, CA with Fred!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m28!1m12!1m3!1d25521394.070853446!2d-114.77676017780959!3d38.66256976779803!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m13!3e4!4m5!1s0x89e370a5cb30cc5f%3A0xc53a8e6489686c87!2sCambridge%2C+MA!3m2!1d42.373615799999996!2d-71.10973349999999!4m5!1s0x80859a6d00690021%3A0x4a501367f076adff!2sSan+Francisco%2C+CA!3m2!1d37.7749295!2d-122.4194155!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1542216022768" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
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<h2>
<b><u>San Francisco, CA → Hong Kong SAR</u></b></h2>
Dec 25, 2018 - Jan 2, 2019: Hong Kong, SAR. Hello, family!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m28!1m12!1m3!1d59392021.41197891!2d138.37164215939467!3d24.692481804881094!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m13!3e4!4m5!1s0x80859a6d00690021%3A0x4a501367f076adff!2sSan+Francisco%2C+CA!3m2!1d37.7749295!2d-122.4194155!4m5!1s0x3403e2eda332980f%3A0xf08ab3badbeac97c!2sHong+Kong!3m2!1d22.396428!2d114.10949699999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1542216050075" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
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<h2>
<b><u>Hong Kong → Taipei, Taiwan → Hong Kong</u></b></h2>
Jan 3 - 5: Taipei, Taiwan.<br />
Jan 6 - 7: Back in Hong Kong. Fred goes back to the US.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m28!1m12!1m3!1d3741049.724113964!2d115.5934643751917!3d23.698517951637424!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m13!3e4!4m5!1s0x3403e2eda332980f%3A0xf08ab3badbeac97c!2sHong+Kong!3m2!1d22.396428!2d114.10949699999999!4m5!1s0x3442ac72bce20a99%3A0x3f6a35cedd0ac2e0!2sTaipei%2C+Taiwan!3m2!1d25.0329694!2d121.5654177!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1544557371523" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
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<h2>
<b><u>Hong Kong → Chiang Mai, Thailand</u></b><b><u> → Hong Kong</u></b></h2>
Jan 8 - Feb 4: Chiang Mai, Thailand. I'll be staying near Nimmanhemin for that expat life.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m28!1m12!1m3!1d7651987.285102811!2d102.0548679131689!3d20.534005456261603!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m13!3e4!4m5!1s0x3403e2eda332980f%3A0xf08ab3badbeac97c!2sHong+Kong!3m2!1d22.396428!2d114.10949699999999!4m5!1s0x30d0ccc8c2997841%3A0x6a69e176922503d4!2sChiang+Mai%2C+Thailand!3m2!1d18.787747!2d98.99312839999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1542215983055" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
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<h2>
<b><u>Hong Kong → ???</u></b></h2>
Feb 5: Hong Kong, happy Lunar New Year!<br />
Feb 6 - ???: Hong Kong, Taipei, back to Thailand, who knows?<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m18!1m12!1m3!1d14768.068643938554!2d114.16524812809642!3d22.277339765366403!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!3m3!1m2!1s0x3404005b7e61fe79%3A0x242571e635c3d8ee!2sWan+Chai%2C+Hong+Kong!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1542216111848" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-60027179114601615832018-11-15T11:59:00.000-08:002018-11-15T11:59:29.650-08:00Serenity: Ready for Season 2<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040102718/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0338"><img alt="IMG_0338" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1957/31040102718_61c5978dea_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred's garage.</td></tr>
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As you may have already gathered, Old Blue is up and running again! I want to say thank you again to everyone who <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/serenity-return-and-repair" target="_blank">chipped in for her rescue</a>, but a few special thanks to:<br />
<ul>
<li>Sean at <a href="http://www.philadelphiascooters.com/" target="_blank">Philadelphia Scooters</a>, for being Sean.</li>
<li>Pete formerly of <a href="https://www.vespabk.com/" target="_blank">Vespa Brooklyn</a> but now of <a href="http://www.revolutionmoto.com/" target="_blank">Revolution Moto</a>, for being Pete.</li>
<li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/denver.james.3" target="_blank">Denver James</a>, scooter hauler extraordinaire.</li>
<li>Gwynne and Tom, for scooter storage and support.</li>
<li>And of course Fred, for many, many reasons.</li>
</ul>
I daresay Season 2 of Serenity wouldn't be possible without you guys.<br />
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Onward to the resurrection!<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Mike sent a photo of old blue at his camp in Galbraith. She made it farther north than I did after all, and hung out there until Mike finished his job and hauled her to his home in Anchorage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976447627/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="image1"><img alt="image1" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1927/29976447627_152d87b453.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Galbraith camp in Alaska.</td></tr>
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On August 8, 2017, through the power of uShip, Serenity arrived at the Ballard home of Tom and Gwynne (and Ollie and Cosbee).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976393597/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_7652"><img alt="IMG_7652" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1957/29976393597_c8270555c0.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photo with Cosbee for good luck.</td></tr>
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After over 5 months of not seeing my bike, Denver James delivered her to Boston on November 12, 2017.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976513567/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0214"><img alt="IMG_0214" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1914/29976513567_71783aaf37.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drop off old blue, pick up old red for buyer in Canada.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976516707/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0219"><img alt="IMG_0219" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1923/29976516707_ce9511f5e2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for unloading, while I'm feeling emotional.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040092628/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0224"><img alt="IMG_0224" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1974/31040092628_6a44695ea9.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't sure I'd ever see this bike again.</td></tr>
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It was heart-wrenching to take in all the damage up close. This bike was -- <i>is</i> home for me for years now, my one constant through ever changing landscapes. However, a closer look revealed much of the damage to be superficial.<br />
<br />
Through the scooter network, Fred had already sourced a donor: a 2007 GTS 250 with ~4k on the odometer. Winter lay before us, and I had little else to do (read: under-unemployed). I studied Robot's videos on how to <a href="https://youtu.be/wiVNey5ntFo" target="_blank">remove an engine</a>, and his GTS overhaul <a href="https://youtu.be/hXyK84UkPoc" target="_blank">part 1</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/F6RE8Gyupxg" target="_blank">part 2</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/NxN0AIYWrVc" target="_blank">part 3</a>. Below are my notes from the process.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040162268/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="KBHM5976"><img alt="KBHM5976" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1924/31040162268_2f609fba19.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of damage, but mostly cosmetic!</td></tr>
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<u>Nov 12, 2017</u><br />
- Charged battery. Replaced stripped bolt on battery (dammit, Anchorage).<br />
<br />
<u>Nov 19, 2017</u><br />
- Air in tires.<br />
- Removed windscreen (scratched)<br />
- Removed right mirror (smashed).<br />
- Test ride to Harvard Square. Straightened headset and put in gas.<br />
<br />
<u>Nov 21, 2017</u><br />
- Tore into donor.<br />
- Knocked off as much Dalton as possible.<br />
- Removed most crash bar pieces.<br />
- Took off broken spoilers.<br />
- Replaced seat latch dust cover.<br />
- Seat bucket swap (hammered bend straight).<br />
- Replaced bent brake levers with Bagel's shorties.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000583255/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0339"><img alt="IMG_0339" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1975/44000583255_f851d6de24.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Bagel!</td></tr>
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- Replaced entire headlamp unit (scratched to shit). Fred polished new one (only slight scuff).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44864732612/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0349"><img alt="IMG_0349" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1926/44864732612_6d26c15a42.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is much better than what happened to my original.</td></tr>
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- Taped peeled paint on headset with blue painters tape, replaced metal band (Anchorage again) with ziptie.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44863047162/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0351"><img alt="IMG_0351" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1960/44863047162_d062a08b9a.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That'll do for now.</td></tr>
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- Replaced left mirror (bent stem).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000584035/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0350"><img alt="IMG_0350" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1903/44000584035_5b15107556.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">D'oh.</td></tr>
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- Inspected temp sensor before realizing it's the wrong one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44863046442/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0346"><img alt="IMG_0346" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1916/44863046442_63e71fef7d.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The correct ambient temp sensor was half ground off, because it's near the side stand.</td></tr>
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<u>Dec 6, 2017</u><br />
- Polished the fuck out of the headlight with <a href="https://amzn.to/2DwbVmg" target="_blank">NOVUS 3-step kit</a>, thanks Shannon!<br />
- Continued tearing apart donor. Gas drained, floorboard out, seat off, rear rack off.<br />
- Found correct temp sensor and set aside.<br />
- Set aside intact left side trim.<br />
- Prepped headset pieces for paint.<br />
<br />
<u>Dec 9, 2017</u> (first winter snow!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/43103127240/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2114"><img alt="IMG_2114" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1957/43103127240_b540cf3073.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boo.</td></tr>
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<br />
- Removed broken spark plug on donor.<br />
- Donor would not start, determined donor fuel injector was bad/clogged and swapped with Blue.<br />
- Tested compression on donor, only 80 psi? I think Harbor Freight fail.<br />
- Drained fluids and removed donor engine. Mileage: 4701.<br />
- Stripped wiring harness off donor.<br />
- Continued stripping donor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040158388/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0618"><img alt="IMG_0618" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1976/31040158388_2ba8fc5de4.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stripping in the garage.</td></tr>
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<u>Dec 10, 2017</u><br />
- Dropped fork, set aside mudguard, finished stripping frame.<br />
<br />
<u>Dec 12, 2017</u><br />
- Removed glovebox. Attempted repair of bag hook, but spring is toast. Just reinstalled without.<br />
- Put washers back under gas bracket.<br />
<br />
<u>Dec 13, 2017</u><br />
- Removed floorboard. Hammered out dents on right side of legshield and replaced trim.<br />
- Removed footpegs and internal pieces of crash bars.<br />
<br />
<u>Dec 19, 2017</u><br />
- Fished out stuff rattling around under floorboard, cleaned glovebox.<br />
- Replaced ambient temp sensor.<br />
<br />
<i>Winter break in Hong Kong, Nepal, Thailand, and Singapore.</i><br />
<br />
<u>Jan 30, 2018</u><br />
- Began polishing windscreen, it's a pain and I need 1600 grit.<br />
- Cheapo Harbor Freight dent puller actually worked on the front dent!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44912887781/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2170"><img alt="IMG_2170" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1924/44912887781_1f678c499d.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">$10 Magic!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>Feb 6, 2018</u><br />
- Began engine swap, 67,107 miles.<br />
- Drained oil and coolant. Removed muffler and rear bracket for cleaning, removed rear brake assembly.<br />
- Dropped T25 hex somewhere in bike.<br />
<br />
<u>Feb 10, 2018</u><br />
- Disconnected all the things.<br />
- Found T25.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040216658/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0635"><img alt="IMG_0635" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1929/31040216658_de24916863.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newer engine, ready to go in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>Feb 11, 2018</u><br />
- Finished buffing out scratches on windscreen.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000701205/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0642"><img alt="IMG_0642" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1929/44000701205_e538543517.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonus: What do you do with old bent brake levers?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040217118/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0640"><img alt="IMG_0640" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1974/31040217118_fa3ce3006c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dremel + Brake lever = Bottle opener!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/43101007820/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0641"><img alt="IMG_0641" height="281" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1976/43101007820_6936677ea7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred demo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>Feb 15, 2018</u><br />
- Finished removing engine.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040278658/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2394"><img alt="IMG_2394" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1905/31040278658_f49f6e319c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bouncing not-so-baby engine!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44193399564/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2421"><img alt="IMG_2421" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1920/44193399564_5f2a1cf931.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There she is, 67,107 miles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
- Replacement engine lined up for connection.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44912914781/in/album-72157700157106191/" title="IMG_2373"><img alt="IMG_2373" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1928/44912914781_66091fcb45.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
- Dropped fuel tank, waiting on dollies to bump out dent on right cowl.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040279868/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2381"><img alt="IMG_2381" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1935/31040279868_7a76fcb45e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also a lot of this. I meant to get a powerwash when I reached Fairbanks, but well...you know.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>Feb 16, 2018</u><br />
- Banged out right side dent slightly.<br />
- Inspected tear near footpegs. They are symmetrical and backed by subframe, decided not to weld.<br />
- Replaced fuel tank and lines. Mudguard and taillight back in place.<br />
- Replacement engine bolted in. Reconnected everything but intake manifold, coolant, and large hoses (out of hose clamps).<br />
- Rear brake caliper in place, but it's grabbing. Will adjust tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<u>Feb 17, 2018</u><br />
- Torqued rear shocks to spec.<br />
- Reconnected coolant lines with hose clamps.<br />
- Cables cleaned up under the seat.<br />
- Reconnected intake manifold and coolant sensor with RTV silicone.<br />
- Replaced rear brake caliper. Original pads were grabbing, so Fred put the brake pads from donor to match brake disc from donor.<br />
- Replaced rear tire with original tire (donor tire has cracks).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44863255832/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2402"><img alt="IMG_2402" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1916/44863255832_543d1ae975.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February in Cambridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>Feb 19, 2018</u><br />
- Attached spark plug cap.<br />
- Inspected CVT/belt, decided to use donor CVT and belt. Cover on.<br />
- Air filter tightened down.<br />
- Picked up overpriced exhaust gasket, Fred installed muffler.<br />
- Added engine and gear hub oil.<br />
- Flushed coolant and bled.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44863252022/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2419"><img alt="IMG_2419" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1946/44863252022_40d4fd75cd.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Improvised funnel. The other funnels are oily.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
- Reinstalled battery.<br />
- SHE RUNS!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/43101104490/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2438"><img alt="IMG_2438" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1969/43101104490_9f5315abfd.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She runs!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000786225/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2429"><img alt="IMG_2429" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1953/44000786225_148f2e71dc.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonus story 2: Fred got wind of another GTS, which he acquired for $200. It was moldy and non-running, but turned out to only need a new battery and fuel pump. Now there are two!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>April 11, 2018</u><br />
- Plastic parts are in from the painter! Plus extra blue paint for touch up.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000821485/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2693"><img alt="IMG_2693" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1950/44000821485_337968385f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks, donor bike.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>April 12, 2018</u><br />
- Brushed anti-rust and blue paint on body.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976805677/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2695"><img alt="IMG_2695" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1940/29976805677_53ae166c4d.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's not the cleanest job...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44000820855/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2697"><img alt="IMG_2697" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1966/44000820855_975ac3ea43.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But it's way cheaper than having the whole frame redone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>April 13, 2018</u><br />
- Swapped buttons over from old headset. Starter button is a bit broken.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44914852071/in/album-72157700157106191/" title="IMG_2699"><img alt="IMG_2699" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1978/44914852071_791a5b659b.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<u>April 16, 2018</u><br />
- Removed front rack, disconnected brake line and speedo cable. Dropped fork and cleaned. Lubricated bearings.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040429198/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2740"><img alt="IMG_2740" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1973/31040429198_bf1d09e074.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy new collar tool.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
- Replaced front mudguard, reconnected brake line and speedo. Replaced collar dust cover.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44193499874/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2742"><img alt="IMG_2742" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1902/44193499874_c1b1b33f22.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ugh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040429988/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2749"><img alt="IMG_2749" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1910/31040429988_73fdb60527.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still more Dalton.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
- Out of brake fluid, will restock and flush and bleed front brake later.<br />
- Attached left and right spoilers, rear mudguard, floorboard end caps.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976838907/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2757"><img alt="IMG_2757" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1965/29976838907_7fc79632a8.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking less apocalyptic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>April 19, 2018</u><br />
- E6000'ed some tiny dinosaurs and a lucky cat to my dash.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44913041821/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2702"><img alt="IMG_2702" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1936/44913041821_6272c1c9c2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a leaf on the wind, but hopefully more lucky.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>April 21, 2018</u><br />
- Restocked brake fluid, flushed and bled front brake.<br />
<br />
<u>April 23, 2018</u><br />
- Realized the reason the headset doesn't fit: throttle assembly on 07s are different from 09s. Dremeled off some plastic, headset still doesn't fit.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31042270708/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2772"><img alt="IMG_2772" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1903/31042270708_6eafb6c4da.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Womp womp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
- Perhaps handlebars were slightly bent in crash? Replaced handlebars with donor, moved throttle assembly over. Headset on.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31042271568/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2773"><img alt="IMG_2773" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1952/31042271568_6b1cc4ab7c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They look close enough, but let's switch'em anyhow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976838327/in/album-72157700157106191/" title="IMG_2803"><img alt="IMG_2803" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1937/29976838327_db1f31a1a9.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
- Still waiting for new starter button, so it's dangling, but we're nearly there.<br />
- Front rack back on.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976851587/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2809"><img alt="IMG_2809" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1936/29976851587_38dcfe6347.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shinier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976849987/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2808"><img alt="IMG_2808" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1911/29976849987_c1b888525d.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She doesn't look the same without a rainbow lei, like from Amerivespa 2015.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<u>May 1, 2018</u><br />
- Felt like belt slip on ride. Need to address rattle from CVT.<br />
<br />
<u>May 7, 2018</u><br />
- Replaced belt with old belt 4537 miles. Odo at 67241.<br />
- Replaced rollers with flat spots with new ones (4701 + 67241 - 67107 = 4835 on old belt)<br />
- Noticed ridge on variator.<br />
- Noticed clutch-side bearing is loose.<br />
- Cleaned oil out of bulbs on filter.<br />
<br />
<u>May 11-13, 2018</u><br />
- Long distance test run to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/124293888346141/" target="_blank">Whiskey Dick 7</a>!<br />
<br />
<u>June 7, 2018</u><br />
- Finally installed the footpegs.<br />
<br />
<u>June 8, 2018</u><br />
- Replaced broken starter button, had to file down paint on headset otherwise the button won't depress and bike won't start.<br />
<br />
<u>June 9, 2018</u><br />
- Took out old 12v charger, replaced with 2 USB ports. Much fance.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976898177/in/album-72157700157106191/" title="IMG_3318"><img alt="IMG_3318" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1919/29976898177_ffd21e4a27.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
- Replaced broken bag hook with new aluminum one.<br />
<br />
And that's about it for now!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/29976893807/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8665"><img alt="IMG_8665" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1955/29976893807_69d82e6578_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's back!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
She survived her run to the Poconos for Whiskey Dick 7 (after a new belt), alongside Fred's black GTS! This was great news, because we had plans for the summer...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/31040508938/in/album-72157700157106191/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_3398"><img alt="IMG_3398" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1912/31040508938_7f75994926_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A teaser for this summer's riding plans...<br />
If you recognize a Cannonball bike in Boston greater area, you would be correct.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-69599551168496184232018-11-14T09:48:00.000-08:002018-11-14T09:48:32.864-08:00It's Been Quiet Around Here, But Change Is In The Air<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-laRS6MKAex4/W-siZZ1Y4MI/AAAAAAAAGF4/AlINDBtHn9UFPJfFUsD0feqfnNDnXslpACLcBGAs/s1600/Magical-Blog-version.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="650" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-laRS6MKAex4/W-siZZ1Y4MI/AAAAAAAAGF4/AlINDBtHn9UFPJfFUsD0feqfnNDnXslpACLcBGAs/s400/Magical-Blog-version.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Hello. Radio silence has almost become the new norm here, but I haven't come to a rest. I have new travel stories, on Vespas even. Here are two bits of news, while those stories take their final form.<br />
<br />
Flickr has announced changes to their free service, with a <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2018/11/1/18051950/flickr-1000-photo-limit-free-accounts-changes-pro-subscription-smugmug" target="_blank">1000 photo limit</a>. As you may have noticed I host my photos with Flickr, and thus I have until January 8th to find a new home for my albums. It's likely I'll move them to my own server, migrate the blog there as well, and do a site redesign. Unfortunately, the forum threads that I maintain on <a href="https://advrider.com/f/threads/a-short-scooterist-on-a-long-ride-around-the-usa-by-vespa.977812/" target="_blank">ADV Rider</a> and <a href="http://modernvespa.com/forum/topic141441" target="_blank">Modern Vespa</a> will lose their image links, unless I find an easy way to go back and change every. Single. Post.<br />
<br />
Justifying the energy to do this may be difficult with the next bit of news, although ostensibly it's good news: <a href="http://www.colleenaf.com/" target="_blank">Colleen</a> and I are teaming up again, to produce two full length graphic novels. This should keep me busy until 2020!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SnWJTGPAk3I/W-segNfy-oI/AAAAAAAAGFo/uyT0az3xuJAht_E0ci_G2lhXZA0-Gu0TwCLcBGAs/s1600/37744627_10157607945951982_2302513413126881280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SnWJTGPAk3I/W-segNfy-oI/AAAAAAAAGFo/uyT0az3xuJAht_E0ci_G2lhXZA0-Gu0TwCLcBGAs/s640/37744627_10157607945951982_2302513413126881280_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made 6 graphic novels together in the past, in the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=as_li_qf_sp_sr_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=250ccsuperhe-20&keywords=guinea%20pig%20pet%20shop%20private%20eye&index=aps&camp=1789&creative=9325&linkCode=xm2&linkId=26078174a6500d1c9ee1a613b28a034a" target="_blank">Guinea Pig Pet Shop Private Eye series</a>.<br />
Now we team up again! Please buy it, in the distant future.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I stare down another winter in New England, the days I lived on a bike feel so far away it's like another person lived it, and the person here now is only a shadow. But I know there are more roads yet. Book work will keep me busy, but I intend not to let it keep me in one place.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the timing is right for a kick in the butt. Old Blue and I have seen more of North America than I ever could have imagined. I've been eyeing another continent for some time now. Perhaps the imminent blog transition can mirror another transition, to further adventures on more continents.<br />
<br />
This is code for, <i>I've been doing research on flying Serenity to Europe for 2019</i>.<br />
<br />
Fingers crossed. In the meantime, stay tuned for my winter plans.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-7839707050705144532018-09-11T16:10:00.000-07:002018-09-19T19:20:59.356-07:00Gear Talk: GTS Touring Tool Roll<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44571462022/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6301"><img alt="IMG_6301" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1858/44571462022_7999053c09_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My prized tool roll from CORSette 2014. Thanks, Nikki!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Who doesn't like a peek into someone else's tool roll?<br />
<br />
After many miles, I think I've dialed in a field kit arrangement that's portable and can handle all the regular maintenance jobs on the GTS, and then some.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>If I empty out the glovebox, topcase, and underseat, these are pretty much all the items I carry for the GTS for touring and general preparedness. The only things missing are a tiny collapsible silicone funnel like <a href="http://amzn.to/2jmlqI1" target="_blank">this</a> or <a href="http://amzn.to/2BODBxO" target="_blank">this</a> and some spare oil (they're oily and live in a ziplock separate from my tools), and a roll of <a href="https://amzn.to/2x8dFLQ" target="_blank">clear Gorilla tape</a> (useful for a bike with plastic parts).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://amzn.to/2jmlqI1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hJ8X3DUSB98/W5g7CE7sqYI/AAAAAAAAGEg/RSJJDHh4ResngDhOSg95RylOGIWOJYyPwCLcBGAs/s200/funnel.jpg" width="200" /></a> <a href="https://amzn.to/2x8dFLQ" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="950" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gspGVoPY7ng/W5g7CDv8IcI/AAAAAAAAGEk/etO3nNXFPJkR3T5ZI1y_ExDPhGgBZN4GwCLcBGAs/s200/gorilla.jpg" width="126" /></a></div>
<br />
Items #3-16 live in the glovebox. #2 is at the bottom of the under seat storage. #1 is usually kicking around the topcase or with spare parts, depending on whether I'm carrying sidebags (hence dry bag).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/30748872428/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="All-the-stuff"><img alt="All-the-stuff" height="479" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1854/30748872428_9c0b45e023_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the things.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Let's get into more detail:<br />
<ol>
<li>Red bag for variator tools. They are separate because their shape is awkward for a roll, and mostly for CVT jobs. More below.</li>
<li>Main tool roll. More below.</li>
<li>Plastic container the perfect size for holding a spare exhaust bushing, and extra O-rings for oil changes. A short piece of PVC pipe and some tape also works, whatever protects your graphite bushing from being crushed.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2QkTALf" target="_blank">Self fusing silicone tape</a>. This stuff is handy for so many things, it'll work like electrical tape, or just make whatever you wrap anti-slip and water resistant.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2x6TuOC" target="_blank">Velcro strap roll</a>. Double-sided, reusable, cut to length. Use to hold your brake lever closed for working solo, attach small things to bike, etc.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2QnNbiA" target="_blank">Mini hand pump</a>.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2x8KV5K" target="_blank">Worm style tubeless tire repair kit</a> and factory suspension adjuster. These live behind the plastic cover where Piaggio factory tools usually go. I ditched the cheap screwdriver and seem to have lost the spark plug wrench, but the suspension adjuster stays.</li>
<li>More comfortable reamer. Not sure where this came from, haven't had to test.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2x4kLlA" target="_blank">Slime keychain digital tire gauge</a>. Good for tight spaces.</li>
<li>Altoids tin of odds and ends. More detail below.</li>
<li>Brass wire brush.</li>
<li>Small bottle of <a href="https://amzn.to/2x5tpQ5" target="_blank">Seafoam</a> fuel stabilizer.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2CS9f1M" target="_blank">Motul hand cleaner</a>. This stuff is the shit.</li>
<li>Spark plug in fancy spark plug container. Honestly, this was from when my plug kept falling out, and is not really necessary to carry for a GTS.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2oX0LwG" target="_blank">Swiss+Tech 6-in-1 key ring multitool</a>. A gift, it ended up being useful for little adjustments when I don't want to pull out the full tool roll. Also, it's tiny.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2Obl5Wi" target="_blank">3 oz. can of WD-40</a>. Yes, they come that small.</li>
</ol>
<br />
Now to explode the tool roll:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/43903400514/in/dateposted-public/" title="Tool-roll"><img alt="Tool-roll" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1872/43903400514_97b63d2af5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<ol>
<li><b>16mm </b>spark plug wrench with universal joint. I must've lost the factory original, which isn't as nice but is lighter.</li>
<li>Sockets in sizes: <b>24mm, 19mm, 17mm, 14mm, 13mm, 10mm, <a href="https://amzn.to/2tahdvs" target="_blank">deep 8mm</a>, 8mm</b>.</li>
<li>Drive adapters: <b>3/8 to 1/2 inch, 1/2 to 3/8 inch, 3/8 to 1/4 inch, 1/4 to 3/8 inch.</b></li>
<li>1/4 inch drive 6 inch Extension Bar.</li>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable Ratchet</a>.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2yim6bF" target="_blank">Dual 1/4-inch and hex bit drive Mini Ratchet</a>.</li>
<li><b>1/4 inch drive to hex bit adapter</b>, Torx bit sizes: <b>T40, T30, T25, T20</b> (nicked from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00762IKB6/ref=ox_sc_act_title_1?smid=A3JI8G7GLVJ8RK&psc=1" target="_blank">this set</a>), Flat bit sizes: <b>#1, #2</b>, Philips bit sizes: <b>#1, #2</b>.</li>
<li>Hex bit sizes: <b>8mm, 6mm, 5mm, 4mm, 2.5mm</b> (plucked from this <a href="https://amzn.to/2yf9RfY" target="_blank">Metric Hex Driver Bit Set</a>).</li>
<li>10mm Mini Combination Wrench. Better than adjustable for little spaces, also so cute.</li>
<li>8mm Mini Combination Wrench. See above.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2ya707H" target="_blank">Lobtex 150mm Lightweight Adjustable Wrench</a>. High precision and lightweight, I've replaced all my full size wrenches with this one for travel. And it has a lobster on it!</li>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2BQ1epU" target="_blank">6-in-1 screwdriver</a>.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2MoekQj" target="_blank">6 inch long #2 Philips power drill bit</a>.</li>
<li>Pliers. Cheap.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2l5Ycq4" target="_blank">Strap style Oil Filter Wrench</a> (it works ok, and packs small).</li>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2zUs9zk" target="_blank">Telescoping magnet</a>. The smaller the better. I see now they make <a href="http://amzn.to/2jlSZKu" target="_blank">bendable ones</a>?!</li>
<li>A hook from <a href="https://www.harborfreight.com/4-piece-pick-and-hook-set-66836.html" target="_blank">Harbor Freight's Mini Pick and Hook set</a> (I love that store).</li>
<li>A tiny file, round on one side flat on the other.</li>
<li>Spare fuses, cotter pins, speed clips, odds and ends, and zip ties in various sizes.</li>
<li>Tool roll to hold it all, from CORSette Vintage Smallframe race 2014.</li>
</ol>
<br />
I've painted a blue stripe on most of my tools with leftover Serenity Blue automotive paint, in case of working in a shared garage.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/44623747781/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6307"><img alt="IMG_6307" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1868/44623747781_ef937ec788.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Total weight: 4 lbs 3.2 oz.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
I only have one large 3/8-inch drive extendable ratchet, and one 1/4-inch drive mini ratchet. It's entirely for space and weight savings, and the mini-ratchet is useful for small spaces on the bike. With drive adapters and the extension bar, you should be able to swap for everything in between. For a fixed-location garage, I'd get fullsize everything.<br />
<br />
Onward to red bag, my variator and clutch tools:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/43900393294/in/dateposted-public/" title="Variator-tools"><img alt="Variator-tools" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1856/43900393294_23d9dd18f2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<ol>
<li><a href="https://www.scooterwest.com/clutch-holder-tool-et4-lx-150-gt200-gts250-gts300-primavera-sprint-and-more-tooletc-ia.html" target="_blank">Clutch Tool</a> and <a href="https://www.scooterwest.com/gts-gtv-super-variator-holder-tool-buzzetti-toolgtsv.html" target="_blank">Buzzetti Variator Holder</a>, which you can also get from <a href="https://www.scooterwest.com/deluxe-belt-variator-clutch-overhaul-kit-vespa-gts-250.html" target="_blank">this set</a> for GTS.</li>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2t6TrA7" target="_blank">ACDelco 3/8-inch drive Digital Torque Adapter</a>.</li>
<li>Some shop rags, mostly to keep things from clanging around.</li>
<li>Scraps of sandpaper.</li>
</ol>
<br />
For tubes of things and odds and ends, the Altoids tin:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/30748873508/in/dateposted-public/" title="Altoids"><img alt="Altoids" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1897/30748873508_bc2534723f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<ol>
<li>Tape measure.</li>
<li>Red Loctite.</li>
<li>Blue Loctite.</li>
<li>Anti-seize.</li>
<li>Stubby pencil (you'd be surprised when this and the tape measure come in handy).</li>
<li>Superglue, individual use tubes.</li>
<li>Dielectric grease packet.</li>
</ol>
<br />
For spare Vespa parts, I carry:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Exhaust gasket (at <i>least</i> one!).</li>
<li>Oil filter and O-ring for drain bolt.</li>
<li>Drive belt (used one wth 4.5k on it).</li>
<li>Speedo cable (I like to be able to count mileage between gas tanks).</li>
<li>Spark plug in a little caddy.</li>
</ol>
<br />
Miscellaneous not pictured:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2y5Ga0F" target="_blank">Clear Gorilla tape</a> (good for bikes with plastic parts).</li>
<li>Duct tape (kept rolled on my bar end weight).</li>
<li>Aluminum foil (for making funnels, wrapping your leftover burrito, or expressing yourself in sculpture).</li>
<li>Small collapsible silicone funnel and spare 5W-40 container.</li>
</ol>
<br />
Things I borrow:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>A soft mallet, like rubber or brass. Sometimes your boot works.</li>
<li>Deep 13mm, for torquing rear shocks to spec.</li>
<li>Deep 15mm, for main swingarm bolt. There's no reason to drop an engine on the road.</li>
<li><a href="https://www.sip-scootershop.com/en/products/steering+head+bearing+nut+sip+_bu5420" target="_blank">Steering Head Bearing Nut tool</a>. For torquing castle nut to spec after dropping fork.</li>
<li>Grease, though I have been known to carry a dollop in a snack size ziplock bag.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<h3>
Examples of which tools for which jobs</h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223819573/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4301/35223819573_c30498aae8.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping the sidewalk oil change classy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
<b>Engine oil change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable ratchet</a>. Want that extra length for torque.</li>
<li>3/8-inch to 1/2-inch adapter.</li>
<li>24mm socket (oil drain plug).</li>
<li>Oil filter strap wrench, or the butt end of an adjustable wrench for the slotted type filter. There are tons of oil filter removers available, this just happens to be one that packs down small.</li>
<li>Collapsible silicone funnel like <a href="http://amzn.to/2jmlqI1" target="_blank">this</a> or <a href="http://amzn.to/2BODBxO" target="_blank">this</a>. As long as the small opening fits in the oil opening.</li>
<li>Pliers.</li>
<li>Aluminum foil.</li>
<li>A baking pan I bought from Daiso for $1.50.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Hub oil change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable ratchet</a>.</li>
<li>3/8 to 1/4 inch drive adapter.</li>
<li>6 inch extension bar. The 1/4 inch drive bar is slender enough to reach around the brake disc, otherwise you need a wobble head.</li>
<li>1/4-inch drive to hex bit adapter.</li>
<li>6mm hex bit.</li>
<li>The tiniest funnel (Harbor Freight sells a set for $1, I took the tiniest one), or a syringe if you have one.</li>
<li>Empty bottle with top cut off an angle, for catching oil.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Headlight change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>6-inch #2 Philips power bit. This slender bit is exclusively for reaching that annoying middle screw under the headlight. I picked mine up at a flea market for cheap, and it goes in either my 6-in-1 screwdriver or Mini ratchet.</li>
<li>6-in-1 screwdriver, for the rest of the screws.</li>
<li>Mini ratchet.</li>
<li>2.5mm hex bit, to remove brake reservoir covers. I think the new GTSes have integrated covers, so you won't need this anymore.</li>
<div>
</div>
<li><a href="https://amzn.to/2ya707H" target="_blank">Lobtex lightweight adjustable</a> wrench to remove the mirrors, 17mm open wrench if you have fullsize option.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Belt/Clutch/Variator change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li><a href="https://www.scooterwest.com/gts-gtv-super-variator-holder-tool-buzzetti-toolgtsv.html" target="_blank">Variator</a> and <a href="https://www.scooterwest.com/clutch-holder-tool-et4-lx-150-gt200-gts250-gts300-primavera-sprint-and-more-tooletc-ia.html" target="_blank">Clutch tools</a> for GTS.</li>
<li>6-inch #2 Philips power bit (air filter box removal).</li>
<li>Mini 1/4 inch drive ratchet.</li>
<li>8mm deep socket (belt cover).</li>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable ratchet</a> (you <i>will</i> want to extend this to torque).</li>
<li>3/8-inch to 1/2-inch adapter.</li>
<li>1/2-inch to 3/8-inch adapter.</li>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2zUnBc2" target="_blank">Digital Torque Adapter</a>.</li>
<li>19mm socket.</li>
<li>Sandpaper.</li>
<li>Blue Loctite.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Removing muffler (for bushing replacement or rear tire change):</b><br />
<ol>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable ratchet</a>.</li>
<li>3/8 to 1/4 inch drive adapter.</li>
<li>6 inch 1/4-inch drive extension bar.</li>
<li>1/4 inch to hex bit drive adapter.</li>
<li>T40 Torx bit.</li>
<li>13mm or 17mm socket, depending on your model.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Front tire change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li><a href="http://amzn.to/2B86Oa3" target="_blank">3/8-inch drive Extendable ratchet</a>.</li>
<li>3/8 to 1/4 inch drive adapter.</li>
<li>1/4 inch to hex bit drive adapter.</li>
<li>6mm hex bit.</li>
</ol>
<b><br />
</b> <b>Rear tire change:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>All the above to remove the muffler.</li>
<li>All the above for a front tire change.</li>
<li>24mm socket.</li>
<li>19mm socket.</li>
<li>17mm socket (undo the shock from the plate).</li>
<li>Pliers.</li>
<li>Cotter pin.</li>
<li>Someone with a tubeless tire mounting machine because fuck wrestling with tire irons. Subsequently, I don't carry tire irons.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<div>
<b>Speedo cable replacement:</b></div>
<div>
<ol>
<li>8mm mini wrench (undo the cable by the wheel).</li>
<li>The rest of the things to remove headset.</li>
</ol>
</div>
<br />
There's a lot of swapping between adapters, but the above arrangement should cover typical wear and tear on a GTS with minimal weight. For less frequent work, I try to borrow a garage. For instance...<br />
<br />
<b>Bleed brakes:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>14mm socket (for front brake banjo bolt).</li>
<li>8mm mini wrench (bleeder valve).</li>
<li>A tube and container, <i><span style="color: red;">borrow these </span></i>(though I could carry a short length of tube).</li>
</ol>
<b><br />
</b> <b>Rear shock replacement:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>5mm hex bit socket (3/8 inch drive). This is to remove the grab rail and plastic dust cover.</li>
<li>13mm deep socket, if you care about torquing to spec. Otherwise, use the Lobtex adjustable, or a ratcheting 13mm wrench if you have it.</li>
<li>13mm wrench. <span style="color: red;"><i>Borrow this.</i></span></li>
<li>17mm wrench. <span style="color: red;"><i>Borrow this.</i></span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Front shock replacement:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>13mm socket for upper nuts.</li>
<li>6mm hex bit for lower bolts.</li>
<li>6-inch extension bar.</li>
<li>Ratchets.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<b>Fork bearings:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>All the things to remove the headset.</li>
<li>8mm allen bit.</li>
<li>Steering head bearing tool. <span style="color: red;"><i>Borrow this.</i></span></li>
<li>Torque wrench.</li>
</ol>
<b><br />
</b> The list goes on. Someone once told me, as long as oil and coolant is in it and they don't mix, it'll run forever.<br />
<br />
As always, if you have any thoughts or suggestions for tools, please let me know in the comments!Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-40224373959051860902018-06-13T09:33:00.000-07:002018-09-19T11:40:27.666-07:00Serenity Revived! Summer Plans 2018<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d2uxT4oXkio/WyAegrKhs2I/AAAAAAAAGCM/-8Xw4Cw-awgYDdu_6ohXKLuo08vSJA8mQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d2uxT4oXkio/WyAegrKhs2I/AAAAAAAAGCM/-8Xw4Cw-awgYDdu_6ohXKLuo08vSJA8mQCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_3298.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's alive!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
I know this is jumping around a bit in the overall narrative, but I wanted to get my summer riding schedule posted for anyone who might want to say, "Hi!"<br />
<br />
Suffice to say, Serenity's engine swap was successful, she's all in one piece again, and running great! A huge <i>thank you</i> to everyone who chipped in for the <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/serenity-return-and-repair" target="_blank">GoFundMe</a>, and Fred for tolerating the grouchy mechanic that is me. Click on to find out where I'm planning to be in summer 2018.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VMmRUiv8FG8/WxVv8A8t_kI/AAAAAAAAGBI/BCOJ-GD0MEIvIn5COXIbm-0UtxQTBmN0wCLcBGAs/s1600/Pakistan%2B-%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VMmRUiv8FG8/WxVv8A8t_kI/AAAAAAAAGBI/BCOJ-GD0MEIvIn5COXIbm-0UtxQTBmN0wCLcBGAs/s640/Pakistan%2B-%2B2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Chickistan' 2017.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
First, some quick backstory: Since we last left off, I returned from family vacay in Peru and mostly headquartered in Boston with Fred. In September 2017, I had the pleasure of being part of a 2-week, all-female motorcycle tour in Pakistan. Led by <a href="http://adifferentagenda.com/" target="_blank">Moin Khan</a> and <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/" target="_blank">Liza Miller</a> (I spoke on her podcast in <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/podcast-194-250cc-superhero-stephanie-yue/" target="_blank">March 2017</a>), it was an amazing, life-defining experience. Liza and Tiffany plan to ride from California to <a href="https://www.amavintagemotorcycledays.com/" target="_blank">AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days</a> to give a <a href="http://www.americanmotorcyclist.com/Home/News-Story/motorcycling-experts-offer-insights-at-2018-ama-vintage-motorcycle-days" target="_blank">presentation</a> about our Pakistan trip. I plan to join them, with Anita, Bagel, riding from Boston on Vespas.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ntJYTWflnWw/WxWA9wTnfyI/AAAAAAAAGBg/4aYii3XBmGQWMf1exGNegKL-ea3emBpSACLcBGAs/s1600/04fd2696-c398-4114-a71a-acde8e8de9ab.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="793" height="290" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ntJYTWflnWw/WxWA9wTnfyI/AAAAAAAAGBg/4aYii3XBmGQWMf1exGNegKL-ea3emBpSACLcBGAs/s320/04fd2696-c398-4114-a71a-acde8e8de9ab.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anita in the O.R. in Suriname.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span id="goog_1345789464"></span> Meet Anita: Born in Groningen, NL, a cardiac surgeon in training with a big heart and a passion for working in developing countries. She's motorcycled in Europe, New Zealand, Australia, Panama, Chile, Argentina, Patagonia, USA, and of course Pakistan where we met. She'll be flying in from Germany and borrowing Fred's black GTS.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TcE8yYHpEPM/Wx1bQaBMEII/AAAAAAAAGB8/rP-O4yvmu3IHYt642nN-8ahiIolcx72twCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TcE8yYHpEPM/Wx1bQaBMEII/AAAAAAAAGB8/rP-O4yvmu3IHYt642nN-8ahiIolcx72twCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3320.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagel, at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/107598259949514/" target="_blank">Amerivespa RVA</a> after completing his sixth (!) <a href="http://www.scootercannonball.com/" target="_blank">Cannonball</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Also flying into Boston will be Tom, though I know him as 'Bagel': Santa Cruz resident, multiple time <a href="http://www.scootercannonball.com/" target="_blank">Scooter Cannonball</a> rider, resident scooterist on <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/" target="_blank">Motorcycles and Misfits</a>, and one of the kindest people I know. His GTS will be waiting for him in Fred's garage, after the <a href="https://www.scootercannonballrun.com/information/" target="_blank">2018 Cannonball</a> and <a href="https://www.amerivespa.net/" target="_blank">Amerivespa</a> in Richmand, VA. He rode Pakistan with Moin too, but on a VBB in 2015. Definitely check out the documentary about his trip, <a href="https://youtu.be/wugm-wU9lT4" target="_blank">Scootistan</a>!<br />
<br />
Okay, end of backstory. Fast forward to the present.<br />
<br />
Bagel, Anita, and I are planning to haul ass from July 4-6, from Boston to the Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course in Lexington, OH for <a href="https://www.amavintagemotorcycledays.com/" target="_blank">AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days</a> (July 6-8). Anita and I will join Liza and Tiffany to reminisce about babyhead rocks and chai trucks at 16,000 ft above sea level on the <a href="http://www.americanmotorcyclist.com/Home/News-Story/motorcycling-experts-offer-insights-at-2018-ama-vintage-motorcycle-days" target="_blank">Women's Traveling Panel</a>. After the party, Bagel continues home to Santa Cruz. However, Anita took 3 whole weeks off to explore the Northeast with me... on Vespas!<br />
<br />
As per usual, I've planned it around two-wheeled events. And of course, the maps are rough routes. I'll find the fun ones once we're in the thick of it. The plan is fairly aggressive, but here we go!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m38!1m12!1m3!1d12240294.465362212!2d-85.8090659887321!3d41.49662150081613!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m23!3e0!4m5!1s0x89e3652d0d3d311b%3A0x787cbf240162e8a0!2sBoston%2C+MA!3m2!1d42.3600825!2d-71.0588801!4m5!1s0x89de61b8fd99daa5%3A0x6a02ce40019868bf!2sAmsterdam%2C+New+York+12010!3m2!1d42.937745299999996!2d-74.190356!4m3!3m2!1d41.7082969!2d-78.6940323!4m5!1s0x8839bf0a4e06d529%3A0x2ab847f9e2161ae7!2sLexington%2C+OH!3m2!1d40.6786691!2d-82.58239309999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1527725157048" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Boston, MA → Lexington, OH (AMA Vintage Days)</u></b></span><br />
July 3: Cambridge, MA. I arrive from Berlin, Germany after attending my cousin's wedding. Anita and Bagel also arrive in town. We'll load up the bikes and take off in the morning.<br />
July 4: Amsterdam, NY. Motel, maybe we can see some fireworks at the park.<br />
July 5: Somewhere near Kane, PA. Motel. We're hauling here.<br />
July 6-7: <a href="https://www.amavintagemotorcycledays.com/" target="_blank">AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days</a>, mini Chickistan reunion!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m34!1m12!1m3!1d3005037.84254337!2d-80.59951639839649!3d42.64848509650847!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m19!3e0!4m5!1s0x8833e1d16893bc9f%3A0x5d2c726a0cccf044!2sYoungstown%2C+OH!3m2!1d41.0997803!2d-80.6495194!4m5!1s0x89d6b3059614b353%3A0x5a001ffc4125e61e!2sRochester%2C+NY!3m2!1d43.156577899999995!2d-77.6088465!4m5!1s0x4cd2ab0674408ea9%3A0x76a5497715d6d9ea!2sKingston%2C+ON%2C+Canada!3m2!1d44.2311717!2d-76.4859544!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1527725211932" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">Lexington, OH → Kingston, ON (Isle de Wolfe Rallye)</span></b></u><br />
July 8: Youngstown, OH. Crashing at Fred's Dad's place.<br />
July 9-12: ??? Riding in the Finger Lakes? <span style="color: red;">Not much planned here. <i>Who's around?</i></span><br />
July 13-14: Kingston, ON. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1787402461272427/" target="_blank">Isle de Wolfe Rallye</a>! Yeah, I'm taking Anita to a scooter rally!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m46!1m12!1m3!1d2925822.47711935!2d-74.6295399127678!3d44.26370670869307!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m31!3e0!4m5!1s0x4cd2ab0674408ea9%3A0x76a5497715d6d9ea!2sKingston%2C+ON%2C+Canada!3m2!1d44.2311717!2d-76.4859544!4m5!1s0x89df8f2a9ec57aa9%3A0x1683ec7bb822de08!2sSporty's+Iron+Duke+Saloon%2C+New+York+28N%2C+Minerva%2C+NY!3m2!1d43.7915681!2d-73.9853286!4m5!1s0x4cb309d1f5c0d125%3A0x1b169d905b98b116!2sConway%2C+NH!3m2!1d43.9791831!2d-71.1203479!4m5!1s0x4caea3b20ea22925%3A0x62df220efc555584!2sAcadia+National+Park%2C+Maine!3m2!1d44.338555899999996!2d-68.2733346!4m5!1s0x4cad8698e88cf081%3A0xe1234a2e5a69c00d!2sThomas+Point+Beach+%26+Campground%2C+29+Meadow+Rd%2C+Brunswick%2C+ME+04011!3m2!1d43.896172199999995!2d-69.89791029999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1527726887792" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Kingston, ON → Brunswick, ME (Ski's Shrimp Run)</span></u></b><br />
July 15: Ottawa, ON. Staying with Jeff, if he remembers that he agreed to it!<br />
July 16: Sporty's Iron Duke Saloon. A biker bar in the Adirondacks where I heard there's free camping if you buy beer.<br />
July 17: Somewhere near Conway, NH. Ride the Kancamagus and Hurricane Road!<br />
July 18-19: Acadia National Park. Camping reserved in advance, fingers crossed for good weather.<br />
July 20-21: <a href="http://shrimprun.com/" target="_blank">Ski's Shrimp Run</a>, at Thomas Point Beach & Campground. Yes, I'm taking Anita to <i>another</i> scooter rally ha ha ha.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="450" src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m40!1m12!1m3!1d3005250.3720417074!2d-72.78651542873227!3d42.64408564582889!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m25!3e0!4m5!1s0x4cad8749da0b8999%3A0xaf7ab75ee4bdb4df!2sBrunswick%2C+ME+04011!3m2!1d43.9140162!2d-69.966996!4m5!1s0x89e370a5cb30cc5f%3A0xc53a8e6489686c87!2sCambridge%2C+MA!3m2!1d42.373615799999996!2d-71.10973349999999!4m5!1s0x89e525890034153b%3A0xf5d72dfce4b4bc43!2sMartha's+Vineyard%2C+Massachusetts!3m2!1d41.3804981!2d-70.645473!4m5!1s0x89e370a5cb30cc5f%3A0xc53a8e6489686c87!2sCambridge%2C+MA!3m2!1d42.373615799999996!2d-71.10973349999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sus!4v1528132469080" style="border: 0;" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Brunswick, ME → Boston, MA + Martha's Vineyard</span></u></b><br />
July 22-24: Cambridge, MA. Resting at Fred's place, exploring the city.<br />
July 25: Martha's Vineyard with Fred and Kyle, if we can swing it.<br />
July 26-??: Return to Fred's, and rest. Possible trip to the Cape, if Anita still feels like riding.<br />
<br />
If you're in the area or attending any of these events, please come say <i>Hi!</i><br />
<br />
I'll be resting in Cambridge with Fred, biding my time until August 10-12 for the <a href="http://nerally.com/" target="_blank">New England Rally</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/175563686420701/" target="_blank">The Rally of Northern Collusion</a>. Fred and I may be cooking up some riding plans for the rest of August, but that's for later.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-93sdG6nmD7k/WyAeaj79RBI/AAAAAAAAGCI/UNkDEfS1bY0-WPrthulwf9sGFTNrxyd_gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_8664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-93sdG6nmD7k/WyAeaj79RBI/AAAAAAAAGCI/UNkDEfS1bY0-WPrthulwf9sGFTNrxyd_gCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_8664.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See you on the road!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-74574433235850899932018-04-27T13:50:00.000-07:002018-11-14T20:27:19.232-08:00Convalescence in Ballard. May 30 - June 28, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118984039/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Seattle Recovery"><img alt="Seattle Recovery" height="400" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4652/28118984039_791618b3d6.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bling on my sling, thanks to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gsiak/" target="_blank">Gwynne</a> and Fred.<br />
"I wear black on the outside, 'cause black is how I feel on the inside" patch is <a href="https://www.fussbudgetclub.com/" target="_blank">available here</a>!<br />
Felix on a blue scooter pin is not available. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
Home was always a conundrum for me. Is it the place you're born, or the place where most of your stuff is kept? Is it a feeling, a state of mind, or certain people?<br />
<br />
Where does someone without a physical home go, when they need to recover from more than just travel fatigue?<br />
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Between the cloudiness of painkillers, I made the verdict for where I wanted to spend a month recuperating. Not San Francisco or Providence or Boston, though I'd find my way back there eventually. The summer wasn't over for me. My boxes from Fairbanks were shipped to Boston, but I knew where I wanted to make my memories of healing: Seattle, near Gwynne and Tom.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>On the flight, I saw my first sunset in weeks, and the first nighttime I'd seen since Dease Lake. Many people might see this as returning to 'normal', but I didn't feel it. What is normal, and what use is it anyhow?<br />
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As the plane began its descent, clusters of warm, fiery lights outlined Vancouver Island. <i>Cities.</i> Real cities. That's when I finally felt anticipation. I may not be normal, but I'm an urbanite at heart after all.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best days in the backyard. Korean BBQ optional but encouraged.</td></tr>
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It felt fitting to fall into a Siak and Eykemans home again, and I was so grateful they would have me. Gwynne usually worked from home, and in a way the days felt like we were just hanging out like we did as kids.<br />
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Even the doctor's visits were reminiscent of childhood – after my family moved to Beijing, each summer we would return to Atlanta and my sister and I would endure an onslaught of visits with our pediatrician, optometrist, dentist... interspersed with sunny, summertime sleepovers with our Chinese community extended family. This time, in Seattle, I only had appointments with one specialist: an orthopedic surgeon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before: From this angle, you can see the bone nearly poking through the skin, 'tenting' was the phrase the doc used.<br />
Prior to going into the operating room, Gwynne helped me sign which side needed work. Don't mistakenly operate!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After: I'm now reinforced with a titanium plate and 7 screws.</td></tr>
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By the end of the week, I was in for surgery (yup, apparently I don't do anything in half measures, including fractures), and the rest of the month would be dedicated to sleeping on my back and learning how to navigate basic tasks with my non-dominant arm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A weekend walk to Pike Place, where no one local actually shops.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/country-dough-seattle" target="_blank">Country Dough</a> picnic with Gwynne and Tom. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jianbing" target="_blank">Jian bing</a> and hand-cut noodles, Seattle really has is all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Restroom at Pike Place Market are for running with emergency babies!</td></tr>
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I'm immeasurably grateful Tom and Gwynne took me in. Gwynne picked my drugged-up ass out of surgery, and supplied me with the only things I could stomach with my regime of antibiotics and Oxycodone: applesauce squeeze packs, miso soup, chicken broth, and prunes (another fun side effect of Oxy: constipation). It was the saddest diet, and for the first couple days I still vomited up most of it.<br />
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I slept upright in their couch for a couple nights, before I could move onto the futon in their library. Fracture aside, it was a treat to be among their books, a fantastic, eclectic collection of prose, graphic novels, and art books. Once I was strong enough to keep food inside me, I pored into many of them. I felt right at home, with Tom's kungfu weapons at the head of the futon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What else to do during my enforced rest...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olie (short for the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliebol" target="_blank">Dutch doughnut</a> or 'oil ball') is very interested. She doesn't get up for much else.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bear-y much enjoyed Wonder Woman.</td></tr>
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Since I was increasingly mobile, I found that supporting my arm with a small pillow was a comfortable way to move about. Specifically, the wedge shape of this bear-printed pillow, who usually sat on the couch, seemed to fit perfectly. So I adopted a new friend, and he joined Gwynne, Tom, Megan and I to watch Wonder Woman.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spying on local scooter nerds in Ballard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118997839/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Seattle Recovery"><img alt="Seattle Recovery" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4723/28118997839_62a6857c92.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Other curious Ballard characters, along <a href="https://www.instagram.com/cosbeedog/" target="_blank">Cosbee's</a> walk.<br />
There's even an article in <a href="https://www.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2014/12/24/the-art-critics-weigh-in-on-the-giant-robot-on-somebodys-lawn-in-ballard" target="_blank">The Stranger</a> about the lawn <a href="https://castleintheskyrobot.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Laputa robot</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwynne and I did our own take on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunny_chow" target="_blank">bunny chow</a>.</td></tr>
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After a visit to <a href="http://cederbergteahouse.com/" target="_blank">The Cederberg Tea House</a>, a South African cafe with rooibos tea espresso and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunny_chow" target="_blank">Bunny chow</a>, Gwynne and I decided to try making our own. However, the soft, Japanese milk bread we had in mind was out of stock at H Mart, so we worked with what we could get: Banh mi loaves, Korean curry paste, and some kale in a nod to our Pacific Northwest locale. I'd heard that Singaporeans were already in on <a href="http://www.goldenpillow933.com.sg/" target="_blank">curry in a loaf</a>, but I can't believe more people haven't discovered this winning combination!<br />
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We've dubbed our creation the Curry Canoe.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You saw the Curry Canoe here first!!</td></tr>
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The eating is so good in Seattle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olie is so interested. She's also the cat featured on <a href="https://www.fussbudgetclub.com/" target="_blank"><span id="goog_415058105"></span>Gwynne's patch<span id="goog_415058106"></span></a> on my sling.</td></tr>
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In case you were wondering what became of Fred, I asked if he would visit for a week in Seattle!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch at <a href="http://fortstgeorgeseattle.com/" target="_blank">Fort St George</a> was a must, for nostalgia for the summer Grace and I spent in her International District apartment.<br />
We would rent videogames from Pink Godzilla (now <a href="http://www.pinkgorillagames.com/" target="_blank">Pink Gorilla</a>), eat here, and browse the vintage stores on Capitol Hill.<br />
My old favorite: <a href="http://www.dreamsofdashi.com/tarako-pasta/" target="_blank">tarako spaghetti</a>.</td></tr>
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Gwynne loaned us her 1986 Volvo DL 240, and between her car and my old favorites from summers spent with Grace, all sorts of happy nostalgia buttons were pushed.<br />
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After months apart, Fred and I toured Seattle on our own a bit, making new memories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fremont.com/explore/sights/troll/" target="_blank">Fremont Troll</a> got Fred!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of a restored storefront tour, with the <a href="http://www.wingluke.org/" target="_blank">Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience</a>.</td></tr>
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This is slightly embarrassing, but I previously didn't know Chinatowns exist due to enforced racial segregation, much like other ethnic settlements of European immigrants. The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 banned Chinese from living and working outside a small designated area, and prohibited them from owning property. Back in the day, Chinatown Seattle consisting largely of overcrowded boarding houses, with many bunks per room, rented by the week or month. Workers from the mid-1800s gold rush couldn't bring their families over, so the boarding houses became long-term settlements for primarily men. They soon gained a reputation for poor living conditions and violence. For protection and sanctuary, Chinese immigrants often signed up with a local 'house' family name (there's one for the character 'Yue' though it was anglicized to 'Yee'). We had a chance to tour one, with the Wing Luke museum.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely, this fire door is made with tin from soy sauce cans.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mahjong in the common area.</td></tr>
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Some of the largest family houses still stand in historic Chinatown Seattle. They're in extraordinary disrepair. With hundreds of descendants claiming right to some piece of the property, it's impossible to move forward with either restoration or demolition.<br />
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The restored upstairs portion of the Wing Luke Museum walked you through three different waves of Asian Pacific immigration, with a room for each. It's a very cool museum off the beaten path.<br />
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It's not all dimsum and noodles, but still fascinating.<br />
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They also had a Bruce Lee exhibit!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bruce Lee exhibit had a small mirror room, a la <a href="https://youtu.be/RBnIbqW6ZhM" target="_blank">Enter the Dragon</a>.<br />
I resisted the urge to "destroy the image" and get kicked out of the museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vintage illustrated guide to BJJ, first printed in 1942!</td></tr>
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Across from Wing Luke it smelled like ice cream cones, from a 100 year old noodle and fortune cookie factory.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unfortunate cookies at <a href="http://tsuechong.com/" target="_blank">Tsue Chong</a> noodle and cookie factory, founded in 1917.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="https://fremont.com/explore/sights/rocket/" target="_blank">Fremont Rocket</a> bears the motto, "De Libertas Quirkas" – "Freedom to be peculiar."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191523412/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5930"><img alt="IMG_5930" height="400" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/881/41191523412_ace35b1fa0.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stay peculiar, Fremont.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191524052/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5936"><img alt="IMG_5936" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/799/41191524052_965d4af291_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting up with Dionne and Ruth at Backfire moto night (I went to one <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2014/10/second-home-seattle-wa-august-14-24-2014.html" target="_blank">back in 2014</a>!).</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Remember <a href="http://4artandadventure.com/" target="_blank">Dionne</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GlobalMotoADV/" target="_blank">Ruth</a> from <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2017/10/pit-stop-seattle-may-4-8-2017.html" target="_blank">earlier in the month</a>? Since I was back in town, we met up again at Backfire motorcycle night. Over dinner, we shared excitement and apprehension for our September Pakistan trip. None of us knew Liza, the organizer, well at the time. Ruth had ridden with an all-women group before, and Dionne had plenty of ADV miles in a handful of nations. I, on the other hand, boasted the title of... resident scooterist.<br />
<br />
In lieu of expectations (useless in travel), my biggest concerns were over road conditions. Both Dionne and Ruth had some off-road background, but I wouldn't be recovered enough to participate in anything off-road until I arrived on Pakistani soil. Fred, with his XY chromosomes, was off the hook for this one too.<br />
<br />
There were many questions marks, but for our dinner group the real risk seemed to be busting a gut laughing and sending food flying out of a nose. I had the feeling that those two could handle whatever was thrown their way, and I just hoped I could land on my feet as well.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/" target="_blank">Liza Miller</a> and <a href="http://adifferentagenda.com/" target="_blank">Moin Khan</a>'s all-women Pakistan trip would be many new things for me. It was certainly something to look forward to and concentrate on while healing.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191547752/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5945"><img alt="IMG_5945" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/808/41191547752_54ebf53e7e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wandering around Discover Park.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Normally, you have to hike a couple miles to the lighthouse from the Discovery Park parking lot. However, because I showed up at the visitor center in a sling, the receptionist handed Fred and I the coveted handicap plate that would grant us access to parking by the trail head!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191548262/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5956"><img alt="IMG_5956" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/902/41191548262_dbb71496dd_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think I could even afford a driftwood house hereabouts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191547322/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5964"><img alt="IMG_5964" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/886/41191547322_dd2e9268d7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damn the summer is fantastic though.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Gwynne refers to June and July as 'recruitment months' in Seattle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26362871247/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5998"><img alt="IMG_5998" height="320" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/785/26362871247_0d7ba9ff81_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting my PNW on.</td></tr>
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<br />
Pulling a regular shirt over my head was still extremely painful, but I was beginning to exhaust Gwynne and Tom's supply of loaner button downs. So I adopted the local uniform and picked up a cheap flannel or two at a second hand store.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39425639750/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5973"><img alt="IMG_5973" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/866/39425639750_d0df519477.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting in on Dionne's gift, a primer of sorts for Pakistan. She gave a copy to Ruth, too.<br />
Unfortunately, I found the information dated, reductionistic, and unhelpful for women.<br />
Later, Dionne and Ruth shared similar sentiments. Better to arrive without expectations!</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
An unintended perk of recovering in Washington was the legal status of marijuana. Oxycodone was prescribed to me during recovery, but it gave me terrible nausea. I stopped taking the pills as soon as the doctor allowed. Instead, many lovely afternoons were passed in a hammock in the backyard, reading and vaping from a high CBD cartridge.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191549852/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5959"><img alt="IMG_5959" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/783/41191549852_c8578b9baa.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In my recovery time, bear pillow acquired a collection of dashing hand-knit accessories.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41021513594/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="image1"><img alt="image1" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/911/41021513594_07a3777c71.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photo update from Mark, hero of the Dalton!<br />
He picked up my bike and hauled it to his camp, near Galbraith Lake. My Vespa went farther north than I did!<br />
When his job finished, Mark would bring it to his home in Anchorage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26362871607/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6002"><img alt="IMG_6002" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/789/26362871607_a6091008c4.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stopped by <a href="http://caferacerseattle.com/" target="_blank">Cafe Racer</a> to say hi to Jackie and help stuff rally bags for Amerivespa 2017.<br />
When things got crowded, Gwen and I made up the peanut gallery, her in crutches me in a sling. Ha!</td></tr>
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<br />
Accidents and injuries are an unavoidable topic among motorists, and perhaps some people find themselves thinking, "Damn, that sucks," or even, "Glad that wasn't me." I suspect every rider needs to believe some version of, "That sucks, but it isn't going to be me," or they would never get on a bike again. Until it <i>is</i> you. Then you must handle it accordingly.<br />
<br />
I literally rode my home into the ground, yet I didn't feel like I failed. I saw a lot, and succeeded well beyond anything I'd imagined. Now I was spending a month making warm memories in the company of some of my dearest friends, during the most glorious months in Seattle.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39425647370/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5983"><img alt="IMG_5983" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/879/39425647370_da3aab8b04.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another backyard grill out, how will we stand it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39425646790/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5982"><img alt="IMG_5982" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/876/39425646790_c1639018fb.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Korean spare ribs, corn, and jalepeno poppers!</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39425645650/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5974"><img alt="IMG_5974" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/786/39425645650_49df6a8f51.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found another great use for my sling (so glad to be off the Oxy, I'd much rather enjoy wine).</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191681412/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6011"><img alt="IMG_6011" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/807/41191681412_facdfbf823.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Managed to catch Grace, while she's resupplying in town before her next assignment. Ultimate Seattle nexus!</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39867011112/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Seattle Recovery"><img alt="Seattle Recovery" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4625/39867011112_b9a9c0f0cb.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Molten chocolate cake at <a href="http://www.getyourhotcakes.com/" target="_blank">Hot Cakes</a>.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Many people share ride reports but not enough talk about recovery. Who can blame them, the refractory period sounds far less exciting, and is often quite private (in all senses). Increasingly, I'm realizing time spent focused inward is just as important as time spent in the world beyond.<br />
<br />
When I gave up my apartment in Providence three years ago, I truly gave up a place of recovery. For me, it was a non-negotiable price of entry. As much as I wished for boundless endurance I had to concede, my current model of overlanding may be unsustainable. My model needs adjustment.<br />
<br />
Boston loomed in my future, and although it wasn't my favorite city, it had the distinction of containing one particular Fred. My flights were already booked.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191682292/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6017"><img alt="IMG_6017" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/884/41191682292_0fee262c46.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last visit to <a href="http://www.olafsballard.com/" target="_blank">Olaf's</a>, through the door to Valhala, before taking off.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/41191685102/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_6019"><img alt="IMG_6019" height="375" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/888/41191685102_d24d02c665.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, Rat City Rollergirls has a pinball machine!</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Before I resigned myself to Boston for an indefinite amount of time, there was one more destination this summer I did not want to miss. It was the family trip I was rushing through Alaska to make.<br />
<br />
By the end of June, I could comfortably keep my arm out of the sling most of the time. It was time for a true vacation – two weeks, no blogging, no doctors visits, no pushing my endurance. Just me, my family, and closest family friends... in PERU!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026802148/in/album-72157665056592798/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Seattle Recovery"><img alt="Seattle Recovery" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4677/26026802148_74f3f56453.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peace out!</td></tr>
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Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-9046041656575501592018-04-03T11:51:00.001-07:002018-04-27T11:04:42.309-07:00The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38459455144/in/album-72157687438788742/" title="arctic"><img alt="arctic" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4634/38459455144_90c0db0abd_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The Top of the World Highway had given me some confidence taking my Vespa on rougher terrain, but from Fairbanks I wanted to ride at least to the Arctic Circle on the Dalton Highway. I anticipated the stretch ahead to be the most challenging – the sheer distance without a soul in sight was intimidating. I went back and forth as to how far north I would travel, and to this day I'm unsure what informed my final decision. Maybe it was sleep debt. Maybe it was <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fear_of_missing_out" target="_blank">FOMO</a>. Maybe it was hubris.<br />
<br />
As you may have guessed from the title, this doesn't end particularly well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438979092/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5455"><img alt="IMG_5455" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4520/38438979092_abcd62b51a.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoot's getting on in her miles.</td></tr>
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<br />
Renting the couch in a common area meant sunlight poured in at all hours, but it wasn't without its merits: I woke to the smell of coffee being brewed practically bedside. A guest from Rhode Island commented, "You could run a Dunk with coffee like that!" I was ready to rush in defense of Billie's roast, until I remembered that's Rhode Island for a compliment.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.alaskahostel.com/" target="_blank">Billie's Backpackers</a> was full of things that chime and chirp, and music or NPR on the radio. It was clearly a home as well as a business. It's always a relief to find a hostel that genuinely embraces independent travelers – especially after Dawson City.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583484875/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5477"><img alt="IMG_5477" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4582/37583484875_70b5b1d0bf.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Billie's has been around since 1991, browsing the guestbook was a trip. There were many languages.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438972092/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5446"><img alt="IMG_5446" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4524/38438972092_d867ea3f74.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polar bear claws without skin are disturbingly reminiscent of human hands.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/24598815678/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5448"><img alt="IMG_5448" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4562/24598815678_a961034451.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When you needed internet in 1999.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
The real shock for me was big-city shopping. Once the wintery mix let up, I resupplied at American chains like Safeway and AutoZone. I needed an H4 bulb; a kind man at Delta Junction told me my headlight was out, but I hadn't noticed in the constant sunlight.<br />
<br />
I should have felt at home back in the US. I was back among familiar currency, and Americans with whom I supposedly share customs and a value system. But I felt as foreign as ever. Perhaps I'm most at home out of my element after all. Or it's just the growing divide between my particular lifestyle and those who choose a more conventional path. Maybe it's just Alaska.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583469305/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5469"><img alt="IMG_5469" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4563/37583469305_fcf49bbefc_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool German firetruck at <a href="http://www.hoodoobrew.com/" target="_blank">HooDoo Brewing Co</a>. I was told this brewery and Chena Springs were the best things about Fairbanks.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583465105/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5463"><img alt="IMG_5463" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4574/37583465105_a2be82668a.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting up with the military kids from the Anchorage base.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
I hadn't seen internet speeds like this since Vancouver, but data must have still been priced per gig – an explanation for why Blockbusters were still alive in Fairbanks. Fairbanks also appeared to have the highest concentration of Thai restaurants I'd ever seen outside of Thailand. That said, if you only visited the downtown you'd believe the town's primary pastime was alcoholism.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694842539/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5471"><img alt="IMG_5471" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4535/26694842539_861d3f5de5.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have not heard of a beerock before. Half of this came with me in aluminum foil.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
At the Cookie Jar Restaurant with the military kids, I introduced myself to a <a href="https://www.yelp.com/menu/the-cookie-jar-fairbanks/item/beerock" target="_blank">Beerock</a>: ground beef, onion, sauerkraut, and cheddar baked into whole wheat dough. It's reminiscent of a calzone, or an oversized minced beef bun.<br />
<br />
Although the internet could finally keep up with a FaceTime call, it was difficult talking to Fred that evening. The difference in timezone and widening gap in shared history was piling up. After he went to bed, I poured myself a heavy glass of wine (leftover from wine day!), caught up on social media, and allowed myself to revel in longing.<br />
<br />
What a life it must be to traipse the world with your loved one, a constant presence amidst an ever flowing stream of new places, new languages, new cultures, new circumstances. I envied the ride reports of traveling couples, in the same breath I relished the independence of going solo – it's the only what I know how to go, anyhow. I still wonder if having access to such an individual would dull my drive to share travel to a broader audience online, but it's a moot point. There was no loved one with me except my bike, and I'd go on with her until one or both of us breaks.<br />
<br />
With that pity party out of the way, I readied myself for the Dalton.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39899434091/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4678/39899434091_51023f8a7c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't expect to meet two sisters from Hong Kong while stocking up on goodies at the farmers market!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026135788/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4707/26026135788_fd64e034f8.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Billie offered to store some non-essentials while I did my Arctic loop. Black is the new black.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
Before I set off, Billie's son, Art, asked when he should call emergency services. I knew I only had enough fuel to get as far as Coldfoot, so it seemed wise to tell him I would only overnight.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118605649/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4700/28118605649_fda865dca3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we go.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026149168/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4618/26026149168_e0aaeef738_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pipeline.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39000147495/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4761/39000147495_0e654aeee2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I won't incriminate myself with a photo of me climbing anything, especially pipelines with signs forbidding climbing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026162388/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4628/26026162388_f120a46eaa.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuel up at Yukon River Camp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026167188/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4659/26026167188_8518281239.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess who I met over lunch at Yukon River Camp?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
Before reaching my first refuel point, I recall getting stuck behind a road grader. On that particular road in that condition I didn't feel confident in passing for a while, though a muddy van lingering behind me eventually went for it.<br />
<br />
Come to find out at Yukon River Camp, the van was a tour group that included Soo Young (I knew I had his name somewhere), my friend from the Top of the World Highway! He decided to spare his camper van the ravages of the Dalton and left it in Fairbanks. Instead, he joined an arctic tour group. Rachel, leading the tour, informed me I was the talk of CB radio.<br />
<br />
Grader: This sounds crazy, but I think I just saw a Vespa on the Dalton.<br />
<br />
Rachel: Yep, you did. There's a blue Vespa following you on the Dalton.<br />
<br />
Then Rachel passed us both. After lunch, they would go on to the Arctic Circle sign before turning around.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026153968/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4694/26026153968_068ecc1577_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poking around the Hot Spot Cafe, at the 60 mile mark. There's free camping, and Dalton gift shopping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026160898/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4705/26026160898_5e581708ac_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipeline Milepost.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026174918/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4763/26026174918_7596ba1574_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So pretty. But those clouds are hanging low.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26170058808/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4648/26170058808_f025c79c8a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landscape is giving me the Finger... <a href="http://thetrekplanner.com/finger-mountain-dalton-highway-alaska/" target="_blank">Finger Mountain</a>, that is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39899483661/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4617/39899483661_e854479e27.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
Research revealed several free campsites by the Arctic Circle sign, or more free sites roughly 70 miles on at Coldfoot Camp. The skies were holding up and I was feeling pretty good, so I kept riding.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026203408/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4723/26026203408_1ea2165997_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My roadside companion, the Pipeline, peeks out from under a bridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39188678384/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4674/39188678384_2dd0364496_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much for the clear skies. It rained and snowed for a stretch, for some white-knuckled riding.<br />
A trucker stopped and put on his hazards to make sure I was warm enough and doing okay.<br />
"You're almost through it," he assured me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118676729/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4751/28118676729_5ed6e0ae9d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still wet roads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25027953347/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4659/25027953347_493a57c62d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the cockpit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026223648/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4676/26026223648_9f9374679d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a scooter and a pipeline and the mountains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118707569/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4651/28118707569_87ebab7b01.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coldfoot Camp, where there are more sled dogs than year round residents.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026228558/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4615/26026228558_999a26288d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of these is not like the others.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026234758/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4701/26026234758_ff7defd8ee.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A warm trucker stop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39188696484/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4747/39188696484_50c263c96a.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They had a sign in Chinese, I didn't realize this was such a tourist destination.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026239808/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4613/26026239808_b0d058c5a3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portions proportional to the big rigs outside. This burger requires a sword to get through.<br />
I thought I'd change it up from the fries, and now it looks like I'll be eating tots for a while. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
Over dinner, a couple in a car regaled me with stories of how beautiful Atigun pass was that day, even though they picked up 3 flat tires since arriving in Alaska. I hadn't considered going so far north, but I had a spare tire with me, along with a patch kit and <a href="http://amzn.to/2DmCwgd" target="_blank">Ride-On tire sealant</a> already applied. Atigun pass was only 70 miles on, if I woke early in the morning like I did anyway due to the sunlight it would be possible... I decided to sleep on the decision.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118709889/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4651/28118709889_e5f20e59a7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I searched for a level place to camp, then just asked the cafe if it was ok to camp on the deck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39899536591/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4662/39899536591_42ea3af616.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at the size of this bugger.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39899538991/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4654/39899538991_a009626b5c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the size of these buggers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
The weather was clear in the morning. I decided to go as far as Atigun Pass for the views, return to Coldfoot to refuel, and then take advantage of the long daylight to make my way back to Fairbanks. It would be an exceptionally high mileage day, but I was up early anyhow and feeling rider-fit. Nevermind the hidden dairy in the salmon potato soup from Yukon River Camp that made a surprise reappearance at 2am, interrupting my already diminished sleep with cramps and a dash to the bathroom! I was fine now! I had enough leftover reindeer sausage and tater tots to get me back to Fairbanks! I could ride all day!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118721819/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4615/28118721819_f7b69469e5.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Fairbanks, I had stocked up on <a href="http://amzn.to/2GlryLb" target="_blank">air activated heat packs</a> meant for back pain.<br />
For limited cold riding, I stick one one across my chest and one across my shoulders, and crank on my heated gloves.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026264358/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4648/26026264358_c9d1bb1d78_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See you later, Coldfoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026265088/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4617/26026265088_934c6210c5.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">240 miles. Beyond the range of all my spare fuel combined.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39867141862/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4696/39867141862_2e234504f5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes the Dalton was like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/28118731649/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4672/28118731649_baa9cac074_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it's like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39144856685/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4625/39144856685_45bdd39093_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's socked in, eh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25028078237/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4708/25028078237_6111fb8fdf_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching the summit, actively snowing now. I slipped in the mud and almost dropped the bike taking this photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39000729075/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4658/39000729075_8c921fdba3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Existence out here is equal parts challenging...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25028068617/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4614/25028068617_96770639e0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and beautiful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39144865135/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4628/39144865135_c436a5ee05_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clear skies ahead.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39189314144/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4649/39189314144_f77dbcbb81_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other side of the pass. That's all for today!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
As I descended out of the snow and clouds on the other side of the summit, the thrill of accomplishment coursed through every fiber. I was utterly elated, my spirits were up in the clouds. I generally see myself as plodding and slow, but I'd made it. This was farther than I'd ever imagined taking my Vespa.<br />
<br />
But this was as far as I'd go.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25171642247/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4606/25171642247_88de1f2001_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views are pretty jaw-dropping. It makes me crave Toblerone...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
For many people, riding Alaska is a once in a lifetime experience. For whatever reason at the time, I felt I was riding as if I would come back. In retrospect, it seems ridiculous to go as far as Atigun and turn around, but I'd already built in a limit for myself. I reminded myself I wasn't here to just check off a point on a list. Besides, Art would call emergency services if I didn't arrive back.<br />
<br />
I hated doubling back, but the hard part was over. So I thought.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39000724455/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4702/39000724455_ffe0f236c0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There sure is a lot of clay on my bike...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
That may have been my undoing, thinking the hard part was over. Still gripped in the rush of excitement, I pulled over to take a photo and calm down. The high felt fantastic, but I recognized this was how <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2016/05/descent-on-lubec-july-21-23-2015.html" target="_blank">I dropped my bike</a> shortly after reaching West Quoddy Head.<br />
<br />
I chugged my way south again along a straight stretch of road that had been freshly sprayed down with calcium chloride. It was like riding on clay. A small mound had been pushed up in the center of the road, and for a moment I considered trying to surmount it to ride on the dry side of the road – no one was coming down the other side. <i>Nah, it's not that bad</i>, I thought, <i>I'll probably wipe out trying to get over this giant ridge in the middle. I've ridden through worse and I've already done this section. The pavement will start again anytime now</i>. So I held steady, with visions of my refuel break in Coldfoot in my head.<br />
<br />
That's when it started: my old enemy, a front end wobble. Maybe it was a rut in the road. Maybe I was overconfident and despite my steady speed, now that my tires were slick from snow and sealant I was going too fast for the road condition. Or I was overtired, having not slept well for too long, and my entire decision making process to go as far as Atigun was flawed. Maybe I was too rushed in the first place, trying to cram all this in before a family trip at the end of June. Maybe I should have tried to surmount the muddy crest in the center, ride on the dry side after all. Maybe I hadn't calmed down enough. Maybe maybe maybe.<br />
<br />
I tried to rescue it, but too quickly the oscillations became stronger and propagated into my back end. When I felt the rear tire lose traction, I knew it was going down. For a horrifying moment my entire bike danced as if on ice, traveling on a vector independent of wheel alignment, with me perched helplessly atop it.<br />
<br />
I don't remember exactly how the bike went down. <i>Low side low side low side</i>... I told myself, but the bars were ripped from my hands in an instant. Instinctively, I threw both my hands to my helmet and tucked for impact. I hit the ground on my right shoulder, the wind knocked out of me, and rolled and slid to a stop on my butt.<br />
<br />
One moment you're flying, the next you're hitting the ground. The truth is, everything could end at any moment. It's a truth everyone has to ignore to function, and it goes doubly for motorcyclists. You just hope it isn't your moment, not yet.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39188810194/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4698/39188810194_bfcb51ba65.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last shot of old blue on the Dalton before I hitched a ride to Coldfoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
For a surreal moment after I picked myself up from the ground, my music still played in my helmet. I shut it off and checked my limbs. Operational and accounted for. I ran to my bike and lifted it, gritting my teeth through the pain, and set it carefully on its side stand. With shaky hands, I fished 800mg of ibuprofen from my bags and pounded it. The ammo cans had been ripped off (unsurprised, they're only lightly bolted on), but I could bungee them back on until Coldfoot, I thought, and sort it out back in Fairbanks where there were hardware stores. Then I tried to put it on its center stand, and screamed in pain. Something felt...<i>wrong</i>.<br />
<br />
Through layers of thermals and leather, I checked over my right collarbone again, more closely. There it was, <i>a bump</i>. I would not be riding back to Fairbanks today. I couldn't believe it, I'd pulled an <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feasting_on_Asphalt#Season_1" target="_blank">Alton Brown</a>.<br />
<br />
There was no one in sight, except a grader (pictured above) who could not help me. I considered riding to Coldfoot before my adrenaline wore out. It was only 30 or so miles away, my cruise assist would be crucial. I needed to collect my belongings either way.<br />
<br />
Then I saw a pickup truck coming my way. <i>Fuck this</i>, I thought, and waved my good arm wildly.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, Mark stopped for me. He helped load my things into his truck, and agreed to deliver me to Coldfoot. My hero even offered the aid of booze and legal herb, but I wanted to remain clear-headed.<br />
<br />
"Is it bleeding?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"I don't want to know yet, but I don't feel any wetness or additional warmth."<br />
<br />
A mile down the road, we found my Gasolina can.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39188813224/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4762/39188813224_e9710ca2b9.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark, rescuer. Thank you for turning around for me! Gratitude in droves!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
The irony is that the day before, as wind pushed sheets of freezing rain down the mountain towards me, I thought to myself, "These road conditions are no joke, I better be careful." I am <i>not thrilled</i> to add my bike to the list of Dalton casualties.<br />
<br />
Well, I hated doubling back, and now I didn't have to.<br />
<br />
At Coldfoot, the kind postmaster did up an impromptu sling and laid out my options: a bus would depart tonight, for a bumpy 10 hour drive to Fairbanks. Or I might be able to get a spot on a private flight around 4pm. As for my bike? Mark might be able to pick it up after his workday... or...<br />
<br />
<i>Sometime in 2009 - May 28, 2017. Farther than a Vespa ever thought it would go, Serenity figured she's seen all that she could see. She belongs to the Dalton now</i>, I thought to myself.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026319168/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4751/26026319168_0467d20d18.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, fuck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
I gathered my belongings for the plane. After my up close encounter with the Dalton, everywhere I walked I left a little puff of dust, like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pig-Pen" target="_blank">Pig-Pen from the Peanuts</a>. To this day, I still find caked on dust from the Dalton on my belongings, like the corner of the camera I was wearing around my neck at the time (my <a href="http://amzn.to/2DNJU4y" target="_blank">Nikon AW110</a> still works, truly shockproof!).<br />
<br />
The plane wouldn't depart for several hours. I'd forgotten how much waiting you do when you don't have a bike. Waiting for buses, ferries, cabs, planes...I was spoiled on my bike. It merely compounded my misery, but there was another feeling... a feeling I am a bit embarrassed to admit.<br />
<br />
A small part of me felt... <i>relief</i>. No more manic weather checking. No more camping in the cold, putting layers on layers. No more rain gear and armor and leather. No more thinking ahead about making reservations for places that fill up early. No more counting miles to gas, measuring my reserves for endurance. No more checking in with Fred on Spot or FaceTime. I don't know when this lifestyle became so tiresome, but there would be no more of it for a while. The accident would usher in an entirely new set of hurt and difficulties, but I must have been much more weary and compromised than I was aware of at the time, that somewhere in the painful mix of emotions I found a tiny part of me felt relief. I had overextended myself, much farther than I realized.<br />
<br />
I rushed this trip.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026325088/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4745/26026325088_c028e86457.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pilot found an extra seat for me. Phew.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026329838/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4626/26026329838_c5a7b58198.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plane was so small, bags had to be stored in the wings because there's no room in the cabin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026335538/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4605/26026335538_36f75b6217.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ear protection.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026333898/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4619/26026333898_49c06662b7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All passengers accounted for.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25027750017/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4762/25027750017_03506aa7fe_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damn.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
When you're crawling along the ground, thoroughly in the moment, it's difficult to get a sense of what kind of ground you've covered. Looking down from a plane, you're gifted with a new perspective, a sense of scale.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39866917392/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4609/39866917392_21dd3711df_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pilot took us on a slightly scenic flight path.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
These are the mountain ranges I rode through. This is the terrain I covered.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026530608/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4761/26026530608_68ab30b89d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's beautiful from all angles, and forbidding.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
When you look at a road map of Alaska, you see the portions for automobiles barely extend over the lower quarter of the state. The rest is wilderness, fly-in only, on small propeller planes such as this one.<br />
<br />
I would learn later that at least one of these small planes crash every year around Atigun pass. There's an unusual draft caused by the mountains, so I was told. In spite of the excruciating pain caused by even the slightest jostle, I admired the view and our plane landed safely in Fairbanks – paradoxes of pain and beauty.<br />
<br />
Let's fast-forward past the boring parts in the ER, and skip to the part where I learned the only orthopedic surgeons in Fairbanks were on vacation until June 15th. I wasn't going to wait, so I got the refund for my Alaska Ferry ticket and booked a flight out of town. Billie went ahead and moved me to a private ground floor room for my last night in Fairbanks. She is the kindest.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026502508/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4745/26026502508_5612b6c3bf.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left the ammo boxes for the Joe, working in the garage.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
With one good arm, I sorted out which things would come with me and jettisoned everything else. Joe dug up some cardboard boxes from the garage. My ukulele went to Heidi, Billie's daughter, who was learning to play and helped me drop off my other boxes at Fedex and USPS. I couldn't get to a grocery store, so I hung around the hostel eating leftovers, waiting for my flight.<br />
<br />
More waiting.<br />
<br />
A hitchhiker checked in at the hostel. He'd found work along the haul road for years, and shared that truckers had nicknames for many of the turns on the Elliot and Dalton, like "Oh Shit Corner," "Beaver Slide," or simply, "The Rollercoaster."<br />
<br />
"The Dalton does weird things to cars and bikes," he assured me.<br />
<br />
It was a small comfort, when I felt defensive for potentially being seen as incompetent – I'm not a reckless rider, nor am I a noob. I just wasn't careful enough this time.<br />
<br />
<div>
Before I took off, a British military expedition that started in Tierra del Fuego blew through.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26026504628/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4650/26026504628_8cb912bf24.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The guys on the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TransAmericasExpedition" target="_blank">British Trans-Americas Expedition</a>, on CCM GP450s (an article on them <a href="https://adventuremotorcycle.com/rides/british-army-trans-americas-expedition-2017" target="_blank">here</a>).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39866886302/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4615/39866886302_afdf43a931.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That'll do for highway pegs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39000474495/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4632/39000474495_27aa61cab1.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is this, Samwise Gamgee's bike? Now this is an adventure!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
When the Brits departed in the morning for their final leg to Deadhorse, I found myself on the other side of the rider and those-left-behind divide. I checked the weather and told them everything I could about the portion I'd seen, even though I knew they'd seen more swash-buckling adventure in less time that I ever had. They also had the benefit of dedicated training, two medics, and a mechanic in the party, plus the endorsement of the British Armed Forces to my...well, just me trying to get by wearing all the hats. Still, I couldn't help but tell them, "Be careful. Get there safely."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39000487325/in/album-72157687438788742/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017."><img alt="The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4609/39000487325_43560c0255.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mobility was limited, but I had so much leftovers from Coldfoot Camp.<br />
I made <i>two more meals</i> of reindeer without having to leave the hostel.<br />
Remarkably, nobody drank the rest of the bottle of wine I'd left at Billie's either.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
And that was it. I was off to the airport. What was left of my life that wasn't on the side of the Dalton, was packed into a bulk toilet paper box, a desktop printer box, and a single flat-rate shipper. I lived so light and fast, my life could be shipped across the continent for about $150, and the rest carried on one good shoulder.<br />
<br />
Not exactly how I wanted to remember this leg of the journey, but there it is.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-41037981003236870632018-02-01T14:19:00.000-08:002018-02-01T14:40:16.809-08:00On Top of the World and back on American Soil. May 24 - 26, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39167262971/in/album-72157689717839841/" title="TotW"><img alt="TotW" height="457" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4735/39167262971_fc842c6d56_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br />
From the Midnight Dome Viewpoint, if you looked on the other side of the Yukon River you could see a pale line etched into the green hills. It climbed in a straight line up the river-facing side of the mountain, then turned in a squiggle that wrapped the crumpled terrain like a dropped a piece of spaghetti. That was my first look at the <a href="http://www.themilepost.com/highways/top-of-the-world/" target="_blank">Top of the World Highway</a>, and that was where I was putting my bike.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438830912/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5224"><img alt="IMG_5224" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4557/38438830912_e6855f67e3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A farewell stop at <a href="http://alchemycafe.ca/" target="_blank">Alchemy Cafe</a>, where Ryota was working. It's an unexpected slice of urbanity, next to old Dawson.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438827992/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5221"><img alt="IMG_5221" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4520/38438827992_6df386319e.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easily the best coffee shop this far north in the Yukon.<br />
Resident Belgian says it's the only place with drinkable hot chocolate.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694649309/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5230"><img alt="IMG_5230" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4527/26694649309_62a1156bf5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clear skies for scoot out.</td></tr>
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<br />
'Yukon Time' is a phenomenon similar to Baja Time, in that it's completely divorced from any hands on a clock face. Safe in the knowledge that you're far from urban bustle and next-day delivery of anything, you simply take things in stride. Relax, take your time, take things as they come.<br />
<br />
The George Black Ferry operates on Yukon Time. I think the ice caps melt faster than this ferry.<br />
<br />
Naturally, I had plenty of time to adjust and made myself comfortable onshore. The ferry eventually arrived to spill out a meager sampling of walk-ons and automobiles, and I found myself sharing the return ride with a single other vehicle:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414601916/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5227"><img alt="IMG_5227" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4568/38414601916_7edef74720.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loaded with Calcium Chloride, aka <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calcium_chloride#Uses" target="_blank">road salt or dust suppressant</a>. This would later prove to be my enemy.</td></tr>
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<br />
On disembarkation, the entire ferry tipped like a seesaw. Planks bowed and clattered as the truck pulled itself onto the muddy shore, digging up some fantastic troughs along the way.<br />
<br />
And then there was me, skipping along up the hill, on to one of the most northerly highways in the world.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438835312/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5242"><img alt="IMG_5242" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4533/38438835312_9055e6a70a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
Distant banks of snow splashed like mercury on the dark hills, and a few times I passed an old snow bank melting in dark, glittering rivulets across the dirt. The road itself took wide, sweeping turns, each one revealing a vista into a valley that was a slight variation on the last. I didn't climb to soaring altitudes but crawled along the crests of perpetual hills. They stretched to the horizon in all directions, an unending bumpy landscape that echoed the bumpy gravel beneath my tires. Steady, crunching rocks, under a magnificent lonely sky.<br />
<br />
Photos hardly capture the experience, so I didn't take many.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/39274826754/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="On Top of the World and back on American Soil. May 24 - 26, 2017."><img alt="On Top of the World and back on American Soil. May 24 - 26, 2017." height="173" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4740/39274826754_5beb0ae4d8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much of it looked like this.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755732534/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5264"><img alt="IMG_5264" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4561/37755732534_98f3dc9edf_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hark, an outcropping.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470424241/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5254"><img alt="IMG_5254" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4521/38470424241_490a641b59_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I must stand on it.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470421591/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5255"><img alt="IMG_5255" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4519/38470421591_327dbd8fda.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit above to this awesome guy who pulled over for the same photo. I apologize for forgetting your name!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755726704/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5260"><img alt="IMG_5260" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4518/37755726704_cfe719de17.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He gave me a tour of his custom-built camper van. He was like a cool uncle!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414623336/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5258"><img alt="IMG_5258" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4556/38414623336_f2a8f1faa2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was the only other person I saw on the road, and we leap-frogged each other until we caught up at this outcropping.<br />
Our two solo tourers, along the Top of the World Highway.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This for eternity.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching U.S. border patrol, the little greenish speck in the upper left.</td></tr>
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It was 57 miles of well-graded Canadian dirt to a log cabin border crossing, and a cheerful officer stamped me back in. Then the road was beautiful, smooth tarmac.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583341545/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5285"><img alt="IMG_5285" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4550/37583341545_5afd471566.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm back on U.S. soil!</td></tr>
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At least, it was tarmac for 25-ish miles, then it continued in alternating patches of pavement and dirt. Like it was trying to make a good first impression and then gave up.<br />
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Oh well, I was still bumping along on Yukon Time anyhow.<br />
<br />
Actually, there <i>is</i> a timezone change into Alaska, and I needed to swap my wallet out for this funny green currency too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755418284/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="P5242615"><img alt="P5242615" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4586/37755418284_5ac4972380_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.myalaskan.com/boundary-alaska/" target="_blank">Boundary, AK</a> is the first rest stop in the US after the crossing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470160581/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="P5242617"><img alt="P5242617" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4580/38470160581_c360afd8dd_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, it looks <strike>open</strike>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't look like these pumps have been in use for a while.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picturesquely empty.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/24598327378/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="P5242619"><img alt="P5242619" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4518/24598327378_7dfc4ce834_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Dry camp $10" There were also signs for "Save Boundary" and "Ask about legal herbs".</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A peek inside the lodge. Guess I'll move on.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414676546/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5306"><img alt="IMG_5306" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4554/38414676546_eeae4114e0.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road dipped down to follow alongside Wade Creek, near <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Wade,_Alaska" target="_blank">Jack Wade</a>, an old mining camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470169881/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="P5242625"><img alt="P5242625" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4556/38470169881_10147c86a2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then climbed again to become the Taylor Highway.</td></tr>
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The Taylor Highway was narrow enough in parts to slow down for an oncoming vehicle. It dove and soared, taking me from being buried in trees to riding the mountaintops. I passed a small campground on the riverbank at Walker Fork, then the road climbed again for a spectacular view of the snaking river below. Utterly glorious.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Possibly my favorite views from this portion.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching Chicken, AK.</td></tr>
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The most scenic views seemed to have settled down by Chicken, AK and the road turned to dust.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great time for a snack break.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm the only one here.</td></tr>
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The cafe had pies on the counter worthy of a Pavolvian response, and stickers that said things like, "For the record, there is not a single mosquito in Chicken, Alaska. They're all married and have raised very large families." I was merely interested in buffalo chili and hot coffee.<br />
<br />
...And admittedly maybe sort of chatting up Trevor, a guy from Iowa about my age who was working behind the counter. It had been a while for me, okay? Besides, I was legitimately enjoying bantering about the logistics of seasonal work, travel, and life in remote places. I only considered dry camping in the field behind the cafe for a hot second, a small fantasy within an already fantastic lifestyle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snicker.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414702906/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5324"><img alt="IMG_5324" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4538/38414702906_d5d1edb7b4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poked my head in the saloon, connected to the cafe around the back.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414687626/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5315"><img alt="IMG_5315" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4519/38414687626_c4d7acc6bb_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town was setting up for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ChickenstockMusicFest/" target="_blank">Chickenstock Music Festival</a>, coming up in a couple weeks.<br />
I was told the population swells to 3,000. This could be a tall tale, in a town that advertises no flushing toilets (they truck in many, many porta potties for the festival).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414700316/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5334"><img alt="IMG_5334" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4576/38414700316_de685f9e0c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chicken,_Alaska" target="_blank">Chicken, AK</a> was going to named <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_ptarmigan" target="_blank">Ptarmigan</a> after a game bird common in the area, but miners found the spelling troublesome.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414699356/in/album-72157689717839841/" target="_blank">Here's a photo</a> from the gift store of more Chicken facts.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Old Chicken Dredger, now a <a href="http://www.chickengold.com/pedro_dredge.html" target="_blank">museum with tours</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott and Cliff.</td></tr>
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I hadn't seen a moose yet on my ride, but was recommended to check the pond by the airport – mothers liked to bath there with their young (though I shouldn't get too close). There were no moose, but I found two moose surveyors, about to take flight to count the local population.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414704126/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5339"><img alt="IMG_5339" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4518/38414704126_edfacee0bc.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I come? Alas, hardly space for the two of them on the plane as it were.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583388775/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5348"><img alt="IMG_5348" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4530/37583388775_7f194b9863_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The post office employs 1/3 of the year-round residents of Chicken...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583385975/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5351"><img alt="IMG_5351" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4518/37583385975_38fbc769dc_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robin, the Postmaster! She was already ready with chicken prop at hand when I asked for a photo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you for the best photo ever, Robin!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bite of cherry pie, gas up and go.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avoid that bit, eh.</td></tr>
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The road west of Chicken was more challenging than the Canadian side. It was a rough patchwork quilt of broken pavement, undecided whether to be all one or the other so it was both, poorly. Big rigs had pushed mud in the powdery earth into giant heaving ruts. As the road descended from the hills and became more exposed, the wind blew more dust sideways across the gravel and up my visor.<br />
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But it didn't last long. The highway steadily became more solid, and was smooth sailing by the time I picked up the Alaska Highway at Tetlin Junction. All told, it was only about 90 miles unpaved.<br />
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The last 15 minutes into Tok were easy and dull, compared to most of the day's miles.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanessa said the cabin would be the warmest option for this time of year.</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.thompsonseaglesclaw.com/" target="_blank">Thompson's Eagle Claw Motorcycle Park</a> had been recommended to me for overnighting. It's an awesome, cozy camp, built with love. There's even a shed with tools for fixing your bike (I left a sticker for the toolbox).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across from my cabin: Ambulance camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694772519/in/album-72157689717839841/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_5372"><img alt="IMG_5372" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4577/26694772519_e4dd3ea988.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A metal tin wasn't going to insulate well at night, but I still wanted to poke around.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hee hee.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calling all units.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I still have bus conversion dreams, but there simply isn't enough room for jiujitsu mats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanessa is building this into a group campsite.</td></tr>
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After settling in and touring the grounds, I scooted back around the corner for a hearty dinner (with more fries) at <a href="https://www.fasteddysrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Fast Eddy's</a>. 2000% increase in french fry intake.<br />
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It was a bit weird, using American currency again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon--I mean, Alaska shower.</td></tr>
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Vanessa put the outdoor sauna on for me and the only other guests at camp that night: the couple whose sidecar rig I saw in Dawson City! I ran into them in the bath house, and muddled through my very limited French and her limited English. They had taken a year off to travel around the world, and were currently headed to Ushuaia. Cool!<br />
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Also, I needed a walkthrough for how to shower in a setup such as this: Fire up the stove. Fill large pot with water to heat up. Pour other water on stones for steam effect while waiting. Use small saucepan to ladle hot water over yourself to wash. Pour more water on stones for further steam effect if desired? Note to self to pick up Duolingo again?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at the cabin...</td></tr>
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The cabin I chose had four bunks with a lawn chair pad for each. Since it was only me, I channeled some Princess and the Pea and rearranged the furniture. In the end a legume didn't disturb my slumber though. After shutting the door on the midnight sun, it was the high-pitched whine of a single mosquito in the cabin that kept me awake all night.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found a little propane stove in the corner. This seems safe, right?<br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/2nl0en4" target="_blank">Gear Ties</a> are great as impromptu laundry hooks, and I escaped without flaming underwear.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have a fantastic ride, friendly French couple!</td></tr>
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I narrowly dodged making a rabbit pancake on the Alaska Highway leaving Tok, but the last stretch of miles into Fairbanks were fast and easy. A metal bridge over a frozen river here. A fill-up at Delta Junction there. My only trouble was that all coffee businesses seemed to be drive-thru, and after hitting some passing rain I had no place indoors to warm up. Outside temperatures dropped to 4 C, and I was shivering uncontrollably by the time I finally found an indoor restaurant. I poured hot coffee into my insides and pretended my chicken tenders were ptarmigan.<br />
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It was deceiving out, sunny and bright, but so cold. The road had no more surprises for me though, only the shock of returning to a city.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fairbanks, AK.</td></tr>
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I was recommended to <a href="https://www.svenshostel.com/" target="_blank">Sven's Basecamp Hostel</a>, and they were friendly and cozy, but it was too cold for me to stay in their outdoors-style camp. <a href="http://www.alaskahostel.com/" target="_blank">Billie's Backpackers Hostel</a> was full, but I must have looked worn out and Billie kindly rented me a couch at a discounted price.<br />
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That evening a violent hail storm blew in, but I was indoors and warm. A younger group visiting from the Anchorage military base turned up. They had bottles of wine for <a href="https://nationaldaycalendar.com/days-2/national-wine-day-may-25/" target="_blank">national wine day</a>, but no opener. I <a href="http://amzn.to/2BM8di4" target="_blank">volunteered mine</a>, offered my bottle to the mix, and guided them through a tasting. They were all cheap wines, but that's not what matters here, is it?<br />
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It was still bright when I went to bed at midnight.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-43429213004686870082018-01-29T12:31:00.000-08:002018-01-29T12:31:54.307-08:00Sourtoes and Shipwrecks. Dawson City, YT. May 22 - 23, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38459449224/in/album-72157666450349139/" title="Whitehorse-to-DawsonCity"><img alt="Whitehorse-to-DawsonCity" height="458" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4737/38459449224_7cef8ca612_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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Dawson City is a destination in its own right, though the usual attractions – Klondike gold rush history, gold panning, cabaret, and other old mining town and frontier sales pitches – were not what drew me there. I wanted to ride the <a href="http://www.themilepost.com/highways/top-of-the-world/" target="_blank">Top of the World Highway</a>, which started at the landing point of the George Black Ferry.<br />
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But a stop at a historic mining town along the way was swell, too.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A break in the endless spruce.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poking around Montague Roadhouse Historic Site.</td></tr>
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Embarking towards Dawson instead of taking the Alaska Highway to Tok meant embracing the unpaved surfaces ahead. I'd left the pavement before for Baja, but it was more a test of patience than technique on my overloaded Vespa. Before setting off, I pored over The Milepost's map for the <a href="http://www.themilepost.com/highways/klondike-loop/" target="_blank">Klondike Loop</a>, trying to anticipate road conditions. I did this, in spite of knowing I'd only be ready when I found myself there.<br />
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Distances between development stretched even farther – the Yukon's test of patience for my Vespa had already begun. I just held the throttle open.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to warm up with hot soup in Carmacks.<br />
The placemat depiction of a mosquito carrying off a VW was barely hyperbole.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadians have the best chip flavors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brr.</td></tr>
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It's on stretches like these that my mind wanders, its latest fixation being to script whole conversations in my head with people I miss. How many hours I wished they could be with me, sharing the sights, smelling the spice of pine in the air, feeling the temperature rise with the sun. I explained myself to no one but the sky and the road, justified my actions to blue mountains on the horizon and an evergreen blur of trees flitting by.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There sure is a lot of space for introspection here.</td></tr>
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Ahead of me in Haines, a ship waited to take me back to the mainland. I intended to reach it, but hopefully after a heavy dose of glaciers, ghost towns, and wild beauty because I also didn't want to get there. Arrival would set in motion the next series of events, culminating in a return ticket to Boston. Fred was settled there, but I remembered when I first returned to New England and realized it had become just one more destination – no more a home than another stop along the way. High speed internet had petered out since Vancouver, and every choppy FaceTime call was a disjointed reminder of another world. I hadn't seen Boston since last year, a lifetime ago. I wondered if Fred felt like he had a ghost for a girlfriend, my things alongside his, living in Cambridge even when I didn't.<br />
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Is home just a place for your stuff, or is it more useful to see it as a state of mind? I once had a vision for it, but it's obscured now, or multiplied, like a kaleidoscope.<br />
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Surely I was racking up sleep debt.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadian <a href="https://www.tripsavvy.com/what-is-a-tope-1589140" target="_blank">topes</a>? They're much more polite.</td></tr>
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Drivers had complained of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frost_heaving" target="_blank">frost heaves</a> on the way to Dawson City, but I mostly picked my way around them. Mostly. While lost in made-up conversations in my head, at least one caught me unawares and launched me clean into the air.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Destination for the night.</td></tr>
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It was a bit chilly to camp, but the hotels in a tourist town were expensive for a solo traveler. There were two hostels, one across the river and a <a href="https://www.yukon-news.com/business/dawson-citys-new-hostel-is-the-cats-pyjamas/" target="_blank">new hostel in town</a>. Nancy dissuaded me from the one across the river, so I pulled up to the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dawsoncityhostel/" target="_blank">Cat's Pyjamas</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic building on the front...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470276051/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4885"><img alt="IMG_4885" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4531/38470276051_7c1cf4768c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...historic character where you're actually staying.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walk about town.</td></tr>
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At the height of the gold rush, Dawson City ballooned to a population of 40,000 – unimaginable, when a brisk walk could find you at the edge of town in less than 15 minutes now. The storefronts and boardwalks looked like a movie set to me, but unfortunately movies and <a href="https://www.hongkongdisneyland.com/attractions/big-grizzly-mountain-runaway-mine-cars/" target="_blank">Disney rides</a> were the only things I knew to measure Dawson against.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabin next to the Klondike Visitors Association, but I don't recall if it belonged to someone of note or if it was reconstructed to Yukon historic standards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694513299/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4874"><img alt="IMG_4874" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4560/26694513299_7026b6c17c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Placard on the right explains the use of old flattened barrels for siding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694511609/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4872"><img alt="IMG_4872" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4544/26694511609_d95e5f433a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=10372" target="_blank">Ruby's Place</a> was a brothel and later a boarding house. Businesses are all themes of gold, diamond, and bonanza.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The vibrant colors add to the unreality feel, but maybe it's more cheerful in high tourist season.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building on permafrost has some drawbacks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Definitely some drawbacks.</td></tr>
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Let's just say, the Cats Pyjamas made my freshmen dorm look swanky. Though the metal bunks were shored up with planks, mine required some acrobatic prowess to mount since it was missing some reinforcement. I managed to sleep a night without squashing my lower bunkmate.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ragtime piano player at the Downtown Hotel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our group of intrepid young travelers are here for...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/25312622938/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="DTWK3074"><img alt="DTWK3074" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4593/25312622938_335495da60.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...the <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/sourtoe-cocktail" target="_blank">Sourtoe Cocktail</a>!</td></tr>
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"Drink it fast or drink it slow, the lips have gotta touch the toe." I'd missed getting Hyderized, but I guess I couldn't escape all the weird northern alcohol traditions.<br />
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At the recommendation of previous patrons, I had my Sourtoe Cocktail with <a href="https://www.thewhiskyexchange.com/p/21980/newfoundland-screech-rum" target="_blank">Newfoundland Screech Rum</a>. I believe the finer points of the liquor were lost to the spectacle of the little salami-like object plunked in my drink.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain Dick Stephenson's Sourtoe cabinet.</td></tr>
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As I stared down into the glass, I thought for a moment I saw a little brown chip, like a toenail, that had fallen off and sat at the bottom. It was merely a reflection in the glass, but pointing it out satisfactorily grossed out my new friends.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38301674545/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="sourtoe"><img alt="sourtoe" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4691/38301674545_6d14b9d176.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The value is in grossing out your friends. Especially the vegetarian!</td></tr>
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Five dollars, what a racket! At least the good Captain will give your glass a tap if the toe gets stuck to the bottom.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414452036/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4925"><img alt="IMG_4925" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4586/38414452036_ba66b067f2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washing out the taste of the Sourtoe by sampling other local booze: <a href="https://www.thewhiskyexchange.com/p/5249/yukon-jack-whisky-liqueur" target="_blank">Yukon Jack</a>.</td></tr>
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Ryota was staying in the rustic hostel across the river. In keeping with Yukon authenticity, it skipped such luxuries as electricity and running water. That morning, he spent 3 hours making his own fire to cook breakfast. Guess I'll take the sloped, neglected hostel! Even though the oven looked like it was from the 1970s, and hot oil leaked out and slid across the slanted kitchen floor the last time a guest tried to use it, hey, "At least it's not the 1870s!"<br />
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The other couple, because they were two, booked the cheapest hotel room on the other side of town. Ha.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414452846/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4928"><img alt="IMG_4928" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4566/38414452846_3bc6fbefca.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://dawsoncity.ca/eat-and-drink/westminster-tavern-lounge/" target="_blank">The Pit</a>, a tavern at the base of the bright pink Westminster Hotel, is quiet this early in the season.<br />
We emerged from the bar to pink skies, midnight sun trickery.</td></tr>
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There was some talk that night about the lack of affordable housing for the seasonal workers in town, many from Europe. The next day, hostel staff walked to the free store on the outskirts of Dawson, in search of kitchen basics like a kettle and dish sponges.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scooting around town. 18 mile loop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470144391/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="P5232595"><img alt="P5232595" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4542/38470144391_c5388f781a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overcast at the Midnight Dome Viewpoint.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I finished a photography course while in SF, and Pete loaned me his Olympus for this trip.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now I get to play with lenses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414459356/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4934"><img alt="IMG_4934" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4538/38414459356_0e8d3f6348_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoot by some old cemeteries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583184935/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4935"><img alt="IMG_4935" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4519/37583184935_5fd1d09c9c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why do they these graves have little cribs built around them?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37583187945/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4937"><img alt="IMG_4937" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4549/37583187945_c293050ce4.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh no there were babies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414473126/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4941"><img alt="IMG_4941" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4580/38414473126_4fe6832f87.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In death, like birth?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755563784/in/album-72157666450349139/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4940"><img alt="IMG_4940" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4548/37755563784_6d8789fe1b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RCMP cemetery.</td></tr>
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I took my turn on the glacially slow ferry across the Yukon, to explore a paddleboat graveyard.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That'll do for a bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign reads: <i>Help us preserve our heritage. Please leave the site as you found it.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were clearly some footpaths around the ruined ships. Water too, sought the easiest path to the river, soaking the ground beneath the planks and turning paths into ponds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does my treading (or hopping from plank to plank) do more damage than the ravages of weather?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paddling no more.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hull goes there.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sea of multiple shipwrecks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yukon glides by.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I compressed myself in some places, and lifted myself to access others. Glad to be covered in kevlar, leather, and armor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smells musty in here. Sadly, there were some beer cans and graffiti.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cast iron survivors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beached.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a blast.</td></tr>
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With no railings or guidelines, the paddleboat graveyard was neither safe nor child proof. It was so much fun!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Procession going on back in town.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ceremony for the rededication of an RCMP cemetery...the one I scooted by earlier.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a free BBQ after, with fiddle music and cancan dancing. Party Dawson City style!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you for your service, handsomely dressed mounty.</td></tr>
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I shared a table with modern surveyors over lunch. Panning for gold in the rivers was for tourists. Their team of geophysicists and small craft pilots analyzed vast swaths of land, providing consulting services for corporations on locations most likely to be rich in minerals of any kind. A fascinating turn in modern mining, but in true nerd form (I recognize my own), they had to stop themselves short of sharing proprietary techniques.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice rig, who are you?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was recommended to fill up on fish and chips at <a href="https://dawsoncity.ca/eat-and-drink/sourdough-joes-restaurant/" target="_blank">Sourdough Joe's</a>.</td></tr>
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For those of who wonder how I can eat out so often on a budget: you're right, I could stretch my dollar farther by cooking my own dry goods. I do cook sometimes and always carry breakfast, but I very much enjoy eating what's available around me. For me, it's worth the extra expense, and with inflated American portions I seldom eat more than half a meal serving anyway. The other half I wrap in aluminum foil (indispensable on the bike, it also makes a funnel for oil changes), saved for another meal.<br />
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Yep, I make it work by hoarding food. My soft cooler instead of a camp kitchen works for me, and I'm okay with eating a lot of food cold. This also hopefully curbs the tendency to balloon up on fattening road foods. I mean, my potato chip intake alone has increased 1000% since embarking north...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting some hostel folks for the cabaret at <a href="https://dawsoncity.ca/diamond-tooth-gerties/" target="_blank">Diamond Tooth Gerties</a>.<br />
The can-can dancers made some of the younger guests blush.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I tried bribing the doorman with my leftovers from Sourdough Joe's, and it actually worked!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye, sinking hostel! Happy to leave this squalor behind.</td></tr>
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I must admit, I was eager to put Dawson City in my rear view mirror. Since all the claims had been made it had the air of a far-flung reenactment camp, capitalizing on tourists and taking advantage of the good nature of European seasonal workers. The frontier was stocked with enough ice cream and dreamcatchers for the busloads, but the real frontier was the search for a dish sponge.<br />
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To be fair though, I can't call it a tourist trap – you're never really trapped. The fantastic, raw wildness of the Yukon was always right there, outside town.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-48168123982074411522017-12-19T08:42:00.000-08:002018-01-11T01:15:42.890-08:00The Indoor Life in Whitehorse, YT. May 19 - 21, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37770783494/in/album-72157689339922004/" title="Whitehorse-loops"><img alt="Whitehorse-loops" height="461" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4522/37770783494_3baa4c1fa6_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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Nothing in Whitehorse is more than 10 minutes away, because if you've gone any farther you're pretty much in the wild. The town was just big enough to have what I sought: a large grocery store where I availed myself to some produce (and gasped at the prices), and a cozy hostel with blackout curtains.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.bzkneez.com/" target="_blank">Beez Kneez Bakpaker</a> is a quintessential hostel.</td></tr>
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Nancy, a most remarkable woman who manages the hostel in town, informed me that the ferry at Dawson City was operating and the Canadian side of the Top of the World Highway was open. However, no one was staffed at the U.S. Border Patrol yet, so I wouldn't be able to cross. Rain was in the forecast for the next few days as well, so I took this as a welcome invite to spend my days reading in the common area and chatting with other hostel guests.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bertha runs security.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_places_with_columnar_jointed_volcanics" target="_blank">Basalt cliffs</a> at Miles Canyon.</td></tr>
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<br />
When I wanted a break from the indoor life, Nancy recommended a mini adventure to Miles Canyon just outside of town.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755137264/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4716"><img alt="IMG_4716" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4537/37755137264_3ec544a8e1.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The suspension bridge shook in the wind as I crossed.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694155879/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4714"><img alt="IMG_4714" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4562/26694155879_dbc628515b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I picked a short trail with a warning, For experienced hikers only. No railings along the footpath, just a sheer drop to the Yukon below.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438180452/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4719"><img alt="IMG_4719" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4545/38438180452_97b9e0c548_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hark, an outcropping. I must climb it.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414052816/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4727"><img alt="IMG_4727" height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4561/38414052816_9bba22c81d.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbed it. Yay.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755146244/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4720"><img alt="IMG_4720" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4566/37755146244_9e930679e7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the outcropping. You can see the lava-formed columns and the jagged path atop.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755153764/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4729"><img alt="IMG_4729" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4538/37755153764_f368b856f5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brave kayaker.</td></tr>
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<br />
There were a number of hiking trails and what looked like fire roads, but the gathering rain clouds gave me an excuse to hustle back indoors.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755154474/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4730"><img alt="IMG_4730" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4527/37755154474_14837a2287_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon River.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755156174/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4735"><img alt="IMG_4735" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4582/37755156174_09ea40bf5d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now that's a stylish way to get around.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414063076/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4737"><img alt="IMG_4737" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4562/38414063076_0b50c56534_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nobody home though.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755157964/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4742"><img alt="IMG_4742" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4531/37755157964_aef2c95b2d.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer and liquor tasting at the <a href="http://yukonbeer.com/" target="_blank">Yukon Brewing</a>.</td></tr>
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<br />
Anyway, I had an appointment with Roberta from the hostel to tour <a href="http://yukonbeer.com/" target="_blank">Yukon Brewing</a>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755158964/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4744"><img alt="IMG_4744" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4522/37755158964_4aa3240df3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lone still peeking from behind beer.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755158354/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4745"><img alt="IMG_4745" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4535/37755158354_2ca82e061c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was wondering who 'Lee Doug' was until I realized I'd misheard the guide. The beer is called Lead Dog.</td></tr>
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<br />
For the remainder of the afternoon, I settled into a large couch by the window with my book, a handful of raspberries, and a warm buzz (the espresso stout and haskap berry liqueur were my favorites). The chatter of Spanish climbers at the table mixed with whatever was playing quietly on the sound system: Nancy's choice. Roberta worked on her laptop from the opposite couch. It was everything I needed.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755161244/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4746"><img alt="IMG_4746" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4560/37755161244_aa44eb95ea.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.coasthotels.com/hotels/yukon/whitehorse/coast-high-country-inn/dining/" target="_blank">The Deck</a> cracks me up, because it's an indoor space decorated to look outdoors.</td></tr>
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<br />
There weren't many restaurants open, but Roberta and I set up at <a href="https://www.coasthotels.com/hotels/yukon/whitehorse/coast-high-country-inn/dining/" target="_blank">The Deck</a>. Over dinner, I learned about first nations in Canada and her graduate studies; Roberta is Cree, and was interviewing first nations on this side of the continent for her graduate studies.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694197619/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4753"><img alt="IMG_4753" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4544/26694197619_e9c3bdd6c7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Car ride to Atlin with Alex and Nancy! Bill is driving.</td></tr>
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<br />
On Nancy's day off, she invited Alex and I to join her for her first skydiving experience. Bill came to pick us up for the drive to the launch site near Atlin.<br />
<br />
"I think I'm allowed back at the Atlin Inn," Nancy remarked as she threw some warm layers and a 6-pack of beer in the car. Over the course of the day the beer would magically vanish, though I only saw her pound one of them when we refueled at Jake's Corner. She was nervous about the jump.<br />
<br />
It was a ragtag family outing. In the car, we could cover distances that would otherwise be exhausting for me on the bike. Along the drive, we paused for scenic views, or for Alex, from Australia, to get out of the car to chase wildlife with her point-and-shoot. The car had a CD player and we found one CD of an artist I didn't know, but Nancy sang along. She would point out things to Alex and I, like the 'free store' on the other side of the road: a cabin where people drop off their extra things, and other people pick it up. Or the origin of the names for nearby <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snafu" target="_blank">Snafu</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarfu" target="_blank">Tarfu</a> Lakes.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438244932/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4758"><img alt="IMG_4758" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4571/38438244932_f00756e9db.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windy out here.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438249802/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4764"><img alt="IMG_4764" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4578/38438249802_ca8497e4e7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aww. Scenery and piss break.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694207789/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4766"><img alt="IMG_4766" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4580/26694207789_3bdb8a2914.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't know porcupines climbed.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/26694208379/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4767"><img alt="IMG_4767" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4526/26694208379_77b73150f4.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex is keen to get a photo.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/24598095138/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4769"><img alt="IMG_4769" height="182" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4559/24598095138_10e85b1498_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atlin.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/24598184728/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8651"><img alt="IMG_8651" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4548/24598184728_a1082ef012.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice shot, Nancy.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38414177086/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8626"><img alt="IMG_8626" height="374" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4552/38414177086_860be5c816.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex and I are here to support your jump...</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38470008931/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4775"><img alt="IMG_4775" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4533/38470008931_3ffd7bca99.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...Out of a helicopter!</td></tr>
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<br />
Years ago, I was lucky enough to join a daring friend to go skydiving in New Hampshire. It was several hours of waiting, leading up to about 7 seconds of full adrenaline dump. Optional followup with beer, attempting to chill the fuck out again.<br />
<br />
This would be Nancy's first jump. While she waited for the skies to clear, she convinced Bill to take Alex and I for a drive to Warm Springs.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37755217954/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4781"><img alt="IMG_4781" height="363" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4525/37755217954_479c69da84_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warm Springs. It's an oasis of bright green in an otherwise wintry setting. Bill says spring is 10 days late, just my luck.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438298902/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4782"><img alt="IMG_4782" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4585/38438298902_7e10cd9769_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water was warm like a bath. I picked a handful of watercress for Alex, and saw tiny prawns swimming among the salad bar.</td></tr>
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<br />
While looking for a bag to hold Alex's watercress, Bill instead found a pair of spare underwear in the center console. Ha, Nancy.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/38438294552/in/album-72157689339922004/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_4786"><img alt="IMG_4786" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4530/38438294552_0c1ef14741_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clock post and old jail in Atlin. Hopefully won't get kicked out of the Atlin Inn and thrown in here?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discovery Saloon, connected to the Atlin Inn, where Nancy was indeed allowed back in.</td></tr>
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In the end, the skies never cleared enough for even a helicopter ride. We picked Nancy up from the airport for a consolation drink and pot pies at the Discovery Saloon. "That's socked in, eh," she intoned, looking out the window at the stubborn cloud cover.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atlin Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Good place to keep your beer cold." -Nancy</td></tr>
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We took a different way back to Whitehorse, for a brief visit to Carcross.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another lake, from Carcross. I believe there's a glacier in the distance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at the hostel, alpinists and their gear. Photo by Alex.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the pic, Alex.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His team attempted to summit Mount Logan, but had to come back due to a teammate's high-altitude cerebral edema (<a href="https://emedicine.medscape.com/article/303571-overview#a6" target="_blank">HACE</a>).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbers need to plan enough food for the way up, the way down, and double that in case of emergency. True alpinists don't get helicoptered out if something goes wrong. Now that his friends have gone home, he's eating through his supplies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got to try a bit of his climbing bread with a pat of butter, on the most adorable cutting board.<br />
It makes me think of elven waybread, <a href="http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Lembas" target="_blank">Lembas</a>.</td></tr>
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Adding to the growing list of people way more hardcore than me riding a scooter to Alaska: Cyclists, kayakers, hikers, and alpinists of any variety.<br />
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For me, I had hardcore rest and relaxation plans at the nearby hot springs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Takhini Hot Springs, a short ride outside Whitehorse.</td></tr>
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Their cafe was more than I wanted to pay for, but it's pretty wild to savor a snowy mountain view while soaking in steaming mineral water.<br />
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Flushed and with a relaxed heaviness in my limbs, I found an eagerness to feel the cold tickling the edges of my face through the helmet vents. I was ready for the road again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last chill evening at Beez Kneez.</td></tr>
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News came in that U.S. border had opened on Sunday. A fresh group of guests arrived at the hostel, and the consensus was to go to Dirty Old Bastard for a night on the town. It was a surprisingly hipster kind of place but our party befriended local patrons, and not long into the Whitehorse bar scene a women introduced me to the Burnt Reynolds shot. It arrived on fire, and with instructions to drink it like this:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for demo of how to drink the Burnt Reynolds shot.</td></tr>
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In an ongoing series of "you had to be there" moments, a very drunk man invited me to pick mushrooms with him (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morchella" target="_blank">morels</a> were lucrative and in season) before sliding off his seat, and I found a mummified cat before the end of the night.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In other peculiarities, a mummified cat guards the restroom of Dirty Old Bastard.</td></tr>
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Our party ended up staying out till 2am and walked back in twilight – a fitting farewell. I was sad to part ways, but the nature of a hostel, as any gathering of travelers, is fleeting. The regular cast of waywards in the past few days – hitchhikers, students, climbers, cyclists, kayakers, seasonal workers, or someone just looking for a home – were a colorful insta-family after so many miles solo, but after I left there would be no one to share this tiny slice of mutual history in Whitehorse.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-39703219278062181042017-12-06T15:19:00.001-08:002017-12-13T12:14:23.348-08:00Boya, That's Beautiful. Stewart-Cassiar to Alaska Highway. May 17 - 18, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
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I had a few campgrounds (recreation sites, as they're called) along the Stewart-Cassiar in mind for the next stretch. I knew I would be riding through some remote places, and figured I'd just go until I felt ready to stop. It's a supreme luxury, the freedom to go till whenever, with no one expecting you anywhere, anytime. I suppose it depends on the person whether they find that freeing or concerning.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little bugger managed to get mashed <i>between</i> the inside of my pinlock and visor, requiring disassembly to clean.</td></tr>
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I was happy to wake up unmolested by bears, but mosquitoes were another thing. They were still relatively sparse early in the season and didn't bother me with gear on, but they were <i>huge</i>. The bloody spatters resulting from riding through a cloud of them would give Pollock a run for his money. The ride up Salmon Glacier road had coated the accumulated bug innards with dust, and it was time for a <a href="http://amzn.to/2jOJXoN" target="_blank">proper cleaning</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hee hee, left a mark by some Kiwis at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Temptations-Bakery-Deli-494370267413938/" target="_blank">Temptations Bakery and Deli</a> in Stewart, BC.</td></tr>
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Hyder was a ghost town, but Stewart was still a sleepy community. They made up for it by being exceptionally welcoming. Temptations Bakery, the only place open for coffee, had so many stickers and handwritten iterations of "So-and-so was here," the scrawls climbed up into the beams. They provided me a Sharpie to add my own.<br />
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Everyone present seemed local, but a kind trucker struck up conversation over coffee. I did my best to decipher his very strong accent. Thank you for the coffee, accented Canadian man.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road is all mine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This. For hours.</td></tr>
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Everyone at Bell II (there is a Bell I but it's never on maps) was on their way to Alaska for seasonal work. The last thing resembling a community for miles was the Dease Lake gas station, where my bike decided to have difficulty starting. A couple instances earlier it seemed to hiccup on the road, or was that a gust of wind? Perhaps bad gas? When I checked the spark plug it hadn't budged. My red Loctite was on hand, but that freedom-fear scale made a brief tip in the other direction.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More maracas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always stop for gas.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bell II had a lodge for hunters, but this one at Tatogga Lake Resort was something else.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I <i>moose</i>-t ask you...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you buy off the rack?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stopped for a break and browsed through the Kluochon Centre Store in Iskut.<br />
Prices were high and I didn't quite belong, but this was the view outside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ketchup chips available by the box here?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still stunning.</td></tr>
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I passed many lakes that were still frozen or had old snow clinging precariously to the edges. Much like upstate NY, I read that glaciers had carved and fed the long deep lakes in this region.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the most glorious campgrounds I've ever been fortunate enough to find.</td></tr>
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The sun was still high around 7:30pm, when I arrived at <a href="http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/boya_lk/" target="_blank">Boya Lake Provincial Park</a>. A soft twilight began to fall around 8, when my tent was pitched. I couldn't have found myself in a more perfect place.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man was fishing to the left of this shot, but he said nothing bit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boya Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tour of the sprinter.</td></tr>
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I took a walk around camp with Gwen and Genevieve from Anchorage. They were driving a sprinter van up from Portland to Fairbanks. We chatted about Hatcher's pass, the ferry to Kodiak, and much more. It reminded me how much was ahead, and that I should pace myself. I'd bump into them again returning from Watson Lake!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking around the lake with Gwen and Genevieve.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me next on the swing!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yesss. There's a <a href="https://flic.kr/p/21wtXuL" target="_blank">video here</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a mirror.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They said there was a caribou on the other side of the lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the photo, Gwen!</td></tr>
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In the absence of bear lockers, I attempted to be responsible and hang a bear bag. It was the most ludicrous thing I've ever attempted, and I'm glad no one was there to witness. After many snags and missed throws, I left my snacks and toothpaste hanging over a low ditch and figured the bears could have their minty snack if they wanted it so bad.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What time is it? I'm just now realizing that my camp lantern is as useless as me trying to hang a bear bag.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phone says it's 9pm.</td></tr>
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I loved arranging the tent so the window would face the lake and mountains. Looking out from between the giant mosquitoes settled on the mesh, I reveled in such good fortune that each night I get to set up a new home. But each morning I had to tear it down too.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In any other situation, 6am would be ungodly for breakfast.</td></tr>
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Around 11:40pm I woke briefly, and there was still light in the sky. A loud splash echoed across the water around 3am, when a caribou decided to take a bath in the lake. The sky was already brightening. The extended sunlight was addicting, I was really going to have to work to pace myself.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon! Thanks for the photo, RVers on the other side of the road taking photos of the British Columbia sign.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brief detour east for <a href="http://www.watsonlake.ca/our-community/sign-post-forest/" target="_blank">Sign Post Forest</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoot was here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hurr.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wandering, looking for a sign...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still looking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The closest thing I could find to Providence, RI. I left a sticker.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Alaska Highway junction, the attendant suggested the <a href="http://rancherialodgeyukon.com/" target="_blank">Rancheria Lodge</a> for all day breakfast. They were delicious, and had wifi too!<br />
I met two motorcyclists hauling a trailer, and a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mod_(subculture)" target="_blank">mod</a> over lunch. He had a Lambretta in the 60s in England, put a ton of mirrors on the front of his bike, and wore a suit and everything. "It was all about looks then."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glacier fed waters take on a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_flour" target="_blank">greenish hue</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motoring towards Whitehorse.</td></tr>
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On Highway 37, there were just enough bumps to keep me awake, and the constant company of snow topped mountains punctuated by emerald lakes. I wondered whether their beauty would ever become plain, like air that you simply breath in. When people here go to other places, do they find it terribly dull? A Sri Lankan guide once shared that travel was difficult for him, because foreign food tasted like water to his spice-acclimated palate.<br />
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A long stretch of gravel construction slowed me, but otherwise the pavement from the Stewart-Cassiar and Alaska Highway to Whitehorse was utterly tame. The highway rode a fine line between zen-like serenity... and boredom. The scenery was expansive but looked the same for hours, then you would come upon a small lodge of a town. A part of me wished I had a big bike up here, to eat up such great distances.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having my fish and chips.<br />
<a href="https://www.bzkneez.com/" target="_blank">Beez Kneez</a> was affiliated with <a href="https://www.klondikerib.com/" target="_blank">Klondike Rib & Salmon</a>, so I gratefully accepted a coupon for dinner.</td></tr>
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Whitehorse, with a population of 25,000, was the biggest city I'd seen since Vancouver. Rolling in, I felt giddy with the traffic lights and people and civilization. I needed a rest, and the <a href="https://www.bzkneez.com/" target="_blank">Beez Kneez Bakpakers</a> had bunks and blackout curtains.<br />
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This blue midnight sun is weird.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-2175423801271907342017-12-04T12:18:00.000-08:002017-12-04T12:18:22.735-08:00Scooter Holiday Cards are back!<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="307" src="https://jellycity.com/250superhero/scooterxmas2017/images/sxmas2_top.gif" width="640" /></div>
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Whether you missed them last year or simply want to grab another round, I've opened up my holiday card sales again.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jellycity.com/250superhero/scooterxmas2017/" target="_blank"><img src="https://jellycity.com/250superhero/scooterxmas2017/images/mix_tb.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jellycity.com/250superhero/scooterxmas2017/" target="_blank">Cards are back!</a></td></tr>
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</div>
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<a href="http://jellycity.com/250superhero/scooterxmas2017/" target="_blank">Check it out</a> – markdowns apply, while supplies last!<br />
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I promise, I'm working on catch-up posts for Alaska too.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-78363789591478521392017-11-30T13:10:00.000-08:002017-12-04T20:49:50.071-08:00How To Care For Your Overlander: A Stuff-Free Guide<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f14xhhlJDTg/WiBOnDAdGfI/AAAAAAAAF7U/5rkf9d20ALItkDs08lFplDLoIgvbnkE-wCLcBGAs/s1600/elephantvespa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f14xhhlJDTg/WiBOnDAdGfI/AAAAAAAAF7U/5rkf9d20ALItkDs08lFplDLoIgvbnkE-wCLcBGAs/s400/elephantvespa.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Want to give a gift that won't weigh them down?</td></tr>
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The holiday season is upon us, so what better time to do a gift-giving guide?<br />
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This post has been kicking around in my head for a while. It's not a run-down of newest riding gear or hottest bike farkle. Chances are, if someone has been riding this long, they probably already have everything they need and don't have room for more. My list was born from being asked, "What do you do to treat yourself, when you can't carry gifts?"<br />
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So, in a season inundated with messages of rampant consumerism, what do you do for someone without giving them stuff?<br />
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Whether you're thinking of your minimalist motorbike traveler or someone who's just simplifying their life, here are some ideas for awesome gifts that won't clutter the closet or the topcase!<br />
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<h2>
Share a Meal</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-46PfIT1DXHE/VTxyu8dexSI/AAAAAAAAD_U/8MTV5ybc1M0/s640/blogger-image-929174172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-46PfIT1DXHE/VTxyu8dexSI/AAAAAAAAD_U/8MTV5ybc1M0/s400/blogger-image-929174172.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2015/04/418-ultimate-comfort-food.html" target="_blank">April 18, 2015 (Houston, TX)</a>, a home-cooked meal with my Aunt and Uncle.</td></tr>
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</div>
<br />
Invite them for a meal. Easy. I do have an obvious bias here, because I love food. I suppose this could <i>eventually</i> weigh a bike down, but it's hard to beat a lovely meal with good company. It doesn't have to be a high end, five-star, dress-up occasion – though that's a fun puzzle with riding gear. Just a good, genuine meal, or even an effort to satisfy a craving.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WeszQFV0J2Q/WiBxn14XsPI/AAAAAAAAF8Q/h7tuNYGfwOAgUyuA5hRzND6fpqtOKHTSACLcBGAs/s1600/18253188_1654542661522043_4878124271685074944_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WeszQFV0J2Q/WiBxn14XsPI/AAAAAAAAF8Q/h7tuNYGfwOAgUyuA5hRzND6fpqtOKHTSACLcBGAs/s400/18253188_1654542661522043_4878124271685074944_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious food and company medley. Portland, OR, May 2017.</td></tr>
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For instance, American expats have expressed that fixing an enormous Thanksgiving meal means more when you're in a country that doesn't celebrate the holiday (it also makes for interesting substitutions when your local markets aren't automatically flooded with frozen turkeys and cranberries by the first of November). I've enjoyed Burns Suppers with poetry readings, and Passover dinners that included descriptions of what each dish symbolized.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37420615790/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4489/37420615790_470feeea1f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Treat yo self. Victoria, BC, May 2017.</td></tr>
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It doesn't have to be tied to a holiday. A reservation for <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-ferry-fancy-life-port-angeles-and.html" target="_blank">High Tea at the Empress</a>. Hotpot at home with friends.<br />
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Simply put, a good meal takes on more meaning than the food laid before you.<br />
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<h2>
Massage/Spa Day</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YdtzXvBxBRQ/WiBOP0heJgI/AAAAAAAAF7M/d60LMdby3LAPOm-bsDIeKVye82fMiqkDQCLcBGAs/s1600/massage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YdtzXvBxBRQ/WiBOP0heJgI/AAAAAAAAF7M/d60LMdby3LAPOm-bsDIeKVye82fMiqkDQCLcBGAs/s1600/massage.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh.</td></tr>
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A gift certificate for a massage is probably the best gift I could ever hope to receive. Muscles get tight with extended riding or extended sitting. I don't get to exercise as frequently as I would like (y'know, to offset all that good food). If you know a talented masseuse, <i>hook a rider up</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f_Ril4oCclk/WiBdCQ0sgoI/AAAAAAAAF7s/djyWrScmuxIB8LeUGa9f3isbDGGwohf-wCLcBGAs/s1600/He%2Bcan%2527t%2Bhandle%2Ba%2Bmassage%2B-%2BImgur.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="728" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f_Ril4oCclk/WiBdCQ0sgoI/AAAAAAAAF7s/djyWrScmuxIB8LeUGa9f3isbDGGwohf-wCLcBGAs/s320/He%2Bcan%2527t%2Bhandle%2Ba%2Bmassage%2B-%2BImgur.gif" width="291" /></a></div>
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This isn't limited to massage if your rider-person doesn't like massages, but any spa-type services. I'm still grateful for Shannon and Justin gifting me an <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2017/08/friends-and-food-and-floating-portland.html" target="_blank">isolation tank experience</a>, even though I discovered it wasn't quite for me. I recently experienced my first pedicure (also not for me). An indoor climbing gym I frequented in San Francisco had a small steam room and sauna, absolutely luxurious after a bouldering session. Which leads me to...<br />
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<h2>
Classes</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cqjv6J1UfP4/WiBOb13i_-I/AAAAAAAAF7Q/YrKx6FAaL2IRY9HDPO1j2t7ODazvsM3qgCLcBGAs/s1600/trapeze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="356" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cqjv6J1UfP4/WiBOb13i_-I/AAAAAAAAF7Q/YrKx6FAaL2IRY9HDPO1j2t7ODazvsM3qgCLcBGAs/s640/trapeze.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll master the catch someday.</td></tr>
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Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you know how the saying goes.<br />
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For my 30th birthday, I took a flying trapeze class. You can also learn to weld, which is helpful on the bike. You can get punch cards or vouchers for just about anything, like...<br />
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<ul>
<li>Indoor rock climbing gyms</li>
<li>Yoga classes</li>
<li>Aerial silks</li>
<li>Surfing</li>
<li>Diving</li>
<li>Cooking</li>
<li>Photography</li>
<li>Wine tasting</li>
<li>Archery range</li>
<li>Knife throwing</li>
<li>Flame swallowing</li>
<li>Kitten juggling</li>
<li>Whatever your person is interested in trying, especially if it includes requisite gear!</li>
</ul>
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<h2>
eBooks/Audiobooks</h2>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gwF7Pn78B5Y/WiBOpuscFRI/AAAAAAAAF7c/M8nbULxP5501ervy0o9jP9RKT5WIh1ZJQCLcBGAs/s1600/ipad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="1448" height="285" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gwF7Pn78B5Y/WiBOpuscFRI/AAAAAAAAF7c/M8nbULxP5501ervy0o9jP9RKT5WIh1ZJQCLcBGAs/s400/ipad.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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If your person has a Kindle or iPad or whatever digital reader that will put up with the abuse of living on a motorbike, a digital book weighs nothing and contains the world.<br />
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<h2>
Private Room/Getaway</h2>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu0HhPBSkMM/WiBOpvw5MmI/AAAAAAAAF7Y/2h4bkbuf_ksdiPQ6erWfoUO9e6vkqmN9gCLcBGAs/s1600/door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu0HhPBSkMM/WiBOpvw5MmI/AAAAAAAAF7Y/2h4bkbuf_ksdiPQ6erWfoUO9e6vkqmN9gCLcBGAs/s320/door.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On the material side, a private hotel room is an especially restorative gift for someone actively covering distance. This is the real life equivalent of a tent and save on the worldmap in an RPG. A hot bath, fluffy towels, soft bed, steady wifi, air conditioning/heat depending on your location, and some privacy – it does wonders.<br />
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Contrary to popular belief I'm not on a perpetual vacation, drinking by the pool and staying in hotels, steeped in a bottomless stream of booze, glitter, and luxury. I probably stayed in a nice hotel on the road about as often as I stayed in a nice hotel when I was living in once place – that's to say, maybe once or twice a year for a special occasion.<br />
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<h2>
Experiences</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oUJeQ1354Ao/VRR1JTP5nyI/AAAAAAAAD4E/fAMPS4XqKDk/s640/blogger-image--719418247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="383" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oUJeQ1354Ao/VRR1JTP5nyI/AAAAAAAAD4E/fAMPS4XqKDk/s400/blogger-image--719418247.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2015/03/322-pocket-nutmeg.html" target="_blank">March 22, 2015</a>. The other AB.</td></tr>
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Backcountry snowmobiling? Ice skating? Kayaking? Helicopter ride? Bungee jumping? Sky diving? The sky is the limit (see what I did there). Did someone say tickets to their favorite celebrity chef live?<br />
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What it comes down to is this: Someone who has pared down their belongings to live on their bike definitely hasn't done so to make your seasonal shopping more difficult. They just tend to cherish experiences over stuff. If you really must give something, send them good experiences and they will be grateful for life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eY59LgA8pqg/WiBqLdegJ2I/AAAAAAAAF8A/0g6Z-6A2NPQqQZIHs40Bx3rUvBjnoOHgwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="375" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eY59LgA8pqg/WiBqLdegJ2I/AAAAAAAAF8A/0g6Z-6A2NPQqQZIHs40Bx3rUvBjnoOHgwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0054.JPG" width-="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the amazing freezing fun, Fred and Alice! Yellowstone National Park, December 2016.</td></tr>
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Just to be clear, I am not soliciting giveaways here. I <i>am</i> suggesting there are many things you can do to treat yourself or others that won't become clutter. Better yet, it can broaden horizons, encourage health, or help less fortunate – any time of year is appropriate for donations to the charitable cause of your choice.<br />
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Do you have more thoughts or suggestions on treats for the stuff-free person in your life or your live onboard motorist? Pipe up in the comments!Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-42037444281291226482017-11-16T10:58:00.002-08:002017-11-16T10:58:35.801-08:00Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37706941042/in/album-72157687960866714/" title="Hazelton-to-Stewart"><img alt="Hazelton-to-Stewart" height="460" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4485/37706941042_1feeb0e0e6_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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Putting on all my layers in the morning felt like dressing for battle. Today, I would touch Alaskan soil, albeit in the tiny tourist town of Hyder, AK. I had a low mileage day ahead of me, to give myself time to explore Kispiox again and see how far I got up to Salmon Glacier.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884156788/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4452/23884156788_07acd7106d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Totem_pole" target="_blank">totem poles</a> this time!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705004562/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4485/37705004562_a2071b3d82_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not sure how I missed these the first time through Kispiox, they're massive. Must be the dogs chasing me.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705006752/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4497/37705006752_20d75e5e8e.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Works in progress, totems are still being carved and erected today.</td></tr>
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The totems were a convenient place to pause and properly tighten down my mirror. It had come loose when a drunk woman used it as an assist to take selfies on my bike a few nights back, and I kept putting it off. Ah well.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705018072/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4501/37705018072_c670003383.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A unicyclist with maracas? How in-<i>grate</i>-iating.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737276321/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4465/37737276321_3dd4436922.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First sign of Alaska, at the Stewart-Cassiar Highway junction!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737268691/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4508/37737268691_800610c646.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What're you, moving to Stewart with all that luggage? Getting Hyderized? Have a safe ride, eh!"<br />
Motorcyclists heading home after a ride to Stewart.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737274641/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4507/37737274641_32c72a23a4.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Designs are everywhere, even the diner. Also, yay they let me order the kid's portion.</td></tr>
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As expected, the dominant vegetable for days had become the noble french fry. Canadians had the best condiment for them as well: GRAVY. It might be my favorite, after malt vinegar. And maybe curry sauce. Okay, top three.<br />
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It was hard to slow down to eat, because I was excited to get to Alaska!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737286681/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4509/37737286681_1c2b612c1f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More totems, in Kitwanga.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688623036/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4454/37688623036_eb5ea315f7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitwanga is part of the Gitxsan Nation.</td></tr>
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Contrasting the ancient totems was a small church and bell tower across the road, which I hadn't paid much attention to at the time. <a href="http://meziadin.com/activities/st-pauls-anglican-church/" target="_blank">St Paul's Anglican Church</a> was founded as a mission station in 1882. It's slightly puzzling how little information I could find, but it seems the Gitxsan Nation had converted to Christianity, encouraged by British settlers. Like the church and totems, the cultures existed side-by-side, even into present day.<br />
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I got the impression that First Nations that ended up being in Canada seem to have been treated with more respect than many of the native people in what became the United States. Maybe the grass just seems greener on the side with affordable healthcare. I stand with <a href="https://youtu.be/2VbYZDohsHk" target="_blank">Wednesday Addams in Addams Family Thankgsiving</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688626056/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4477/37688626056_a9b7280635.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prepare those spare fuel bottles, the Stewart-Cassiar Highway cuts across some of the most remote regions of the province.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37479159430/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4471/37479159430_e97099e9a6_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accommodations for truckers at Meziadin Junction. Too expensive for me.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066651983/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4513/37066651983_914a1867c1.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks like they're used to handling quantity.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37479157100/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4492/37479157100_bae8e98483.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too early in the season, everything is empty.</td></tr>
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I enjoyed the signs for GAS BAR up here, instead of gas station. Every refuel makes me feel like I'm rolling up to a cocktail bar, and when an attendant asks, "What'll you have?" I say "Premium, please," as if I were ordering a Manhattan. On the other hand, a place that does sell alcohol is called a Cold Beer And Wine Store. Always in that order.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688649906/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4453/37688649906_338df4ffe4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things are getting pretty.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884326378/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4479/23884326378_1a7cbd9699_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real pretty.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066695813/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4481/37066695813_7536dc4c94_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue skies.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066728833/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4490/37066728833_f00c6c2a97_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bear Glacier. I took a million photos that look approximately like this.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37479197770/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4471/37479197770_13991801fb.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not supposed to stop here, but no one is around to complain.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884396418/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4496/23884396418_1914a7e2c0.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So cool to see a glacier from the road.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705200392/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4510/37705200392_f47b924179_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in Alaska! No border patrol crossing into the U.S.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705197262/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4454/37705197262_ec05c6a908.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bus was freshly power washed, but not open yet. No fish and chips for me.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884395448/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4463/23884395448_65082a02b2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So quiet.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37705198802/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4472/37705198802_68eb7e6e00_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I picked up the slightest whiff of Canadian cell reception here.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884399258/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4487/23884399258_f02f91775f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It starts.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884406588/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4476/23884406588_a2298502cd.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not open either.</td></tr>
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I'd actually visited Hyder before, years ago on an inner passage cruise with my parents. The southernmost town of Alaska was sustained by tourism, capitalizing on its ghost town roots. This early in the season though, it was truly deserted. Glacier Inn was only open Wed-Sun 2-8. The Bus was freshly power washed but wouldn’t open until the last week of May. The only place semi-open was the campground, and they didn’t have hot water in their showers yet, or wifi. They actually recommended staying in Stewart, which was a 'real town.'<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884405948/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4513/23884405948_91686f920c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's try riding up to a glacier.</td></tr>
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I'd heard the road to Salmon Glacier viewpoint was still snowed in, but told myself I’d ride up until snow made it impassable. The dirt itself was hard-packed and not difficult for riding, in spite of the many signs warning otherwise. It was a beautiful road, with views, waterfalls, and avalanche zones.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737387241/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4473/37737387241_354a67f37e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think they make chains for Vespas?</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688729976/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4496/37688729976_d4cd274a32_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneaking back into British Columbia.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688735416/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4491/37688735416_e183f74b16.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many warnings.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688741876/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4464/37688741876_861fb5ab61_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They didn't warn me about the amazing view.</td></tr>
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Eventually, the road began to climb and temperatures dropped. Old snow clung to corners.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688746906/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4487/37688746906_ba7dff5e7d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And that's all for today. I walked up to the mud, and decided I'd rather keep my bike upright.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688752036/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4456/37688752036_829bedbc5d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was beautiful, though a bit bumpy.</td></tr>
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<br />
My pack seemed to be holding well, until my front gas bottle rattled out from under the bungee net and I ran over it. I managed to retrieve it before it rolled off a cliff, with just a small dent in the side. It gets a carabiner now.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688762016/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4513/37688762016_8255fa3d73_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is that up there?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688760966/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4481/37688760966_43c3a3863d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't <i>bear</i> the anticipation. I waited for a pickup truck coming through to scare it off.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688775856/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4462/37688775856_f57c87ba19_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine and waterfalls and snow and gravel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688774406/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4487/37688774406_a34a899633_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So peaceful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688773546/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4504/37688773546_feea93c47a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gah.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688785566/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4464/37688785566_c1efeaa406.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going back to Canada.</td></tr>
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<br />
On the way back to Stewart to camp, the border officer asked me whether I had bear spray. I'd heard it was illegal to carry it across borders so had held off purchasing any until I was farther along, figuring that playing my ukulele at camp would be enough of a deterrent. This seemed to alarm the officer. She recommended at least getting a 'bear pen' – a small, firecracker that's supposed to scare them away.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884484228/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4490/23884484228_42c45c66cd.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's lovely having sunlight so late each day, I never worry about setting up camp in the dark.</td></tr>
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<br />
I saw seven bears that day, including a mother with two cubs. The campground in town assured me that even though their camp was named Bear River RV Park, they didn't come down this far.<br />
<br />
They had glacier-fed water too, mmm.<br />
<br />
I did worry a bit for my air plant getting too cold at night. George at the Rangeland, ever resourceful, suggested putting a plastic bag over it. A dime bag would have been perfect, but I made do with what I had:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688784046/in/album-72157687960866714/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017."><img alt="Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4467/37688784046_027bef967f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My extreme air plant is pushing the lower limits of temperature tolerance.</td></tr>
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<br />
That was it. Three years and eleven days since departure, scoot and I touched down on 49 U.S. states, Baja Mexico, and 4 Canadian provinces. 65k on the clock.<br />
<br />
The Yukon lay ahead.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-28020412347650124322017-11-11T11:38:00.001-08:002017-11-11T11:41:33.813-08:00Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37029365454/in/album-72157688086883993/" title="Vancouver-to-Hazelton"><img alt="Vancouver-to-Hazelton" height="456" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4480/37029365454_d4c2e8744c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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This was it. My last stop for urbanity before I went into the British Columbian wild. I always dubbed this trip as an Alaskan adventure, but in actuality the largest portion of miles would be Canadian. Indeed, British Columbia alone proved to be expansive, rich in history, and absolutely packed with jaw-dropping natural beauty.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the Canadian Tire parking lot was gorgeous.</td></tr>
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I took BC-99 out of Vancouver, also known as the <a href="https://www.hellobc.com/driving-routes/31/sea-to-sky-highway-route.aspx" target="_blank">Sea to Sky highway</a>. Upon leaving the city, the road immediately dialed up the majestic. Slate blue mountains erupted from the glittering water, frosted at the tips with blinding white snow. Traffic died down to reveal a serpentine stretch of smooth, beautiful tarmac hugging the rocky curves – almost all to myself. The craggy northwestern island formations I'd been sailing past on ferries, I now found myself flying through on my bike. It was utterly sublime.<br />
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The skies were finally clear, but the cold pushed me into a Canadian Tire to warm up. Actually, it was also to find a specific hat, as a gift. I explained to an employee that I heard they carried a hat that made your head look like the Canadian Tire logo, red knit with a green pom.<br />
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"Oh, like a toque?"<br />
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I must admit, I privately delighted at catching a wild 'toque' in its natural habitat.<br />
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"We changed those out for spring. I might be able to dig up one or two in the back though."<br />
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He didn't end up finding any, but I felt I already got more than what I was looking for. I'll come back in the fall.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704509692/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4467/37704509692_08ea80be32.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ride was too glorious to stop for photos, so you only get this one.</td></tr>
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Scooterist Neil had reached out from Whistler, a town where my teenage self attempted to be cool and learn to snowboard (I'm terrible at it, and never went back). As I pulled into the resort town, I had my first close encounter with a Canadian bear, chilling by the train tracks on Alta Lake Road. It looked up as I passed within charging distance, and I swear it asked for a smoke.<br />
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The daylight was getting noticeably longer, so I had plenty of time to meet Neil, Janet, and the most likable dog in the world, Juliet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066114983/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4502/37066114983_e203159d5b.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This dog. She is adorable.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37478701830/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4457/37478701830_53ab485e4c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I joined Juliet for her walk. Do you ever get used to views like this, Janet and Neil?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, Canada.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil is killing it with tortilla bowls.</td></tr>
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At the house, Janet told me, "We have 4 sets of clothes in Whistler: dog walking clothes, work clothes, house clothes, and 'Shit I have to go into the city' clothes."<br />
<br />
The evening passed in easy camaraderie, eating tortilla bowls and drinking Spanish wine, enveloped in armchairs, chatting about Whistler, Neil's Cannonball Runs, and upcoming scooter events.<br />
<br />
Among the topics that stood out to me, Neil mentioned that while broken down "in Arkansas or someplace," he'd never encountered such overt racism – words about then president Obama, and the direction of American healthcare (Neil's confusion was understandable, "From the state of their remaining teeth alone, clearly these were people who would benefit from socialized healthcare."). It surprised me as much as him, but upon further reflection I realized as a young-looking, female, person of color (though I'm still unused to seeing myself as a minority, there are literally <i>billions</i> of people who look like me on the other side of the planet), only the least observant Southerner would unleash the kind of language and sentiment Neil encountered. My stories of racism in the US are much more encounters of the "Your people are so polite" variety. Neil, a tall salt-and-pepper white guy with a willingness to discourse, could be welcomed into the fold and see behind the curtain, even as a Canadian (he jokes they probably called him an N-loving commie after he left).<br />
<br />
I felt badly that this was one of his takeaways from America, but for better or worse, he witnessed a side of the US I probably couldn't stumble upon. The coexistence of hospitality and prejudice is paradoxical, yet exemplified by the region I call a home – though to be fair his story happened deep in hillbilly land. In the past I had the luxury of remaining mostly apolitical, but as an American spending time in another nation, even one as close as Canada, I was already encountering a degree of, "Soooo, what the <i>fuck</i> is going on with your country?" I should probably get used to feeling embarrassed, since the current American president continues to normalize racist, sexist, and backwards thinking.<br />
<br />
Canada is next door to the US, and already I got the feeling that I'm more American when I'm outside the country.<br />
<br />
It was a fascinating discussion for one night. Both he and Janet had to be out of the house early for work, but before I left he handed me one of his free lift passes. Thanks again, Neil!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027188054/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="281" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4462/37027188054_4a856bde60.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going up a mountain. The last time I was on this lift might have been 15 years ago.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37478720390/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4496/37478720390_d304a1e946.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colorful skiiers. In May.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027209244/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4501/37027209244_4d93ab7ac5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting pretty up here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027224234/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4478/37027224234_47e4f4016f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breathtaking. I'm out of breath just stomping around taking photos.</td></tr>
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<br />
As a teenager I never appreciated the luxury of a ski trip here, but now I understand why this is such a winter sport destination. Being out in nature, on a mountaintop surrounded by glaciers... It's breathtaking, even before the physical exertion of sport. The view from the top is phenomenal, avoiding orthopedic injury or certain death as you careen downhill with boards strapped to you feet is just the cherry on top.<br />
<br />
I bet the hot chocolate is tastier up here as well, which must be why it's so expensive.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736788391/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4460/37736788391_5246e3a127_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm sure it helps if you're a fearless kid and don't suck at skiing. Were these children just born with skis on their feet?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23883795188/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4491/23883795188_6b5de8891a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Gumby snowboards.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066195863/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4443/37066195863_60ec68ce8f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clouds moved in and it got chilly, so back down we go.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688336906/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="498" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4469/37688336906_b8334e8752.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gumby is in for another round.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736852081/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4510/37736852081_3563cc7dff.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch break in the shopping mall that is Whistler Village.</td></tr>
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<br />
Why is it that all ski villages look the same worldwide? There are the same three retail brands, a Starbucks, and an ice bar. I felt like I could be in Queenstown, NZ or Lake Placid, NY.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736860611/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4452/37736860611_3bc4c33d54_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're killing me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704680792/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4498/37704680792_3a3b494f7d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil suggested a stop by Joffre Lakes. It was snowing as I pulled in.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027310984/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4512/37027310984_e8797ac225.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope my moto boots count as sturdy footwear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027316564/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4490/37027316564_6ea557c685.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most dangerous trail I've ever taken, I was slipping and flailing a spastic dance the whole way.<br />
Looks like I got some skiing in after all.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736879781/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4479/37736879781_c701120f98_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view was absolutely worth it.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704719562/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="212" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4459/37704719562_d8439c87e4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lower Joffre Lake.</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704721362/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4473/37704721362_cb835ae186_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still half frozen.</td></tr>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<br />
It was serene to sit at the edge of this half-frozen lake. At least, it was until a gaggle of teenagers showed up. Their behavior was stark contrast to the quiet cold of the woods, and made me wonder if I was ever that annoying in pupa stage. Cue my departure, damn kids!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688259596/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4497/37688259596_354224323f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back on the scoot. The Sea to Sky Highway is up there with riding through Glacier National Park.<br />
Absolutely dwarfed by mountains.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688252106/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4454/37688252106_da9a2727e2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well this was a first.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704752592/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4498/37704752592_feab91b423_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hark, a wild avalanche appears.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066294773/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4475/37066294773_8005db9c6b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stopped to photograph the avalanche, and realized this was the opposite view.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066296163/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4464/37066296163_f3a6bb9269_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're killing me, BC. It's like a scaled up Pacific Coast. Taller. Craggier. More rugged. </td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066299343/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4514/37066299343_a96886d027_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It doesn't quit.</td></tr>
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<br />
I didn't realize I was approaching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lillooet" target="_blank">Lillooet</a> until I had already blown by the welcome sign. It read, "Lillooet, Guaranteed Rugged," in all caps, printed in a font a steakhouse may find favorable. The road descended steeply into a valley town, hemmed in on all sides by steep mountain faces. They were violet in shade but the peaks were shallower and rounded, the pale blue snow had all but disappeared from their tops. I'd entered the 'inland desert' that Rob and Pamela had described – the end of the scenic road.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6TX8bByWjuE/WfpHXiCbbXI/AAAAAAAAF5Q/CCxQprOsD-Y-K3pz4BFWfXvvAGiHvU9tgCLcBGAs/s1600/lilloet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="804" height="265" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6TX8bByWjuE/WfpHXiCbbXI/AAAAAAAAF5Q/CCxQprOsD-Y-K3pz4BFWfXvvAGiHvU9tgCLcBGAs/s400/lilloet.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to the Internet, I found a photo of the steakhouse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
"Lillooet. Rugged. Chewy. Seared on the outside, bloody on the inside. Eat it with an ax, if you're a wimp," I'm hereby expanding on the name in my memory.<br />
<br />
A number of other motorcyclists were buzzing around the gas station ("Alaska? Where's your fishing rod?"), or taking photos by the Mile 0 marker for Old Cariboo road, the beginning of the road for miners in gold rush days. It struck me as a pretty sounding name for a town guaranteed to be rugged, but it turned out it was originally named Cayoosh Flats. The locals found it unsavory, so it was renamed for the Lillooet Trail and the nearby Lil'wat native people.<br />
<br />
The road north of Lillooet would have been as dull as Rob had warned me, but the weather kept me on my toes. Alternating sun and showers, hail coming sideways, and temperatures down to 3 C made me glad I brought my <a href="http://amzn.to/2lExsA9" target="_blank">heated gloves</a>. My pack was the smallest it had ever been, because I simply wore everything.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027378064/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4506/37027378064_a654b6220f.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neil had mentioned a partially paved road from Pavilion to Clinton, but this sign was discouraging.<br />
Next time. I have plenty of gravel to look forward to farther north.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37027381924/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4507/37027381924_78d5c0c9e3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I require all of your gravy on fries.</td></tr>
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<br />
Before I left, Bagel had put me in touch with George at the Rangeland Motel in Lac la Hache, where the Cannonball riders (including Bagel and Neil) stayed in 2014. George himself was a retired scooterist, and just the most chill, laid-back guy.<br />
<br />
"Stay as long as you want, check out in whenever, just leave the keys in the room. We don't lock anything," George told me.<br />
<br />
He mentioned motorists coming through here on long overland hauls sometimes stayed for weeks to rest. The rooms were small and smelled faintly like grandma was a smoker, but in a cozy, welcoming way – this grandma probably lets kids eat the chocolates with alcohol in them. Lac la Hache was more of a gas station than a town, but it was peaceful and had all the necessities – the foremost for me at the time being warmth and sustenance.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, Hungry Bear Two was the kind of diner that feeds truckers: a straightforward menu with good value and massive portions. The TV played softly in the corner, and their tone was so serious I thought surely they must be discussing politics. Upon closer listening, it was followup to a hockey game.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37688348246/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4512/37688348246_8849c96f1a.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then this happened.</td></tr>
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<br />
The only other establishment open in town was Red Crow Cafe. Behind a sleepy bar, three kids in their early twenties kept themselves entertained by learning to play pool. They turned out to be on workaways from Europe, and we chatted until two Lac la Hache locals blew in. The young bartender from Holland took their instructions to make a round of Vitamin C drop shots (equal parts Red Bull, orange juice, and vodka dropped in a shot glass). The besties showed off their new matching tattoos, invited everyone to their house party, and took some selfies on my bike on the way out. By the time I called it a night, Rick, the owner of the Red Crow, promised to make me a cheeseless pizza when I'm back through town.<br />
<br />
The Rangeland may look modest, but with flannel sheets and a down comforter it was the perfect place to lay my head. A true motel.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736976861/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4470/37736976861_c03972ac06.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woohoo, making breakfast in real tableware.<br />
That's actually my second cup of coffee, the first I sipped from under the warmth of covers.</td></tr>
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<br />
The sun was bright by 5:30am and unbearable by 7, reminding me that nighttime would eventually shrink to a gasp as I pressed north.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736982361/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4495/37736982361_d01af41ba7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great to meet you and your family, George!</td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736993261/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4491/37736993261_c84b496c38_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wanted to check out this cool thrift shop in a log cabin, but it's closed on Sunday.</td></tr>
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The land beyond opened up on a scale altogether too big for a scooter, and I felt like a flea roving across a large green animal's back. I could see weather as I approached it, grey smears on a cerulean sky. The road continued to alternate between shade and bright sunlight, but sometimes it was miles after ducking into shadow before tiny raindrops would make my vision sparkle. A crosswind dogged me, occasionally bouncing hail off my visor. I'd reached to the part of the ride that's merely covering distance.<br />
<br />
Neil had warned me against Vanderhoof (I believe 'shithole' was the precise phrase he used) but the distance was about right and I needed a warm place to rest.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066362343/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4443/37066362343_37b29e2b44_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The weirdest Airbnb/motel I've stayed in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37736994721/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4510/37736994721_ab332d288b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But they had prime scooter parking.</td></tr>
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<br />
The Vanderhoof Inn was a square, shingled building next to the train tracks, and looked a relic from the 70s. It shared the ground floor with a laundromat that was once a "cold beer and wine store," an Indian restaurant, and a townie bar that locked up at 6 (where my scooter was parked, hopefully securely). Most of the smaller businesses looked like they'd been that way for at least 30 years. This was one of the weirder places I'd stayed, but aside from the occasional passing train I did have quiet privacy. The room itself was spacious: an entire efficiency apartment with a full kitchen, plates, mugs, and silverware albeit mismatched. There was even a little packet of shampoo bearing another hotel's name, which made my head smell like orange creamsicle.<br />
<br />
Plus, I got to watch a Canadian public TV program about the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oka_Crisis" target="_blank">Oka Crisis</a>. As I drifted to sleep to a 9:30pm sunset it struck me that this would never fly on American television, there seemed to be so little public interest in the stories of First Nations or Native Americans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066374173/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4478/37066374173_8073c0c565.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warming up in a cafe in Houston, just in time for the hail to start again. Guess I'll take a coffee and wait. Brr.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066372263/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4458/37066372263_8ffac0bf83_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hi, Moricetown. Things are getting pretty again.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884037998/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="241" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4491/23884037998_a5aae70c47_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like a beaver was busy?</td></tr>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
I had a delicious taste of sunshine for a moment before the skies resumed the rain and hail. Oncoming 18-wheelers were carried forward on plumes of vapor mist. Locals in Smithers warned that the rainfall had flooded Moricetown, and when I arrived it was necessary to navigate several roads turned to rivers and corners turned to pools.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37704929112/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4464/37704929112_a622068d2b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge into Hazelton was entirely metal grate. <i>Grate</i>, my favorite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066446663/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4503/37066446663_6d5fbcc3dd.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello, Peggy and Phil!</td></tr>
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<br />
Back in New Westminster, Pamela had put me in touch with her friends, Peggy and Phil in Hazelton, BC. I couldn't be more grateful for their hospitality, as I think Pamela neglected to mention I was passing though and they generously took me in with no idea how long I'd be around.<br />
<br />
Over some much appreciated hot tea, Peggy told me about her local charity work (aside from the charity of taking in random scooterists with nothing more than the recommendation of her church outreach friend) and some of the history of the Kispiox and Ksan villages. It was a lot of take in, and a quick time check revealed that the village museum was open for another half hour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066441853/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4475/37066441853_0058b5ff8b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ksan Historical Village and Museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066443023/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4450/37066443023_40914f6296_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning about First Nations of the region. The designs are so cool.</td></tr>
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<br />
With sun in the sky until 10pm, I went back from a scoot around the tiny town of Hazelton and up to visit Kispiox until Phil arrived for dinner.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066448963/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4510/37066448963_c5ac1466f2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mystery paddleboat. Is it a yacht clubhouse now?</td></tr>
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There's a long history of paddlewheel steamboats on the Skeena river, especially during gold rush days. The names of towns I'd passed – 70 Mile House, 100 Mile House, 150 Mile House – were all acquired for the distances from Lillooet during the Cariboo Gold Rush. There were so many gold rushes, Lillooet was once the "largest city west of Chicago and north of San Francisco" during the Fraser Gold Rush (1958-59). It also may be the oldest continuously inhabited location on the continent, First Nations people having been settled here since time immemorial.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to Hazelton.<br />
<br />
A scoot by the Tri-Town Theatre found they showed one movie at a time, with two screenings on Monday, and Thurs-Sunday. Admission? $6 for 2D, $9 for 3D.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37066450463/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4514/37066450463_71d08604ba.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just like all the designs on signs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884125578/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4492/23884125578_84ee656145_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Band_government" target="_blank">Band Council</a>' suggests music to me, but First Nation Bands are collections of chiefs for government. I still think of music.</td></tr>
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<br />
I poked around Kispiox and saw other lonely roads to reserves, but I didn’t follow them. I already felt like an intruder in such a small, old community. Maybe it was all the dogs that barked at me or chased me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37479029980/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4450/37479029980_7ced6628dc.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Formerly called Shanghai Cafe, this Chinese-Canadian restaurant has been around since 1920?!</td></tr>
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I was surprised to find a Chinese restaurant in such a small town, but according to a historical map in town the Sunrise Cafe had always been a Chinese-Canadian restaurant. Upon further research, during the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omineca_Gold_Rush" target="_blank">Omineca Gold Rush</a>, about 40% of miners were Chinese, already experienced miners from the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cariboo_Gold_Rush" target="_blank">Cariboo Gold Rush</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37479032410/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4475/37479032410_dde6653390_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More poking around town.</td></tr>
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37737157301/in/album-72157688086883993/" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4474/37737157301_c0557c0bb6.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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Perhaps the most remarkable thing about meeting Peggy and Phil was discovering Phil's mother's work: Gladys Muir gave birth to Phil, the kind, bushy-eyebrowed retired physician folded into the recliner before me, while on a Mission in southwest China. She wrote a book about her experiences, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Y%C3%BBn-nan-south-clouds-Southwest-1939-1951/dp/B0007C6B18" target="_blank">Yun-nan, South of the Clouds: My life in Southwest China from 1939-51</a>, which Phil was working on re-publishing. Phil not only spoke some Mandarin, but brought out a box of letters, telegrams, and correspondences from his mother's years in rural China. Among them were photos of Phil as a child, seated on the handlebars of a bicycle.<br />
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As the sunlight slid into steep angles across their livingroom I sat transfixed, listening to his stories of his mother's life – everything from a traditional welcoming ceremony for her first-born son (Phil), to the harshness and violence of regime change in 1949, to their family fleeing China when religion was no longer welcome. When words ran out, I absorbed Gladys' book, and pored over the artifacts in the box.<br />
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It was amazing to witness such a collection of first-hand accounts from a remote part of China, a place far beyond even the faintest dream of tourism, and at a volatile and pivotal time in Chinese history. Perhaps Western eyes would never have such a rich picture of it without the efforts of Missionaries, who took the time to learn a language and document what others would consider trivial. All these photos, notes, and reports of local customs, daily life, and traditions possibly would have been lost in time, or to the brutality of Japanese occupation and viciousness of change to Communism. I had a new sense of the drive their family must have had to stay in such a difficult place, trying to affect change, and why it's called a 'mission'.<br />
<br />
Yet alongside the first-person descriptions were quips for how many Chinese had converted each day, or how many expressed an interest in converting. It was jarring to me, and I couldn't put my finger on what made me uncomfortable about it. While I cannot deny the charitable effects of Missions, I wondered if people at the time felt this was a fair exchange of culture. Faith is generally a positive force, but religion has a much darker history.<br />
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I could see first hand the positive effects individuals like Peggy and Phil had on their community, including their commitment to learning and sharing the history of their home. I'm just glad not to have to reconcile with a belief system, or y'know, be a Chinese peasant during regime change.<br />
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Personally, I'm much more in the camp of, "The existence of the Emoji Movie alone is proof there is no god."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23884154418/in/album-72157688086883993/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017."><img alt="Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4462/23884154418_b280953d6c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you for your kindness and generosity, Peggy and Phil.</td></tr>
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<br />
For a single overnight, it was an extremely enriching stay. I never would have explored this town if not for Pamela, Peggy, and Phil. Like many of the other quiet towns and small communities, I would probably have blown though. You can’t see them all, but I'm grateful they took the time to share a little slice of their life here.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-111467003725841012017-10-23T16:16:00.000-07:002017-10-27T07:52:31.261-07:00The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23822934718/in/dateposted-public/" title="Seattle-to-Vancouver"><img alt="Seattle-to-Vancouver" height="458" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4470/23822934718_2673cabe70_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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In case you haven't picked up by now, I love taking ferries with my bike. I go out of my way for ferry rides, and found a route to Vancouver that involved very little actual riding. Sure, it would be almost $70 in ferry fees, but did you miss the part about how I love taking ferries?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678765771/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4477/37678765771_30df0506de.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got an orange tag for proving to the ticketmaster that my bottles were for spare fuel.</td></tr>
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My heart pounded as I pulled away from Gwynne and Tom's home in Ballard. This was the last piece of familiarity, the final stop within my comfort zone, before I cast myself into new lands. Well, there's still Port Angeles...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37645772292/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4495/37645772292_db3bf5a3d8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for Ferry #1, with... an Amigo.</td></tr>
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A short ferry to Kingston later, and I was on my way to Port Angeles. First stop?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678773461/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4482/37678773461_bc581df775.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.swainsinc.com/store/home.html" target="_blank">Swain's</a>. You cannot stop in PA without visiting.</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.swainsinc.com/store/home.html" target="_blank">Swain's</a>. Every piece of camping gear I own, every silk liner, drinking vessel, lamp, or dry bag that I selected and curated for my personal needs at camping stores and Army Navy stores across America... It's <i>all</i> available at Swain's. It should be a national treasure. Also, their website is straight from the 90s (at least as of this writing in Oct 2017) and should be preserved as well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37645825372/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4451/37645825372_9a4187d435.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for dinner, Laura and Maham!</td></tr>
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Also found in Port Angeles: Laura! Originally from Verona, now living in PA. We met through Gwynne and Tom on <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2014/10/second-home-seattle-wa-august-14-24-2014.html">my first time through the Port Angeles</a>, during a campout at Tom's parent's home. This time, she brought special guest, Maham, an exchange student staying with them from Karachi. How serendipitous, when I mentioned I had plans to visit Pakistan, she told me excitedly about her home.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678796571/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4445/37678796571_4f2560cb2c_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After dinner, Laura showed us this tiny landing between new developments. Canada is across the water.<br />
I wonder how many teenagers make out here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678793431/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4509/37678793431_dc7f7f3d88.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's beautiful in that PNW way, and quite a drop.</td></tr>
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I must have been absolutely exhausted my first time through PA, because as Laura and Maham and I cruised around in the car, I barely remembered anything.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23931779758/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="PA"><img alt="PA" height="357" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4503/23931779758_cb1335f377.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before I left in the morning, I noticed this spit of land sticking out...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37645814672/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="479" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4453/37645814672_c1f9eafa4a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So I took a quick ride up Ediz Hook before catching the Black Ball Ferry.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23825661358/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4505/23825661358_b7e845acc9.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woa, Ferry #2 is even fancier. It has a gift shop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23825664218/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4489/23825664218_a8311827fb.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good thing Laura found this ribbon for me, so I could be fancy. I'm ready for you, Victoria, BC.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23825665578/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4471/23825665578_e93de71fa8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motos are first on, last off.</td></tr>
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<br />
The guy on an old BMW airhead was lashing his bike to the hull when I pulled behind him. Surprised, I asked whether the water got choppy enough to require tie downs. It was a stupid question, since he was tying his down I was clearly not going to risk coming back to the auto level to find my Vespa sideways on the opposite end of the ferry (I lashed down my bike, and the water was choppy enough that I became slightly seasick).<br />
<br />
The BMW rider shared a fantastic story about outrunning cops in Oregon, and then described San Francisco as "dreadful" in his dry, British accent. Some kids had broken off his spark plug in that city. As for immigration? "Tedious."<br />
<br />
At the Canadian border, I worried if border patrol would live up to its reputation. Instead, the border officer asked what year my bike was, because it turned out he collected vintage Vespas!<br />
<br />
"I have two VBBs and a 50SS," he noted cheerfully. "So, what are you plans in Victoria?"<br />
<br />
"Well, I have a reservation for tea at eleven," – he nodded approvingly, all but saying, <i>Of course, that is correct</i> <i>–</i> "And then I'm staying with friends in Vancouver."<br />
<br />
And that was it. I was in Canada... again!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23825668998/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4497/23825668998_101c7c19b2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back at Washington from Canadian soil.</td></tr>
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Back in Portland, Cydney had recommended having high tea in Victoria (in case ferry fees hadn't completely blown my daily budget out of the water). The <a href="http://www.fairmont.com/empress-victoria/dining/tea-at-the-empress/" target="_blank">Fairmont Empress High Tea</a> was the natural choice, but the rate was jaw dropping...until I realized it was Canadian dollars. It was still more than I would normally spend, but as a Hong Konger, how could I miss experiencing cultural traditions from our mutual colonists, especially when they're in the shape of tea and confections? I made a reservation for the first sitting, and vowed to free camp for days.<br />
<br />
Dress code was listed as 'sophisticated, smart casual'. Concerned my riding gear wouldn't fit the bill, Gwynne and I crafted a plan before I left Seattle: I could borrow her clothing, and return it to her when she visited Vancouver later that week. In PA, Laura found a ribbon, which I attached to my helmet.<br />
<br />
The final outfit from our combined wardrobes?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/23825675638/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4509/23825675638_6c48baed28.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097814/" target="_blank">Kiki</a> got a motorcycle. Or Emily the Strange Biker?</td></tr>
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I'd like to say that upon arrival in the ladies room, dramatic music started playing and I started spinning in a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magical_girl">magical girl</a> transformation sequence, pulling off moto gear to reveal a glittering, superheroine vision of myself. The reality was less like the cartoons I watched as a kid. While not the most magical version of myself, I felt refined enough for a road outfit, and can confirm that the ladies room in the Fairmont Empress has a <i>fireplace</i>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007746333/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4460/37007746333_ca90f4f156.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fantastical engraved book of teas. I went with the namesake, the Empress blend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007749293/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4506/37007749293_429f598ebf.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Live baby grand piano covers of Adele and other pop songs played softly.</td></tr>
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<br />
I settled into my table, folding all my gear in the spare seat next to me. An older waitress came to my cozy window corner, and checked if it was a table for two.<br />
<br />
"Just me."<br />
<br />
"He dropped you off?" she asked, indicating the gear.<br />
<br />
"Uh, no. That's mine," unsure what she was getting at.<br />
<br />
"Oh..." she murmured absently, and then asked again whether I had any food allergies in a way that made me wonder if she'd deliberately slip them onto my plate.<br />
<br />
She must not have appreciated my helmet-bow, because she started my tea while I was in the restroom and neglected to explain the nifty hourglasses (they're for how dark you want your tea). Too bad, the scooter trash is staying, reading, and enjoying herself right into the next sitting!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007754753/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4492/37007754753_b0603b63bb_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medium-dark tea. I can't believe it's only now that it occurred to me that's why those little candles are called tea lights.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007762703/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4452/37007762703_b4618cb127_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The food tray has arrived, and it's utterly delightful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37420618950/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4466/37420618950_d09f574b00_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll be here for the next several hours, leisurely mowing through three tiers of delicacies.</td></tr>
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Between enjoying my book, I could eavesdrop on the guests around me. A young couple with a toddler kept the waitress too occupied to slip allergens into my scones (yes, feed it more sugar!). Three middle-aged ladies a table over were having the kind of birthday party I'd look forward to, so much so that I didn't have the heart to tell them that white chocolate is not in fact bleached (it's only chocolate by name, containing no chocolate solids whatsoever).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37420622290/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4478/37420622290_2426b7f846_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While I have closeups of every item, this one was particularly fanciful.<br />
Hand peeled local shrimp, with ginger lemon marscapone, in a seaweed cone. I feel like a monster eating such adorable exquisiteness.</td></tr>
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<br />
The scones were perfectly flaky. The strawberry jam had a hint of thyme in it to keep from being overly sweet. The clotted cream would keep me warm on the early spring rides ahead. All these finger sandwiches were like European sushi, and every item was exemplary. Fine tea, tiny foods, fancy China, wifi, and a window view... Why would I ever leave? Oh right, I should go before my parking fee ends up costing as much as this sitting (the parking attendant ended up waving me through, whew).<br />
<br />
I make a habit of overlooking my lactose intolerance for Afternoon Tea experiences, and this one nestled in nicely with my memories of The Peninsula and Four Seasons in Hong Kong. I have no regrets.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37645887562/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4459/37645887562_d454e64dd6.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So. Worth. It.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37645894772/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4489/37645894772_4ddea2166b.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoot by other Victoria sights. But I have another ferry to catch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678888261/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4457/37678888261_ce34ac78ec_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferry #3 is also scenic. Delicate opals reflect off low clouds in the diffused light, and distant mountains are faded cobalt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007821423/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4446/37007821423_88483240de.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peacefully sailing by many green forested islands.</td></tr>
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<br />
My third ferry in two days was the finest by far (once I found the secret button to open the steel door to the upper levels). With 7 decks, a modern cafeteria, full-fledged restaurant serving beer and wine, gift shops with clothing, game arcade, business cubicles, and toddler play areas, it was clearly used to making regular commutes. Cantonese was popular onboard, but I also caught some Mandarin and other languages among the diverse passenger list.<br />
<br />
Also, I discovered a new favorite game to play with Canadians: Where is Rhode Island? Thus far, Maine and New York were top contenders.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678892141/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4501/37678892141_09409349c6.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Passengers from many walks of life onboard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678894791/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4499/37678894791_e497b0324c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of these bikes is not like the others. So, where do you guys think Rhode Island is?</td></tr>
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An unfortunate family emergency meant I was out a place to stay in Vancouver. Surely I could find a hostel or Airbnb, but I'd been looking forward to meeting some of the scooter scene in Vancouver. In the gasps of wifi at ferry terminals, news came in that everyone was out of town or busy. A few hours before arrival, Rob, the web designer for the Vespa Club of Canada, offered his spare room in New Westminster. I couldn't have been more grateful. He grilled up some chicken fajitas for dinner with his family, and I didn't even mind when his precocious teenaged son, Sam, immediately steered conversation towards religion and politics (ugh, what an awkward time to be an American). We passed the evening on subjects safer and nerdier than America: watching the pilot of American Gods.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007854243/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4489/37007854243_7f2b37c620.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juuuuust fits. Whew. Hi, Rob!</td></tr>
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Thanks for rescuing a random scooterist, Rob.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37678900021/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4483/37678900021_53130f3616.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next day: that time my Vespa was so heavy the lift couldn't reach the top notch.</td></tr>
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Chris from <a href="http://www.vespametro.com/">Vespa Metro Vancouver</a> reached out to me, making him the <i>first ever</i> Vespa shop to reach out, and friendlier guys you could not meet. They were the northernmost Vespa service shop in the Americas, and offered to look over my bike before its Alaskan haul.<br />
<br />
At the time, I believe I had ~64k miles on the odometer, which I didn't realize is over 100,000km! It sounds way more impressive in metric, and Chris put a little note on their high mileage wall.<br />
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The skies were heavy with rain, so I ended up parking my bike at the shop for a few hours while Gwynne, who had just arrived by bus, and I explored the city on foot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37629775906/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4475/37629775906_b004d72458.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ramen, for a cold damp day. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/downtownyahyahya" target="_blank">Yah Yah Ya Ramen</a> downtown.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37629781866/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4464/37629781866_7fb17e137a.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning about the bizarre and fantastic world of Korean beauty products.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37629789896/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4459/37629789896_bf324df42f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It looks like a mini <a href="https://www.google.com/search?biw=1366&bih=667&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=star+ferry+hong+kong" target="_blank">Star Ferry</a>!" said Gwynne, referring to the tiny Granville Island ferries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37629792796/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4479/37629792796_a67809f56e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly, we had to go for a tiny ferry ride. Ferry #3.5!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37629800776/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4448/37629800776_4543431590.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want all of these.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007858483/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4443/37007858483_937ec5caee.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the scooter-sized snacks caught my eye at the Granville Island Public Market.</td></tr>
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It was great to see Gwynne one more time before heading into the northern beyond. I made away from the market light, with just some adorable French sausage sticks the size of birthday candles, and a handful of donut holes for the house back in New Westminster.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/37007838743/in/album-72157687027302861/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017."><img alt="The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4504/37007838743_07e32d1a3a.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of back at the house...</td></tr>
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If only this rain would let up.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-89472981348839870382017-10-13T10:27:00.000-07:002017-10-13T10:27:16.829-07:00Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35942637531/in/album-72157683986812761/" title="PDX-to-Seattle"><img alt="PDX-to-Seattle" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4304/35942637531_5f9a105860_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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It's a straightforward ride along I-5 from Portland to Seattle, but I'd find a way to dress it up. I hustled out the door early to give myself plenty of time to meander and catch the Bremerton ferry.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. St. Helens peeked through the trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello, Olympic mountains.</td></tr>
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The skies were clear and after so much cold and dampness, the day was gloriously warm. At Union, WA the road narrowed and hugged the shore of an inland body of water. Between the trees, the homes facing the bay were all beautiful, unique, lavishly maintained, and festooned with sports cars and boats. All of them had a dazzling view of the Olympics directly across the water. It was a pleasure to ride through, even though my presence was probably bringing down the property value.<br />
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I arrived with twenty minutes to spare in Bremerton, a town so wholesome and agreeable that I was at a loss for what to do but treat myself to a celebratory soy latte. I mean hey, I'm in Washington.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">$7.90 gets you and a scoot a scenic ferry ride.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's noisy on the auto level and the wind tears at you like a pack of angry cats, but it's a beautiful approach to Seattle.</td></tr>
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Around a green bend, the Seattle skyline appeared with Mt. Hood rising behind it. At the front of the ferry, a photographer had set up next to my bike to capture it. A few others stood around simply admiring the view. I was reveling in nostalgia to once again be approaching Seattle by scoot and ferry, when a father struck up conversation.<br />
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"Going cross country?" he nodded towards the loaded bike.<br />
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"Yes, I’ve already been!"<br />
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"Where did you start?"<br />
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"Rhode Island."<br />
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"That’s a long way! You camp along the way? When did you leave?"<br />
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"I left 3 years ago as of tomorrow. This is my second time through Seattle, and I’m headed to Alaska next." About now was when his face turned from friendly awe to <i>Oh shit I’ve started a conversation with a crazy person</i>. I changed the subject, "Are you from Seattle?"<br />
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"Oh... No, we’re just going into town for the Mariners game," he said, almost weakly. "Well... Safe travels." Then he shuffled his son back towards the safety of their car.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pointed towards the Space Needle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to Seattle meal with Gwynne and Tom! Seattle has a cha chaan teng?!</td></tr>
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Gwynne already had a place in mind for our first Seattle meal: a new <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cha_chaan_teng" target="_blank">cha chaan teng</a> in the International District, <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/a-hong-kong-kitchen-seattle" target="_blank">A+ Hong Kong Kitchen</a> (name sounds authentic!). They had all the classics, like curry fish balls, pork chop rice, and condensed milk on toast that Tom is munching on above. I was impressed, and happy this style of eatery made it to Seattle – maybe locals finally got tired of going to Vancouver for HK food.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also impressive were the portions.</td></tr>
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I did my best on the bucket of spicy noodle soup before me, but even the leftovers filled a large takeout container.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agate (and other stones) reveal.</td></tr>
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Landing at a Siak home is like being with family, we grew up in Atlanta together. I suspect we sort of regressed to our childhood states: eating comfort foods, playing videogames, admiring rock collections. Tom and Gwynne had taken their agate collecting to the next level, with a rock tumbler! This rubbery black tube had been going in the basement for weeks with increasingly fine sand. When it was opened it looked like stones floating in a milkshake. Once washed off, the resulting stones were shiny and smooth. I spent the next half hour fantasizing about how to attach a rock tumbler to my rear wheel, to make shiny stones as I rode. Yes, think of the dead weight I could be lugging in rocks...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More than happy to test the Nashville fried chicken at <a href="http://www.sistersandbrothersbar.com/" target="_blank">Sisters and Brothers</a> with Gwynne.<br />
Yay, carnivorous Southerner sisterhood!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meanwhile, Brandon at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Big-People-Scooters-66793500447/" target="_blank">Big People Scooters</a> made quick work of fitting a new rear tire.</td></tr>
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My old tire had enough tread to be carried as a spare, but I loathe the job of changing tubeless tires without a machine. Hopefully the new one Brandon put on would get me to the ferry in Haines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223788813/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4298/35223788813_5605dfb4e9.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A night out at <a href="http://www.olafsballard.com/" target="_blank">Olaf's</a> in Ballard for Pinball Bride. We actually went bar hopping, like adults?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35900110801/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4319/35900110801_d51af84e3f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back to our usual schedule of videogames. Ooo, new Zelda.</td></tr>
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We kicked off the weekend by graduating to our teens: watching Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, coffees and cookies in hand, then perusing <a href="http://www.comicsdungeon.com/" target="_blank">Comics Dungeon</a> for <a href="https://www.freecomicbookday.com/" target="_blank">Free Comic Book Day</a>. The afternoon passed reading our new comics from the hammock, or at the picnic table in the sun. I dove into <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=as_li_qf_sp_sr_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=250ccsuperhe-20&keywords=guy%20delisle&index=aps&camp=1789&creative=9325&linkCode=xm2&linkId=89481a4ee8a129e2a664234200d7d071" target="_blank">Guy Delisle</a>'s new graphic novel, <a href="http://amzn.to/2xCQUTH" target="_blank">Hostage</a>*. With sunlight still clinging to the edges of the sky at 9pm, the day felt infinitely long – this latitude's summer gift, and the gift of happy, easy company. A grocery run later, Tom put on a record, and Gwynne fixed a Korean dish for dinner. We streamed <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt6038584/" target="_blank">Crazyhead</a> as per Megan's suggestion, but I fell asleep before the end of the second episode. I couldn't remember feeling more at peace, at rest.<br />
<br />
* It was a haunting and powerful read. I know him for his autobiographical, slice-of-life travelogues, but was eager to check out this departure from his other work. It was a maddening 15 years in the making... consumed in 2 afternoons. Gah, comics.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35900112251/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4302/35900112251_7cda076557.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upright bass at the farmer's market? It must be Ballard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35900115191/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4306/35900115191_48e34ac660.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Free pickle shot! Yes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35992203916/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4299/35992203916_e7412e1032.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So soft...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35992204596/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4300/35992204596_5e3e09215c.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visiting Chris at <a href="http://www.thepalmroom.com/" target="_blank">The Palm Room</a>, in search of a tiny air plant for my livingroom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223818743/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4291/35223818743_8a2d88a187.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few polished stones and some wire, and Serenity has a new frond <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=frand" target="_blank">frand</a>!</td></tr>
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Seattle is easy to love on days like this.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35992217146/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4302/35992217146_520aae96b5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morgan was having a birthday cookout at Golden Gardens Park, I tagged along and we took the chance to explore.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223808603/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4292/35223808603_a7ffdfac9e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We heard there was a beaver at the pond.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223811963/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4313/35223811963_fc236f7915_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Played log parkour looking for our dam culprit.</td></tr>
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Hopping from trunk to trunk, only once did a log turn underfoot and I splashed in some shallow water. Waterproof boots passed the test.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35992237146/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4302/35992237146_85722c60a7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which ones are meat, or not meat?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35223814773/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4310/35223814773_e6fc206995.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trick question, they're all plant-based burgers. Beyond Burger is convincingly tasty though. Thanks, Morgan!</td></tr>
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Morgan's birthday cookout was a slice of another life, one that made our party look like poster kids for arrested development. Emily was at the bursting point of pregnancy, bearing the very real possibility that Morgan and their baby would soon share a birthday. Toddlers ran through the grass while their mothers laughed about how they now dress like their mothers, and how maybe their daughters will someday dress like them. The various flavors of abstinence that thrive in the developed world were well represented (glutards, vegans/vegetarians, teetotalers... as a lactard myself I'm not exempt, I've certainly reached a point in life where I value future comfort over the immediate pleasure of mozzarella). It was enough to make me wish I snuck my flask with me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at the house for one last sidewalk oil change, and I'm ready for miles north.<br />
Aluminum foil is a great multitasker.</td></tr>
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There was one last adventure in town: Back at <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/" target="_blank">Motorcycles and Misfits</a> in Santa Cruz, I'd caught wind of an all-women motorcycle tour of Pakistan being put together by Liza. Two women in Seattle were interested as well. I was going to meet Dionne (<a href="http://4artandadventure.com/" target="_blank">4Art&Adventure</a>) and Ruth (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/GlobalMotoADV/" target="_blank">Global Moto Adventures</a>) for a tour of Dionne's Ballard studio, and to exchange thoughts on the trip.<br />
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I managed to catch Jackie for a quick happy hour at <a href="http://kickinboot.com/" target="_blank">Kickin Boot Whiskey Kitchen</a> beforehand – she was neck deep in <a href="https://www.amerivespa.net/" target="_blank">Amerivespa</a> organization drama (alas, I would miss it this year), then it was a quick ride over to <a href="http://www.ballardworks.com/" target="_blank">BallardWorks</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/36177879314/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1468"><img alt="IMG_1468" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4432/36177879314_a1967ff426.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue scoot joins the proper ADV bike parked at BallardWorks. Thanks for the photo, Ruth!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/36033977875/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4322/36033977875_425d2e4041.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick tour of Dionne's studio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi Dionne. And bikes and art. Naturally.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/36033975435/in/album-72157683986812761/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017."><img alt="Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017." height="500" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4315/36033975435_94266d220e.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those arrows remind me of Dance Dance Revolution.</td></tr>
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Clearly, I need to find a way to keep a makespace, but still vanish for months at a time to ride... Dionne seemed to manage it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/36177879874/in/dateposted-public/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1462"><img alt="IMG_1462" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4394/36177879874_e06156f1db.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great to meet you both, thanks for letting me steal your book, ha!</td></tr>
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More on the Pakistan tour later, this northbound adventure still lay ahead.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-70754097844182716502017-08-25T07:20:00.000-07:002017-10-12T11:17:01.378-07:00Friends and Food and Floating! Portland, OR. April 30 - May 3, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
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Time had come to part ways again. Pete had pushed his dog-sitters to the limit, and he would have to slab it all the way back to San Francisco in a single day (480 miles, blasting my day record out of the water on his first overland haul. Aw). I had a more moderate 300-ish mile day ahead of me to one of my favorite cities, Portland, OR.<br />
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In the morning mist, our farewells were brief and without fanfare; we were eager to tackle our independent miles. For my part, maybe I hustled a bit to get my gear on because in your helmet, no one can tell if you're crying.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35644097020/in/album-72157683831329583/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Floating Around Portland. April 30 - May 3, 2017."><img alt="Floating Around Portland. April 30 - May 3, 2017." height="281" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4323/35644097020_8f2bf2fe2e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cue the waterworks? Impressive septic display along the Oregon coastal highway.</td></tr>
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True, I finally got to fulfill my long ride with Pete, and I knew he would make it home in one piece. I was finally pointing my bike at new adventures, and the coastline was ever majestic. I relish the freedom of solo travel, so I wasn't just choked up from parting ways. The road closures, spark plug issue, and most of all Pete's energy kept me blissfully distracted from a longing that had been clinging to me like San Francisco fog.<br />
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A part of me just... wished I could be making some of these fantastic memories with Fred. I wanted to say stupid shit on the intercom with him, like, "Ohh, that's beautiful," "Ow, watch that bump," "Those clouds look foreboding," and, "Next stop for a pee break," – inane, daily exchanges, layered between the spectacular. What becomes of a relationship when your most formative memories are made apart? We could Skype at every wifi opportunity, but what if the bulk of your best memories, and eventually your lifestyle, become things you never get to share? Without Pete or Moose, for the first time since San Francisco I was finally left alone with my thoughts, and they gnawed at me from inside my helmet. There was only static on the intercom, under a steely Oregon sky.<br />
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I made a mental note to add new music to my riding playlist.<br />
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Having opted for an inland route last time, this would be my first time along the Oregon coast. I figured I'd check out the beach camp where I'd originally planned to stay, a free site near Coos Bay.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whiskey Run? Sounds like my kind of road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The paid portion of camp was pleasant, but full.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pothole minefield. I saw one swallow a Jeep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clear my mind with a beach walk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flannel-clad woman and her dog posted up outside her Subaru, playing guitar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks slippery at the end of the sidewalk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the part of the beach that would be free for camping.</td></tr>
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If you drove past the Bastendorf Beach Park campground to the end of the Coos Head Road, there's a quiet, open area you can camp free for a night. With a nearby fishing town for sundries, for a moment I considered pitching tent...and then realized I'd just be moping about in addition to having to empty my tent of sand in the morning.<br />
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Besides, the illustrious <a href="https://twitter.com/ryansara" target="_blank">Sara Ryan</a>, my roommate from <a href="http://www.bgliterary.com/" target="_blank">agency</a> retreats past, was expecting me in Portland! And there would be food!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally, the clouds burned off.</td></tr>
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After days of remote coastal resort towns, sleepy fishing towns, quiet logging towns, and spotty cell service, Portland felt like a different world. I hadn't seen a City-city since San Francisco.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mussels and frites and fanciness with Sara.</td></tr>
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Getting a proper welcome back to the city, Sara and I walked to <a href="http://www.grainandgristle.com/" target="_blank">Grain and Gristle</a>, one of her go-to neighborhood spots. Ah, craft beer, cocktails, charcuterie plates, and curled mustaches – the urbanity. Along our walk home, she also pointed out a corner that delivered all the PDX vices in one convenient block: a coffee shop, liquor, beer and wine store, and weed shop in one square. The urbanity, indeed.<br />
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I slept like a rock on their leather couch. There were a few Vespa things to take care of in Portland, but mostly I was here to see friends and eat food!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fried chicken bowls with Cydney at <a href="http://www.basiliskpdx.com/" target="_blank">Basilisk</a>. So spice, so tasty.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cydney's hand, and <a href="https://rachelsgingerbeer.com/pages/se-portland" target="_blank">Rachel's Ginger Beer</a> hot toddy. Blood orange and extra ginger. Fiery belly!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atlanta transplants, Shannon and Justin. <a href="https://www.cuboportland.com/" target="_blank">Cubo</a> for Cuban.</td></tr>
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An unexpected experience came out of meeting Shannon and Justin for dinner: Justin worked at a coffee shop that was partnered with <a href="http://floathq.com/" target="_blank">Float On</a>, a float tank therapy center. He had unlimited free floats as part of the deal, and he and Shannon both spoke highly of the experience. I'd heard of the benefits of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isolation_tank" target="_blank">isolation tanks</a> and was curious, but like bungee jumping, I just hadn't sought it out. Justin hooked me up with an appointment on the spot, because he's awesome like that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick stop by <a href="http://vespaportland.com/" target="_blank">Vespa Portland</a> for spare spark plugs and misc, and to oggle a Ural.<br />
Paul and Maggy are super nice, and didn't bat an eye when I asked for just a dollop of grease in a ziplock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for a float in room 4. It's humid and warm in here.</td></tr>
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My float appointment was up, and a soft-spoken host led me to my room. <a href="http://floathq.com/" target="_blank">Float On</a> had a medical-spa-meets-hippie kind of feel to it (they have float books and crayons for your to draw your... hallucinations?), and I was ready to give it a try. The standard float time was 90 minutes, with benefits of perceived weightlessness ranging from being able to slip immediately into a meditative state, to a release in creative energy, to muscle relaxation. The host gave me a short orientation and left me to my private room. I applied the orange putty to my ears to lock out salty water, undressed, stepped into the tank of calf-high water, closed the door, and turned off the light.<br />
<br />
At first, it was just watery blackness. I still had a memory of the blue-lit room behind my eyes, and it's not that you can't hear anything – splashes are amplified with the earplugs – so you need to stay quite still. Once that was accomplished I had the not unpleasant feeling of slightly spinning, much like going to bed after one too many libations. Breathing was a loud, regular whoosh, and my heartbeat was the only other sound.<br />
<br />
Thoughts drifted and I let myself become disoriented, until eventually, I started to feel uncomfortable. The buoyancy of the water meant my legs stuck straight out somewhat awkwardly, and if I moved them I'd hit the bottom. My shoulders felt like they floated right up to my neck, but every time I reached to check, they were in the right place. At least my boobs were not cold (something Shannon had warned me about), but anytime I moved I lost that sense of boundary-less-ness – I could feel the surface tension of the water, pulling at the edges of my face and hands. The water is kept at 93.5 degrees F to be skin-neutral, so you can't tell where you end and the water begins, but I could, and I just wished it was hotter.<br />
<br />
More noticeably, I could feel whatever I had for lunch (it was <a href="http://www.randomordercoffee.com/" target="_blank">pie</a>, now that I thought about it), bubbling in my gut. It sounded like balloons were rubbing against each other in my abdomen, echoing in the watery chamber with the promise of future farts.<br />
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In the vacuum of other sensations, what was left manifested itself as pain. Pain in my knees, from holding still sticking straight out. Pain in my shoulders, which felt like they grew directly from beneath my ears. Pain in my abdomen, cooking up gas. I didn't think of myself as someone in regular pain, but with nothing else to focus on the pain became my world.<br />
<br />
My breathing and heartbeat were the only sounds, and my heart rate was climbing. I tried to breath slowly, assuring myself this was an exercise in relaxation, but my rapid heartbeat betrayed me. It pounded against the pitch black walls that felt as immediate as my skin, and soon my saltwater slick hands were searching for the light switch in a void of space.<br />
<br />
The room was plunged back into that eerie blue light. I sat still, semi-submerged, knees under my chin, panting. The warm, sticky air clung to the inside of my mouth. I felt nauseated. Opening the door delivered the cool burst of air I craved, but a glance at my phone told me I had only lasted 40 minutes.<br />
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I had plenty of time left, and decided to try again. The discomfort and emptiness pressing in came sooner though. The worst part, once I gave up and sat up, was that salty water dribbled down my face and into my eyes. The sting was like an ultimate, <i>"You're doing it wrong! You're a failure at relaxing!"</i> slap to the face, and I had to towel off my head and face between the tears.<br />
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I tried again, if anything just to hear the underwater speakers. When your float time is up, music is played underwater to wake you from your float, and I wanted to hear it. It's unreal and ethereal, I wish more pools had underwater speakers.<br />
<br />
When I finally showered and walked out to the front lounge, I was a little shell-shocked. I felt exhausted, disoriented, jittery, and my hands were shaking. Overwhelmingly, I wanted to curl up somewhere warm and comfortable and <i>real</i>, and feel the weight of blankets and the loft of pillows.<br />
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They gave me plenty of time to sit in the lounge and sip an organic ginger tea. I can't believe people fall asleep in these. I'm extremely grateful for the experience (thank you, Justin!), but I couldn’t help thinking I would rather have a massage.<br />
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Anyway, back in the physical world I had a dinner with Jenn and a bunch of cranky old Lambretta guys at <a href="http://www.horsebrass.com/" target="_blank">Horse Brass Pub</a> to get to. Save me some meat pie.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crashing Lambretta night with Jenn and gravy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting Vespa-sized adventures and tater tots at <a href="http://www.rogue.com/" target="_blank">Rogue Brewery</a> with Shannon.</td></tr>
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Somehow, it never registered that Rogue Brewery was based in Portland. A matter of blocks from where Shannon and I lunched, the <a href="http://www.rogue.com/roguemeetinghalls/" target="_blank">Rogue Distillery and Public House</a>, were at least two more breweries. It's a veritable avenue of fermentation. I'm not usually a beer person, but <a href="http://www.cascadebrewingbarrelhouse.com/" target="_blank">Cascade Brewing Barrel House</a> drew me in for their dizzying selection of barrel-aged and tasty sours.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sara had a nice flat driveway, so I did some maintenance before Seattle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm still finding corroded bits under the case from when I <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2015/12/texas-forever-part-2-bikes-buddies.html" target="_blank">dunked the scoot in a flash flood in Houston</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impromptu <a href="http://www.bgliterary.com/" target="_blank">BGL</a> meetup at <a href="http://www.vita-cafe.com/" target="_blank">Vita Cafe</a>. Hi, <a href="https://twitter.com/jennreese" target="_blank">Jenn</a>, and <a href="https://twitter.com/steve_lieber" target="_blank">Steve</a> too!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://sararyan.com/" target="_blank">Sara</a> had been swamped with work, so it wasn't until my last night in PDX that we found time together with her, <a href="http://www.stevelieber.com/" target="_blank">Steve</a>, and fellow <a href="http://www.bgliterary.com/" target="_blank">BGL</a> client, <a href="http://www.jennreese.com/" target="_blank">Jen Reese</a>. As we walked down Alberta to <a href="http://www.vita-cafe.com/" target="_blank">Vita Cafe</a>, she told me about how the neighborhood had changed in her 15 years of living here. It was great to see Jenn again, and talk would wander from current fandoms to local gatherings to industry...and for once, I found I didn't mind shop talk in my 'off time'. Normally my hackles are up to keep such a divide between work and the rest of who I am, but here were people who just flowed. It was refreshing and comfortable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A real estate agency was playing independent animated shorts in their window.<br />
I believe their motto was, "An agency that gets it."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35900046101/in/album-72157683831329583/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Floating Around Portland. April 30 - May 3, 2017."><img alt="Floating Around Portland. April 30 - May 3, 2017." height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4297/35900046101_e20415fb08.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another brilliant PDX pairing, a weed shop next to a taco stand.</td></tr>
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<br />
Sara made it clear I was welcome to crash on the couch as long as I needed, and the pull to stay longer was strong. It was comfortable and familiar here, and my creative friends and scooter friends were always near. I could just stay in cozy Portland, eventually find a place of my own. Why was I so eager to cast myself out, to far-flung places like Alaska?<br />
<br />
I suppose I could simply say it's the 49th state, one more tick mark on a checklist to complete. But that would be selling it short.<br />
<br />
Perhaps, travel changes a person, and I'm not the traveler I used to be. I'm certainly a different person from the first time I came through Portland on a Vespa. I've grown in experience, I'm more tired, and yet I still seek to feel 'out there' again. I crave further borders, to be brought outside myself, find wonder, and to share it with others. After so many solo miles I wish I could share it with immediate company, but seeing as it's just me I'll push for the next plausible thing: the frontier, something Alaska has a long reputation of delivering. Something like that.<br />
<br />
I crawled into my last night on Sara's couch with a hint of melancholy, but felt ready for the next place. I guess I know I'm rested enough when I pull up Google maps and go <i>Ooh</i> instead of <i>Ugh</i>. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you, and until next time, Sara!</td></tr>
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It’s a curious feeling, when your long awaited plans come to fruition. I’m much more used to plans being thought of as far in the future. It should be no surprise when they become immediate, yet when the moment arrives I still find myself caught off guard.<br />
<br />
Onward, to Seattle.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-63966020178567261982017-08-21T14:37:00.000-07:002017-08-23T09:49:42.353-07:00Champagne Asphalt and Mudslides. San Francisco, CA to Gold Beach, OR. April 24 - 29, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35667901804/in/dateposted-public/" title="SF-to-GoldBeach2"><img alt="SF-to-GoldBeach2" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4371/35667901804_fba85fdab9_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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It's been a while, but if you're wondering what happened to those missing dates between <a href="https://250superhero.blogspot.com/2017/06/end-of-bay-era-april-8-10-2017.html" target="_blank">the last entry</a> and this, I flew to Boston to see Fred and take care of some life back east. It seems my current style of nomadism is six of vagrancy and a half dozen homes? Anyhow, fast forward to the end of April and we're back on the west coast, on that north-bound agenda.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The light at <a href="http://www.vivelatarte.com/" target="_blank">Vive la Tarte</a> is exceptionally flattering. The snacks, exceptionally fattening?</td></tr>
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Pete had taken time off to ride as far as Oregon with me, but we had a couple days before launch – just enough for one last Founders Ride with Verna. After all, he was also saying farewell to San Francisco, and a jaunt up to wine country with the founding members of this scooter club was on his bucket list.<br />
<br />
Hurrying to meet them on time, I hopped on Serenity and fired her up. I'd been taking the PX200 around Boston for a couple weeks, and jumping from that to the GTS... Serenity felt tall, heavy, and clumsy by comparison. It was like driving a couch. Before I could question my decisions further, I leaned into the first turn and muscle memory dropped into place like a missing piece of a puzzle. I knew this bike in my body, I was <i>home</i>. Instantly, I could see myself bumping along British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska on this thing. I felt overwhelmingly like I'd made the right choice, and I had a whole day with Pete and Verna to look forward to.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curvy vine-lined roads with these two.</td></tr>
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We wound our way up Lucas Valley Road, and took a break at Marin French Cheese Co for a dairy snack... Or if you're me, the lactard, fantasized about hardware required to attach an <a href="http://amzn.to/2hHrlZT" target="_blank">overpriced wine and cheese basket set</a> to the rear rack.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vespiti in the vines, posing for the album cover.</td></tr>
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An impromptu photo shoot later, the afternoon proceeded to Verna's pick, <a href="https://www.ridgewine.com/" target="_blank">Ridge Vineyards</a>, and a gourmet grocery picnic in Petaluma. It was a penultimate day for the ages.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A different kind of farewell drink with Moose at <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/tradr-sam-san-francisco-2" target="_blank">Trad'r Sam</a>.</td></tr>
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Launch day weather promised to do its best to make me forget how much I was going to miss California.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colder and wetter than I would have liked, but today is the day.</td></tr>
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Pete pulled up in a cold drizzle, and Moose was tagging along as far as he could. MV forum member <a href="http://modernvespa.com/members/stang" target="_blank">Stang</a> aka Jon, had reached out and we'd intended to meet him at his hot dog stand near Larkspur, appropriately named <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/stangs-hot-dogs-and-sausages-corte-madera" target="_blank">Stang's Hot Dogs and Sausages</a>. Unfortunately, it turned out he would be out of town the day we rolled through, but he extended his hospitality to all riders in the party! Thank you, Jon, they were the perfect road fuel for a damp and chilly day!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was no ordinary hot dog stand, I would learn.<br />
These gourmet dog were top quality, with snap, flavor, and quality ingredients.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy dogs keeping our bellies full, thanks again, Jon (<a href="http://modernvespa.com/members/stang" target="_blank">Stang</a>)!</td></tr>
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Pete and I said one more farewell to Moose, donned our matching highlighters (dammit, we're <i>those</i> people... it's only because we bought our gear at the <a href="http://www.scuderiawest.com/" target="_blank">same place</a>!), and pointed the bikes north along the coast.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clouds caught up with Pete and I, but there's no denying the beauty of the coastline.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta fuel up and warm up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy fridge doors in here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was one of those rain gear on or off kind of days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're killing me, CA.</td></tr>
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That little piece of CA-1 just south of Mendocino might have been the last part of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_State_Route_1" target="_blank">Pacific Coast Highway</a> I hadn't set tire on yet. After so many miles up and down California, a quiet sense of completion joined the mix of emotions kicking around my chest on such a moody day. There were a lot of "finally's" happening, like finally going on a camping trip with Pete (if you recall, two years ago our trip was <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2015/04/california-one-jan-24-feb-17-2015.html" target="_blank">indefinitely suspended</a>), finally taking Serenity on a long haul after her rest in Pete's garage, finally breaking new ground.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First night at camp, time for a tiny toast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers, mate.</td></tr>
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<br />
In spite of the dampness and chilliness, we pitched tent at Russian Gulch and rode back into Mendocino for dinner. The pickings were slim in the off season, but Pete offered to buy and we hauled our soggy, helmet-haired, fully-geared asses into a <a href="https://www.cafebeaujolais.com/" target="_blank">cozy candlelight establishment</a>. After a solid day of cruddy weather, the restaurant was so warm, comfortable and infinitely endearing. Filet mignon happened (we shared), as well as red wine and camaraderie. I didn't want to leave, but we found our way back to camp and I fell into a blissful sleep to the peaceful burbling of the nearby creek.<br />
<br />
So I guess the next morning was as good a time as ever for my bike to not start.<br />
<br />
Of course, there was no cell service in the gulch either. Pete rode out to troubleshoot with SF tech Matt over the phone, while I starting poking around under the pet carrier... and discovered my spark plug was loose. With that tightened back down, I figured the day was going to be <i>just fine</i> (cue foreshadowing).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wanted to take Pete by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glass_Beach_(Fort_Bragg,_California)" target="_blank">Glass Beach</a>, Fort Bragg, CA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sand is loaded with smooth beach glass. It's pretty cool, until you learn that it's due to years of nearby dumping.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/35899521541/in/album-72157683737924724/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_3327"><img alt="IMG_3327" height="480" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4313/35899521541_f371cf1b63_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It didn't stop me from enjoying the beach and clear skies.</td></tr>
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<br />
Lisa of the Humboldt County Slugrockets Scooter Club had reached out to me a while back, and I was aiming for her and Rob's place near Eureka, CA. In sporadic bursts of cell service, I received a message warning of an <a href="https://www.mendovoice.com/2017/04/re-closed-101/" target="_blank">epic landslide that had closed off 101 near Leggett</a> the night before. Traffic was being redirected along Bell Springs Rd, a smaller unpaved road, but as we went it the word was that was closed to through traffic as well. I suggested to Pete that we try and charm our way past, much like Morgan Territory Road, but upon arrival it was clear the young officer was having none of it. To get any farther north, we would have to ride far inland, 280-ish miles out of our way, almost closer to SF than we'd gone, to pick up I-5.<br />
<br />
I was quietly panicking, because this would add an extra day to our route and Pete only had so many days of dog-sitters lined up. He seemed happy to get as far as we could though, so I routed us inland via Branscomb Rd and CA-20.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun is shining on Branscomb Road.</td></tr>
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Across from the gas station in Laytonville, CA I'd noticed a sign advertising biscuits. It turned out to be a food truck with honest to goodness southern food, <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/sho-nuff-dem-biscuits-laytonville" target="_blank">Sho'Nuff Dem Biscuits</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had anxiety, until I saw the sign for biscuits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The guy is from Georgia and does things right.</td></tr>
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Timing couldn't have been better, because decisions made on empty stomachs are never good decisions.<br />
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For instance, I'd noticed a small, squiggly line on the map from Laytonville to Dos Rios that would eventually continue through the mountains to meet I-5 at Willows, where there were a cluster of overnight accommodations. While we waited for our order, I peeked ahead on Google Earth at some roads we could have all to ourselves, maybe a little preview of Alaska for me...<br />
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...As tempting as it was, we were past the halfway point in the day and I wasn't confident we could take the gravel roads on two GTSes and make it to Willows by sundown. Pete made it clear he trusted me implicitly for either route, but as I mulled it over some fried chicken and biscuits, eventually the decision was to leave the forest roads for another day. We continued down CA-20 towards Williams, and picked up I-5 (yaaawn) to a motel in Willows.<br />
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It would turn out to be a wise decision, because my spark plug would fall out twice more before the day was done. A refractory period was necessary each time it happened, until the engine was cool enough that I could thread the plug back in. If we had taken the wooded route, I'm sure we'd have found ourselves on a mountaintop in darkness.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least it had the courtesy to fall out a mile from a rest stop, so I could coast in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the motel, Pete.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We still put the tent up, to keep it real (ahem, dry it off).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murdered some bugs across California.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going to murder some breakfast at <a href="http://www.nancysairportcafewillows.com/" target="_blank">Nancy's Airport Cafe</a>. Remember, full stomachs for decision making!</td></tr>
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A place across the highway called <a href="http://www.nancysairportcafewillows.com/" target="_blank">Nancy's Airport Cafe</a> reminded me of Ken/<a href="http://lostboater.com/index.html" target="_blank">Lostboater</a>'s affinity for airport stops. It turned out to be a fantastic breakfast choice, complete with a service attitude that could have been transported from NYC. Overheard from the table next to us upon their inquiry into the corned beef, the waitress did not mince words, "It's from a can." As for the blueberry pie? "I can't say I've had the blueberry. I don't like blueberries."<br />
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For what it's worth, my breakfast was to kill for. Before we left, another diner and rider struck up conversation and affirmed our decision to take the main road to Willows – he regularly took dualies over the Laytonville Dos Rios Road, and the current road conditions were poor/nearly impassable due the recent rain. Whew! Good thing I make decisions after chicken and biscuits.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now to deal with this spark plug.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picked up Loctite at the hardware store. Now stay in there! At least till Seattle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I forget sometimes how remote parts of California can be.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossed paths with two other riders, headed from Portland to SF for a wedding. Now that's the way to go.<br />
We warned them of the road closures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are we still in California even?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty desolate around here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back over the mountains towards the coast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damn, I'm going to miss being near this.</td></tr>
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"Champagne asphalt," Pete dubbed the mountain roads over intercom. California is pretty dreamy, when it's not on fire or sliding off the face of the earth.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's rhyme for a meat break.</td></tr>
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The sign for Hatfield Meats reminded us it was as good a time as any to break, and make sure we continued to make well fed--I mean, informed decisions. Their burger bar operated out of a trailer, and a scrawny cat and a couple older loggers welcomed us to the picnic table. In the dappled shade of the forest, the loggers chatted with the ease of regulars; they both grew up in the region and attended a single room schoolhouse of 11, and told stories of the time they felled a tree 25ft in diameter. They'd been enjoying burgers at this spot most of their lives before we scooted in ("It's not fast food, but it's worth the wait."). With hyper-connected tech metropolises like San Francisco, it's a trick to remember California shares territory with secluded places, where the pace of change is slow and cell service can't penetrate. As the loggers rolled out, they recommended we stop by Grizzly State Park (we did, it was glorious), and I felt richer in belly and spirit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mad River Burger Bar cat.</td></tr>
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Upon reaching the coastline, my latest intel was to find Rob at the neighborhood tiki/dive bar in Eureka – of course, a scooterist's natural habitat outside the garage. As we pulled up to the edge of town I saw several other scooters parked in front of <a href="https://m.facebook.com/pages/The-Shanty/206770846018936" target="_blank">The Shanty</a> on 3rd and C St. Rob and the present Slug Rockets had been waiting for us. One welcome round later, and we followed Rob to their home tucked in the Redwoods.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob's garage sign, custom made by Lisa. More on Nutty Bolts later.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting the chickens.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa's happy place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisa and Rob's backyard in the Redwoods.</td></tr>
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Lisa and Rob have a truly magical, handmade home. The town of Eureka was already off the beaten path, then our modest motorcade left the cement and pavement behind to climb into the hills and allow the trees to swallow us. I'm glad we decided to meet in town, Pete and I would never have found their place on our own. We had just enough time to drop off some luggage, have a short tour, and meet the chickens. Rob wanted to take us to a live music event at <a href="http://www.fieldbrookmarket.com/" target="_blank">Fieldbrook Market</a>, a short walk through the neighborhood. Much more than a grocery, it was "Town Hall" for the small community of Fieldbrook. As we walked we talked, about how Lisa and Rob found Arcata as an escape from the big cities like LA, about life as an artisan, about what I could do about this spark plug...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">String band at <a href="http://www.fieldbrookmarket.com/" target="_blank">Fieldbrook</a>! Rob complained he suffers from Weird Face Syndrome in photos...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WFS seems to be contagious. Dammit, Rob!</td></tr>
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Lisa and Rob's artist, artisan, philosopher, tinkerers and thinker friends all stopped by the table at some point through the evening. The burgers came recommended, so we double-downed on our daily intake (remember, good decisions). The crafts community reminded me of those around Asheville, NC. The music was lively. The vibe was familial. With the warm thrum of alcohol in our bloodstreams, bellies full of burger, and toes still tapping in time with the bass Pete and I followed our hosts into the cool nighttime air.<br />
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There is no deeper black than trying to find your way through the woods at night. After we said farewell to friends and left the street lights for the dirt path home, it was as if a dark velvet cloth was slowly lowered over my face. Trees blotted out the starlight overhead as we ambled, their arms eventually becoming so thick they became a single shapeless void, extinguishing all spatial awareness. I was completely disoriented, but Rob and Lisa had walked the path home from Fieldbrook at night many times. Rob pointed out a weak pinprick of light, a lamp of indeterminable distance flitting between branches, that he used to guide himself over the invisible obstacle course – uneven ground, mud, potholes, even a plank bridge. I gave up on my night vision entirely, and for several moments merely followed Rob's disembodied voice. Somewhere ahead I could hear Pete and Lisa's footsteps too, and punctuated them with my own loud <i>Splash!</i> every time I missed the path but found a pothole instead. Good thing these boots are waterproof, and I made it over the bridge without a much bigger splash.<br />
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Of all the fantastic experiences that evening, the walk through the nighttime woods was most unexpected, and humbling.<br />
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At the house, we poured over Lisa's artwork, and a photo book by an Italian Vespa traveler they hosted a while back. We chatted until I could barely keep my eyes open. It was one of those highly condensed experiences, the sort that happen with kindred spirits because there's just so much to share before giving in to unconsciousness.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob prepared a gourmet breakfast with eggs from their chickens, local apple butter for toast, and honey from their bees for Chemex-made coffee. What a spread.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some reading material for breakfast in the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob's been part of the west coast scooter scene for a while, and handed me this <i>fantastic</i> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chick_tract" target="_blank">chick tracts</a> style minicomic from a rally years ago.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I believe it was put together by the now defunct Hells Belles SC. Any further information or copies of this genius would be appreciated!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://amzn.to/2vXuR5R" target="_blank">A Night On The Tiles</a>: The origin of Professor Nutty Bolts, as seen hanging in Rob's garage.<br />
Hmm, I can paint some Vespas too...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the life. You guys have nailed it.</td></tr>
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We dawdled over breakfast in the backyard, content to sit by the fire pit, bathe ourselves in warm sunlight, and listen to the chickens clucking and cooing behind us. It was heavenly, too heavenly to get going...but Pete had only one day left before he would turn around.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you, Lisa, for reaching out. I'm so grateful to know two such genuine individuals as Lisa and Rob.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, Bobby from the Slug Rockets! We talked him into joining us for a quick scoot.</td></tr>
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In Arcata, we stopped by Lisa's old bookstore for <a href="http://www.indiebookstoreday.com/" target="_blank">Independent Bookstore Day</a> and browsed the farmer's market for road snacks. Bobby met up with us on his GTS, and was persuaded to take us on a short jaunt north along a less-traveled road. Indeed, following a couple sharp turns out of town, in some places it was hardly a road at all. The most exciting route dwindled down to just a bumpy, narrow, dusty path that hugged the cliffside, with only open air and a sheer drop to the turquoise Pacific to our left. Lisa had taken the truck along a more accommodating road, but us four intrepid scooters picked our way over what were probably intended to be bicyclist paths. It was absolutely spectacular.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last farewell in Trinidad, CA.</td></tr>
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Pete and I pressed northward, and spotted a sizable herd of grazing elk as we rounded the bend to Orick, CA. Later, we'd learn this was a unique elk to the area, the <a href="https://www.nps.gov/redw/learn/nature/roosevelt-elk.htm" target="_blank">Roosevelt elk</a>. So of course, we stopped at a roadside joint that offered elk burgers. Y'know, to celebrate.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pushing our burger limits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worth the wait.</td></tr>
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The Snack Shack had just run out of elk, but the cook's mother was on her way in the car to resupply. "She's 80, it could be a while," she warned us, but the sun was out and I took the opportunity to call around for a quote for a new top end for Serenity. Since Mendocino, every hesitation whether from a gust of wind or bump in the road, I reflexively started looking for a shoulder to coast to a stop. The news wasn't great though, the price of a replacement was high, and labor was costly. I've come a long way as a mechanic and from videos it looked like I could do the work myself, but having never endeavored something as ambitious as this I wasn't confident in my turnaround. A Timesert was another option, but again I would be attempting to take the engine out myself, without a garage, at the whim of a machinist's schedule. It certainly highlighted what I disliked about traveling with a finite schedule: If you're short on time, you need more money. If you have plenty of time, you can get by on far less money. I've always favored the latter approach, but this trip north had a fixed deadline and I chose to have an abbreviated trip rather than no trip at all. The blue Loctite was holding, but for how long? Would I even enjoy another 5k worrying about every hesitation?<br />
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A writhing ball of anxiety had developed in the pit of my stomach when the elk reinforcements finally arrived. The burger was delicious, juicy, a little wild tasting, perfectly grilled. With the help of wavy fries my anxiety melted away from the inside, replaced with tastiness. <i>If the blue Loctite fails, I'll switch to red, and then high-temp JB Weld if it falls out again. Sacrifice the head, it's going to need a new one either way, </i>I decided to myself. As long as it limped onto the ferry from Haines, I could put off the major work for later. Yup, procrastination was the answer! I felt better about my decision making already, or maybe I was just happy because I was full of elk.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just taking my blue speeder bike through the Forest Moon of Endor. Pew pew!</td></tr>
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The landslides near Leggett meant we didn't get to ride through the Drive-Thru Tree or take the Avenue of Giants, but we did take a moment to enjoy <a href="https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g32830-d3608977-Reviews-Newton_B_Drury_Parkway-Orick_Humboldt_County_California.html" target="_blank">Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No matter how often I ride through Redwoods, it's always stunning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pete's bike is a multi-state GTS now.</td></tr>
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Topography doesn't care much for the arbitrary borderlines drawn by humans, and much of that gorgeous craggy coastline remained constant upon crossing into Oregon. There were, however, two qualities that made themselves immediately apparent across the state line: gas pumps no longer had that extended foreskin you have to pull back to fill up, and cannabis shops were aplenty. In fact, there was one visible from Californian soil. It was modestly named State Line Cannabis, which was disappointing; not even an attempt at a clever canna-punning name. It used to be fireworks you cross state lines to buy, but I suppose times change.<br />
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Also across the line I spotted a truck weighing station, and nearly made a GTS sandwich doubling back so I could weigh my scooter.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heya, wide load.</td></tr>
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500lbs fully loaded, hello my little wide load! Granted, the scale only went up in 50lbs increments (later, I found another with 20lbs increments, and it still hovered around 480lbs).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold Beach's lone scooterist and consummate craftsman, Gary.</td></tr>
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I'd contacted Gary, Gold Beach's lone scooterist who I'd met very briefly my first time through 2.5 years ago, blogging from esteemed <a href="http://www.goldbeachbooks.com/coffeehouse.htm" target="_blank">Gold Beach Books</a>. We missed the opening hours of the coffee house but he'd set us up nicely at his son's workplace, and we chatted easily about his work projects and the upcoming rally in Oregon. We even met a real miner, a man who moved to California because he dreamed of panning for gold (it turned he'd purchased mineral rights to a plot by the river that was only rich in zirconium).<br />
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As the shadows grew long, I realized with a pang I was going to be lonely when Pete turned south. Perhaps Pete was feeling similarly, because instead of us parting ways (for me to free-camp farther north) he suggested crashing at the Pacific Reef Hotel next door. Both of us too exhausted to go out for dinner, we feasted on leftovers in our enormous suite of a room, "lightening the load" for Pete's ride back. I killed off the remaining half of my burger from Fieldbrook with some box wine, and shared a kolache from the Eureka farmer's market with Pete for dessert. I didn't so much sleep as pass out.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-65318166318870742742017-06-25T13:26:00.000-07:002017-06-25T13:26:03.508-07:00End of a Bay Era. April 8 - 10, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
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Often the best stories are forged in adversity, and by that measure this is not really a great story. It is, however, a story about good times. Pete had long wanted to gather a group of scooterists to camp out, and this would be his first... and possibly last in California, because he'd just accepted a position in New York.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shuffling a few things around my pack. Front end was a bit wobbly, more rearranging will happen.</td></tr>
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He'd organized a group of Vespa folk to meet at Scuderia, ride over the Bay Bridge, and pitch our tents at the lovely Anthony Chabot Campground. With the morning thunderstorm, Pete was sure his efforts would implode, but Moose had the food ready to go, and once we were all on the road I led our party to camp without a hitch.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Firewood delivery, from our friend on Morgan Territory Road! Thanks for the photo, Sam.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tin of fire starters, talismans, and whimsies. Hmm, where did my matches go?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/33337677393/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2850/33337677393_a511e6c2d1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah yes, they were donated to the food fire. Catering by the one and only, Moose.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roasting veggies.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/33337670363/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3935/33337670363_211cac24af_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cornhole championships will be held at Puma Point.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34149007975/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2829/34149007975_3df6519278_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet the meat. Next level gourmet for a rally/campout.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/samlevin/33798313552/in/album-72157679192010683/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Vespa Ride April 2017"><img alt="Vespa Ride April 2017" height="505" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2828/33798313552_bd5c79f4ab_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the shot in front of the truck, Sam! Our new album will drop this summer.</td></tr>
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Pete had it in his mind that I could lead ambitious riders on a long ride around Morgan Territory, but I voted against it; with our late start due to morning storms and the Redwood Road road closure from landslides, what was already expected to be a 5-6 hour ride would take up to another hour, cutting it close to return by sundown. If I wasn't supposed to lead it, even I'd rather not go. Thankfully, we'd picked up an Oakland native, Emma, who volunteered to take antsy riders into town for an East Bay urban loop.<br />
<br />
The rest of us?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day drinking by the food table. Unfortunately, Sam managed to document this.</td></tr>
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Whew, ride duties shirked! Good work self-organizing, everyone!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tried to make up for shirking ride duties by chopping firewood.<br />
Escaped with all my fingers.</td></tr>
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To be fair I hadn't shirked <i>all</i> my duties. As per Pete's request, I'd premixed a signature cocktail for the event. The Whiskey <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derbi" target="_blank">Derbi</a> (spin on a whiskey daisy, but refinement will be necessary because a Whiskey <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=derbi+manhattan+scooter" target="_blank">Derbi Manhattan</a> would be a better name for a cocktail than a discontinued 2 stroke 49cc scooter) flowed freely at camp, along with plenty of other libations, snacks, and once riders had returned, dinner.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam got a nice angle on Moose and Luce putting final touches on dinner.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/33337681303/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2886/33337681303_ec8e0a1e2b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping it classy, it's a linen kind of establishment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riders returned, dinner consumed, time to compete for the crown of cornhole king.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. Good night.</td></tr>
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I admit, I started early with the premix. By the time everyone had gathered around the campfire, I was already pretty toasty, inside and out. I may have collapsed in my tent, wet from horsing around in the grass, and quite happily drunk.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp chef and sous chef de cuisine, toasting and grilling breakfast grub.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34149031895/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2818/34149031895_e327d27b0a.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shakshuka and sausages, fanciest camp breakfast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34149030895/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2905/34149030895_61b2ed5d9f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose soft boiled 2 dozen eggs beforehand for this. Commitment level: Master.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34018352901/in/album-72157681003760680/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2850/34018352901_b7d24ce204_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to go our separate ways.</td></tr>
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And thus, a great weekend came to pass. It was time for the inevitable job of clean up, and split off to take showers and nurse hangovers at home. Moose had made a reservation for a special restorative treat for us, to make sure we patted ourselves on the back (and stomachs) enough. That evening, Pete and I parked our GTSes in front of <a href="https://www.onsensf.com/" target="_blank">Onsen</a>, where his buddy Alex worked.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure this is what elves eat.</td></tr>
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Mountains of perfectly grilled and seasoned skewers were heaped before us, and consumed far too quickly for photographic evidence – I only barely snapped one of our dessert, which I'm pretty sure is a dish hailing from Lothlorien. Thoroughly glutted, we proceeded to the bathhouse portion to soak out any remaining alcohol in our systems. <a href="https://www.onsensf.com/" target="_blank">Onsen</a> is my kind of heaven in the Loin.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pete had a bucket list for SF going too.</td></tr>
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On my last day in San Francisco, we got together to do all those things that were always there, but you never step outside of routine to do. We loaded up with sandwiches from <a href="http://guerrameats.com/default.aspx" target="_blank">Guerra Quality Meats</a>, a deli I always passed on my way back from work but was closed by then, and headed up to Corona Heights Park, a grassy peak along my favorite route to Scuderia that I never stopped to explore.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wholeheartedly endorse the meatball sub from <a href="http://guerrameats.com/default.aspx" target="_blank">Guerra Quality Meats</a>.</td></tr>
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For two months, this was more or less my regular view on my commute to work. I was going to miss this city a lot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's the end of an era.</td></tr>
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Pete was moving to New York at the end of the month. Luce would return to LA. I had a flight to Boston to catch, then return to take my bike from San Francisco for the indefinite future. Only Moose was left in the city. For the last couple years and especially the last few months, we were a perfect storm of Vespas and riders and adventure. With all of us going to different places, who knows when we could gather like this again.<br />
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Belly full of meatball sub and sentimentality, it was off to the airport.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-77960748782814588302017-06-21T10:54:00.000-07:002017-06-21T10:57:38.154-07:00Two Days of Obsolescence, the Wormholes of California. April 6 - 7, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/gpelucca/" target="_blank">Gina</a> had three months to ride around the country, and for her first day I would be seeing her off. How novel, I get to be the sendoff party!<br />
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As with so many journeys down the coast, we met at the morning standard, <a href="http://www.devilsteethbakingcompany.com/" target="_blank">Devil's Teeth Baking Company</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Triumph Bonneville T120, ready for takeoff.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It could have been drier, but spirits were still up. Bye, Chantill and Vinny!</td></tr>
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We hashed out a starting route, paired helmet intercoms, and excitedly hugged our farewells. Both of us were electric with anticipation and old hands on the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_State_Route_1" target="_blank">PCH</a> south of the city, so once we hopped on the bikes our only rest breaks were once past Pigeon Point, and a brief hello to Bagel in Santa Cruz. I wanted to make sure to leave plenty of opportunities for photos and didn't want to rush Gina through her first epic launch, but I suspect we were both itching to get out of the Bay Area. The weather was kind of shitty for photos anyhow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34148849125/in/album-72157680207520132/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2923/34148849125_97c4cd17c3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mexican lunch break with a view in Seaside, CA.<br />
My art direction: Gina, look out the window towards the bikes as if deep in thought. Contemplate...burritos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34148850265/in/album-72157680207520132/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2806/34148850265_4640f26cc8.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is why I'm not an art director, isn't it.</td></tr>
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The most direct route to our overnight destination of Morro Bay/San Luis Obispo-ish would take about 4 hours, 240-ish miles. Of course, if you're riding with me, you don't take the direct route. Unfortunately, epic rainfall had closed off the Pacific Coast Highway through Big Sur, so we would have to reroute inland regardless. I spied a small road to Carmel Valley that Gina's friend, Chantill, assured us was beautiful, and we would still be able to swing back out towards Jolon to pick up my old favorite, Interlake Road.<br />
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With the power of technology, we would simply check the weather as we went and discuss where to set up camp over the intercom. It was fantastic having someone to chat with as we poked around the interior of California, though much of the conversation amounted to, "Ooh tight turn ahead, this road is awesome," "Ahh, this is so beautiful," and, "Wow, this is really great." On the occasion that we ran out of words and I forgot to switch back to music, even the static sounded blissful.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind the scenes, staging photos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goofin'.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ta-da!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit of blue.</td></tr>
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The road to Carmel Valley was indeed glorious – quiet, narrow, winding, occasionally flanked by... is that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_moss" target="_blank">Spanish moss</a>? Over intercom, we joked we'd found a wormhole to Louisiana or South Carolina. Then around the next bend the road would dive under tree cover, and open suddenly to vineyard after vineyard. The landscape seemed infinitely mutable. Were we even still in California?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally, skies are clearing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks a bit European here. Another wormhole?</td></tr>
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The last time I'd ridden Interlake Road, the hills were dusty and straw-colored, brittle and ready to crackle into flame if you gave it even an incendiary glance. The recent rainfall transformed the landscape into a luscious land, unrecognizable from my memories. Every surface was covered in a velvet coat of bright green, semi-translucent in sunlight, the kind that can only come from fresh growth. Blue stones accented the rolling hills, darker green patches came from tree shade.<br />
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It's hard not to love California, with roads like this.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look ma, no hands! Thanks for the photo, Gina.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a bridge!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This part of California reminded me of Hill Country, Texas. Another wormhole!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the dampness in the air and clouds following us, it could be England?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34107975186/in/album-72157680207520132/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2861/34107975186_549e8620c1.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.bsicambria.com/" target="_blank">Bridge Street Inn</a> in Cambria, CA. I'm pretty sure the last time I stayed here was because of rain and cold too.</td></tr>
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We'd managed to nearly double our riding time taking these smaller roads, and setting up camp at Morro Bay was looking less desirable with 100% chance of rain overnight (but look at all this camping gear we have!). I suggested an old favorite that was backtracking a bit, but might have indoor bunks: <a href="https://www.bsicambria.com/" target="_blank">Bridge Street Inn</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We arrived, unpacked, and showered, just in time to catch a wine tasting across the street.</td></tr>
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On our way to see what was open in Cambria, Gina commented how I never seem to have helmet hair. "Oh, I just have a haircut in the shape of a helmet, bwa ha ha."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worked up an epic appetite sitting on bikes today.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for the photo, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gogogooutside/" target="_blank">gogogooutside</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/samperrydotcom/" target="_blank">samperrydotcom</a>, two surfers who live and work out of a converted ambulance!</td></tr>
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As forecasted we woke to steady drizzle. Gina had an appointment in LA, and I had a scooter campout to catch back in the Bay. I asked Gina to say hi to Fred for me when she passed through Boston, hugged farewell, and watched her carefully pull away. Day 1 of 100 Days Of Obsolescence (Gina's trip name) complete, on to Day 2.<br />
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My day was mostly going to be Highway 101, but a small, squiggly line was pointed out to me on the map. Santa Rosa Creek Road led out of town and would eventually join the highway. In spite of the rain, I couldn't resist. I'd just take it slowly and carefully.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oof, some adventure on Santa Rosa Creek Road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Something about record setting rainfall in California?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wet leaves around turns, my favorite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I swerved to avoid this guy and then went back for a photo. Turns out this lizard is already dead. Eww.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/34148984315/in/album-72157680207520132/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2880/34148984315_f37362227e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This would probably be a beautiful view of the valley...on a different day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Splash zone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks for being my umbrella man, Bagel!<br />
I stopped in to chat and change a bearing, but upon opening the case I realized it was just dirty and didn't require replacement.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coveting Bagel's fancy <a href="https://www.shapeways.com/product/UYZGUX8MN/oil-funnel?optionId=1507378" target="_blank">GTS funnel</a>, by <a href="http://www.oopsclunkthud.com/" target="_blank">OopsClunkThud</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quezzie/33337653563/in/album-72157680207520132/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2925/33337653563_cc05b4ba79.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found a hidden tear in the body, probably from being rear-ended in Atlanta.<br />
Dammit, Atlanta, I like you but you try to kill me every time I'm there.</td></tr>
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Gina was on her way and the mini-adventure of Santa Rosa Creek Road was behind me. Wrapped in hi-viz rain gear, I cranked up the tunes and flew along main highways, all the way through Santa Cruz and back into the city. Tomorrow would have more scooting, but tonight it was time for a hot shower.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-34520525508806754132017-06-14T13:30:00.000-07:002017-06-17T15:47:37.680-07:00Dialing in Alaska from Outer Sunset. Jan 10 - April 5, 2017.<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ocean Beach, a quick scoot from my SF spring home.</td></tr>
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Alaska was in my sights, but it wouldn't be ridable for months yet.<br />
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On Jan 10, 2017 I landed in San Francisco from Hong Kong, solo again after a whirlwind month traveling with Fred. The weariness of jetlag shared space with the ache of separation, while gale force wind and driving rain rattled the panes of my aunt's home. Of course I'd landed during one of the many storms that season that would eventually collapse Californian spillways and put an end to their five year drought. Normally, I poke fun of what California deems 'weather' but as I hiked to the grocery store, flimsy umbrella held in front of me against a wet, windy protest, I allowed that this was indeed serious. Every few steps a gust snatched the whole thing and flipped it backwards, and as I blinked away raindrops I noticed two spokes were already broken.<br />
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<i>What the fuck am I doing here?</i><br />
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<a name='more'></a>Last year, from the comfort of Fred's home, it seemed a grand idea to put Alaska on my agenda. The month of May would be the earliest I could arrive, so I'd designated the months beforehand to San Francisco, one of my favorite cities. It made sense; my bike was already stored there, I had a place to stay, I could get some jiu-jitsu in, and it was generally temperate enough to ride, allowing me to stay sane and generate some income to stay afloat until the north thawed out.<br />
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I just hadn't expected it to start out so... cold, wet, hungry, and alone.<br />
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Anyway. The plan?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serenity is well adapted for courier service.</td></tr>
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Introducing Serenity Delivery, joining the Postmates fleet. While other parts of North America were suffering through varying degree of tundra, the climate on the coast (when it wasn't experiencing record breaking rain) was quite tolerable and even pleasant. The 'dash' – as an energetic bicycle courier referred to it – brought me to corners of the city I'd never visited, and fit around my jiu-jitsu schedule. I already had plenty of luggage space, and California is the only state that allows lane sharing, which makes scooting around the city a joy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a bubble was lost.</td></tr>
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I'd arranged to stay at the house my aunt inherited from her late father (much gratitude!). It currently sat empty in the sense that it was unoccupied by humans, but thoroughly populated by several generations of audio equipment, floor to ceiling drawers of cassette tapes, two dozen non-operational DVD players, nests of snaking extension cords just itching to catch fire, at least one drawer full of plastic bags, and... actually a lovely garden in the back. I was borrowing a house with a past life, a sanctuary of a 90's era Chinese-American childhood that I never had. The walls were pastel, the doorways rounded, and the floor was carpeted. While making curry, I found 7 can openers in the kitchen drawers, about 0 of which I felt were food safe. Ironically, I couldn't find any chopsticks.<br />
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No matter, any number of shops in the Sunset district would carry them, and everything else under the sun, packed floor to ceiling at low prices. This and the discovery of <a href="http://kevinnoodlehouse.com/" target="_blank">Kevin's Noodle House</a> (Moose's favorite pho spot!), and I was all too easily enamored by the neighborhood.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Distracted in Sunset district shops. Buy it all!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vespa headlight grill?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joined these awesome women for the Women's March. Thanks for the photo, Miki!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Umbrellas and pink.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Normally I hate milling around Market Street, but normally I remain apolitical.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing 60k on a breakfast run with Pete.</td></tr>
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My Postmates career proved short-lived though. In a lucky (and unlucky) break, Scuderia was short an employee due to a collarbone fracture. I already haunted the shop and the guys all knew I would be leaving for Alaska in 8-ish weeks, which happened to coincide with the healing time for a collarbone. Thus, I was hired to push some bikes around!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got to do fun stuff like this!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secretly, I learned to look forward to rainy days at the shop, because it meant I got to work on my own bike.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never want to have to change a tubeless tire without this machine again.</td></tr>
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It'd been 10 years since I held down a job with regular hours (I had to count, I can't believe I've been my own boss for that long). I feared for the worst, but Scuderia turned out to be a great place to learn about working in a shop, as well as pick up mechanical tips. My workdays began to take on regular rhythm – pack lunch to save money, ride to work, drink coffee/tea, ride back, change into gi and go to the late night Jitsu classes. On Wednesday nights, I joined Moose and Joe to go bouldering. All of it happened, rain or shine. Weeks took on a predictable and not altogether unpleasant shape. I only wished I could attend those morning Jitsu classes, regular job hours hogged an inconsiderately huge portion of the day. Aside from that I could coast like this for a while...<br />
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At the shop one day, a video was playing in the showroom of a group of scooter riders, gloriously gliding along a richly forested mountainside somewhere in Europe. The sun sparkled off the bikes as the camera tracked them, and the riders, presumably friends, stopped and removed their helmets to take in the scenery.<br />
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I wondered then, how many people stared at such videos from the seat of a secure job – the kind with regular hours, benefits, an upward trajectory – and longed for the feelings depicted in that video. How many hours are lost to longing, versus how many hours spent living. Or is it enough to shoehorn those feelings into a weekend, maybe a couple weeks every few years? Would it be easy for me to slip into a 'regular' job again, as long as I had a date picked out to leave it? For a couple months, I looked in from the other side.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebranding my new helmet. Yay for buying at cost.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wednesday night became a regular climbing night with these two, with subsequent feast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, California.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday became group ride day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.postmods-sf.com/" target="_blank">Postmods</a> Valentine's Day group ride...Till Death Do Us Part, a cemetery tour (cackle).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surprise birthday cake for <a href="http://www.postmods-sf.com/" target="_blank">Postmods</a> founder and chief, Pete!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun warmups at <a href="http://www.charlesgracie.com/locations/academy-locations/san-francisco-ca/" target="_blank">Charles Gracie</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred had flowers delivered on Valentine's Day. Aww.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, how do I get them back to the house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SF Burger Posse, special guest and fellow <a href="http://www.bgliterary.com/" target="_blank">BGL</a> client, <a href="https://twitter.com/geardrops" target="_blank">Caroline</a>!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still making pickups, but for Scuderia now. Freshly re-upholstered BMW seat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KTMbrella for runs on foot. <a href="http://www.samovartea.com/locations/mission/" target="_blank">Samovar Tea Bar</a> in the Mission smells so lovely.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After hours, I set up time to work on my own bike. And help this guy with his tranny.<br />
Thanks to Matt for loaning me specialized tools! I was exceptionally anxious about this job, but it went smoothly.<br />
Check out what fell out of my front fork in <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2017/04/gear-talk-alaska-expedition-serenity.html" target="_blank">my gear talk post</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late night at Scuderia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At <a href="https://peoplesbarber.com/" target="_blank">Peoples Barber</a>, you can sip on bourbon while waiting for your haircut. Oh, SF.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interlude for a weekend in Vegas for the High Rollers Rally.</td></tr>
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Due to work constraints, I couldn't justify riding to the Las Vegas rally... so weird! Fred and I flew in from separate edges of the continent, and rented a Triumph. This better not become a habit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sevenmagicmountains.com/" target="_blank">Seven Magic Mountains</a> art installation. These giant fluorescent paperweights throw color on everything.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spy a Fred!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Show and shine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GL turn signals, so pretty, so fragile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rare helmet fruit blooms in clusters at the base of rental Triumphs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tamales at <a href="http://broadacresm.com/" target="_blank">Broadacres Marketplace</a>, a cure all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I knew I should have gone right down to metal on mine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at the Sunset shops, must refrain from buying all the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Engrish" target="_blank">Engrish</a> things.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you just need a Mission burrito and some reading at Scuderia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smile House Cafe has Laksa noodle! I love the Sunset neighborhood...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainy day scoot is ready for massage?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mouse and the motorcycle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another quiet day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upside down, is says GOGOG.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver tolerates the new lounge at Scuderia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet lofts above the shop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose, Lucy, and I joined Pete for a scooter dropoff at Morgan Territory Road.<br />
The recent rains caused mudslides, isolating communities along quiet country roads like this.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But with some local pointers, scooters can pick their way through.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got some city riding in with jitsu friend, Haley, on his Ninja 250.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue scoot peeks through the barrier at Ocean Beach.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grillin' on the beach, thanks for organizing, jitsu Josh!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy birthday, Matheus! The hardest part about leaving Sunset won't be leaving the food, or shops full of trinkets.<br />
It will be saying farewell to the family I made at <a href="https://www.charlesgracie.com/locations/academy-locations/san-francisco-ca/" target="_blank">Charles Gracie</a>. Thank you guys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A visit to Bagel's home in Santa Cruz. I want to cut custom vents into my case now.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagel walks Moose through a rear tire change.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagel invited me to be on the <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/" target="_blank">Motorcycle and Misfits</a> podcast, out of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/recyclesantacruz/" target="_blank">Re-Cycle Garage</a>! You can <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/podcast-194-250cc-superhero-stephanie-yue/" target="_blank">listen to it here</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/recyclesantacruz/" target="_blank">Re-Cycle Garage</a> is a non-profit co-op garage where you can learn to work on your bike.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was fun to poke around the garage and meet Emma, Liza (briefly), and everyone!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I enjoyed the decor. I don't know if Moose realized what he was sitting under.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(snicker)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was very nervous. To be honest, as of writing this post I still haven't listened to <a href="http://motorcyclesandmisfits.com/podcast-194-250cc-superhero-stephanie-yue/" target="_blank">the episode</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose works in the food industry, so I was spoiled for food even at home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Patrick's Day cluster at Scuderia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making some mock-ups for my new crash bars.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group ride to Point Montara Lighthouse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Come ON, California, this is unreal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not even fair.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Point Montara Lighthouse has a hostel, for future reference.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's views like this that make me think of that Black Mirror episode, and how San Junipero was such a perfect amalgamation of the best parts of California.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose is outdoing himself in the kitchen yet again.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin was in town from Boston for an afternoon! I played tour guide with this giant on the back of my bike.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We watched the sun set from one of my favorite spots, the Sutro Baths.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More city sightseeing, Haley and I were on the hunt for bison in Golden Gate Park.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">250s team up. I swear he did this pose on his own.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember Gina?</td></tr>
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Two years ago, when both of Pete's wrists were broken, I stood in for his arms and legs for Gina's scooter riding lesson. Fast forward to 2017, and Gina is 2 motorcycles in and planning a cross country trip on her Bonneville T120! You can <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gpelucca/" target="_blank">follow her trip on Instagram</a>. We planned to ride south along the coast together for a day, as a send off – how cool, I get to send someone off instead of being the one leaving!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Verna and I had a quick Presidio scoot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks like our scooters are on a date.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The elusive Verna.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weekends at Joe's are spent mastering corn hole technique.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scooted to South Bay to meet family for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qingming_Festival" target="_blank">Grave Sweeping</a>.<br />
Among the graves visited was my grand uncle's, who's home I was staying in. I said an extra thank you.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parents were in town for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qingming_Festival" target="_blank">Grave Sweeping</a>. Hi, Mom!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi, Dad! It occurred to me my parents have never seen the bike in person.</td></tr>
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Often I'm asked, "What do your parents think about your trip?" My gut reaction is to tell them to ask my parents themselves next time they see them, because I'm not the authority on that. I don't know what the questioner wishes to hear; that they support me even if they don't understand, or that they're concerned in the way parents are obliged to worry about their offspring? Until this April, my parents had never even seen my Vespa in person. Perhaps it spared them some worry when it was merely an abstraction, one of many inscrutable enterprises that Steph, the artist one, engaged in on the other side of the world. To confront them with the object that altered the course of my life so much (for the odder, but better!) felt unreal. It was more awkward than introducing a boyfriend, and for a while they stood about 6 feet back. There's a particularly Chinese brand of guilt that comes from making parents worry, and even my hyphenated American identity cannot escape it.<br />
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I'm thankful for their support, but I'm also thankful for the space and independence they gave both my sister and I. It's hard enough to leave loved ones, if I had to ride away from my parents as well all the time, I don't know if I could have embarked on any ambitious overland journeys.<br />
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...Nah, I probably would've managed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose is down for a Rick & Morty marathon, with cheese and salami and wine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helping Gene, my sister's friend, settle into his new home city by finding oyster happy hours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Packing for bear test ride.</td></tr>
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Finally, my last day of work at Scuderia was behind me, my boxes were shipped off, and the house was cleaned up. All my eggs were in a row, or were those ducks in one basket? Idioms are better scrambled. All my eggs were in one Vespa basket-case, time to get cracking and make an omelet! Let's get to the good stuff.Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-53129639745964440822017-04-26T00:00:00.000-07:002017-06-12T09:19:29.338-07:00Plan: Yukon Ho, I'm Going To Alaska!The cat's out of the bag, and my days of languishing in Fog City are numbered. <a href="http://250superhero.blogspot.com/2016/12/wheres-steph-2017-winter-and-spring.html">When last I left off</a>, the plan was to return from Boston to a bike that's packed and ready to go...but to go where? I'm gunning for the motorcyclists dream: <i>I'm riding Alaska.</i> The plan thus far...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><strike>Projected departure from San Francisco: Wednesday, April 26th, 2017.</strike> <span style="color: red;">In Seattle.</span></i></span><br />
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<u><b>Stage 1: San Francisco, CA → Seattle, WA (~1k miles)</b></u><br />
<strike>April 26: Launch! Camping with Pete at Russian Gulch State Park, CA.</strike><br />
<strike>April 27: Motel with Pete at Willows, CA due to road closures from mud slides.</strike><br />
<strike>April 28: Fieldbrook, CA courtesy of Lisa and Rob of the Humboldt County Slugrockets.</strike><br />
<strike>April 29: Motel with Pete in Gold Beach, OR.</strike><br />
<strike>May 1 ~ 4: Portland, OR with the illustrious <a href="http://sararyan.com/" target="_blank">Sara Ryan</a>.</strike><br />
<strike>May 5 ~ 8: Seattle, WA with Gwynne. Last stop for service.</strike><br />
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Seattle will be my last big service stop. <a href="https://vespaseattle.com/" target="_blank">Big People Scooters</a> will hopefully put a tire on for me (I hate wrestling with spoons). I'm seeking a well-appointed garage to do the rest of it myself, will trade stories for tools and space!<br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>On May 9th, 2017 it's Yukon Ho!</i></span><br />
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Here's where the dates get extra flexible. Basically, I have about 40 days to ride where I feel like it!<br />
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<b><u>Stage 2: Seattle, WA → Haines, AK (~5k miles)</u></b><br />
<strike>May 9: Port Angeles, WA with Laura. Must resist oversupplying at <a href="http://www.swainsinc.com/store/home.html" target="_blank">Swain's</a>.</strike><br />
<strike>May 10 ~ 11: Vancouver, BC with Rob, <a href="http://www.vespaclubofcanada.com/" target="_blank">Vespa Club of Canada</a>'s website designer.</strike><br />
<strike>May 12: Whistler, BC with Neil the Cannonballer.</strike><br />
<strike>May 13: Lac la Hache at the Rangeland Motel, owned by Ruckus former prez, George.</strike><br />
<strike>May 14: Vanderhoof, BC. Motel.</strike><br />
<strike>May 15: Hazelton, BC with Pamela's friend, Phil and Peggy.</strike><br />
<strike>May 16: Stewart, BC. Camping.</strike><br />
<strike>May 17: Boya Lake, BC. Camping.</strike><br />
<strike>May 18 ~ 21: Whitehorse, YT. <a href="https://www.bzkneez.com/" target="_blank">Beez Kneez Bakpakers</a>.</strike><br />
<strike>May 22 ~ 23: Dawson City, YT. Hostel.</strike><br />
<strike>May 24: Tok, AK, via Top of the World Highway!</strike><br />
<strike>May 25 ~ 26: Fairbanks, AK. <a href="http://www.alaskahostel.com/" target="_blank">Billie's Backpacker's Hostel</a>.</strike><br />
<strike>May 27: Coldfoot Camp, AK.</strike><br />
<strike>May 28 ~ 29: Return to Fairbanks, AK by plane. Huge thanks to <a href="http://www.alaskahostel.com/" target="_blank">Billie's Backpacker's Hostel</a>.</strike><br />
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<i>On May 28th, my bike went down as I was returning from Atigun Pass. I flew to Seattle, WA with a broken collarbone. Serenity is currently stored in AK. Huge thank you to everyone who helped me towards recovery!</i><br />
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<b><u>Stage 3: Mending in Seattle, WA</u></b><br />
May 30 ~ June 28: Convalesce in Seattle, WA with Gwynne and Tom.<br />
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<b><u>Bonus Stage: Boston, MA</u></b><br />
June 29 ~ July 12: Fly to Peru for a family trip. Yep, you read that right, gonna hike Machu Picchu in moto boots!<br />
July 13 ~ 16: Lammy Jammy in Lehigh, PA.<br />
July 17 ~ onward: Rest in Cambridge, MA. Cuddle the Fred.<br />
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That's all for now!Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4452024698082537423.post-86918518906906512152017-04-25T17:54:00.000-07:002017-04-25T19:07:19.023-07:00Serenity Launches Again Tomorrow<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slow day at Scuderia makes for a shiny bike.</td></tr>
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Tomorrow is launch day. In light of my irrational panic, here's a moment of reflection.<br />
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The day I installed the Fehlings was quite slow, so once the pannier bars were installed I did something unheard of. I wiped my bike down with the attention I wiped down all the other bikes that came through Scuderia.<br />
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It's ironic that I found work that included cleaning up bikes, because I'm of the camp that my bike gets a wash when it rains – in 61k, I never detailed my own bike. I looked at all the scars, scratches, and dents with the critical eye of an inspector. Up close, Serenity hosted a topography of blemishes, and there were plenty of places that no longer quite matched up anymore. For the most part, I could recall what incident left a mark or chip. For others, I can't for the life of me think how they got there. It's crazy to think that I bought this bike new and put the first few miles on during the test ride.<br />
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Matt, resident Vespa specialist, asked if my bike had a name. I pointed at my Firefly sticker and said, "I'm a nerd. She's called Serenity." I couldn't have guessed life would imitate art so aptly since her naming. Much like the role Serenity plays for the characters in the show, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Firefly_(TV_series)" target="_blank">Firefly</a>, over the course of many miles this chunk of steel has become my home. In my eyes, Serenity is perfect with her scars, because some of my best memories were made here.<br />
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Tomorrow is launch day. Let's keep this ship on the road!Quezziehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07335260844424157955noreply@blogger.com3