Day 05

July 13

If all goes well, tonight we will be in Alaska - but it's still close to 800 miles away. I know I've got to see what's up with my CB, so I slip out early. I yank off the RedBird's seat, break out my tester and start poking around in the early light. All the connections seem to be tight and I'm sitting there scratching my noggin. Since I have my Buss fuse box velcroed into the tail section, I pull it loose to get a closer look. It falls apart in my hand and the mystery is solved. Nothing like great parts from Auto Trash. Thanks to my buddy, Ron Epperly, I happened to have some gaffer tape stashed in my tool kit. I gingerly put the thing back together and wrap it in the gaffer tape real tight. I sure hope I don't blow a fuse but at least the thing won't come apart now. When Tom comes out I tell him -

"I finally figured the CB problem out - it was the blame fuse box."

"Glad of that - the CBs make it a lot easier" he adds.

In Merritt, BC there's a restaurant down the street that has some cars at it already. It's a bit unusual - a round building made out of wood - and called Wood's Restaurant.

It's a bit unusual - a round building made out of wood - and called Wood's Restaurant. But it's close so it looks like it will work. Turns out it serves great grub and seems to be a local hangout. As we do our usual breakfast - pig and hen for me, pancakes for Tom, a feller on an 86 Yamaha Venture pulls in.

"Nice bike" I tell him.

"Yeah, it's been a good one" he responds.

"I really wanted one when they first came out but just couldn't come up with the money." I add.

He just laughs, knowing exactly what I mean. With it sitting beside our STs, it suddenly dawns on me how similar in appearance and function the two bikes are. Maybe that was one of the draws for me to the ST. But a room in Alaska beckons, so we pay the bill and hit the road. As we move along route 97 to Yellowhead, the scenery is almost too beautiful to take in. But time is short, so we don't stop for pictures. Fuel goes away quick as we eat up the miles. When we get to Williams Lake, we stop for gas and a short break. I notice a bit of a strange sight. There's this young girl, sitting in front of the store. But that's not the strange part - she's dressed in black and got this black bird sitting on her shoulder. The bird is just letting the poop fly down the back of her coat. And there's a dog looking up at them like he wonders if the bird tastes like chicken. My momma always said if she wanted to find me when I was a youngin she'd just go looking for a pack of dogs and I'd be in the middle of them cause I love dogs. Since the dog looks a little hungry I ask her -

"Mind if I give your poochie dog something to eat?"

She sort of nods but tries real hard to ignore me. I guess she's one of them folks that's trying real hard to be cool - a modern day Druid or something. But I just don't see anything cool about a bird pooping on your coat and a hungry dog. I go on into the store and get something for me and the dog. Meanwhile, she goes into the store too. The dog appreciates the food and the petting but like all good dogs, he's faithful to his master no matter how faithful his master is to him.

That's why I like dogs - they love when you nobody else will. I feel sorry for her, so tied up in being something she's not. As we get back to the business at hand, I can't help but ponder how someone gets to that state. We keep moving on down the road, knowing there's a motel room waiting for us. The towns just sort of float by - Prince George, Vanderhoof, Endako, Smithers. Finally we pull into the gas station close to Kitwanga. The sign says -

"237 Kilometers to Hyder"

About 150 miles if you're metrically challenged.

This is where 37/37A heads into Steward, BC then Hyder, Alaska. We have heard all sorts of horror stories about lack of gas, no facilities, and bad roads, but going to Hyder that is just not the case. We hit one short section of gravel and dirt that is being repaired, but that is it. In fact, 37 has just been freshly paved and there is nothing out there. So we really crank it up on the home stretch to get to Hyder. Nothing like flying along on new pavement knowing there ain't a Barney Fife in a hundred miles. We whiz through Stewart and then the pavement ends abruptly at the Alaska line - no customs, no barriers, just the end of the pavement. We work our way through the potholes to the SeeAlaska Inn. Tired but glad we made it, we wander into the bar where it seems the only activity is happening.

Tom asks the woman behind the bar -

"We've got a room reserved here for the night."

She acts as if we are a real interruption to her day and tosses Tom the keys.

"Any food served in here?" he asks.

"Naw, we've already quit cooking" she spits out.

We can both see this is a first class business establishment that really caters to their clientele. We head for our room of sorts and manage to get the door open after a few good kicks. It would have been different if the room was nice, but even at the price Tom paid, it was just one step short of a dump. We unload our gear and scratch out heads, trying to sort out why folks think this place is so great.

"I'm kind of hungry, Tom, what about you?" I ask.

"Yeah, me too. I guess Stewart is our only option" he says.

"Yep, sorta looks that way" I add.

We drag our tire bodies out to the bikes, fire them up and head back toward the Steward side - very thankful that there's still plenty of daylight though it's late. There is a Canadian customs stop so we wheel it in.
The lady officer asks me with the usual formality -

"And how long do you plan to be in Canada, sir?"

"Ma'am, I reckon just long enough to get a bite to eat" I say with a grin.

She just about loses it laughing and waves us on. We find the only place open in town that appears to be serving, Turns out to be a good choice and one of the ladies that runs it also runs a motel in Stewart.

"You should try our place. We've got the best deal around" she encourages.

Unfortunately we are doomed to stay in the Seadump motel so we thank her anyway. Finishing up, we pick our way back through the mosquitoes to the room. The room is stinky and stuffy, has no fan, no air conditioner and you don't dare open the window very much. The mosquitoes are so big they already need clearance from the tower to land so I don't fancy making them any fatter. But I don't want to lay in my own sweat all night in a lumpy bed. It just so happens the room has a refrigerator that appears to be in some sort of working order.

"Tom, I've got it figured out baby!' I say with a big smile.

I go over to the rickety old fridge, prop the door open and we have a nice air refrigerated room. Too bad mosquitoes, no stateside blood for you boys! It's been along haul - 784 miles for the day - and 3900 miles so far - not 3901 not 3899 - but exactly 3900 miles on the RedBird odometer. That means we averaged 780 miles a day and it wasn't all slabbing it. But as I pillow my head I enjoy the feeling of realizing another personal riding goal. But this old boy is still a long way from the house.