(Mis) Adventure at Big Bar

Chuck the publican was great last night – very helpful with directions although he’s never been off the bitumen. The roads north of here are pretty remote and not at all well marked, either on maps or the GPS. I was going to try and find the Big Bar ferry on the way to Williams Lake and, because I couldn’t plot a route, was going to be winging it.

Before heading off, though. I finally got my first ‘Canadian’ breakfast – pancakes, bacon, eggs ‘easy over’, with butter and maple syrup. Mmm mmm mmmmmmm. Coffee was rubbish though. Tasteless and murky although my server just kept it coming with a chirpy ‘I’ve got a real fresh pot here, just for you honey’. You have to play the game.

Found the road to Big Bar easily enough. It follows the Frazer River for 90 km – elevated, fast roads looking down over big views. The climbs, up and down were both corrugated and loose. Once on the top though, they were long, flowing hard packed roads, perfect for a bit of pace. The trip’s sure going to be hard on tyres. I reckon this was the road that Andrew Langeluddecke, John Hudson and their crew were on a month ago – could still see their roosts!

I also saw my first bear high up on top of the ranges before the forest turned to desert. It was such a blast. He was a little tacker about the twice the size of a German Shepard, trotting across the road and minding his own business. He moved fast and wasn’t interested in me or being fed, despite the signs saying not to. Seriously, who’s going to try and feed a frigging bear!

About 1.00 pm, I started heading down to the ferry. The views were spectacular. The scenery had changed dramatically and was arid and dry with the Frazer River in the middle of it all. The 3 or 4 km going down was pretty sandy, rocky and had just been partly graded. I stopped to check out the view halfway down, put my foot on some loose gravel and, you guessed it, slipped, dropped the bike and ended up doing a big roll down the hill. Rookie error. Bugger!

I unloaded everything, skewed the bike around so the wheels weren’t pointing straight downhill, and ….. do you think I could lift it? Not a chance – the ground was just too loose and rocky and it was a lot steeper than it looks in the photo’s. I must have tried a dozen times progressively getting tireder and tireder. It was 35 degrees as well. I could see the ferry a couple of km down the way so, having waited a couple of hours for non-existent traffic, off I went. It was deathly silent, still and hot – I had plenty of water, food and camping gear and had visions of spending the night by the road.  Dave the ferryman came over the river and wasn’t too impressed. Thought I was a ‘damn, fool hiker with no brains who got lost in 35 degree heat’. He wasn’t that fond of bikers either, when I explained myself – lots of accidents coming down the hill and a few people on bikes had upset him recently (not that it would be hard). He thawed after a while and enjoyed the opportunity to give me a very volatile, expletive ridden and pessimistic lecture on life and Canadian politics. I had no choice but to listen. It was 3.30 pm by this time.

After a while, he sent me down the road a couple of km to one of the few locals that wouldn’t be out ‘haying’. The ranchers were only likely to help me if I needed medevacing out. Down I went and, of course, no one was home. Dave said he couldn’t leave the ferry until 5.00 pm, but would come up and give me a hand if I hadn’t shown by then. Thirty seconds after I got back up the hill (luggage still there I was pleased to see) a car turned up with 2 men and women in their Sunday best, including jackets and ties – it was Thursday. Who would have thought that, 90 km from the nearest town, I’d be rescued by 4 Jehovah’s Witnesses. They were thrilled to help and Dave said later that they were besides themselves with excitement when they got to the ferry. He reckoned I was going to be the topic of Sunday’s sermon. They asked if they could leave me with some reading material. I said ‘please do’. First time for everything – I was ‘nearly’ converted.

Finally crossed the river at 5.30 pm – pretty well stuffed and certainly having got my exercise for the day. This was one of the reasons I’d been so keen to try and get the 690 sorted for this trip. Despite riding so well, being so comfortable and having capacity, the big twin adventure tourers can be just be too heavy when you’re in rough country by yourself. Still, the adventure goes on – no complaints at all.

I got some good tips from Dave and decided to take a route north through Gang Ranch, Dog Creek and Alkali Lake for 2 or 3 more hours. I knew I didn’t have enough fuel to get to Williams Lake (despite carrying a spare 3 litres for emergencies) and, while there would be fuel at Alkali, the store would definitely be closed by the time I arrived that evening. I got lost a couple of times and ended up trying to get to Riske Creek. The road became absolutely abominable – it turned into a track that was 100% river rock, large and small. I was definitely heading for an off and didn’t want to have to deal with picking up the bike again. Plus, the country was empty – devoid of any life at all, human or otherwise. The scenery was spectacular though and as the sun was setting, I got some of the best views of the trip.

I turned around and got to Alkali with about 2 litres of fuel at about 9.30 pm. As the servo didn’t open until 9.00 am the next day (on Fridays they ease gently into the weekend), I camped on the lawn in front of the Forest Services office. It was an Indian reserve and, as usual, no one was about. I boiled the billy, had a coffee and then pulled out some of the emergency rations I’d bought from home – a good ole tin of tuna, cheese n biscuits (Le Snack), nuts and raisins and half a bottle of red stashed in a spare water container. Perfect. With squirrels in the trees for company and 360 km for the day, all on the dirt, I slept well. What a great second day.