Duct Tape
Great photos posted from yesterday!
Distance Traveled: 375.8 km
Cumulative distance: 2439 km
Maximum speed: 117 km/h
Moving average: 77 km/h
Temperature range: 15.2 - 20.3 C
After I extinguished my various batteries last night, I was packing up my stuff, getting ready for bed. Nan was already snuggled in the sleeping bags, somehow managing to take two spots. I was dealing with panniers hanging open, trying to shove everything in without regard for packing efficiently - I could sort that out in the morning. I just couldn't quite get my pannier closed and so I needed to squish a bag of clothes (Nan and I each keep our clothes in heavy duty zip-loc bags, squish the air out, then seal them shut so that we can get more out of the limited space we have). Since the picnic table was filled with various jackets and pants and things, there wasn't room for me to lay down on the picnic table on top of a bag of clothes, so I laid the bag over the seat of the bike, being careful to lay over the seat with the kick stand opposite me. Somehow, in the process, I knocked the bike over. Not sure what happened but the bike came back towards me falling opposite the side of the kickstand. CRASH! I think the campers across the lane thought I had Tourrette Syndrome.
Nan was immediately alerted to the commotion five feet from the tent. Good thing it wasn't five inches, though I think to her, it sounded like it. She immediately rushed out to see what had happened and saw the debacle. The bike laid on its side with clothing everywhere, having fallen out of the open panniers. It is a demoralizing sight. We immediately combine our Herculean strength and hoist the 700 pound bike upright, though I think it was mainly Nan, who somehow ended up at the front of the bike, where most of the weight would be concentrated (in the engine). Also, tougher to lift by the handlebars, especially standing on loose gravel. Good thing she works out. After a very helpful "maybe you shouldn't lay on the bike that way", we survey the damage by the tiny little flashlight that we have brought. Grimmer still. The right rear-view mirror housing is in multiple pieces on the ground and what remains intact is hanging by a tether designed for just such an occasion. What foresight: attach a tether to a part that can't possibly withstand the weight of the bike crashing down on it. The right pannier has received a serious scuffing. There is an engine guard emanating from each side of the engine which has thankfully saved the engine from any damage but the sheath which hides the scuffs has busted wide open to display to the world my stupidity.
After the feeling of it being so hot out has gone away, I conclude that there is nothing to be done and I go to be thinking I will resolve any issues in the morning.
OK, well, in the morning it STILL looks stupid. Fortunately, I always carry duct tape in the top case because it will fix just about any problem until at least the next town. But the blinker light no longer works. No worries, as it is the right front, easily the least important of four turn indicating lights.
Ed note: whoever said it doesn't need to be replaced doesn't know what he is talking about.
Aside from which, duct tape doesn't hold together wounded pride.
Once everything is taped together, we are good to go. To the beach. What we missed yesterday by arriving late is repaid to Nan in spades this morning as she makes her way to the beach before I am even functional.
Of course, what I need in the morning is a coffee and last night, I had gone to the front gate and asked the Gate Keeper if there was any place in the park to get a coffee. THERE IS A PLACE! RIGHT WHERE I WAS STANDING! All I had to do was show up after 8:00 a.m. But at that particular moment, I am strapping duct tape to the bike. So Nan wonders over before 8:00 a.m. and waits for the gal to open up and put on a pot of coffee. The night before we had joked that we would pay just about anything for a cup in the morning... until we tasted it. Gross! Then, Nan had "something special" to put in the coffee; as I said before - never a dull moment. Until that something special is actually in the coffee and it is worse.
Well, not all of it - but MOST of it. Before we toss it and go buy more coffee, which tasted just as bad. We are carrying a stove and we could make ourselves a really good cup if we were prepared to but we never want to fire the stove up in the morning because it would just delay us when we really do want to get going.
Glad to get that campground behind us, not that there was anything wrong with the campground itself but it is good to get going.
It is a gorgeous morning to start: sunny and around 17 degrees. There are a few scattered clouds that look a little unsettled but for the most part, it looks awesome. We spend th first hour or so riding up Hwy 19A, which hugs for coast line, for the most part. We have elected to stay off the Trans Canada because we figure we will see much more interesting terrain, and we do. We pass right through the communities of Parksville, Qualicum, Comox and Campbell River we is good fun because there are lots of houses, hotels (all sporting "no vacancy" signs) apartments and condos , parks and assorted businesses that had the good fortune to be around long enough to have a premium location; even if it is a a repair shop.
Once we get past Campbell River, It is nothing but wild almost all the way to Port Hardy. There is a certain sense of beauty on this stretch - about 200+ km - that is not quite the same as in other part of the trip. The highway is enshrouded by trees almost the entire way and even when the highway is skirting the ocean, there is still a curtain of trees blocking the view. At some points, the mountains rise above the tree tops so that we get a not bad view but generally, it is trees. But what I really enjoy riding in this kind of terrain is seeing what little signs of life there are and speculating what might be out there. There are hundreds of logging roads branching off the highway including a few that find their way to distant and marked towns, harbours or geological features not to be seen by many other than the odd trucker or lumberjack or fisherman and I love to speculate what might be out there that is worth seeing. You might assume "nothing" but my friend Phil and I rode forestry roads in southern BC a couple of years ago and it was rich with views and adventure. I have no reason to think this would be any different, if not better.
In Port Hardy, we have a rare two-night stay, thanks to BC Ferries. I have said many times that at some point in my life, I want to do a trip where I spend two nights at every stop. We are in serious need of a laundry mat so I inquire at our hotel. I am told there is one down at the Quarterdeck Inn, where we were originally booked before BC Ferries changed our plans. Nan wants to relax a few minutes so I immediately get back on the bike to figure our how far it is and whether we can walk. It is about four km so we could walk if we had nothing better to do. NOT! It's uphill both ways so that wasn't happening.
I get down there and the Quarterdeck looks like a series of buildings that includes a hotel, commercial buildings, a pub, marina and parking lots. It isn't quite apparent where the Quarterdeck begins or ends. So I ride right up to the lobby of the hotel and go in to ask if I can use the laundry. There is a sweet little old lady behind the desk and she tells me that the laundry is only for guest use. I sweet talk her and in the process explain that we were originally booked there until BC Ferries pooped the bed and had to move us to a different hotel. Eventually I wear her down by telling her we stayed there the last time we were in Port Hardy (about a million years ago). Then she has to figure out how to give us a pass card that will open the laundry room door without checking us in as guests but she achieves this. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour and that we will eat in the pub while we wait for our clothes.
I race back to our hotel and drag Nan off the bed to get her in gear so we can get our laundry done before our benefactor changes her mind. We through our sordid duds into a stuff sack and rack back down there stopping only at the grocery store to buy the desk clerk some chocolate. (She refused my offer of dinner.) We get there and Nan says "this isn't the Quarterdeck" and I just reply "close enough" because I already have the pass card to the laundry room. There is no soap dispenser in the laundry room so I have to go back to the front desk to ask if she sells soap. At this point, I am feeling a little sheepish but whatever, in about an hour we are going to have clean clothes.
She sells me some soap and I resist the urge to ask if she has any "Tide". Anyway, we are throwing our clothes into the washer and then we are back on the bike because it seems like 500 yards to the pub, which makes sense because it is at the next hotel. Yes, the Quarterdeck but that is not where we are at. Apparently. When we are getting to the pub, we see the actual Quarterdeck laundry.
Oh well, it has been that kind of day.
Our benefactor today.
Distance Traveled: 375.8 km
Cumulative distance: 2439 km
Maximum speed: 117 km/h
Moving average: 77 km/h
Temperature range: 15.2 - 20.3 C
After I extinguished my various batteries last night, I was packing up my stuff, getting ready for bed. Nan was already snuggled in the sleeping bags, somehow managing to take two spots. I was dealing with panniers hanging open, trying to shove everything in without regard for packing efficiently - I could sort that out in the morning. I just couldn't quite get my pannier closed and so I needed to squish a bag of clothes (Nan and I each keep our clothes in heavy duty zip-loc bags, squish the air out, then seal them shut so that we can get more out of the limited space we have). Since the picnic table was filled with various jackets and pants and things, there wasn't room for me to lay down on the picnic table on top of a bag of clothes, so I laid the bag over the seat of the bike, being careful to lay over the seat with the kick stand opposite me. Somehow, in the process, I knocked the bike over. Not sure what happened but the bike came back towards me falling opposite the side of the kickstand. CRASH! I think the campers across the lane thought I had Tourrette Syndrome.
Nan was immediately alerted to the commotion five feet from the tent. Good thing it wasn't five inches, though I think to her, it sounded like it. She immediately rushed out to see what had happened and saw the debacle. The bike laid on its side with clothing everywhere, having fallen out of the open panniers. It is a demoralizing sight. We immediately combine our Herculean strength and hoist the 700 pound bike upright, though I think it was mainly Nan, who somehow ended up at the front of the bike, where most of the weight would be concentrated (in the engine). Also, tougher to lift by the handlebars, especially standing on loose gravel. Good thing she works out. After a very helpful "maybe you shouldn't lay on the bike that way", we survey the damage by the tiny little flashlight that we have brought. Grimmer still. The right rear-view mirror housing is in multiple pieces on the ground and what remains intact is hanging by a tether designed for just such an occasion. What foresight: attach a tether to a part that can't possibly withstand the weight of the bike crashing down on it. The right pannier has received a serious scuffing. There is an engine guard emanating from each side of the engine which has thankfully saved the engine from any damage but the sheath which hides the scuffs has busted wide open to display to the world my stupidity.
After the feeling of it being so hot out has gone away, I conclude that there is nothing to be done and I go to be thinking I will resolve any issues in the morning.
 |
| Stupid! |
 |
| Check it out! Good as new! Don't even need to replace it! |
Aside from which, duct tape doesn't hold together wounded pride.
Once everything is taped together, we are good to go. To the beach. What we missed yesterday by arriving late is repaid to Nan in spades this morning as she makes her way to the beach before I am even functional.
Of course, what I need in the morning is a coffee and last night, I had gone to the front gate and asked the Gate Keeper if there was any place in the park to get a coffee. THERE IS A PLACE! RIGHT WHERE I WAS STANDING! All I had to do was show up after 8:00 a.m. But at that particular moment, I am strapping duct tape to the bike. So Nan wonders over before 8:00 a.m. and waits for the gal to open up and put on a pot of coffee. The night before we had joked that we would pay just about anything for a cup in the morning... until we tasted it. Gross! Then, Nan had "something special" to put in the coffee; as I said before - never a dull moment. Until that something special is actually in the coffee and it is worse.
 |
| It may not be immediately apparent but what has been poured into the coffee has immediately curdled. We drink it anyway. |
Glad to get that campground behind us, not that there was anything wrong with the campground itself but it is good to get going.
It is a gorgeous morning to start: sunny and around 17 degrees. There are a few scattered clouds that look a little unsettled but for the most part, it looks awesome. We spend th first hour or so riding up Hwy 19A, which hugs for coast line, for the most part. We have elected to stay off the Trans Canada because we figure we will see much more interesting terrain, and we do. We pass right through the communities of Parksville, Qualicum, Comox and Campbell River we is good fun because there are lots of houses, hotels (all sporting "no vacancy" signs) apartments and condos , parks and assorted businesses that had the good fortune to be around long enough to have a premium location; even if it is a a repair shop.
Once we get past Campbell River, It is nothing but wild almost all the way to Port Hardy. There is a certain sense of beauty on this stretch - about 200+ km - that is not quite the same as in other part of the trip. The highway is enshrouded by trees almost the entire way and even when the highway is skirting the ocean, there is still a curtain of trees blocking the view. At some points, the mountains rise above the tree tops so that we get a not bad view but generally, it is trees. But what I really enjoy riding in this kind of terrain is seeing what little signs of life there are and speculating what might be out there. There are hundreds of logging roads branching off the highway including a few that find their way to distant and marked towns, harbours or geological features not to be seen by many other than the odd trucker or lumberjack or fisherman and I love to speculate what might be out there that is worth seeing. You might assume "nothing" but my friend Phil and I rode forestry roads in southern BC a couple of years ago and it was rich with views and adventure. I have no reason to think this would be any different, if not better.
 |
| Pulled over on a logging road to take a break and discovered these treasures. |
I get down there and the Quarterdeck looks like a series of buildings that includes a hotel, commercial buildings, a pub, marina and parking lots. It isn't quite apparent where the Quarterdeck begins or ends. So I ride right up to the lobby of the hotel and go in to ask if I can use the laundry. There is a sweet little old lady behind the desk and she tells me that the laundry is only for guest use. I sweet talk her and in the process explain that we were originally booked there until BC Ferries pooped the bed and had to move us to a different hotel. Eventually I wear her down by telling her we stayed there the last time we were in Port Hardy (about a million years ago). Then she has to figure out how to give us a pass card that will open the laundry room door without checking us in as guests but she achieves this. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour and that we will eat in the pub while we wait for our clothes.
I race back to our hotel and drag Nan off the bed to get her in gear so we can get our laundry done before our benefactor changes her mind. We through our sordid duds into a stuff sack and rack back down there stopping only at the grocery store to buy the desk clerk some chocolate. (She refused my offer of dinner.) We get there and Nan says "this isn't the Quarterdeck" and I just reply "close enough" because I already have the pass card to the laundry room. There is no soap dispenser in the laundry room so I have to go back to the front desk to ask if she sells soap. At this point, I am feeling a little sheepish but whatever, in about an hour we are going to have clean clothes.
She sells me some soap and I resist the urge to ask if she has any "Tide". Anyway, we are throwing our clothes into the washer and then we are back on the bike because it seems like 500 yards to the pub, which makes sense because it is at the next hotel. Yes, the Quarterdeck but that is not where we are at. Apparently. When we are getting to the pub, we see the actual Quarterdeck laundry.
 |
| Combination laundry mat, liquor store, bait shop and boating supply place. |
Our benefactor today.
Krazy glue is the short term answer. I am amazed you could get that behemouth up though I have seen a small woman picking up a Harley on pavement. One of the secrets is putting the bike in gear and locking the front brake. Check it out on Youtube.
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