We were awakened from a deep sleep far too early by a loud knocking at the door and a voice yelling “housekeeping!” at 7:30 in the morning.
We were pissed as we’d been up late and knew checkout was at 11:00 am. Kim went for coffee to the main lodge and returned with an apology from the manager, as well as a free breakfast in the lodge restaurant. Woohoo!
Indeed we chose some excellent selections from the menu and were treated like kings and queens, including a gift of fresh baked pastries for our trip south. Pretty cool, as usually management doesn’t give a rat’s arse about customers, and one of the benefits of having a beautiful head knocker as a partner. She ain’t called “The Iron Butterfly” for no reason.
We loaded the bikes in the grey and headed south for the next gas stop at Meziadin Junction. On the way we discussed our options as to heading for the lower 48. Since Dave and Heather’s Canada exit issue, our plan no longer existed. One option was to continue back to Prince George on 16 from Kitwanga and work down to Vancouver, or, ride to Terrace and then Prince Rupert and catch the ferry to Port Hardy on the north tip of Vancouver Island. The ferry would be an overnight trip and cost a bit, but would save a few days of travel and maybe get us ahead of the snow hot on our tail.
We stopped at Meziadin Junction for gas and caught a cell signal. The call to the ferry brought bad news of being booked solid. We’d already warmed to the idea of the ferry and the news wasn’t good, so we decided to take a back road to Terrace through the lava fields and then back east for Smithers.
At the turn for the lava fields, the weather ticked up a bit with the temps dropping and heavy black clouds of rain ahead to the west. We headed down the dirt and gravel road, wet from previous rain but in decent shape other than sections of muddy, water-filled potholes. We’d gone about 20 miles or so when Kim noticed her insulated water bottle was missing. I’d had to move the mount to a different spot on her 700 and the mount had shifted downwards, dumping the Hydro Flask somewhere along the way. Ahead the rain clouds looked dark and heavy and behind the pricey water bottle lay somewhere on the road. We decided to ride back until we found it and then reverse back. However, our ride took us all the way back to the Cassiar highway with no luck finding it. We passed a pickup on the way and made the assumption the driver had picked it up
Kim was not a happy camper, having grown attached to the dang thing, and I admit to being impressed not only with its durability, but with its ability to keep beverages cold or hot for extensive periods of time. Bummed, we started back west but I had a bad feeling we’d get into some serious weather and mud. We stopped to discuss our options since the day was waning and the weather wasn’t looking good.
We’d had luck on standby for the Skagway Ferry, so decided to head for Prince Rupert and try our luck. If the ferry didn’t work out we’d have lost a day but we’d have been able to see the town. We reversed back again to the Cassiar and eventually made the junction at Kitwanga, where we grabbed some coffee and a piece of pie for a butt break. It was funny being in the same spot where we’d heard such bad reports on heading north, and having forged ahead now had some of the best experiences of our lives.
Topped off with gas and coffee we rolled west for Prince Rupert and hopes for a nice evening before trying the ferry early the next morning.
As the time rolled by, the terrain and road still amazed. We enjoyed the ride though the rain and gray slowly enveloped us. The ride reminded us of the road into Stewart BC and Hyder AK, but even more interesting. The light was fading fast as hard rains came and it was getting dark much earlier than usual. A big front was moving in, and sure enough the rains intensified, the temps dropped and it started to get dark.
About 40 miles from Prince Rupert I began getting flashing “gale” warnings on the BMW Nav GPS, surprised to realize my cell phone was getting signal and the Garmin app was getting weather info. The hard rains continued, but luckily we didn’t get much wind as we rode along the water’s edge, but I still feared what gale force winds lay ahead. The road was stunning but offered no turn outs or roadside areas where one could seek shelter if major winds did hit. Our heated jacket liners were worth their weight in gold this day, not to mention our waterproof boots and jackets and pants.
As we approached Prince Rupert, complete darkness came, the heavy rain didn’t lighten, with thick fog and low clouds making the final few miles a real stressful time. In the sheets of rain we finally saw some lights ahead, including the glowing gold of McDonald’s arches. Hot coffee sounded great, as well as wifi to look for a motel, since the pouring rain ended any thoughts of camping for damn sure. We were beat from the long day and weather induced stress the last few hours.
I Googled "Prince Rupert” only to find it was the rainiest town in all of Canada. I chuckled, as we’d had nothing but rain at every port city we’d gone to in Alaska, and had been hoping for a beautiful, sunny ferry ride. A motel right behind Mickey D’s proved to be the cheapest in town and it was only a block away. Kim had surreptitiously brought a couple of cans of food into the McDonalds and we dined on canned green beans and an Angus Burger, washed down with hot coffee.
Finally dragging into a room in the curry-scented motel, we spread our soaking wet gear from one end of the room to the other and turned out the lights, listening to the heavy roar of rain out the windows and thoughts of the uncovered bikes getting drenched.