104 Fahrenheit

Blog and Photos by Garrett Fulton
Until today, whenever I thought of the Pacific North West, I had always imagined cool pine forests, frozen mountain tops and rainy port cities.I was completely caught off guard by temperatures of 104 degrees plus.
Even though an 80 mile an hour wind cools you while riding, it stillin no way compensates for a black leather jacket, a black insulated helmet,a black rubber seat, sitting on a couple hundred pounds of engine at the boiling point of water and wearing the same set of clothes for the second day in a row. It was an ishy feeling to say the least.
James wasnt looking too good after the heat and the ride. Standing in mild dilerium in the parking lot of the Motel, he unloaded the saddle bags and muttered, "I think Im going to pass out." I didnt doubt him. Having made it into the hotel, he sat on the edge of the bed,frozen in suspended animation looking like a nursing homealzheimers patient in need of help. It was as if narcolepsy had suddenly kicked in or he had died of a heart attack on the spot and was held upright by rigger mortis.He actually had me concerned for a couple of seconds, but then I remembered I had a date with a few pints of beer and was out the door.
The scenery,earlier in the day, while we wound our way through Mt.Rainier National park was worth the drive. Endless trees, winding roads, mountain peaks and the pinacal of it allwas a parting in the forest which revealed one of the worlds most glorious tickingtime bombs, Mt. Rainier.
Its all a bit dizzying, all this talk of fault lines and volcanos, whats going to blowwhats going to slide and when, but I did the best job I could of being an attentive student as my proffessor, the local bartender, educated me.
It looks as if the Juan de Fuca faultline (yes thats a real name) will decimate Oregon when it goes. It will go from Oregon to Ore-gone. There is nothing I can do about it. Icontemplated the coming disaster as I ordered another beer and burger.
Greetings to Debra Wilcox at Sidelines Sports Bar and my bar buddy J.P. from Van Couver as we go into tomorrow when Germany will decimate Spain in the European Soccer cup. "Die Fahne Hoch!!!!!!!!!....Go Germany!!!!!!!!!

(Aaaahhh not quite. JK)

Two Hot Guys

Words and photos by JK
Saturday morning we packed up and Garrett wanted to ship some excess clothes and things back home so a UPS shop was on the menu. He had run out to find a post office and had a fright when he heard a big bang from his transmission. After a lot of checking and chain adjustment he concluded a stone got trapped in the primary sprocket and the chain eventually bust it with a bang. He told me about ten times so I know it had him rattled. Mind you, a major breakdown in Renton WA would have me jumping off a bridge. Talk about traffic jams! The whole Seattle area is a solid sea of metal cubes rubbing plastic ends ad infinitum. We split the lanes rather than spend two weeks riding the 10 miles to the motel. One jealous duffer in an old pick-up honked in rage. Sad man. get rid of your big gas-guzzling hunk of junk and get a bike! Nice small carbon footprint dude!

I had seen the warnings on the news. Today would be 104 degrees. With the humidity of the north-west this would be tough. 231.1 miles we managed. It was beyond hot. It was hysterical-laughter-in-desperation hot. Nevertheless we thoroughly enjoyed the ride on Hwy 169 to 410 around Mount Rainier, especially when we reached the snow and enjoyed 10 minutes of refreshing cold air. We pulled in for petrol and saw a sea of sports bikes. I grabbed a cold water as Garrett emptied the shop of cheesey-meaty snacks and sweets. I wish I'd had the sense to eat something as later I was hit very hard by the extreme heat. We chatted with the other riders and learned to our disappointment that the road to Mt St Helens was still closed. They reckoned it was snow. So we decided to just get down near Portland and headed out filled with fuel. A short way along the road I felt a small bite on my left wrist inside my glove. I rubbed the glove on my thigh and got a dozen more bites. I pulled over and as I pulled off the glove a spider fell out onto the road. My wrist was on fire and it is driving me mad with itch as I type this a day later! I ran over the little swine.

My butt was beginning to ache and we both realised that it was really the heat that hurt as opposed to a hard saddle. When you open your face shield for fresh air it's like a hair dryer in your face. I stopped for cherries by the roadside. I was beginning to flag. Once again human herding got me ticked off. I had pulled into an empty middle-of-nowhere gravel lot for petrol and the $1 cherries (a vain attempt at health - I usually follow a nutrician-free diet) and within 20 seconds 42 million wallies drove in and proceeded to fight over the petrol pumps.

We got down to Vancouver WA (nice one plonkers, that's not confusing with Vancouver BC just up the road is it?) and attempted to find a motel. Stop after stop resulted in no rooms. Olympic trials and Canadians on hols jammed things up. We stumbled across a large Yamaha dealership called Pro Caliber in Longview WA and I asked about an oil change. 12,000 miles is way beyond the recommended! A very helpful chap called Glen Hobbs told me if I came in at 10am Sunday morning they would take care of my baby. Glen used to use ACT! at his last job in sales. We got a good tip from a receptionist to flee to the Portland airport motels across the Columbia river. We finally managed to get a room and I knew I had been cooked as I lugged the saddlebags the 18 miles to the room on the 3rd floor. I nearly collapsed. A cool shower, a few glasses of water and a quick kip got my heart settled back to it's normal lethargic rate.

We decided on Sunday as a "day off" so I could work all day. I rode to pro Caliber and the mechanic not only did the oil and filter change but cleaned and adjusted the chain for free. Great service. Thank you so much guys! Oh yeah, we watched Germany lose one nil to Spain. I didn't know whom I should cheer for but we agreed Spain was far and away the better side so the best man won. I was pig sick as I read on crash.net that Valentino Rossi fell on lap one at Assen in Holland but at least Ducati won. I made phone calls to set up my visits and the day was gone. Big day tomorrow. No rest for the wicked...

Back in America

Blog and Photos by Garrett Fulton

It had been roughly ten days since I had been in America but it seemed like a much longer time. The speed limit in Canada was one of the lowest I'd seen anywhere. Wheel chairs, roller skaters and old ladies with walkers were frequently pulled over and ticketed for their excesses.
The odd thing about the uniquely slow speed limit was the fact that no one seemed to obey it and no one seemed interested to enforce it. The law was like an unwanted step child that everyone ignored.
The last couple of days have shown real contrast. The scenery east of Vancouver was spectacular.Low altitude mountains bristling with pines thrust up abuptly through flat grassy swards laden with wild flowers of yellow and white with dashes of red and purple. Our road, an inky black ribbon of tarwove back and forth over a crystal blue brook like a braid of nature and technology.As I tipped left and right gently weaving around the bends, I had a motorcycle moment of zen and foundmyself calling up "Strawberry Fields" by the Beatles from memory, playing it as loud as my inner monologue could play.
Contrast that with Seattle. Im not sure where it really began, but somewhere far away from the city we began to see terrifying columns of cars streatched for miles and miles traveling in the opposite direction from us. They were frozen in a mechanical morass of "progress" and "technology".Eventually, even the lanes we soared upon began to stall and we found ourselves stopped dead, overheating in ourleathers,our bikes melting beneath us and an endless string of cars before us. Skirting the rules, we squirted through cars and trucks on a lane we created and entiteled ourselves to since we belonged to the elite classification known as "BIKERS". Many gave way, some protested, others watched inwindshield envy....but either way....we pullled ourselves out of the stagnating mechanical orgie like a phoenix fromthe Friday night asphalt ashes and wound our way to the "Quality Inn".
Earlier in the day our onward journey was christened by the Sage Patriarch of Public Relations, Rob in Vancouver.They took us in, sprinkled us with the holy water of coffee, knighted us with pizza and showed us around the emaculate new facilities.
One young employee named "Joe", whos name clearly identified him as coming from India, answered my endlessquestions about that most fascinating and chaotic land that I crave one day to revisit. Dont let the calm smile of confidence in Joes photo deceive you. Nick-named the "Tiger of Bangalore", he is to software what sharks are tokilling.
....and now,...finally,...as I write this. I am back in a real American bar. Unlike the Canadians, poluted withFrench food fornication, they dont put salad dressing on hamburgers or mayonayse on the fries or even makeIndian Somosas with Salmon. No, the Americans get it right. Real fries, real grease and real meat. Amen!Yes, its good to back in America.
Greetings to Mark Hovey and Mandy over at the Classic sports bar for cooling me down after a hot ride,and best of wishes to the German National team to win the European Soccer Cup on Sunday...well be watching and rooting. Go Germany !!!!!!!!!!!!

Atlantic to Pacific, Canada to USA

Words and photos by JK

We packed up for our retreat from Canada. We were due to visit the new Sage Software offices in Richmond BC and my friend Rob McKay and his wife Heather who had kindly arranged for the R1 to sneak inside for a photo-shoot. The weather was warm and sunny. I thought of the ride to Seattle, assumed it may get cool and foolishly wore 2 T-shirts. I recalled the first night at this motel when a lady called Reiko Linde enthusiastically stopped us for a chat. She has a BMW motorcycle. She spotted the Sage and ACT! logos and mentioned that she has used ACT! for years. Just 2 nights and 1 day in a hotel and it seems like weeks in one spot! I can't believe that on May 20th I was on the beach of the Atlantic and today we stood at the Pacific. I must read up on Lewis and Clark.

The reception and enthusiasm shown by all the Sage staff was fantastic. They had sent an email round to all 400 staff to come and meet us around noon in the foyer. We managed to snap a few pics but there were too many people to do it justice. I received a "goody-bag" of Sage gifts and selected a few that I fancied or found practical. Like a fresh new T-shirt! After being treated to pizza I had to drag Garrett away from his conversation with Joe about India as they had warned us about the border crossing queues.

We arrived at the border for a 45 minute wait in sweltering, humid heat at the Peace Arch. They say it is usually up to 3 hours. A very friendly young guy dispelled all my previous horrid experiences with Canadian customs officialdom. Garrett pulled over to put on his helmet and gloves in the area used to do further questioning. An older guy with the "badge attitude" came over and asked what we were doing. Duh! I tried to be friendly and just asked if today was going to build up into a nightmare for them as it was a holiday weekend. "We don't have nightmares...we get the job done!" he yelled and strutted off. Yeah, hence the hours of waiting. Good to know the old brigade is still around protecting us from the blue-rinse, Buick terrorists.

Off we rode on I5 to Seattle and saw the spactacular Mount Baker and then Mount Rainier further south. Everyone calls poor Rainer (pronounced Ryner), our CEO and founder of DesignR1, Rainier...probably because he's as tall as a mountain. I was falling asleep and missed Hwy 900 to Renton. So we ended up on the I405 east and had a devil of a job finding the motel. Mark Hammer had booked for us. We arrived after 6pm instead of the calculated 4pm and I showered and fell asleep instantly while Garrett went in search of a beer and food. I met up with Mark and caught up to date on news and gave him a few cold-weather items I no longer needed to haul around. His sister Rebecca gets married tomorrow here in Seattle. Later I was chatting on the phone in the hotel lounge with Jax and told her that Rebecca's new name would be Mathews. At that very instant her fiance walked past, stopped turned and shook my hand. What are the chances? I told him to call Mark a deadleg. Mark would know he had met me!

Today we want to ride round Mount St. Helens. It blew it's top. I need to see what road-rage can do to one's head.

Without Merritt

Words and photos by JK

The ride from Merritt (most expensive food on the planet?) to Vancouver was very scenic and the sunshine helped. Garrett really liked this stretch. I was rather fascinated with the "Chinese watercolour" mountains. Egg-like mounds covered in evergreens. We fuelled up in Hope, an historic jumping off point for the Klondike goldrush if my memory serves me right. (OK don't trust my memory - my single brain cell can be dodgy). Several people asked me about the charity and what ACT! software did. Again, I found that the Sage name seemed to be known. On to Abbotsford and I managed to remember the turn-off at Whatnot Road. Right up the hill, left onto Old Yale Drive and into Mountain View Village. We called it Vinyl Village because of the fake wood ship-lap siding. There is a photo of our old house. Now here's a story. Next door lived a cheerful 18 year old boy who soon made our aquaintance. I wonder whether my 3 teenage daughters were any influence? Anyway, that lad and I got on a treat and went fishing, skiing etc. About 14 years later, at a Sage event in Scottsdale AZ, I enjoy an evening with a Sage employee and I can't put my finger on why I know him. Next day it hits me. Rob McKay! The boy next door. In 30 minutes I will ride to meet Rob and the staff at the Richmond BC offices of Sage to explain my tour. Small world eh?

I spent 45 minutes cruising the streets of Abbotsford letting old memories flood back and then on to Vancouver. The grass between the lanes of the Trans-Canada Highway is no longer trimmed so no lurking cop cars. We still kept the pace sedate. Vancouver's Hasting Street was as seedy as ever (Garrett wanted to photograph all the down-and-outs) and Canada Place convention centre has great views. I love the bush planes (yet another childhood dream I had - being a Bush Pilot!) and when one came in for a landing I snapped away. We fought the horrendous traffic to Richmond and the first motel we found became our base. A day off to catch up also allowed me to visit my niece Jemma Kingstone and her mum and share a pizza. Their cute but minute toy pincer dog, Moby, seemed to take to me after I shared my pizza with this jumping-bean, rat impersonator. Bribery always works.

Today we will ride to Redmond WA where I hope we can meet up with Mark Hammer our Technical Director who is in Seattle area for a wedding.

Golden to Merritt June 24th

Words and photos by JK

OK I now confess to HATING HARLEYS!!!! I FINALLY got to sleep and from 7am until 10am the dozen Harley riders sat outside with those loud grumbling engines running whilst their other halves continued to apply makeup and pack enormous bags big enough to move house. Now I love the sound of the internal combustion engine. I admit that the Milwaukee 45degree V-twin is not my favourite sound (best sounding engine bar none to my ears is the Aprilia RSV Mille 60 degree V-twin) so to fill the universe with 12000Db of this ubiquitous American sound (it should be your national anthem...no costume malfunctions at Superbowl) early in the morning for hours is just plain thoughtless. I guess they think it makes them noticeable. It does that. The funny thing is that when we arrived at a motel in Merritt 271.4 miles later, the receptionist said that a couple had arrived and been in the same motel as us last night and complained about the same idiots! These are air-cooled engines. They don't need to sit and idle for hours. Must be truck drivers.

Fulton wanted to moon you all through the Mountie but he thought better of it and just smiled for the camers. We had threatening skies again. The ride over Kicking Horse pass and Roger's Pass was fabulous but a tad chilly to say the least. Our rain gear kept out the worst. We stopped for petrol at Revelstoke BC and my USA card was declined. They are paranoid about fraud. Steal my identity? Please do! Then you get my bank manager, my ex, my job...serves you right. So whilst I wait I chat to the lady and chap behind the counter. I wasn't TRYING to be funny but she was literally crying with laughter and begging me to stop. All I did was describe Vancouver...

The Sushwap was stunning. For some reason we were both photo lazy so the only shots I took were of these weird clouds at the end of the ride in Merritt. Merritt hosts a country and western festival every year. The receptionist at the motel was less than enamoured with it. Country and western music (now just dated rock with a twang in the voice) makes me snigger. Sorry all you pearl button fans.
Over the empty Hwy 5A we saw a lot of dead trees and I spotted a sign about mountain pine beetles so I assume they've had some little nasties visiting. I got carried away with the wide open space and shot past Garrett at some ungodly speed. Good thing it was just a funny five minutes. Some Mountie with a ray-gun was nabbing speeders about 20 miles later.
I slept over 9 hours last night and feel worse for it. I think I am allergic to sleep, slowness and anything healthy. Off to Abbotsford today. I lived there in the 90's.

Lake Louise

Blog and photos by Garrett Fulton
Beauty should never be the sole possesion of the rich and priveledged. Yet that is clearly the case with Lake Louise Canada. Its no wonder that throngs flock to Lake Louise. The chilly water is an enticing crystal green , the glacier which fills it a frozen white river, and the mountains that surround, sentinals who tower in triumph of the ages.
Tourists swarm the grounds from Korea, Holland, America and countless other countries who are drawn to its beauty like moths to the flame.
Despite the beauty, I found myself however rather disturbed by the solitary hotel and restaurant which ruled the grounds. Although it boasted not much more than a crystal lake and mountains, it capitolized on its well planned location like a lemonade stand in the middle of the Sahara. Rooms started at $400 dollars per night, dinner started at $50 dollars a plate, canoe rental was $55 dollars per hour and I didn't begin to even investigate the real cost of what it would cost to stay a weekend there with trinkets, drinks and novelties.I found myself despising the hotel for raping the tourists with such outrageous prices.
Although it was in name a "French Chateau", it didn't bother their consceince any to have Canadiens acting as Bavarian look alike porters to compliment the poorly imitated copy of Germanic architecture. Banking on tourist naivity, they created a conflicting, "cultural" salad of people,places and times to snow those with fat wallets and no taste to shell over money in exchange for bragging rights to what boiled down to fraud.
Having lived in France and Germany, I knew the real thing. Was I to cheer that the materialistic had been sold the emperors clothes? Should I have been glad that the workers were exposed as phoney? Should I have delighted to be able to laugh at the hotel as one would a Disneyland Castle? I don't know......... the scenery was heavenly, but the capitolism seemed debase.

(The views expressed are not necessarily those of the editor...JK Hahahaha)

Beautiful Banff...you HAVE to visit here!

Words and photos by JK

Sunday I rested and then rode up to Calgary for a light meal and goodbyes. Monday: I was not keen to ride this day. Whatever bug had decided to set up house in me was not cooperating. The cure was obvious. Speed! Oh I would make such a great doctor! We rode north a bit to find Garrett a Wells Fargo bank but the offices were mortgages only. They told us Canada does not allow private banks. ??? Airlines, booze, banks, and petrol all government owned? It can't be. Sounds like communism to me. I think I need to find out the facts. Canada is too big to be so obscure. South Park teases Canada all the time so somebody must know what's going on. All I know is that it is almost as expensive as Rip-Off Britain. Garrett said "of course no Americans know where Canada is...we haven't bombed it yet".

The ride to Banff was stunning and I was beginning to feel better. Sun and threatening rain alternated. Lake Louise is truly one of the world's greatest settings and in spite of the drizzle it was fabulous. On to Emerald Lake as the sun obliged us. Way back in '92 I brought my family here and we rented a canoe and paddled this greenest of lakes. As you can see I went crazy with photos as every turn of my head made me ooh and aah. I did an abstract of Lake Louise. Brill' innit?

We made Golden by 8pm and grabbed a clean motel, a meal and crashed. At the restaurant 4 lads pulled in on sports bikes. A Blade, an identical R1 to mine, and 2 Gixxer thous. This very funny big bloke chased down his mates who had missed them at the stop and on his way back did a massive stand-up wheelie at about 80mph. I was SOOO jealous! We had a good laugh and they all asked about Sage and ACT! Being a British company, Sage is quite well known here in Canada and that interested me. I need to do more to make the Sage name known known in the States. Hmmmm, maybe if I set a new record for speeding fines? I suppose I'd better not...The internet did not work and neither did my mobile. I was too knackered to care. Only 187.9 miles but full focus and a fair bit of walking in full gear should have knocked me out but as usual, just when I need it most I sleep escapes me. I think I need to fly back to the office to play catch-up for a week then fly back to my bike and carry on. It proves a strange sort of self-imposed pressure I wish I could shed.

Saturday with family

Words and photos by JK

Well this may bore the majority of you. Family pics are usually dull but it's part of my tour so suffer me folks. I am quite sick still so while Garrett rode into the city I drank hot vitamin C drinks and slept. I felt pretty good at 5pm when they called so I rode north into the city centre to join them for a city walk by the Bow River and an excellent Irish steak and Guinness pie. Calgary is a rich city and the Lambos and Maserati I snapped are not uncommon. I'm not jealous...much.

En route I pulled up beside a bright orange custom Harley Screaming Eagle V rod. I complimented the bloke and he was very friendly. The lights changed and there before us were 4 lanes of absolutely empty road. Now that Harley shook Afganistan with it's exhaust as he hauled ass out of there. I tucked in, opened my baby's throttle and within 6 or 7 seconds hit 128mph. He rolled up to the lights beside me and grinned. We gave each other the thumbs up for that happy moment of devilment and as I swung west on 12th Avenue (at a very legal pace) he honked his horn and waved a big goodbye. I love bikes. Now here's the freaky bit. This morning Garrett spots a comment on my blog (rare as rocking-horse manure). It's from my best mate's son! Phil and Sharon Bennett live in Glossop England. You know, near the world-famous Hayfield. Almost as famous as Munich's No. 19 tram. Anyway, Dan Bennett was just exiting a C-train station and saw 2 bikes racing. He saw the Sage logo on my thigh and knew instantly who it was! What are the chances? Du du du du Twylight Zone!

We had a pleasant walk, enjoyed a meal, watched Garrett give in to a Guinness or 4 and took the mick out of me for being sober. We agreed to spend another day here and to meet up tonight again. I am trying to get hold of Dan too. It's just as well we decided to stay because I woke up feeling VERY ill with aching lungs and dizzy spells. I'll rest today again and then I promise I'll stop being a wimp and ride hard for the rest of this week. Tomorrow we are off to Banff and Lake Louise so expect more mountains, pine trees, lakes and rocks photos!

Meeting the neighbors

Blog and Photos by Garrett Fulton
Crossing the border into Canada made me reflect on their flag. Throughout the world nations have come up with symbols that they feel best represents their country. They are often predatory animals of strength and aggression. The American eagle threatens to swoop down with its talons and beak. The Russian bear is imposing and dominant with its massive teeth and powerful claws and the British Lion with its dominance and terrible roar is the king of all beasts.
And the Canadian flag? A single solitary Maple leaf…….and that’s it.
Even a bag of leaves could be mildly threatening for they could potentially mess up your golf game on the putting green. A bag of leaves might overfill your garbage container, or a pile of leaves could plug up your gutters………….. but a single leaf?…. Its not much more than a crumbly book marker.
In a world of endless war however, where an African country like Mozambique has an AK-47 assault rifle as the symbol on its flag, its very refreshing indeed to come into a country that is so confident in its manhood that it can just simply enjoy a slice of peace andecology as its national emblem. Any country that puts nature above war has my vote.
Border crossings are always a bit of a grab bag. Consider. While crossing the border from Jordan into Israel the Jordanian border guard wouldn’t let me cross until I arm wrestled him. Once while entering into Britain, the car I was riding with was disassembled before our very eyes while the border guards went through every part looking for drugs. And when I asked where I could change money after crossing from Uganda into Rwanda, the border guard closed the window, marched across the lawn with me and showed me a young man in a worn t-shirt with a large brick of money and informed me that “this is the black market, you can change your money with him.”
Crossing into Canada however was really nothing much worth writing about. I was impressed however with the scenery, in particular with the lack of billboards, advertising and road signs. Canada was America 2.0. Still suffering from many of the same ills as it's American neighbors, but definitely one step closer to its European ancestry.

Eureka! Alberta is gorgeous!

Words and photos by JK

I had a bad night. Sore throat. Then I was sick in the morning. I rode like a dazed pot-smoker for the first few miles through Eureka MT. But riding a fast bike in sunshine on big, smooth, open roads with mountain scenery cures any illness and soon I was grinning and singing in my helmet as I followed Garrett at a relatively sedate pace. He knew I was well "off" and considerately kept it smooth and easy. We did 230 odd miles in total yesterday and every mile was stunning. Go online and find scenery to get an idea. But from a bike, with the smell of grass and pine forests and rushing rivers, swooping like a snowboarder through the bends, it's beyond any IMAX experience. We took Hwy 93 north and, after a crackin' good laugh with the girl at the Canadian border, rode to Hwy 3 through Fernie BC, Sparwood, over the beautiful Crows Nest Pass, and then up the 22 to Calgary. Gentle rolling cattle ranches with jagged, snow-capped mountains in the distance made me forget how lousy I felt. We stopped for petrol and a chap on an obviously expensive custom Harley came over and asked me who I was racing for. He asked who SAGE was and what ACT! was. He said he had just returned from Duluth Minnesota and was stunned by the size of the ships on the Great Lakes. I enjoyed hearing his extremely Canadian accent. For the first time I recognized the difference between a Canadian accent and the generic American accent (not deep south or New Joisey). Canadians make every statement as a question in tone. Every sentence rises in tone at the end as though seeking agreement. Hey, how does a Canadian say the alphabet? A eh B eh C eh D eh E eh...

We found our hotel and discovered the online booking had messed up my reservation and we had to find another place for Saturday night. I was pigged off as I desperately needed some down-time but the young staff were so friendly and helpful that I just couldn't show my anger. Anyway, it wasn't their fault. Calgary is an oil town and booming. Hotels are not cheap and apparently they are all busy all the time. Just the sort of situation I hate. We settled in and my brother Richard called and said we were to meet at an Indian restaurant downtown. Downtown was all dug up and EXACTLY the route I had memorised was closed (typical) but we got there and had a jolly time with him and his lovely English wife Linda. Garrett pumped my brother full of questions about oil and the world scene. He loves all that. I ordered a Vindaloo curry and the waiter went "Ooooh". He asked why I ordered such a hot curry and I said "because you don't have a Phal on the menu". (Phal will kill small animals at 40 yards with a whiff of the sauce). Well it was about as hot as a Dairy Queen in a snow drift. My brother says no one in Calgary wants hot food. Hmmmmmm. And all those people from India walking the streets?

As we left the restaurant a large group of Richard's international work colleagues were at a table so I got to meet them. Richard and I are like the North and South pole. He is a real "proffessor" egg-head genius and I'm about as shallow as they come. We don't even look anything alike. On the way back I really enjoyed the rush of two bikes in a city at night weaving and dodging and watching the myriad lights in a frenzied focus. We stopped at some motel and booked the last room for Saturday night. I hope to see Scott (my sister Cathy's son) and Rebecca his wife tonight. I have to go pack up and move hotels now...groan.

Taking my anger to the Grave

Photos and Blog by Garrett Fulton
Imagine riding 80 miles out of your way in great anticipation of seeing something that people have hailed as breath taking, only to arrive there and find that the tourist attraction they were raving about was the equivalent of the “Belly Button Lint Museum.” That is roughly how disappointed I was at seeing the famous Glacier Park. (see angry attached photo)
It goes without saying that anyone who can travel for days through mountains, forests and lakes and is still willing to pay $12.00 to get into a National Park to see mountains, forests and lakes, undoubtedly has something wrong with them. To such chin dribbling suckers like myself, paying an entrance fee to see what I had seen for days for free was an I.Q. test that I had clearly failed.
The one advantage that I had to view the mountains in Glacier Park was that I didn’t need to bob and weave to look beyond the McDonalds signs and power lines to see them. Otherwise, the scenery inside the park was no different to the scenery outside the park.
I must backtrack for a moment however, before anyone reading this who loves Glacier N.P. starts chucking spears at me ,and state that we only got 16 miles into the park as the road was closed beyond that point because of a 2 foot snowfall that they had received the week before. So, my criticism must be curtailed as I wasn’t able to see the whole thing. Perhaps just over the next forbidden hill the streets were paved with gold, super models were serving bikers pitchers of beer and Led Zeppelin was doing a reunion tour amongst the pines,…but I really doubt it.
Soooooooo…..back we tracked for the same 40 miles we had come in until we found our way north towards Canada. I was enjoying my frustration and anger with Glacier National Park when we stumbled across something which robbed me of my delicious hate.
There by the side of the road were some of the most inviting wooden cabins I had seen in a long time. The grounds were immaculate and the cabins inside were cozy and detailed down to a nail. It’s the quaintest accommodations we have had so far.
To deprive me even further from my bad mood, the caretaker brought us complimentary crackers, cheese and sliced fruit, not unlike your mother would bring her little adventurers who are camping in the back yard. By now I was thoroughly at home and was dreading having to leave.
Their website should soon be up at www.GraveCreekCabins.com. Don’t let the name dissuade you. You will be hard pressed to find cozier accommodations or hospitality on your travels.
(Second photo is of ACT consultant Tami and a photo inside our cabin at Grave Creek. Greetings to my cousin Jodie W. who has been following along as well.)