Ready. Steady. Cook!

Having recharged our batteries, it was time to move on from the comfy Travelodge at Fort St John, but not before marvelling at how orange the sky was from all the fires. Maybe marvel was not the right word, especially if you had to live with the smell, for air quality and muted sunlight for any length of time.

Invisibility Cloaks Worked! (taken 1 day before the smoke rolled in)

The most direct route would be to continue on the Alaska Highway down to Dawson Creek. As much as I’m sure Dawson Creek is nice, we decided to avoid the Alaska Highway, head North and then East, toward Alberta. Whatever it was going to be like would be better than the monotony of the road in to Fort St John and it was not going to disappoint.

But before we went too far, we needed to post some postcards home. Knowing where to buy stamps and then find a postbox is difficult. Stamps aren’t sold in stores and there aren’t big red boxes on every street corner. Most houses have a box at the front of their property or (becoming more common) a large box with individual small lockers in a central location. The postman will deliver your mail and also collect any outgoing mail you wish to send.

A quick Google and a chat with a guy at the gas station, we found the post-office and I sat with the bikes as Isi went in to “do the deal” and send the postcards - the first with a bear as we had at last agreed we had BOTH seen one! An elderly man approached and we started the talk about the bikes, the plates, the journey and how he had had some great adventures himself. When Isi came out, the conversation continued and as we started to want to leave, he handed us some leaflets from his pocket, for further reading. Let’s just say, it made for great fire lighting material later that day. I felt sorry for the man. He had lost his wife to Covid and (to me) it seemed he was being exploited for his vulnerability. He seemed happy enough and there was little I could do.

At last we leave. Away from the busy roads, in to the ‘suburbs’ and then off the grid system and straight into a nice, twisty, hilly road. This was better! Dropping in to the small valley, then up to the hilltop; up and down; up and down. The lingering smoke cleared and the air became fresh, bright and full of natures aromas. This was the riding we wanted and needed. General chatter on the comms about the view of the river in the valley or the rich colours of the autumnal leaves adorning the trees and bushes surrounding us. On one such down, we saw a deer standing on the side of the road, standing side on but with her head looking at us. As we approached, it looked like an advertising cut-out, perfect in profile, with the head and ears pointing toward us. However, as we passed, we realised it was real and, as we watched in the rear mirrors, it crossed the road - as if she was waiting for us! We laughed at how the Green Cross Code was so well executed.

The winding, hilly road gave way to open fields of farmland, with straight roads and farms randomly placed in an intensely farmed area. As the road straightened and entered the oil and gas fields of Alberta, the smoke returned, adding an ethereal view as we could not see the horizon.

Traffic was light and the riding easy, until we came across a couple of combine harvesters moving from one field to another. They didn’t bother removing their over-sized comb and cutter, as they would have to in the UK. Instead, they took up BOTH lanes of the road. The driver of the first combine saw us in his mirrors and moved over, running along the banked shoulder, raising the comb and cutter, and allowing us room to pass on the opposite side of the road. I don’t know what they would have done for cars or trucks, as there was barely enough room for us.

Eventually we reached a major highway that would have linked us with Yellowknife - an area that was really having problems with wild-fires and (probably) the origin of the smoke. We turned in the opposite direction and headed South, going with the increased traffic of trucks and lorries - everything was big except us, including the train on the track that was running the wide loop to head South again, after filling with gas, oil or farming produce - the tracks stop here! We lost count of the number of wagons but did laugh at the graffiti on one oil wagon “Just Stop Oil” - good luck with stopping that one!

At a previous gas station, a local had recommended stopping at the Alberta Parks Dunvegan recreation ground, an area showing the history of the area at that point on the Peace River. Being late in the season, the exhibition centre was closed but the campsite was open. We tried to find the honesty box but could not, so we pitched with the intention to enquire with any official that may visit. They didn’t, so we enjoyed a free night.

I was still not able to walk much but Isi wanted to swim. The water level was low and accessed by various small trails that ended in a scramble down the bank. I remained on the top while Isi did the scramble. Couldn’t really call it a swim, as the current was so high that anything deeper than waist height would have resulted in an exploration of the river downstream. Isi, rightly, elected for a ‘dunk’.

Having the campsite to ourselves and access to the free wood provided (many sites provide free wood to reduce foraging and to control the origin of the wood. Dutch-elm and other such devastating diseases are being fought all over Canada and the US), we had a great night cooking and relaxing around the campfire. The only “complaint” was the regular noise of the trucks engine brakes as they ventured down the hill to the bridge at the bottom, one-way control meant they had to be slow and prepared to stop.

The following morning was cold as we packed up and left, heading South and in to the industrial towns of Sexsmith and Grande Prairie. The roads were busy and not much fun but we navigated to what seemed like a minor road on the map but turned out to be a busy road of trucks and roadworks consisting of unpaved diversions. This was supposed to be fun but clearly not so as, once again, trucks were trying to go faster than we were, sometimes getting too close as they anticipated a two lane section for the overtake and continuing to hold up the cars that wanted to go faster still!

Slowly, the traffic lessened as the trucks turned off and the views shrunk to distant mountains and winding roads. In need of fresh water, we followed the signs for a campsite, used the facilities and pushed on for a little while longer but as lunchtime approached we pulled off in to a fantastic, quiet place that would have been a great wild camp spot. Obviously frequented by passing RV’s as impromptu fire pits and some rubbish was evident. We walked around a while to stretch the backs and Isi made sandwiches perched on a log.

After a while longer on the road, we reached the start of the Jasper National Park but decided to stop the night in a hotel in Hinton, that had a swimming pool. The reminder of the Liard Hot Springs was enough for me to jump at the chance of a pool and the healing powers of the water. Liard Hot Springs it was not, but a relaxing dip did provide some relief from an aching back that was far improved from a few weeks previous, but still letting itself known on a regular basis.

One of the problems of travelling by motorcycle is the need for food. We want to stay in out-of-the-way places but also need access to food outlets. We do not want to settle in to accommodation to then kit-up again to ride out for food. This hotel was one of those places where nearby food was very limited but talking to reception, he pointed us toward a stack of pizza flyers that would happily deliver to the hotel. Not until after consuming a really good pizza, did we learn the hotel owner also owned the pizza place - those flyers weren’t there by accident!

We planned our intended route to make the most of Jasper National Park for the following few days but before that, another swim and a comfy bed…

Jasper Time…

It ain’t half hot Mum!