We're off to the West Coast!
It's not really that far away from where we currently live. It's about the distance between Toronto and Montreal. Our friends from Toronto are flying into Vancouver for a business trip, so we're riding over to spend the evening with them.
Up till the minute we left, I was debating about whether to take the GS or the Hyper. I've already put full knobbies on the GS and I'm trying to save the rubber for our dirt rides, but the Hyper is not really a touring bike - no windshield, no fairing, I hit reserve at 180 kms, and the seat is as hard as a plank of wood...
First World Problems.
2022 has been seen a pretty crap start to our riding season out here. There's still snow up on the mountain passes and the normal April Showers have extended itself all the way to the end of May. The fastest route to Vancouver sees us riding over two mountain passes, the Pennask Summit and the Coquihalla Summit, both of which are experiencing cold and variable weather. So we're taking the lower-altitude, southern route - the famous Crowsnest Pass, which snakes East/West just north of the US border.
We leave the Okanagan and it's 10°C. It's supposed to reach a high of 18 later today in Vancouver. Nice!
Crowsnest Pass
We've ridden parts of the Crowsnest Pass lots of times, but only till Princeton, where we turn north to Merritt before heading back home. This time, we continue westwards towards Manning Provincial Park and we're rewarding with scenic views of the mountains all around us and new twisty roads.
At the summit of the park, temperatures dip down 5°C. Brrr! Once again, the weatherman proves he knows sh!t because the "0% chance of precipitation" forecast turns into a snow squall. Fork.
Did I mention that I ended up taking the Hyper, with no fairing and no windshield? Pellets of ice smack me in the helmet and chest. Neda, on her sport-touring behemoth behind me, is oblivious to the battering I'm getting out front.
The snow lets off as we descend the twists and turns of the Crowsnest, AKA Highway 3. Traffic is sparse, even on this Holiday Long Weekend, as most people heading to Vancouver brave the variable conditions of the Coquihalla Pass in order to save 60 kms of distance and (theoretically) an hour of travel time.
But they're missing out on this, though:
It's not really that far away from where we currently live. It's about the distance between Toronto and Montreal. Our friends from Toronto are flying into Vancouver for a business trip, so we're riding over to spend the evening with them.
Up till the minute we left, I was debating about whether to take the GS or the Hyper. I've already put full knobbies on the GS and I'm trying to save the rubber for our dirt rides, but the Hyper is not really a touring bike - no windshield, no fairing, I hit reserve at 180 kms, and the seat is as hard as a plank of wood...
First World Problems.
2022 has been seen a pretty crap start to our riding season out here. There's still snow up on the mountain passes and the normal April Showers have extended itself all the way to the end of May. The fastest route to Vancouver sees us riding over two mountain passes, the Pennask Summit and the Coquihalla Summit, both of which are experiencing cold and variable weather. So we're taking the lower-altitude, southern route - the famous Crowsnest Pass, which snakes East/West just north of the US border.
We leave the Okanagan and it's 10°C. It's supposed to reach a high of 18 later today in Vancouver. Nice!
Crowsnest Pass
We've ridden parts of the Crowsnest Pass lots of times, but only till Princeton, where we turn north to Merritt before heading back home. This time, we continue westwards towards Manning Provincial Park and we're rewarding with scenic views of the mountains all around us and new twisty roads.
At the summit of the park, temperatures dip down 5°C. Brrr! Once again, the weatherman proves he knows sh!t because the "0% chance of precipitation" forecast turns into a snow squall. Fork.
Did I mention that I ended up taking the Hyper, with no fairing and no windshield? Pellets of ice smack me in the helmet and chest. Neda, on her sport-touring behemoth behind me, is oblivious to the battering I'm getting out front.
The snow lets off as we descend the twists and turns of the Crowsnest, AKA Highway 3. Traffic is sparse, even on this Holiday Long Weekend, as most people heading to Vancouver brave the variable conditions of the Coquihalla Pass in order to save 60 kms of distance and (theoretically) an hour of travel time.
But they're missing out on this, though: