tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77812159226265629402024-03-17T21:41:07.569-05:00roadtrip chris arbon Roadtrip Chris Arbon : A KTM Adventure chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.comBlogger541125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-37572431923852248822024-01-10T17:27:00.001-06:002024-01-10T17:31:48.767-06:00Sexual Assault<p> I made the trip back to Winnipeg and a bed was not ready for me. It was the emergency ward that took me in and it was as if the accident had happened yesterday. Two days later, the dementia ward on the fifth floor gave me a bed in a room with one other dementia ridden patient. The bed was as uncomfortable and the food as terrible as Calgary. The only plus point was that I had daily visits from Cheryl.</p><p>It was on the third night that I became aware of two people in my room. They were both dressed in the beige hospital uniform, worn by the people who did food distribution and the cleaning of both patients and wards. One soon left, but the other sat on the floor in a hiding position between the windows. After a while , my visitor crept over to the bed and his both hands dived under the covers at my waist-line. I reacted with a swipe of my left arm and a mouth full of expletives. This had my attacker withdraw from the room only to return moments later, re-arrange the covers at the foot of the bed and utter some excuse about making a check. I told him again to "Fuck Off" which he did..</p><p>Sleep became my big problem after the attack, laying awake became a way of life. I stashed a bottle of pop in the bed as a alternative to wrist damage. My two visitors spoke a foreign but I could not identify either although the bedside visitor had a short and stocky stature. Both never seemed to have been on my ward before but obviously thought dementia sufferers with their memory problems were an easy number for queer boy attacks. I wonder how many have taken place without re-percussions when 1 in 3 of hospital ward male employees are known to be gay.</p><p>My next objective was to leave hospital in Winnipeg and return home to recover. Nine weeks would have been 13 if rehabilitation had taken place in hospital but Cheryl organized a release. There have been blood tests and clinic visits along with physiotherapy sessions. No pain, no claim, and body recovery has taken place. The wrists are getting stronger, the walking is getting quicker and the brain is getting sharper. The only negative thing is that the Province Of Manitoba has cancelled my driving licence for two years because of the serious blow to the head.</p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-37479010014662682422024-01-09T10:10:00.002-06:002024-01-10T16:19:16.330-06:00Alzheimers.<p> Alzheimer's is the most common form of dementia and the kind that most people thought I had. The symptoms are the same but there is no recovery just a slow decline over the years. Lack of memory, slurred speech, poor physicality and bad mental decision making are the main dementia signs. My bang on the head brought all these on but my brain started to heal itself by a system known as rewiring, where new connections are made to replace broken bits that were damaged by the blow to the head.</p><p>My memory was gone for about five weeks and has still not returned from the accident. I came round eventually, to find myself tied in bed at Calgary Hospital. I could not walk or talk and had lost about 50 pounds in body weight. I had no clothes or money and no one spoke to me. Cheryl made the trip from Winnipeg to Calgary and proved what a savior she had been and luckily not the passenger on the motorcycle.</p><p>Cheryl had set in motion a claim for the motorcycle, found all missing paperwork and organized my trip back to Winnipeg by medical airplane transfer. My partner had made a Calgary trip in July but I knew nothing about it and had slept most of the time I hadn't been acting weird. The hospital bed was uncomfortable, the food was terrible and being in a dementia ward was disheartening. Winnipeg looked like a good option but after couple of weeks looking for a bed in Manitoba it looked unlikely. But Calgary had booked the plane and was going to send me anyway.</p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-75819899163166192242024-01-08T11:40:00.006-06:002024-01-08T11:40:58.450-06:00Recovering from Dementia.<p> <b>Any body with any knowledge of dementia knows the disease is not recoverable, so what did I have that was so confusing. Short answer: A bad bow to the head coupled to my old age and dementia-like symptom of amnesia, the result of a motorcycle crash and 9 weeks in hospital.</b></p><p><b>It all started, so I have been told, on the 11th of July 2023 when I ended up in a Saskatchewan ditch, lying next to a written-off KTM 790. An old gentleman eventually found me and phoned the ambulance, how long I laid there, beside a deserted road, I do not know. The hospital at Medicine Hat flew me to Calgary because of the state of the injuries. My closeness to the province border was the reason for my journey to Alberta.</b></p><p><b>The Emergency Room at Calgary did a good job of cutting-off all my riding gear before the x-rays and CAT scans showed the two bleeds in the brain and the two broken wrists. A bed was found and although I remember nothing of this, my amnesia was identified and the broken wrists were plastered. I have lost a pair of Kevlar lined motorcycle trousers and a jacket complete with armoured elbows, shoulders and back protector which must have saved me from more serious injury. Infact all my clothing and equipment disappeared and I was left wearing just a hospital bed-gown that secured only at the back.</b></p><p><b>To be continued.</b></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-49731005256227675712021-11-16T08:32:00.003-06:002021-11-16T09:21:04.227-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 1: There’s not much to recommend Winnipeg but if you want to start a motorcycle tour from the Centre of Canada; then it is a handy place to live.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Away early, into a stiff breeze. Avoiding the Trans-Canada Highway by sticking close to 49th Parallel. Westbound, all day on the KTM 790; flicking through the computer read-outs as flat and straight roads gave plenty of time to think of what was to come.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Oxbow municipal camping and nobody came to collect the fee. Quiet, grassy site by the river; a warm day and evening. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw5JxIqtk0tqgPb9rK02UgLiD1ZnZ0F6f8tmSzwab-XHETUR6PAj-vIK1JaaihE_hJg0H2U_9R04RgtrU8n_wAKuRKDAKrK_F6kkMQx0QKUU_4A5eboeF-CBo7AVTMWFcbrDJ_f4FIMYl/s1147/hg5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="1147" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw5JxIqtk0tqgPb9rK02UgLiD1ZnZ0F6f8tmSzwab-XHETUR6PAj-vIK1JaaihE_hJg0H2U_9R04RgtrU8n_wAKuRKDAKrK_F6kkMQx0QKUU_4A5eboeF-CBo7AVTMWFcbrDJ_f4FIMYl/w638-h363/hg5.JPG" width="638" /></a></div><br /></span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-42082773618327872542021-11-16T08:29:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:21:19.760-06:00<p> <img alt="4BFDF841-9D49-4ACC-BAEE-56E1D80C5F5B.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/4bfdf841-9d49-4acc-baee-56e1d80c5f5b-jpeg.3201805/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 2: Cramp during the night in calf and thigh. Am I too old for this? Riding and tent camping at 67 after 20 years of no riding. The bum aches too, even with padded cycling shorts.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Out of Manitoba: one day. Out of Saskatchewan: one day. Flat land that seems to be running downhill; but it is only the curved surface of the planet. Pushing on, using minor roads and rolling through small towns; most with a campground, some neat and tidy, some neglected and overgrown.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I head for something different: Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park, an oasis of hills and forest that was missed by the last Ice Age. Expensive, with park entry fee on top of campsite fee. One of the disadvantages of lone-rider travel. The site is big enough for four.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-12065831680513043432021-11-16T08:28:00.003-06:002021-11-16T09:21:27.700-06:00<p> <img alt="944CA5A6-E593-45C4-9281-303F5816766B.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/944ca5a6-e593-45c4-9281-303f5816766b-jpeg.3201835/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 3: Disappointed with Cypress Hills; overpriced and gloomy, only the cinnamon bun at the food stand shone. Fine riding weather again, no rain so far. By mid-afternoon the Rocky Mountains are in sight, spirits are lifted but I find I can only do about 90 minutes before needing a rest. A tankful of fuel lasts two riding sessions at about 65 mpg at 65 mph.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Finally out of the Prairies, towards the Crowsnest Pass. The Frank Slide shows how mountains can come down but I push on into British Columbia; heading for a Recreation and Trail Site. Free camping at Hartley Lake, in the hills above Fernie.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-90693493349829493102021-11-16T08:28:00.000-06:002021-11-16T09:21:38.861-06:00<p> <img alt="6BFA5230-CEAE-4E48-B924-1C1086F455A0.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/6bfa5230-ceae-4e48-b924-1c1086f455a0-jpeg.3201887/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 4: Two picnic tables, one pit toilet and enough room for three tents. Hartley Lake is a typical Rec Site. User maintained; that means, keep it clean, keep it tidy. Three KTMs call in while I’m packing up. 690, 790, and an 890; three guys out of Calgary. Their last day of five, off-roading in the mountains and it seems they all forgot to bring soap.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Tim Hortons for breakfast in Fernie before heading up to Raduim Hot Springs via Windermere and Invermere. I will be clean even if COVID regulations mean an hour long wait to enter. One of my big issues when touring is having to pay entry fees for natural features of our planet. It seems like every scenic or interesting place has a fence round it, someone has assumed ownership and charges to see or use. Raduim Hot Springs was $8.00, so not too bad but mostly I steer clear of tourist traps.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Another Rec Site for the night helped balance the finances.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-67893406228434923862021-11-16T08:27:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:21:49.652-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 5: Wapta Falls Rec Site, spectacular view across the valley, 5 miles south of the Trans-Canada Highway, east of Golden. Heading back into Alberta for trip along the Icefield Parkway.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Fifteen years of truck driving in North America and I have ticked-off 49 states and nine provinces but the Icefield Parkway has always been forbidden to an 18 wheel-semi. At last a chance to run the most scenic road in the World.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">It is beautiful, I am not disappointed. The heart of the mountains in warm sunshine. The jewel in the crown is the Columbia Icefield. I ride to the foot of the glacier; the huge busses on the ice far above look small but the cost of the trip is large. The place reeks of tourist trap but looking past the commercial aspect; it is an awesome site.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I camp at Icefield Tent, a National Park campground. $25 +$10 Park entry. But free free firewood and a warming hut with wood-burning stove. A pleasant evening in the hut chatting to other campers, I get my monies worth by stoking the wood-burner to capacity. Glad I brought my axe with me. </span><img alt="BE798D58-014B-44DC-A0DE-9ADBE0B676C2.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/be798d58-014b-44dc-a0de-9adbe0b676c2-jpeg.3201951/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-width: 100%;" />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-80043366328070831562021-11-16T08:26:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:22:00.183-06:00<p> <img alt="07F41BC1-4EC1-4F35-8657-2AF2B1A6D0F2.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/07f41bc1-4ec1-4f35-8657-2af2b1a6d0f2-jpeg.3202032/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 6: The body seems to be getting in tune with motorcycle riding and nights on a sleeping pad. Along with shorter riding days and more interesting places to stop and see. Such as Athabaska Falls which has much water and many people, being a Sunday, I suppose. Jasper is heaving too; a quick $20 fuel refill and off to McBride. All along the Yellowhead, a highway that started in Manitoba and will end at Mile Zero in Haida Gwaii. Not that the former Queen Charlotte Islands were my original destination, but since the North West Territory has not opened it’s border to tourists; I have decided on a Pacific ferry ride.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The Lake Cobb Rec Site, between Prince George and Vanderhoof, is home for the night. An awesome tent site at the water’s edge. So incredible that my neighbours come over twice to ask if it is really free of charge.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-90572178104849627092021-11-16T08:25:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:22:13.982-06:00<p> <img alt="CBFBBB57-88B3-409D-A294-087769144241.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/cbfbbb57-88b3-409d-a294-087769144241-jpeg.3202060/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 7: Booking the ferry to Haida Gwaii proves to be problem: fully booked. I go on the online waiting list and carry on with the Yellowhead towards Prince Rupert. A long day beside the Skeena River. Salmon are in the river, it’s that time of year. I stop at Kitwanga junction, start of the Cassiar Highway. There’s a couple of GS BMWs; American riders heading to Alaska. Unlike my efforts to get to the Arctic Ocean; they should be able to get to </span><span class="skimlinks-unlinked" style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Fairbanks.The</span><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Prudhomme Provincial Park looks like a good spot to stay. Ready for a quick dash to catch the early morning ferry.</span></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-45522034936522713572021-11-16T08:24:00.003-06:002021-11-16T09:22:29.206-06:00<p> <img alt="44E91C51-5324-4F46-9CF3-E8E950090497.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/44e91c51-5324-4f46-9cf3-e8e950090497-jpeg.3202098/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 8: Up early, tent packed-up wet, through town to the ferry terminal. If there is space, I will be first in line. One problem, no boat. Big “am”/“pm” mix-up. It’s a night boat and I am 12 hours early. Duh!</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">But a days rest in Prince Rupert proves beneficial. A visit to the laundromat and the downtown old port area is a good place to hangout. Good fish and chips, where I chat with the Tiger and GS riders; waiting for the ferry to Port Hardy on Vancouver Island.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The boat from Haida Gwaii arrived at 4 in the afternoon so the ferry office was open and the anxiety of getting a ticket was lifted. There is always enough room to squeeze on a motorcycle. All that worry for nothing.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">One other motorcycle lined-up with me on the quay; an island resident on a Harley who seemed to know every other passenger. He gave me the tip of taking bedding up to the passenger lounge. All the cabins had gone and the eight hour trip would have been mighty uncomfortable in a recliner.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I am a terrible traveller, seasickness was highly probable. Thankfully the Pacific was calm, flat-out on a self-inflating mattress was the way to go.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-88796968491594614912021-11-16T08:24:00.000-06:002021-11-16T09:22:37.853-06:00<p> <img alt="DB57463E-B927-4198-9FEC-09216D2C8803.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/db57463e-b927-4198-9fec-09216d2c8803-jpeg.3202124/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 9: BC Ferries’ Northern Adventure arrived at 6 o’clock in the morning, disgorging vehicles into the darkness. With no idea what was possible, I headed for a Rec Site, threw up the tent and got another couple of hours shut-eye.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The Haida Gwaii Heritage Museum was a good first call. The interesting history was littered with familiar disasters. Alcohol, firearms, smallpox and residential schools had all reeked havoc with a people who only got their land back in 2006. The Haida language and culture survives to this day. Wood carving and formline artwork giving the islands a unique signature.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Five thousand people, 140 kilometres of paved road, sprawling villages and the atmosphere of out-of-season seaside town. I headed North. Agate Beach Provincial Park, thirty klicks of dirt road east of Masset. Awesome wild stretch of coast and sheltered pad to pitch the tent; $18 a night.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-61604986644165188942021-11-16T08:21:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:22:48.515-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 10: Tow Hill is the focus of Haida legend. Ravens and whales, complete with blow-hole. A basalt out-crop backed by an old-growth temperate rain forest. A stepped boardwalk right to the top with information boards at all the lookouts. The highlight of the trip. Walking on a beach is good for the soul, walking Agate Beach is another level.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-Lz0TuP8w_dGkX6AIWI5J9edJzbx9qJVVDEqqGLasxqXXrNtbuHr3ku6dloi-CvvgEU8NifGw93HzYfxK-VgqF0tG-Y3Xc6Z6dU4qX7JJRiTMw2rylBkl3xKbZgAOvh6PPfCbOry9JbQ/s1136/hg3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="1136" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-Lz0TuP8w_dGkX6AIWI5J9edJzbx9qJVVDEqqGLasxqXXrNtbuHr3ku6dloi-CvvgEU8NifGw93HzYfxK-VgqF0tG-Y3Xc6Z6dU4qX7JJRiTMw2rylBkl3xKbZgAOvh6PPfCbOry9JbQ/w650-h372/hg3.JPG" width="650" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-65360328463622775182021-11-16T08:15:00.000-06:002021-11-16T09:23:02.591-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 11: Second day on the Beach was the first day of rain on the trip. I had stashed some driftwood in the campsite shelter on seeing the forecast and saw out the rain in the warm and dry. Getting into Masset for supplies and a visit to a food truck. Two Co-op supermarkets on the islands have all you need and prices seem fair for such a far flung location. Fuel for vehicles was also reasonably priced although I didn’t see any premium available. But the place is so small that I didn’t need to fill.</span><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZbb9w_l3sfSNe_FSafSiUh_-hk-nWhhAq-PkVVrhFrlzAR1W1Hcqsw-5TS0VG2FojBX3R7WnbD4cGEJVdw8S72Qd8tJWFPtGkMYZC5Z8TJ0EpkBWhcCtTUct99BsoTIfZa_U8RDlBUYH/s1135/hg2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="1135" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZbb9w_l3sfSNe_FSafSiUh_-hk-nWhhAq-PkVVrhFrlzAR1W1Hcqsw-5TS0VG2FojBX3R7WnbD4cGEJVdw8S72Qd8tJWFPtGkMYZC5Z8TJ0EpkBWhcCtTUct99BsoTIfZa_U8RDlBUYH/w736-h416/hg2.JPG" width="736" /></a></div><br /><p></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-20210613199715678272021-11-16T08:11:00.002-06:002021-11-16T09:23:11.660-06:00<p> <img alt="553D17AA-3E19-4D4F-AAAF-32D063B17B46.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/553d17aa-3e19-4d4f-aaaf-32d063b17b46-jpeg.3202199/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 12: Back South, a slow trip calling in at everywhere. I can’t foresee another visit to Haida Gwaii, so this is my only chance.</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Rest areas, beaches, cafes and a tour of the island’s Rec Sites. Watching the fishing boats come and go; commercial and charter, salmon, halibut and crab. Kagan Rec Site is home for the night, waterside and close to Queen Charlotte Village; just a bit disconcerting to see a black bear bound across the road as I pull in. But at least there are no grizzlies on Haida Gwaii.</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-59840573100743858912021-11-16T08:10:00.002-06:002021-11-16T09:23:24.706-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 13 and 14: It is another day waiting for the ferry. Somehow the return trip is another night boat. One boat does a round trip every day but skips a crossing. Rain sets in during the journey. Prince Rupert’s Tim Hortons have most of the passengers lining-up and getting wet at 6 in the morning. A drenching day; soaked through by Terrace; cold, wet, tired and hungry by Stewart. I bite the bullet and book into the Ripley Creek Hotel. Expensive but when I see the depth of the bathtub; worth every penny. I may have soaked in deeper baths for longer, but I can’t remember when. </span><img alt="06051568-4E89-4A84-BB52-7F79A0518640.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/06051568-4e89-4a84-bb52-7f79a0518640-jpeg.3202222/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-19677604417984820512021-11-16T08:09:00.002-06:002021-11-16T09:23:33.791-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 15: A former workmate came to Stewart to work at the Brucejack goldmine several years ago. We meet up and gossip for a morning. The afternoon is spent looking for a property; land left to my girlfriend by her father. Land he took as payment for a debt and not somewhere he saw before he died. It looked like marshland at the edge of town but that might just have been because of 24 hours of nonstop rain. There was a Mack Superliner on the neighbouring property; now that did get me interested. A cross border trip into Alaska at the town of Hyder is curtailed by a “Locals Only” sign in the middle of the road. COVID strikes again. </span><img alt="2D5E6904-49B3-45D4-A1E2-5C3B5E47C4E7.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/2d5e6904-49b3-45d4-a1e2-5c3b5e47c4e7-jpeg.3202243/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /></p>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-77091004300110670002021-11-16T08:08:00.001-06:002021-11-16T09:23:48.367-06:00<p> <img alt="7E495E79-D9D9-459F-B42D-65DF9046702D.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/7e495e79-d9d9-459f-b42d-65df9046702d-jpeg.3202277/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Day 16: Dry roads and a chance to appreciate the splendour of Highway 37A as it climbs away from Stewart and up to the Bear Glacier. Scenery on a par with the Icefield Parkway. Decision time at Meziadin Junction; do I take the Cassiar north and loop round through Watson Lake or retrace tracks to Kitwanga and Prince George. The fast disappearing tread on the back tire dictates the shortest way home.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Just south of the junction; halfway round a left hand bend: a grizzly bear. Walking along the roadside concrete barrier. With no time to stop or turnaround before reaching the animal; I flick on high-beam, blare the horn and aim straight at it. Finally getting the grizzly’s attention, it hops off the barrier and down the bank. In all probability muttering,</span><br style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">“Damn, those KTM horns are pathetic.”</span>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-29126203973556562362021-11-16T08:06:00.003-06:002021-11-16T09:23:57.869-06:00<p> <span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Day 17 to 19: Always a sense of sadness; heading home. Just mileage to grind out. Rec Site camping, cheap small prairie town campgrounds. Coop Lake, Fabyan and Yorkton. A tailwind helps the trip economy.</span></p><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The tire is a worry; U-Haul one way van hire is the contingency plan. But as the tire wears, more rubber is in contact with the road and wear seems slower. Then a puncture at the back; my first time using a repair cord in a motorcycle tubeless tire. The little baby inflater does a good job too. No noticeable oil consumption on the 7420 kilometre trip and the KTM never missed a beat. My body on the</span><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">other hand probably wondered what the brain was doing. Sleeping in a tent, hours of motorcycle riding that had never been done before and all when an old man should be sitting at home with his feet-up. COVID has a lot to answer for.</span><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #202020; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfej6HJsh26Yg2FfxysBBq_j_SdE4q34vCGzSzVhgH83FnaL1yT58zUYMwPe7FKdSz5NZ2PSSFBERBEnzcbO4M9lBUEMU2u1OY4KixzqVn77kPYkUUsIerxxSlxATv8T8dxwaoLGcD1wYF/s981/hg1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="981" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfej6HJsh26Yg2FfxysBBq_j_SdE4q34vCGzSzVhgH83FnaL1yT58zUYMwPe7FKdSz5NZ2PSSFBERBEnzcbO4M9lBUEMU2u1OY4KixzqVn77kPYkUUsIerxxSlxATv8T8dxwaoLGcD1wYF/w624-h347/hg1.JPG" width="624" /></a></div><br /></span><img alt="7D92D453-1CD0-416E-A363-A1B7F5E03038.jpeg" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" src="https://advrider.com/f/attachments/7d92d453-1cd0-416e-a363-a1b7f5e03038-jpeg.3202307/" style="background-color: #202020; border: 0px; color: #c8c8c8; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; max-width: 100%;" />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-2651996162648482732020-10-31T00:25:00.001-05:002020-10-31T00:25:45.544-05:00Mack R688 Overland Expedition Truck.<iframe width="480" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jjvIOJfoK5s" frameborder="0"></iframe>chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-65334851370472694182020-04-10T13:43:00.002-05:002020-04-10T13:52:29.892-05:00OVERLANDERS. Chapter 5.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Englishman and the American stood staring at the cling-film wrapped bundles of
dollar bills that filled the oil drum. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cartel drug
money,” muttered Rufus.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fill your
boots,” grinned Kevin.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guys
went back to the trucks and returned with the women and as many empty bags as
they could muster; back-packs, sports bags, bicycle panniers all quickly filled
with cash that seemed to be all in the $20 denomination. They re-buried the
drum; pulled up a pair of sage bushes, pulling them behind as they tried to
mask their footprints as they went back to the vehicles. A quick count revealed
about $3,000,000, stashing that amount in the trucks proved more difficult.
Kevin was anxious to get going, his military training reminded him of his
vulnerability; wide open position in enemy territory, they needed a safe haven
and quickly.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Brits
fancied Belize while the Americans preferred to return to the US; reasoning
that home turf would be safer than a tropical jungle state. It was the parting
of the ways for the foursome; after struggling up the loose surfaced track,
they hit the newly paved Highway 5; the Mack turned north, the Leyland Daf
headed south. They hadn’t noticed anybody watching them, the whole time they
had been off-road, but crucially, they had not noticed the game camera attached
to a Saguaro cactus that overlooked the burial site.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Americans didn’t reach home soil that day; they pulled into Pete’s Camp and
parked well away from the other campers. Rufus was keen to hide the $1,500,000
before the border and fortunately the fire rescue truck had plenty of storage
compartments; even so he finished off by stuffing wads of notes through the
recessed ceiling lights into the cavity between the roof and headlining.
Customs officers often ask if you have more than $10,000 in cash when you cross
the border; Rufus would just have to lie. There would be an inspection at the
military checkpoint just north of San Felipe and possibly again at Mexicali but
the truck was so different from everything else that most inspections were
guided tours rather than some over-enthusiastic contraband search.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it came
to hiding the cash in the Leyland Daf; Kevin chose the classic, tried and
tested hiding place: inside the spare wheel. The overland expedition truck
carried two spares, mounted on a purpose built rack across the back of the
living quarters and they were raised and lowered by their own electric winch.
One tyre full on banknotes still left a usable one full of air. The Brits
headed south and searched for an isolated spot away from Highway 1; a beach at
the end of a rough dirt road where they could work in peace.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you have
a flat tyre on a busy highway; no one stops to help. Start messing about with a
spare wheel in the middle of nowhere and somebody will rock-up and offer to
help. Kevin had dropped down one of his spares and deflated the tyre when a German
registered MAN TGM13-290 appeared over the horizon and made a bee-line for the
Leyland Daf. Gunther jumped down, offered his hand and free advice on tyre
inflation.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“All fixed,
just need to air it up,” lied Kevin, “ Gabby, fetch a couple of beers for our
European friends.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ You have
air-line? No. I have air-line.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gushed Gunther.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kevin had
met this sort before; ultra friendly, ultra helpful and they always assumed you
knew nothing. He had learned the hard way; don’t argue, let them have free rein
and don’t make it into a competition. Kevin let Gunther pump-up the tyre and
helped him re-install it on the back of the Leyland Daf. After an evening of
German hospitality; Gabby and Kevin knew the life story and all about the world-tour
of Petra and Gunther. It was past midnight before they were in bed, alone
together for the first time since the Germans arrived.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the
hell are we going to do with the money now?” asked Gabby.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ Christ
knows. Just wait until they bugger off and try again, I suppose.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But they
know we are heading for the ferry at La Paz and so are they. What if they want
to buddy-up?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That could
be to our advantage; let them lead the way. Safety in numbers and all that.
Just got to find another place for the money.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabby and
Kevin spent most of the night stuffing the mattress with banknotes after
carefully cutting out sections of memory foam. They soon found out they would
never again have a comfortable nights rest.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile
back at Coco’s Corner, an all-black Cadillac Escalade turned off Highway 5 and
descended the dirt road; it was the fortnightly visit to the game camera. The
third stop on a six stop tour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-12805063371614280032020-04-07T18:27:00.002-05:002020-04-08T12:01:52.949-05:00OVERLANDERS. Chapter 4.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Rufus delayed smashing a window and climbing onto the roof of the truck. A wise move as the water didn’t come up to the top of the dining table before if slowly receded. By dawn there was just a thin coating of silt and slime on the surfaces that had been underwater. Outside the flow of water had nearly stopped with just a trickle from puddle to puddle.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kevin ventured out to find no damage to the Leyland Daf. He quickly fired-up the motor and eased the truck onto higher ground. It wasn’t so simple with the Mack; it was half buried on one side with a lot of sizable rocks that needed moving before it could be extracted. Luckily they had four shovels with them. They would level the ground behind the truck, dig away the soil at each side and reverse out, with the help of the Leyland Daf if necessary. Gabby cooked breakfast while the others washed out the interior of the Mack and after the meal they all got down to digging. It was a morning of slipping and sliding, getting down and getting dirty and barefoot was the way to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is this what we’ve been looking for?” said Missy casually holding a shark tooth that completely covered her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well bugger me, two days looking and now we get one when we’re not!” exclaimed Kevin just as Gabby reached down and picked up an even bigger one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Megalodon’s had 276 teeth that fell out and replaced themselves on a regular basis. Finding two so close together gave the diggers hope that they might have stumbled on the remains of a dead meg that had been unearthed by the flash flood. They dug with renewed vigour but only found two more before Kevin ran out his winch cable to the back of the Mack. The ground was still sticky but the managed to pull the Mack onto an even keel. It would be days before the river-bed had dried enough for the trucks to retrace their steps back to Coco’s corner. But the sun shone and spirits were high; no damage was done. The stainless steel bodywork of the old fire truck was top quality engineering. Silt was everywhere but nothing a high pressure washer couldn’t return to pristine.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two days of searching the newly eroded deposits around the mesas brought a steady stream of megalodon teeth; some broken, some of excellent condition and size. Enough to make the expedition a success; well into double figures and a four figure payday, each. The last night was party night. Rufus brought out a bottle of Patron Silver, the salt and the lemon. It didn’t last long as they drank while laying out the complete collection of teeth. Rufus tossed a coin for first choice and they alternately picked their share. Biggest and best down to smallest and roughest.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guys decided to walk the course before tackling the road out. A good choice as there had been plenty of erosion by the storm. They handballed rocks into the worst of the ruts; taking all morning to get it all level as the women packed up the vehicles in their absence. On the way back down, Kevin saw the bright blue corner of a plastic oil drum laying on the riverbed. Always one to leave a place cleaner than he found it, Kevin went over and kicked at the plastic; bending over he found it was more than a broken piece, it was a whole drum. He jabbed the shovel through the lid, shattering the brittle plastic. Kevin dropped to his knees.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"> “Look at this, Rufus, come here and look at this.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span></span></div>
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</div>
</div>
<br />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-45779426886144159372020-04-04T14:55:00.001-05:002020-04-04T17:20:41.021-05:00OVERLANDERS. Chapter 3.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A track led
East from Coco’s Corner; Coco the US Army veteran who had established the dusty
rest area/ campsite/ snack bar said that several customers had been lucky
fossil hunting at the foot of local “mesas.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mesa means table in Spanish. A mesa was an
outcrop of rock shaped like a mushroom; formed by erosion caused by wind and
rain. If there was evidence of seashells surrounding a mesa then it was
reasonable to assume that it was once under the ocean. Find sea shells- find
shark teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The single
lane track wound among the hills before dropping into a gorge. It was dry
but obviously a water course when it rained. There were no tyre tracks to
follow as the two trucks picked their way from side to side; trying to keep out
of soft sand and the ruts caused by descending streams of water. Easier for the
Leyland Daf than the Mack with its lower ground clearance and long rear
overhang. In fact Kevin drove with a smile on his face; the 4x4 was now doing
what it was built to do. Rufus was muttering an endless stream of expletives as
the back end of the Mack constantly grounded on the stony track. Missy’s
white-knuckled grip kept the dashboard in place while Gabby nonchalantly
checked her cellphone for a signal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually
the gorge widened into a flat dry riverbed, several more gorges entered the
main watershed at the same spot. The Sea of Cortez was still out of sight but
looking downstream; there were several mesas and they were in logical places to
start digging. The women wanted to set-up camp first; level the trucks, open
the awnings, bring out chairs and tables. The men grabbed their shovels and attacked
a mesa without even bothering to close the driver’s door of their trucks. By
evening they were hot, sweaty with blistered hands and toothless. Twenty-four
hours later it was the same story except everyone had worn gloves. The four had
spread out; a mesa each. They found plenty of regular sized shark teeth and
shards of whale bone but megaladon teeth had proved elusive. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t as
easy as picking-up banknotes from the pavement. Maybe they were in the wrong
place. Conversation over dinner centred on whether to move on or dig deeper where
they were. They decided to break camp in the morning and head for the Pacific
coast. They were unaware of the storm coming in from the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A distant
thunder roll was the first indication, then the white light flashes reflecting in
the open roof hatch over the bed in the Leyland Daf. It was well past midnight when
the first raindrops forced Kevin to close it. Within an hour, there was no
time-lag between lightning flash and thunderclap. In such a deluge, all campers
in vehicles feel sorry for campers in tents and celebrate their choice of accommodation
and the safety it affords with a dry comfortable bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that changed
as a flash flood roared down the canyons and gorges; uniting in the riverbed.
There was a sharp jolt in the Leyland Daf as the stony soil beneath the back
wheels of the vehicle was washed away. Kevin dressed quickly, climbed through
the small hatch into the cab of the truck and fired-up the motor. The wipers
did little to clear the relentless rain; the headlights just showed a raging
torrent rushing past but the lightning lit up the scene just long enough for
him to see a path to safety. The truck had started drifting sideways by the
time Kevin had engaged the differential locks and low ratio in the gearbox. He
turned upstream, edging over to higher ground and the cover behind one of the
mesas; rocks and debris clunking against the front bumper. It was impossible to
get completely out of the water and the current still swirled around them but
they were on firmer ground and felt safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same could not be said about Missy and
Rufus. The Mack had no pass-through from the living area into the cab. Water
was beating against the back door with such pressure that it was impossible to
open. They had no skylight or roof hatch; they were imprisoned and at the mercy
of the wall of water that began moving them downstream. At nearly twelve
tonnes, the Mack was too heavy to go with the flow but turned sideways
and listed heavily; resting against a large boulder as the dirty brown water washed
over it and slowly found every crack and gap. Slowly filling the interior.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-25048116887873682302020-04-01T15:35:00.000-05:002020-04-04T12:37:58.265-05:00OVERLANDERS: Chapter 2.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a
little bit of paper work to do before entry into Mexico but it was all
available on the Internet. Tourist visas cost 500 pesos and lasted for 6
months. Vehicle insurance was mandatory but turned out to be cheap; $120 for
thirty days, $125 for 6 months. Just how good the insurance was and what it
covered was debatable. Gabby and Kevin went for the 180 days. They planned to
continue on to Belize and had to also complete the formalities for a TIP,
Temporary Importation Permit; a $200 re-fundable deposit to discourage
travelers from selling their vehicle and leaving Mexico without it. Rufus and
Melissa purchased 30 days insurance but did not need the TIP as Baja California
enjoyed an exemption from the bureaucracy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
several options for crossing the border; none promised a quick easy passage but
Calexico, crossing to Mexicali, looked simplest. Kevin and Missy led the way in
the Mack, westbound on Interstate 8 from Yuma after south on Highway 95, then
south on Highway 7. The Leyland Daf struggled to keep-up but was only a few
cars behind as they joined the end of the line-up for the border. RVs filtered
right and each took a lot longer and the cars in the other lines. The vehicle
examination was more of a guided tour for the Mexican customs agent, every
cabinet inside and every storage box opened but not rummaged through with any
thoroughness. An hour later the pair of trucks were heading south on Mex Hwy 5
heading for San Felipe and Pete’s Camp, the iconic first night halt for
first-time new arrivals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parking just
yards from the Sea of Cortez, palapas by their side the four set up camp and
retire to the restaurant for a discussion about the final plans with a couple
of wood-fired pizzas and some Tecate Light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We can dump
and refill with fresh water here, there are a couple of supermarkets in town.
How long can you guys stay off-grid in the Leyland Daf?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“About seven
days. Are we going to need any tools for this digging? We got a shovel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ Yeah, we
need a shovel each. So let’s say we leave tomorrow and expect to stay out there
for a week.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lunch was at
Cow Patty’s loncheria with an interesting conversation about shark jaws with
proprietor and his customer. Random memorabilia and an old school bus were
incorporated into a structure held together by the stickers of numerous Baja
1000 racing teams. Next stop was Coco’s Corner, overnight stop and confirmation
of nearby fossils of interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96qleNfcz7CtRCJQAJYxArxkrQ6aaRTf6zMyWI4rrHw7IoCdm-83gROTswwAn96NIPMpbo82V3aU63FMR32YI8PTupYhqrXIXnKFCgub4nJx04TTEaYGRAPtck-szDAt5yt1jbdHUR02L/s1600/cococorner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="561" data-original-width="1112" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96qleNfcz7CtRCJQAJYxArxkrQ6aaRTf6zMyWI4rrHw7IoCdm-83gROTswwAn96NIPMpbo82V3aU63FMR32YI8PTupYhqrXIXnKFCgub4nJx04TTEaYGRAPtck-szDAt5yt1jbdHUR02L/s640/cococorner.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coco's Corner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781215922626562940.post-8131706844348133072020-03-31T11:55:00.000-05:002020-04-07T19:21:09.945-05:00OVERLANDERS . Chapter 1.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“It’s as easy as walking round, picking up $100
bills.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“Never had much luck with get-rich-quick schemes,”
replied Kevin, “what kind of a dinosaur is a megalodon anyway?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“Big dead shark, teeth the size of your hand, biggest
fish the World has ever seen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kevin should
have felt safe; Arizona had no coastline. They were camped in the Sonoran
desert but Rufus was a little bit sketchy and his proposition was bordering on illegal.
The big problem was that funds were running low, they had under estimated the
cost of touring the World in an ex-British Army 4x4 truck; they needed an income more
than their online t-shirt shop and their Youtube channel could provide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabby and
Kevin were nearly six months into the adventure of a lifetime. That’s if you
don’t count the two years building their overland expedition truck from a 1993
Leyland Daf T244 four tonner. The chassis cab had been cheap enough but
building the living area and equipping the vehicle had eaten into their
savings. The cost of shipping it to North America was reasonable but driving
from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Fairbanks, Alaska, and then South to the Mexican
border had made a huge dent in the running money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vast
distances and expensive diesel fuel of Canada had been underestimated. The
permanent four-wheel drive of the Leyland Daf gave horrific fuel mileage. Wild
camping where ever they could had helped. They tried to avoid tourist traps and
admission fees; paying out for just fuel and food but now the trip was stalled
in the desert. They were at the crossroads of the trip. Central America and
then South America lay ahead but the money was running out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The BLM
[Bureau of Land Management] land around the town of Quartzsite has been a
magnet for recreational vehicles for a long time. Snowbirds from Canada, nomads
from all over the States flock to Quartzsite in their thousands. For little or
no charge the desert becomes the winter base for motor homes, travel trailers,
5<sup>th</sup> wheelers even tents. A community practicing economical living,
that suited Gabby and Kevin just fine. They may have had the only UK registered
Leyland Daf in the county but they had a lot in common with their neighbours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Missy and
Rufus had also built their own RV. A thirty year old re-purposed fire rescue
truck; lime green and white with chrome. Not a 4x4 overland expedition vehicle
but one big and tough truck all the same. They were from Idaho, just wintering in
the South-West, their second year of working just the summer. Missy would go
back to waiting tables at her family’s restaurant; Rufus would try get back to </span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">dry-walling with his brother. Rufus didn’t relish the
return to hard manual labour. Selling megalodon teeth on E-bay for a hundred
bucks each was something he awaited with pleasure.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the four
travelers sat around a ring of stones, a small pallet wood fire flickered
enough light to see the passing joint. Conversation was about the finer details
of tooth extraction from Mexico.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Technically
it is illegal. Yes. But they turn a blind eye; they’re more interested in whole
dinosaur skeletons and ancient man-made artifacts than old shark teeth that once
were on the Pacific Ocean floor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But how did
these teeth end up in the Baja?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“San Andreas
fault, earthquakes and the clash of continents. What was seabed millions of
years ago is now high and dry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who buys
the damn things? Where’s the market?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Kids
worldwide. Awesome thing to have when you are ten years old. A sixty million
year old shark tooth that is massive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabby was
reluctant to commit to the scheme but Kevin persuaded her with a few more
relevant points.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ We have to
get out of the US soon. Our B2 visas only give us six months. I know Baja
California is not really on the way to Belize but I think it would be good to
get some spending money together while we have the chance. We can sell on
E-bay. We got Pay-pal. A little bit of poking around in the desert can’t do
much harm?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next morning,
the four cycled into town and wandered around the endless gem and mineral
stalls that are an ever present feature of Quartzsite. They found a vendor with
shark teeth for sale; they bought a small megalodon chomper so they would know
what they were searching for down in Mexico. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />chris arbonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06761055340957340802noreply@blogger.com0