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 Fairbanks.The Prudhomme Provincial Park looks like a good spot to stay. Ready for a quick dash to catch the early morning ferry.

  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!

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.
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.
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.
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.

  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.

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.
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.

 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.

 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. 

 

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.
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.

 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. 

 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. 

  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.

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,
“Damn, those KTM horns are pathetic.”

 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.

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 theother 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.