Petra Klehr & Axel Uhl

We packed our bags starting the week of July 19th. We knew our flight went on Thursday, so there was plenty of time to get prepared. Of course we had simulated the trip in our minds several times. What do we need to bring? What should we buy there? What are the potential show-stoppers? What must we not forget?

Petra was the camping manager. She had the tent and the utensils coming with it (rubber hammer, pegs and whatever you may need). Axel was trying to make sure that the bikes were there when they would arrive. Well, actually, Don and Wayne were the two managing the bike issues. But more on this later. At least, Axel did contribute a map of Canada. Guess where it came from! Right, he's tried to cross the country on a motorcycle before, remember? Didn't work out last time. But may we quote Jo-Anne here for a second: "These Germans don't give up easily...". She was right!

So on Thursday, July 22nd, two people showed up at the Lufthansa Bus Stop at the Marriott Hotel in Heidelberg, Germany, loaded with 95kg of baggage, distributed across large suitcases, bags, motorcycle helmets and carry-on items. The cool thing: You check your baggage through to Regina, SK, and basically are supposed not to have to worry about it again until taking off the conveyor belt at your destination airport. Things worked out quite differently.

We mounted the bus in the morning. It took us to Frankfurt, right into the airport (of course the hub for Lufthansa, but also after London Heathrow the busiest airport in Europe). Since we didn't have to worry about the baggage, seat reservations or anything at all we had some time for a coffee for which the airport charges the friendly price of $5 each.

Our flight to Toronto left Frankfurt close to an hour late. Heavy traffic at the Toronto airport and a construction on the apron causing a long plane backup (believe it or not) took us into the airport building about 90 minutes late. There we were, being seated in row 46 on a 767, about 200 passengers leaving the plane in front of us and, obviously, queuing up in front of three immigration booths in the basement. At that time we had about sixty minutes left to catch our connecting flight.

After standing in line for about half an hour, not really making any progress, we sneaked by, showed the people our connecting tickets and, with a lot of tolerance by the other passengers and the immigration officers, finally crossed the yellow line. That was when the situation got worse.

We now had to pick up our baggage (Weren't we supposed not to see it until we arrive at our destination? Well, we knew we had to take it through customs, but we didn't expect what happened then...), carry it through customs -- which we did -- and put it on the conveyor belt. Which conveyor belt? Four eyes didn't see any conveyor belt. We followed the signs saying "connecting baggage", but this took us right to the Air Canada check-in counter. Well, not directly. A mean escalator was trying to stop us on our way there. The baggage cart gave up on the heavy load it had to carry and flipped over at the top of the escalator. But as if that hadn't been bad enough in itself, the cart then got squeezed in between the rails of the escalator, as we got pushed into it by the moving stairs. So while we were running backwards on the stairs not to fall backwards and down the stairs, a helpful gentleman saw those two pitiful creatures, helpless as can be, running backwards on a moving escalator with a stuck baggage cart and lots of squeezed-in baggage in front of them. Laughing out loud he just didn't manage to walk by us and pulled the cart away from the stairs, rescuing us. Whoever this gentleman was, we owe him a lot! At that time we had about twenty minutes left for the departure of the flight to Regina. It became pretty clear that our baggage would not make it anymore on that plane. Would we?

Line-ups in front of the check-in counter. Petra said, "I told you...". Axel thought "Why can't she just shut up...". We sneaked by another set of people, explaining our situation to the Air Canada lady. She provided us with two options: Jump on the plane but abandon your baggage (ultimately; they wouldn't send it with the next plane since they said they couldn't keep it overnight), or spend the night at a hotel and take the first flight out in the morning.

Abandoning 95kg of worthy motorcycle equipment and everything that would take us through the next four weeks? What an option. So the lady cancelled us out from the passenger list of that flight and reserved two seats on the first plane to Regina in the morning. While she was doing so I was muttering something about how cool it was to check your baggage through to the final destination and how nicely this worked out. She heard that: "What? Your baggage is checked through?" And Axel: "Well, of course it is. Look at the tags!". Now that changed everything. "In this case it's no problem to keep your baggage overnight and send it tomorrow. Why don't you run and jump on that plane?" And we: "Because you cancelled our seats?" "Oh, right. Hang on...". So she re-reserved our seats while we ran to the gate. At that time we had two minutes left.

With the last remainders of our stamina we reached the gate, out of breath, sweating like pigs and already horribly jet-lagged. They throw the seat cards at us as we ran through the nozzle where they had to re-open the already closed plane door for us. Wow, that was close!

Starting through the aisle Axel thought he heard his last name called. Okay, he thought, the hallucinations already start. Yeah, whatever. And again the "Hello, Mr. Uhl!" Who is this? Looking to the right aisle we saw two creatures looking awfully familiar. There they were: Jo-Anne and Roy! And guess what: Jo-Anne served us two Jägermeisters, and Roy presented us with a Nova Scotia license plate saying "UHL". What a welcome!

Of course our baggage didn't make it. Well, not that day. So after describing the items to the friendly guy at Regina airport and specifying Jean and Fred's address we got a lift to Jackie and Wayne's where a home-brewed beer and, in that particular situation surprisingly even more wanted, a bed was waiting for us. What a long day. We had made it.

The next day -- Friday -- our baggage actually arrived at Jean and Fred's. They moved the stuff to Jackie and Wayne's. We spent two days in Regina, strolling around town and getting over our little time zone problem. Saturday night was the big reunion in Strasbourg, so early in the morning we drove up there, also dumping all our baggage at Don's.

And there they were: the two bikes that were supposed to take us to the west coast and back. A 1984 Suzuki GS 750 EF, in awfully good shape and with only 3400km on the clock. But the dream stood right next to it: A 1980 Honda CB 650 Custom, a fantasy made out of chrome and steel, with some ridiculous 2000 clicks on the clock.

Don and Wayne had done a perfect job in organizing everything. They had got pretty good deals on both bikes, and they were even there early. No waiting, nothing. Simply cool.

The Honda had a Sissy bar and a windshield, which we both disliked. But either we would get over it or we could easily remove both. Just some screws and bolts. We'd see.

Still Saturday. Axel was nervous to finally get the bikes on the road. But before we could do that we needed plates. Don had prepared as much as he could, had got the bikes inspected in Axel's name, but couldn't get the registration. That has to be done by the holder.

But insurance offices are open on Saturdays (try that} in Germany...), so we walked in, presented our driving licenses and our passports and the inspection cards and put the money on the table. "We want our plates." But we didn't get them. Guess why: The Strasbourg SGI office was unable to issue a PIC number on a German driving license. They said we needed an international driving permit. Well, the German driving license is an international driving license, but obviously not a permit. Law can be confusing --- even to insurance workers, as we found out on Monday.

But in the meantime we decided to register the bikes in Don's name to finally get going. In order to do so we had to have the bikes re-inspected in his name. Bureaucracy; don't you hate it? But this was the fun part of the story. We pulled over the three Strasbourg police officers (usually this only happens to us the other way around). He already knew our story --- small town --- took us to the police department and, together with Don, filled in two new inspection cards, copying the contents of the old ones and issuing them in Don's name. Small towns can be efficient!

With these documents we ran back to the SGI office to reach them before they closed. Don's driving license now was good for a PIC number, and our money then bought us two plates. Finally.

But the SGI worker really made it clear to us that, according to his interpretation of the rules, "this insurance is not worth the paper it is written on, if you ride the bikes without an international driving permit in Canada". What the heck. The German equivalent of the CAA, who we called, assured us that such a thing does not exist and is not required at all for German license holders to ride a motorcycle in Canada. This statement was also supported by two of our travel guide books. So we copied those excerpts for Don's security, mounted the plates and took the bikes for a first ride out to the bay.

What a feeling: On a bike in Canada (again)! Try it and you'll love it. Okay, the prairie roads don't really provide a lot of curve riding fun, but who cares. We were planning to go west. Lots of mountains, lots of scenery and even some curves to be expected there. So who needs curves in the prairies?

The bikes ran nicely, but the Sissy bar and the windshield on the Honda were annoying. Back at Don's we got out a wrench, and that was it for the shield and that stupid wuss's accessory. Real riders don't need Sissy bars.

The reunion was great. Lots of wonderful people, lots of interesting conversations, and the most impressive thunder storm that we've ever seen. The prairies do have their attractions.

Sunday we hung around Trudy and Don's place, basically killing time and waiting to get going. Don't get us wrong, but when you know there's a whole country to see, and time is a limited resource, every day hanging around that place makes you become more itchy.

So Monday had to be the day. Early in the morning we got up (eased by our still a little present jet-lag), packed our stuff and loaded the bikes. Looked impressive. Two tank bags and two monstrous baggage rolls bungee-corded to the back of each seat, additionally a back pack. Well, four weeks in all kinds of weather and altitudes take their toll.

We met, as appointed, at 2pm at Jackie and Wayne's. There they were, sitting in the basement, Wayne with oil on his hands and arms, working hard on his bike. Asking him about the schedule he started listing the activities that were still due: oil change, lamps that had to be changed, glueing the top case, brake set-up, test ride, ... Jackie's comment: "My pegs are there and my seat is clean. I'm ready!" We wouldn't have stood another day waiting, and we obviously must have looked like this, because Wayne, with quite a sad look on his face, sent us ahead to Cypress Hills Provincial Park, promising to meet us Tuesday afternoon around 3pm at the big Teepee in Medicine Hat.

That sounded fair. So we got back on our bikes and rode to the camp site at Cypress Hills where we arrived in the evening. Spending the night at, as it fortunately would turn out later, one of the lousier campgrounds of our journey we didn't look at much at the park but decided to have breakfast in Maple Creek and then move on to be on time in Medicine Hat without a hurry.

Good we did that. Going straight west from Maple Creek on what would look on the map like a very smart shortcut turned pretty much into a nightmare. After 20km of nice paved road we hit 80km of gravel road. First you think "okay, this will get paved right around the next corner", but after 40 clicks you just want to park the bike, get the dirt off you and your bike and get back to the pavement. We didn't have dirt bikes.

But as if that hadn't been enough, the Honda went on reserve miles before we reached civilization. Petra got a little nervous, but a good bike would take you at least 40km on reserve. The Honda wouldn't... Shortly after we had reached the paved road again the bike started to sputter and eventually stalled. Good we were on two bikes, with different tank sizes. Axel went for gas, and ironically, but also fortunately, the next town was just beyond the hill, maybe three, four clicks away. In the meantime Petra sweated, lying in the grass next to the bike, no shade, in her leathers. There she went again: "I told you..."

We reached Medicine Hat in time. Jackie and Wayne weren't there yet. Not that we were surprised; they had to go so many miles that day that we could hardly imagine when they would have had to get up in order to make it in time. They came in 15 minutes late, which was nothing considering the way they had come that day.

Cool: There we were, three bikes, four people, desperately crazy and utterly destined to reach the west coast on bikes and make it back in one piece. What an endeavour.

That night we made it into Drumheller, the town where that famous dinosaur museum is. We found a campground that looked nice at first glance, so we set up our tents. But already while doing that we almost got killed by the mosquitoes. The camp site was right next to a river, and only a few weeks ago the lawn had been flooded. We got eaten alive. That happening the second night we bought plenty of mosquito repellent the next day, expecting the worst. Luckily, as it should turn out later, Drumheller was worst --- at least when it comes to mosquitoes.

The next day we visited the above mentioned Royal Tyrell Museum with all the pre-historic dinosaur skeletons and findings in it. A very cool place with lots of interesting and exciting exhibits, shows and facts. Absolutely worth a visit.

Not really in the mood to leave our mosquito-lot that same night we decided to spend another night in the area. So we spent the evening following the dinosaur trail on our bikes. Nice riding without all the baggage in the back. Besides lots of beautiful landscape we got our first curves there. While Petra was trying to get used to her "new" bike, Axel scratched the floor with his knees, whereas Wayne did the same, only with his footrests. Well, Harleys are not built for chasing the corners. We all had lots of fun riding into the sunset over Drumheller.

That night we discovered what the word "firemaker" stands for: a roll of toilet paper. So that was Jackie’s secret getting the fire to burn so brightly... By the way: We were impressed by the fact that you can light fires on all campgrounds in the country. In Germany this is usually prohibited with very few exception. Also impressive to us was that all campgrounds, even the lousiest ones on our trip, were equipped with tables and benches as well as fire pits for each and every lot. Also a good thing are the dry toilets that the government or whoever puts up even in the most remote places like parking lots on a side road in the middle of nowhere. Okay, it's only a dry toilet, but that's a lot better than nothing if you just then happen to need one.

The next morning we took off Rockies-bound. On the way Wayne recommended stopping at the historical park at Calgary, where we indulged ourselves in a little boat and a railroad trip, had ice cream and just spent a good time. Thanks, Wayne!

From there we moved on to Canmore, some miles east of Banff, where we spent the night. The campground was busy, crowded and not very cosy. Lots very close to each other, huge campers everywhere; only the sight of these spectacular mountains and the moon looming over that whole scenery turned this into a spectacular event, considering we were about 5000 miles from home, on three old bikes (that, by the way, did awfully fine so far) with approximately 4000 more miles to go.

After having supper Petra and Axel crawled in their tent, thinking "man, are we happy!". Lucky is he who can spare some weeks and do something as crazy as this.

The next morning again that same routine: tear down the tent, wrap everything up, squeeze it into the rolls, pack the tank and the back pack, mount the whole shit on the bikes and get dressed for success. It turned out that, for whatever reasons, Petra and Axel needed about an hour less than the Nagys for this routine. Good for us, so we could spend some more time in bed (actually two sleeping bags on inflatable foam mats). By that time we sometimes felt like losing time by that, but looking back it was probably good to start the days somewhat more relaxed. We hope we didn't push them or caused any "virtual pressure". As apology we might bring forward that there were soooo many things we wanted to see with so little time. You just have to understand that we were picky about our limited and precious time in your wonderful country.

We rode the bikes into Banff. What a contrast: Four filthy bikers in that Rocky Mountains metropolitan where people have to apologize for only driving a Porsche instead of the more appropriate Jaguar or Rolls Royce. We thought that was funny. Just to go that little bit over the top we decided to have coffee at the Banff Springs Hotel. So, dressed all in leather, we walked into that prestigious, ancient and filled-with-history house, dwarfed somehow by that intimidating look of the reception desk, the hall and the stairs leading up to the rooms. We had a ball. Axel just couldn't refrain from asking that well-dressed lady at the desk whether they would have a corporate rate for ABB employees. "Noooo, we don't..."

To our surprise, prices for drinks were moderate, given that unbelievable picture postcard view we enjoyed: Uncountable sets of mountains behind that awesomely shaped golf course lying underneath in the Bow River valley. If there just hadn't been those zillions of Japanese tourists packing the town. This really bothered us, and despite the incredible mountain view we decided to head north, towards Jasper.

But the Icefields Parkway connecting Banff and Jasper is long --- and cold. We stopped at Lake Louise, looking at that picturesque lake as it lies there, surrounded by mountains, some even with the glacier's eternal ice covering them. Nice! But if there just weren't this tacky hotel right on the shore of the lake. We wondered how someone dared to spoil this wonderful artwork of nature by putting up tons of concrete and ripping off tourists in this incredibly ugly hotel. We did, though, get the impression, that Jackie and Wayne weren't with us regarding this thought.

We rode on but didn't make it to Jasper. We stopped for the night at a so-called "overflow campsite". Pretty basic. Bear warnings everywhere. Okay, we were in bear country now. Somehow we were curious and keen to see one. On the other hand we thought it might at least be safer not to make contact with a representative of that species. Wayne had a pretty relaxed attitude regarding this issue, having hunted bears several times. But for our part, we weren't so sure about our feelings for these huge brown "monsters".

The tent-up, fire-on, sleep, tent-down, wrap-it-all-up routine again. We guess this time we really got pressing, since we knew that the campground we aimed for at Jasper, the wonderful Whistlers Campground, is crowded during this time of the year; so you'd better be there by noon if you seriously consider getting a nice spot. Because we wanted to spend some four days in the Jasper area, we were really keen to get going. But of course we had to wait the mandatory hour. Never mind, we just barely made it, being the last three vehicles being permitted into the Whistlers Campground that day.

We got rewarded with the most beautiful campsite on our trip, maybe even the nicest all across Canada. Huge lots, miles to the next lot, lots of trees between the lots, water drains around the spots for the tents and separate lots reserved for bikers. How nice of them!

The campground is right underneath the Whistler Mountain, very likely to have given it its name. The mountains in the northern parts of the Rockies may not be as spectacular, rough and rugged as those in the southern parts of the park. But at least we got rid of those Japanese stampedes. Still many tourists in the area, but more of the hiking, trekking and climbing type as opposed to the Banff-like Mercedes-Benz type (thanks for driving German cars...).

Jackie and Wayne took the gondola up to the top of Whistler mountain and experienced a wonderful sunset from up there. I guess we missed something there. Instead, we did a lot of hiking in the area and relaxed from all the miles that our behinds had to endure on the bikes over the last couple of days. Maligne Canyon, Maligne Lake, Medicine Lake, the Bald Hills loop. We won't forget the latter. Getting lost on those hills we spent eight hours hiking above Maligne Lake until we eventually made it back to the bikes. Goodness, were we thirsty after that one. Axel thought they would have to turn right into that little path ascending further up the hill, while Petra proposed to turn left, walking a little down around those two hills, where all the people were. Axel insisted, we walked up the hill until the path ended in the middle of nowhere... "I told you...". "Shut up!"

The next day we rode down the Icefields Parkway again and enjoyed the view of all these impressive glaciers. While the ride up from that overflow campground was freezing cold, that day the temperature was moderate. The Parkway is definitely one of the most impressive pieces of road that the country has to offer.

Jackie and Wayne weren't so much into hiking, so they left for Kamloops, actually Barrière near Kamloops, where an aunt of Wayne's lives. We spent some more days in Jasper, relaxing, hiking and enjoying the great campground. We followed the Harley crew some days later and joined them again there. Wayne's aunt Evie, her husband Jim and their family was very nice to us and gave us a very warm and hearty welcome. Their place is fantastic: right on that little lake, somewhat north-east from Barrière, incredibly quiet, and with all the power tools you would every imagine, including a nice motor boat.

They have an interesting routine there: After lunch or supper they draw cards. The two Highest cards win the honor of doing the dishes. Axel was too curious again: "What happens, if several people draw the same highest card, e.g. Kings?" He shouldn't have asked this question. Jackie and Axel got a King each and jointly did the dishes. The second day worked out better. Axel just kept his mouth shut, and somebody else draw the high card and experienced this "honor".

From Barrière through Kamloops we stopped on our way at Hell's Gate, the famous narrows of the Fraser River. After a slow ride through those curves Axel was obviously bothered by that slow pace which in turn bothered Petra. We got into a little argument, but fortunately settled it by the end of the day.

We continued our trip on #1 into Port Coquiltam. For those who don't know: That's that particular suburb of Vancouver where Sonya, Steve and Meredith live. Steve and Meredith didn't show up, but Sonya gave us a warm welcome. It was good to feel some sort of home again after all those days on the road. We wussily spent the night in something comparable to a bed (a mattress on the floor), and it felt great.

The next day we explored the city of Vancouver. Funny how you can start missing crowds of say more than five people after some weeks in the mountains (okay, take Banff and Jasper out of this judgement). We talked ourselves into the idea that we had already reached the Pacific on our bikes, knowing that this was only the Strait of Georgia that we saw in front of the city. We knew that the "real thing" was yet to come and that some more interesting couple of thousand miles were lying in front of us.

We spent a day in Gastown and Chinatown, acting really touristy, camera around our neck and talking German. We took the bikes to North Vancouver where we rode them up a hill with some nice viewpoints from where you can see the harbour (some nice curves and corners there, too!). Back to town we strolled around all the stores on Granville Island. On the way to the bus stop we passed a Honda dealership. Slaver, drool... They had the brand new VTR 1000 on display, and they would have let us do a test ride for free. But Petra talked Axel out of that, consoling him with the perspective to do that back home where all these nasty insurance issues are much clearer than they would be in Vancouver, Canada, without that world-famous International Driving Permit.

We visited the Vancouver Aquarium. That was where we got the only ticket of the trip, and that was for parking two motorcycles in one stall. Well, in Germany that would have been fine, as would have in Saskatchewan or Victoria. How could we know that Vancouver treats this differently? And as a matter of fact it's a stupid rule: We paid for the one stall and used one stall. Do they expect us to pay two stalls? In that case we would have used two, and parking was scarce that day at the aquarium. And I thought German bureaucracy was weird.

Leaving in the morning was, due to the lack of our usual tent routine, quite quick this time. Wayne led us all the way to the ferry taking us to the other side of the strait and onto Vancouver Island. The promised land out west. Only some more days and we would have reached the westmost point in our lives.

The road took us down to Saanich where another campground offered a place to stay for two nights. In the morning we rode the bikes down into Victoria while Jackie and Wayne preferred to take a closer look at Butchart Garden, the famous park on the island. We missed that one, but that bought us some more time to visit Victoria. This city really impressed us. Maybe it was already a little over the top with its tourist focus. But it is so clean, so nice, just gorgeous. Lots of artists and street musicians on the road, many little stands where people sell little artworks, paintings and just stuff. What an ambience. We had fresh seafood and relaxed for the trip to come. And of course we stopped at "Mile 0". For Axel this was some sort of a completion of a mission that he had begun almost two years ago, just on the opposite end of the Transcanadian Highway. Okay, he missed some miles between Kenora and Regina, but has seen those out of a Greyhound bus window. We think that counts.

The next morning we got up early again and rode cross-island, out west to the long awaited Pacific Ocean. The trip there was a lot of fun in itself. Axel this time couldn't refrain from passing the rest of the crew, speeding up and down those curvy hills in the middle of the island. Maybe better this way, since now everybody was happy when reaching the coastline: Axel with his bight smile on his face that the corners and curves in this scenic landscape had put there, and the rest of the pack just amazed by the landscape (and this smile).

With this mood the last miles up to Tofino were easy. Tofino seems to be the old terminus of the Transcanadian Highway. At least we saw that sign there saying so. Other than that Tofino is pretty much a disaster. Nothing there except for two grocery stores and some poor restaurants with miserable service. They probably just think that they can afford to be rude, having this incredibly gorgeous view of the Pacific against the foothills of Vancouver Island lying there in the evening mist coming in from the ocean, goldenly lit by the sun. Well, maybe they're right.

Long Beach, the 40 miles or so long beach between Tofino and the ugly little town Uclulet further south is worth a visit. There we finally were, alone on the Pacific, surrounded only by water and driftwood, being glued to the shore in monstrous huge logs, sanded by the wind and the water into perfectly round and smooth shapes. The sun dropping in to the ocean at night rewarded us for some deprivations during the past weeks.

Getting a campground on Long Beach proved to be a little more difficult than expected. Only after stopping at three or four of them we finally found one where we had been put on a list by a phone call earlier that week. So we queued for two spots and finally got them. That's where we met Ted and Milda, two bikers from Powell River, a little north of Vancouver. Cool guys, only too wussy to make it to Long Beach on their bikes. Believe it or not, but they were there by car. Guess what they ride: Harley. Nice-weather-riders... Just kidding. Actually, on the ferry in the heavy rain some days later we met four Harley riders with open-face helmets. There really are those heroes that most people think them to be.

Talking gas again: The bikes were mostly doing fine. Wayne's Harley had some problems with the clutch discs, the machine needed an Oil change, the chain that he had just bought right before the trip already needed some tightening and the clutch cable didn't look very good. The Japanese competition was still doing fine.

After some days of hiking around the rain forest along Long Beach we decided to head to the north tip of the island to do the famous whale watching tours in Telegraph Cove. Jackie and Wayne weren't too much into that whole idea of hiking in the Long Beach park, so we split again for some days and re-joined on the Telegraph Cove campground. Now that was the lousiest one on our trip. All rough gravel, huge bumps on the ground, hardly any way to reasonably set up a tent there. At least Wayne was happy that there was free firewood. And then a family from Oregon starting to gear up at 2am, doing that until 6am in an unbelivably noisy fashion. And when they left, we had to get up for the whale watching trip. While Petra slept through all that noise, Axel was a dead man walking that next day.

The whale watching trip was a disappointment. The landscape was beautiful and picturesque, but we didn't see any whales. Just a few dolphins, that was it. We generously got a voucher to repeat the trip sometime when we're again in the area. We thought that was nice, but even after explaining that is was highly unlikely that we would make it again in the next few decades from Heidelberg into this area they wouldn't have given us a refund. What can you do? But at least this was the westmost longitude we've ever been to (no, we haven't been to Hawaii (yet?)). But of course, that doesn't buy you a whole lot.

The way off the island went through Campbell River and Comox, and with the ferry over to Powell River. Guess who we met there? You don't remember? Read more carefully! Of course Ted and Milda, the two car-driving Harley riders we met on the campground in Tofino. They had invited us to their house in Powell River. What a humungous mansion that was. We camped in their garden on a lawn as soft as a pillow. What a contrast after that Telegraph Cove gravel pit. On their pool table in the basement we had a lot of fun that night (playing pool! Not what you think...). Ted and Milda are two kind and awfully generous people. I guess we can hardly compensate their hospitality.

The next day we had some of the more beautiful roads in front of us. Too bad that the gods of weather didn't really acknowledge that and sent tons of rain. So instead of chasing corners we had to adapt our pace to the slippery pavement. Bad for Axel. Anyway, by the end of the day we made it back to Vancouver where we visited Lyn, a colleague of Axel's who works as a computer scientist at the Simon Fraser University. Jackie and Wayne were very quiet that evening. We don't know what they felt like, but we guess they just felt to be in a strange environment.

The next day we got another rainy day; the second on the trip so far. The first had caught us in the tent on Long Beach for more than half a day. But this time it wasn't that bad since we were able to relax a little at Lyn's, while Jackie and Wayne went off to Sonya and from there straight to Kamloops to stay some more days at Evie and Jim's place there. We wanted to see the Duffy Lake Road, cruising along Howe Sound and then up into the mountains to Whistler. Visiting a spectacular waterfall right next to the road we then hit something that was ridable almost like a race track: Beautiful corners, wonderful pavement and a scenery hard to beat. Mountains and lakes everywhere. Motorcycling can be so much fun!

We made it into Kamloops later that day where, again, Evie and Jim welcomed and hosted us, only this time in their city mansion. What a place again: huge garage where all the bikes fit in perfectly, nice garden, pool table in the basement, fitness equipment everywhere. Things that make you want to stay. But we had still so many things left to see. Unbelievable, considering the way we had already come at that point. But Canada is huge and probably has an unlimited number of sights worthwhile seeing.

So after a tasty corn-on-the-cob supper and a good night of sleep we left early. While Jackie and Wayne wanted to spend some time on Lake Okanagan and in Kelowna we decided to stop briefly only in Vernon and then turn east to the Arrow Lakes on #6. Now that was again one of the finest pieces of motorcycling road on the trip. Wonderful large forests, the clear blue sky above us and brand new pavement with nice curves to it. Biking at its best. We crossed the Lower and the Upper Arrow Lake on ferries, which, on a motorcycle, is a lot of fun in itself. Commendations to Canada: It's so nice to have free ferries in most places!

So we hit Revelstoke, the place where we wanted to meet team Harley again. We rode around town a little to find a motel. Somehow we must have gotten a little breeze on our necks while sweating; at least both of us had problems with stiff backs and necks (yeah, we're wussy, too). So we thought instead of camping for the hundredth time we'd better stop for a motel, which we then did.

On the way back to town for supper we saw two creatures sitting on a table, almost hidden by a Harley packed up with tons of baggage. Cool, we had found them. Walking up to them we could see that Wayne was looking fairly sad. What had happened? Wayne lost a muffler! Dang! These Harley vibrations had killed a steel pipe to which the muffler was tied with heavy bolts. They had to get it welded. In the meantime Wayne also had to get the clutch cable replaced. It was down to one or two fibres holding that thing together. And you don't want to end up in the middle of nowhere with a torn clutch cable. Just by the way, the Japanese competition was still doing fine.

While we did some hiking that afternoon and spent the night in Revelstoke, Jackie and Wayne moved on to Golden. They had an ambitious goal. They wanted to get home in about two days time. But we had some more time left, so no need for a hurry. While they paced back through Calgary and down to the prairies, we took a little "detour", riding down to Radium Hot Springs. The way back up through the Kootenay National Park was absolutely worth the extra miles. Amazing "paint pots", yellowish clay that the natives used to paint their bodies with and other nice little hiking trails along the way like the Marble Canyon made this a wonderful day of riding.

We decided to ride until Cochrane that evening where we had to discover that due to some strange meeting all hotels were booked out. We got a tip to try a particular private bed and breakfast which we then did. That was probably the strangest place we spent the night at for all our journey. A young lady welcomed us at the stairs of an incredible mansion, with huge bay windows and a view far into the plains, but also up to the Rocky Mountains. That's probably what gave the place its name: "Rocky Mountain View Bed & Breakfast". Only that we were among their first guests --- not that evening but at all. When the young lady's parents returned, they treated us like their children. They made us breakfast according to our orders, and noticing that especially Axel still suffered from a stiff back Axel got a massage with a special kind of oil, about which the man held a thirty-minutes presentation. Okay, whatever. At least we had got the large bay window room from where we could see the night city lights of Calgary in the distance. That was awesome!

We left the mountains behind us the next morning, still being able to see them get smaller and smaller in our rear-view mirrors. And although this somehow brought up some melancholy and sad moods it was impressive to delve into the openness of the prairies again. Only that the riding gets a little boring and the Point of Interest signs point you to a garbage bin, which, admittedly, is the most prominent spot in about a hundred miles. You probably just have to be a little more patient with the landscape when getting back into Saskatchewan.

We spent one more wussy night at the Best Western in Swift Current, from where it would be just one more day to make it back to Strasbourg. On the way the "Japanese competition" ran into the first little problem. We must have picked up some dirt or dust in the gas. However, the Honda started sputtering and stalled when stopped at lights. It felt and sounded as if she was running only on three pistons. Fortunately we made it to a Kawasaki dealership. Well, not exactly Honda, but close enough. While our first guess was a filthy spark plug or a problem with the gas valve, the guy in the shop immediately knew what it was. Obviously, the gas in that region causes this problem more often than one would think. So the diagnosis was a plugged-up carburetor, and the cure was to blow it out and to install a gas filter. In order to do so we had to remove all the baggage, but after all this tent routine this was just a matter of seconds. After that, the Honda was perfectly fine again.

When we returned to Regina and met Jackie and Wayne at their place, they told us the story about their way back. Guess what: They pumped gas near Swift Current that must have had dirt or dust in it, so even with a gas filter installed the Harley sputtered all the way home, doing only some 70km/h. At least the Japanese competition did not lose against the US.

We rode on to Strasbourg where we safely parked off the motorcycles. What a trip we had behind us! 8500km through western Canada on two wheels. We were exhausted but happy as can be, as was Don to see us being back in one piece.

After one day of recovering from all these vibrations in Don and Trudy's funny water bed (What's worse? Vibrations or sea-sickness?) they took us and all our baggage down to Regina again. We had a good-bye party that night. Cory took us to the warehouse where he works where we were able to get some stuff that we would not be able to get back in Germany, e.g. Cheese Whiz. Isn't it funny what you can make from cheese?

Monday, August 23rd. Jean, Fred, Jackie and Wayne took us to the airport. Time to say good-bye. Pretty sentimental, but after almost five weeks of good times in Canada it is hard to leave. But on the other hand we were somehow looking forward to report everything to our friends, get the pictures developed (we shot fourteen films) and just relax one or two more days at home.

The flight back provided us with less problems than the trip to Regina. We didn't have to take baggage through customs in Toronto. Maybe that's why. From Toronto overnight on to Frankfurt where we arrived Tuesday morning. The Lufthansa bus took us again back to Heidelberg, where a pal picked us up at the Marriott and drove us home. The end of an unbelievable trip.

We guess that we will hardly ever have a chance to experience a trip as exciting, educational, thrilling and beautiful as this one. Canada is a wonderful country. Besides all its sights the people are open-minded, friendly and hospitable. Bikers are welcome in most places and get served even at the Banff Springs Hotel!

The roads are something you have to live with. Most of the times the pavement is mediocre. We found ourselves on gravel roads more often than we expected, but there are some hidden strips of road where even some corner chasing can be fun. But that's not what we rode Canada on motorcycles for. It's that feeling of freedom and liberty, the fresh air under the helmet, the view that is not obstructed by any steel bars surrounding you like a cage.

Up to now (10/25/99) we only have maybe a third of the pictures scanned. But we hope to get the rest done soon. Keep checking for updates.

We have to thank all the people who made this trip possible. Endangering us to forget people who contributed, we still give it a shot. Don and Wayne did a cool job on the bikes. How could we have done that trip without bikes? Jackie and Wayne deserve the highest respect for spending so much time with two Germans with a sometimes somewhat different mindset. Roy and Jo-Anne managed the financials and eased the process of getting the money for the bikes transferred. Trudy was a great host. She excelled at making us probably the finest breakfast in town. Diane and Gerry treated us to some goodies and especially a garden hose at DiGer's with which we could clean the bikes from all the dirt. Jean and Fred were always there. They helped picking us up at the airport, they took care of our lost baggage and they brought us to the airport on our way back. Jim and Evie were great hosts, at their house on the lake as well as at their Kamloops place. Sonya gave us a home for some days and helped us out with a cheque for paying the stupid aquarium ticket. Ted and Milda (the Harley riders from Powell River) offered us their home, and Lyn and David (Axel's colleague) did the same in Vancouver. Cory treated us to tons of Cheese Whiz and some cheddar cheese. And last but not least, Larry and Sharon hosted the marvelous reunion where we all had lots of fun. THANK YOU ALL!!!