The First Taste of Dirt

Smack in the middle of the longest day of the 28 (in part because of this) was a lot more dirt road than expected. The time calc on the GPS seemed oddly long, and when the pavement ended, I had lot further to go than I had figured, and the way out to the Trans-Canada Highway was twice as long, all dirt when I thought it was all paved.

But what a difference between the ride in, and the ride out.  On the way in, natural streetbike reactions kicked in. Loose gravel. Get slowed as quick as you can, and hope you don't have to change direction. Then tiptoeing along trying to stay on the hard pack, which is washboard and surely destroying everything in the panniers, and not get sucked in and swamped in the loose gravel.

By the time I had gotten to the land's end and the Northernmost Point marker, I was getting a little bit of my old dirt bike vibe back, and it was going a little bit better.

When you cross the marked border, you just keep right on truckin for a couple miles until you get to a 4- way dirt intersection. Straight is a dead end, and left goes somewhere not the northernmost point in the Continental US. Everyone who passes this point, no matter which way they go, has to come back past this point on the way out.  On the northeast corner is a gravel lot, and along the road is a little booth maybe 6' by 10' or so. Mounted to the outside wall is a Batphone. That's Canadian border services. Inside is this wobbly podium thing that you actually have to hold on to while you're using it, or have no chance of tapping the correct button as it sways back and forth. That tablet allows you to fill out a form, which gets approved electronically. Or not, I guess. In theory, you could probably just go from one to the other and knock them both out.

Not me, though.


So after my photo op, I figured I'd take a well-deserved break in the restaurant there on the waterfront and enjoy a cold beer. Then I realized there was another Batphone at the dock, and I could report to Canada from there. The guy was real cool and wanted my bike. 

The barmaid asked be if I wanted another beer, and I instantly declined because I didn't want to have to stop and piss twice, and I didn't want to get sleepy riding into the setting sun hours later.

And then I said F it for the second time in a couple hours. It was a fantastic decision.

After the second blonde ale,
I jumped on the bike and gassed it. Dirt mode. Ultimately, the front is going to do its  thing, the rear is going to track how it wants, and my job is to keep the center of gravity in the vertical plane, and keep the whole system heading generally in the intended direction. At 45, the sturdy suspension gobbles up those stutter bumps. I didn't have to worry about peeing; I could just stop wherever in the middle of the road and let 'er rip. And, I did. In a half hour or so, I was on the Trans-Canada bearing down on Winnipeg.

This was a 14 hour day.