Over the course of June and July 2022, I had ridden my motorcycle on a very indirect route from Nova Scotia to California (with a number of short and long stops on the way), then north through the Pacific Northwest of the USA to reach Vancouver Island. On the first day of August 2022, I departed Victoria to take the ferry from Vancouver Island back to mainland British Columbia, then I started heading east, as the time had arrived to make my way back to Ontario. Along the way, I would be making a few stops, the first one being a short stay of a few days in the Vancouver area to visit friends I’d met while living in Alberta.
Some time in the Vancouver area
In that first day in the Vancouver area, I visited Yangke, a close friend who I’d known throughout my studies in Alberta. We had a nice opportunity to walk around, get some food, and discuss life. Then, I continued outside of the city towards a campsite next to Cultus Lake, close to the city of Chilliwack, where I would stay for the next few nights.
After a decent amount of sleep, I woke up quite early to participate in a work meeting online. At this point in my trip, I’d become quite used to participating in meetings from campsites in the very early hours of the morning due to the nine-hour time difference between the Pacific coast and my job in France. After working for a while, I went back to my campsite, got onto my bike, and headed into Chilliwack with two objectives: lunch, and a haircut.
For lunch, I stopped at the well-reviewed Yellow Deli, which had a delicious veggie burger that I was looking forward to sticking in my mouth. There was rustic-feeling furniture and a laid-back “hippie” vibe to the restaurant, and the food was quite good. My server a quiet-mannered but also talkative man who didn’t hesitate to talk about his life and ask about mine, although his mannerisms felt a bit bizarre and he seemed uncomfortable in a way that I could not identify. He recommended that I look into some of the other locations of the Yellow Deli on my travels, and talked about how he’d worked at many of them, moving around from city to city. I did some research on my phone before leaving, and found out that the Yellow Deli chain of restaurants is run by the Twelve Tribes community, a religious movement often classified as a cult and that has been accused of having exploitative communal labour practices, condoning slavery in some circumstances, and using child labour. Before leaving, as I prepared to pay, I noticed pamphlets discussing this religious community, confirming much of what I’d read online. Although I was happy with what I had been served for lunch, I felt uncomfortable with having supported this cult, and was happy to leave the Yellow Deli behind.
Next, I was on the prowl for a place where I could accomplish the day’s single remaining special objective: getting my hair cut. My hair had not been cut in several months and was getting long enough that it was retaining a lot of heat in my helmet, so I hoped to deal with that problem before continuing eastward. Not five minutes after leaving the Yellow Deli, I stopped at the first barber shop I saw in Chilliwack, and got what turned out to be the second-worst haircut I had in my life: the person cutting my hair basically set his electric hair clippers to what seemed to be the shortest-hair setting for the sides of my head, and a slightly-less-short-hair setting for the top, resulting in a look that didn’t suit me even a little bit. At least it would have some time to grow back as I rode towards Ontario.
The next day, after some early-morning work, I packed up my campsite and headed back into Vancouver. I had been in touch with a friend from university, Madeline, and was going to stay a night with her and her partner. I hadn’t seen Madeline in several years, and had a great time catching up. Her partner worked as a food guide in Vancouver, and was able to guide us to an excellent restaurant with vegan options.
When preparing to leave the next morning, I mentioned where I’d be heading soon (eastward, across the the prairies), and Madeline joked that perhaps I could drop off a birthday card for her grandmother in Manitoba. The town where her grandmother lived was less than one hour away from where my route would otherwise take me, so before leaving, she equipped me with an envelope containing a letter, as well as instructions on where to pick up a milkshake at her grandmother’s favourite diner. I felt like a character in a video game that had just been assigned a side mission for extra points! After saying our goodbyes, I left Vancouver behind.
Back across the mountains
After leaving Vancouver, I headed east into the Rocky Mountains, taking the Trans-Canada Highway until it forked, then continuing on the Crowsnest Highway towards the town of Princeton. Once I reached Princeton, I took turned left to head north on a road that I’d noticed on Google Maps that seemed as though it would be nice for motorcycling, the “Princeton Summerland Road”, aptly named for its starting and ending points of Princeton and Summerland (a town close to Okanagan Lake). For the first half hour, I found myself riding on an absolutely perfect, beautiful road for motorcycling, with asphalt in good condition, lots of visibility, and great curves into which I could lean the bike at a decent speed. The road was a bit over 100 kilometres long, and I regretted how quickly it would undoubtedly pass by, at the rate at which I was travelling. However, after having travelled a little less than half of the total length and passing a few small lakes that appeared to be at the midway point of the road, I saw a sign that no motorcyclist wants to see unexpectedly: “GRAVEL ROAD FOR NEXT 36 km”. Within just a few metres, the beautiful, paved road turned into a rough gravel road.
Some motorcyclists consider that almost any motorcycle can be used on gravel if the rider is sufficiently determined and skilled. In my experience, trying to pilot my street-oriented sport touring motorcycle on gravel roads has always been a consistently miserable experience, especially when it is loaded up with as much cargo as it could hold, soI asked myself whether it would be worthwhile to try to continue, slowly and carefully, on this road that might just bring me misery. I considered turning back to return to Princeton and then take a longer route towards Okanagan Lake, where I hoped to stop for the night. However, I was not in a hurry, and preferred the idea of continuing forward to see a new place instead of retracing my steps, so I continued onward on the gravel road. For thirty-six kilometres, I moved forward at a snail’s pace, working to keep my wheels out of ruts in the gravel, avoiding spots where the gravel was too deep and threatened to trap my wheel, and generally feeling uneasy. I stopped a few times along the way, to relax a bit and take some photos.
Eventually, I reached the end of the gravel section of the road, met up with BC Highway 97 in the town of Summerland, and continued north up the shore of Okanagan Lake until reaching Okanagan Lake Provincial Park, close to the city of Kelowna, where I camped for the night.
The next day, I continued north on BC Highway 97 along Okanagan Lake and then along a series of smaller lakes to its east, making my way towards the Trans-Canada Highway. Progress was slow, as there was a one-hour traffic stoppage along Highway 97, and naturally, even when the traffic started moving, it took a long time to return to a normal pace. After reaching the Trans-Canada Highway, I started heading east towards the town of Revelstoke, then headed south on BC Highway 23 along Upper Arrow Lake, towards a ferry crossing that would take me across the lake to the continuation of the highway on the other side. I reached the ferry crossing just after the departure of the ferry, so I had to wait for the better part of an hour for the ferry to finish its crossing and then return to my side of the lake. This gave me a few minutes to take photos of the area around the crossing:
After the ferry arrived, all vehicles were loaded, and we started our short 20-minute crossing on the M.V. Columbia. This ferry, like all of British Columbia’s inland ferries, is entirely free-of-charge, as it is an integral part of the highway system.
To ensure that I’d be able to enjoy the almost 50-kilometre stretch of long, curvy highway that would greet me on the other side of lake, I had made sure that I was the first vehicle to board the ferry. As soon as the ferry docked on the other side of the lake, I rolled off before everyone else and eagerly sped away to avoid being stuck behind slow-moving vehicles (passing is not permitted on long stretches of the highway). I rode south on Highway 23 from the ferry dock at Galena towards the small town of Nakusp, where I was able to set up camp in the municipal campground. The sky was already dark by the time I finished setting up my tent, well after 9 PM, but I was nonetheless able to find a restaurant downtown that was still serving food, after which I retreated to my tent and slept.
The next morning, I got an early start leaving Nakusp. I followed Highway 6 southeast towards the town of New Denver, where I got to start one of my favourite segments of motorcycle riding: BC Highway 31A from New Denver to Kaslo. This 46-kilometre stretch of road is not in the best condition, but the route is technically challenging: its many curves, sometimes-poor visibility, and elevation changes lend themselves well to a riding style of rapid acceleration and deceleration, and on this particular morning, there was virtually no other traffic. I had a fun time working my way through the corners and accelerating/decelerating my way through the gears for the better part of an hour until I arrived at the village of Kaslo, on the western shore of Kootenay Lake. I followed a highway down the shore of the lake until I reached the community of Balfour, where I waited for another ferry to take me across the lake. There were plenty of motorcycles on this ferry; this was not surprising, as the route was popular with motorcyclists, and it was a beautiful Saturday morning. Among the other motorcyclists were a couple from New Zealand who had arrived in in Canada less than one week earlier, purchased motorcycles, and were planning to ride up to the Arctic Ocean, then all the way to South America. It was interesting to hear about their experiences at the beginning of their trip and their excitement for the adventures that awaited them. At the time, I took note of their website on which they were writing about their travels, and when looking at their website in 2024, I see that they did make it to the southern portion of Argentina in the summer of 2023.
After reaching the other side of the lake, I followed Highway 3A south down the eastern shore, being met with yet another pleasant, curvy motorcycling route. Eventually, at the town of Creston, I rejoined Highway 3, and headed east. That afternoon, I stopped in Fernie to visit my friend Viki, and stayed the evening, before continuing my journey east the following morning, leaving the Rocky Mountains behind me after a few hours on the road.
Returning to the prairies
I spent the next few days back on the prairies. The first stop was Calgary, where I was able to visit and stay with my friend Cory, whom I hadn’t seen in a few years, and exp;ore downtown Calgary with Max, whom I had seen a few weeks earlier when I was in Lethbridge. In the five years during which I had lived in Lethbridge, I’d never had much reason to go to downtown Calgary, and saw the city as one of Canada’s most egregious examples of car-dependant “urban sprawl” that I had seen in a major city, and although nothing on this trip changed my image of the greater city of Calgary as a whole, I was pleasantly surprised by the areas of downtown that I visited, finding some walkable neighbourhoods with real character instead of soulless suburbs. After having spent a bit of time in downtown Calgary, I look forward to exploring it a bit more during a future visit – which is something that I would never have said a few years earlier, based on my experience with the rest of Calgary.
After saying my goodbyes to Max and Cory, I rode south for a couple of hours to return to Lethbridge for a few last-minute visits, and then began riding east, continuing the long trip across the prairies. I stopped for the night in the city of Medicine Hat, and after spending the night in a very run-down but conveniently inexpensive motel, I joined the Trans-Canada Highway the next morning, heading towards the city of Swift Current in the neighbouring province of Saskatchewan. After reaching Swift Current, I left the main highway to head south, and then east, heading towards the tiny community of Palmer, Saskatchewan, where I would visit my friend and former roommate Logan, whom I had not seen in several years. After parting ways with Logan after catching up, I continued southeast to the town of Assiniboia, had a quick snack, then headed east on Saskatchewan Highway 13 to the town of Weyburn, where I was able to camp for a very reasonable price at the city’s River Park Campground, get a pizza (with vegan toppings, surprisingly!) from the local Boston Pizza (a sports-themed Canadian restaurant/bar chain that has no obvious connection to the city of Boston or its cuisine), and fall into a blissful slumber.
The next day, my objective was to complete the mission given to me by Madeline in Vancouver: deliver a special envelope and a milkshake from a specific establishment to her grandmother Evelynne, in the small town of Boissevain, Manitoba, for the occasion of her 91st birthday, which had occurred a few days earlier. I rode east across the prairies, crossing the border from Saskatchewan into Manitoba after about two hours, then zig-zagged my way southeast for two more hours until I reached the town of Boissevain. After stopping at the Busy B Drive-In restaurant on the edge of town, getting myself some fries, and purchasing the milkshake that I would be delivering to Madeline’s grandmother – I wouldn’t purchase animal products for someone else these days, but at the time, I was less resistant to being a proxy through which others could purchase vegetarian animal products – I headed into the centre of town. It was easy to find where Evelynne lived, and after introducing myself and presenting her with the special milkshake from the Busy B as well as the envelope containing the birthday greetings from Madeline, we were able to chat for a while. Evelynne was curious and well-spoken, and I enjoyed getting to hear a bit about her life during the time we spent together. I can only hope that, should I survive to be 91 years old, I will be able to function nearly as well as she could. There was not much time left for me to travel that day, so we said our goodbyes. Before leaving town, I took a few moments to get some pictures of and with the town’s giant mascot, Tommy the Turtle.
After having appreciated Tommy’s majesty for long enough, I rode north, stopping in the city of Brandon, Manitoba. I found a decently-priced motel where I stopped for the night, which seemed to be attached to a combination of a strip club and pizzeria. After wandering around the neighbourhood for an hour looking for a restaurant offering something vegan that wasn’t outrageously expensive, I resigned myself to purchasing food at the local shops and eating it in my motel room.
The next day, after a long sleep, I left the motel, and started the boring drive east from Brandon. Crossing Manitoba on the Trans-Canada Highway is not a terribly interesting experience, but at least I had podcasts and music to keep my mind off of the monotony of the landscape.
Motorcycling through Northern Ontario
As I started to see more trees along the highway, I knew that I would soon enter Ontario. By the time I reached the border with Ontario, the landscape had changed to what I would see for the next few days: trees, rocks, and water. Less than an hour after entering Ontario, I stopped for the night in the town of Kenora, where I was able to camp.
The next morning, I got an early start, as I was hoping to get as far as the town of Wawa, which would require riding about 950 kilometres. The weather was beautiful, and the day’s ride was very pleasant. On the Trans-Canada Highway in northern Ontario, which usually has only one lane in each direction and many areas where passing is prohibited, the speed limit is often 80 kilometres per hour, meaning that I would likely have to spend the whole day and evening riding. As I took in the nice scenery, town after town flew past. I stopped for fuel in Dryden and Thunder Bay, then for “food” (Tim Hortons bagels) in Nipigon, then for fuel again in Terrace Bay and finally White River. At some point between Terrace Bay and White River, my speedometer stopped working; further investigation revealed that the speedometer cable from the wheel to the instrument cluster had snapped, and given that my spare cable was in my father’s garage in Port Dover, it looked as though I would need to finish the trip without a speedometer. In any case, I didn’t have time to focus on that, as I was rapidly losing daylight, and didn’t want to ride at night due to the poor visibility and presence of wildlife on the roads. I ended up arriving at my campsite in Wawa well after sunset, in total darkness. Fortunately, a site was still available. There were no restaurants nearby, so after setting up my tent, I ate a quick meal of snack bars, and went to sleep.
After a good night’s sleep, I packed up my tent, and rode towards the two most interesting points in Wawa for me at that moment: the Tim Hortons restaurant where I could find some “food” (i.e. bagels, the only vegan breakfast option) and coffee, and the famous Wawa Goose, a giant roadside attraction that looks out over the Trans-Canada Highway and a nearby lake. Unfortunately, the Tim Hortons restaurant refused to serve me: their front door was locked, and although they had a giant sign up indicating “DRIVE THRU SERVICE ONLY,” they refused to help me when I tried going through the drive-thru on foot. After that frustrating encounter, I left without having eaten anything, walked down the street, and completed the signature Wawa photoshoot.
Having captured this historic encounter, I got back onto the highway, following it down the southeastern corner of Lake Superior for about an hour before taking a quick rest break to reduce my hunger by eating some dried apricots that I’d been carrying with me, which helped make up for my missing breakfast. After another hour of driving, I arrived in the city of Sault Ste. Marie (pronounced “soo saint Marie”), where I was able to stop at an A&W restaurant and finally eat a proper meal, of consisting of fries, a veggie burger, and coffee. I was planning to get all the way back to Hamilton that evening, meaning that I still had more than seven hours of driving time ahead of me, so once I felt mentally and physically prepared, I continued on, stopping only to purchase fuel for the bike or for myself. It was a long, tiring trip, and it became much less scenically interesting as I headed south from Sudbury towards Toronto. I arrived quite late in Hamilton, exhausted, but happy to have arrived in a place where I would stay for a while, after having spent more than one month travelling continuously.
The final weeks in Ontario
After my return from the west, I re-established something resembling a routine, spending time in with my mother in Hamilton and with my father in Port Dover, with some visits to my hometown of London added in. I worked remotely each weekday, and resumed jogging daily after finishing work in the morning. There was lots of motorcycle maintenance to be done, and in the following two weeks, I was able to:
- replace the clutch friction discs (for the first and only time, as the new ones will undoubtedly last for the remaining life of the motorcycle)
- change the engine oil and filter
- replace the drive shaft oil
- rebuild the fuel petcock on the fuel tank using new seals
- replace the speedometer cable that had broken in Northern Ontario
- adjust the clearances on the engine valves
- drain the radiator and refill it with a new type of coolant/antifreeze, Engine Ice, that is biodegradable
Apart from motorcycle maintenance, there was a major event that had to occur before I left Ontario: my friend Siena’s wedding! Siena had appointed our friend Louis and me to collectively be her “maid of honour” (which I suppose made us “men of honour” or perhaps “bridesmen”), and we had a great time preparing for the wedding, organising with the bridesmaids, and – after the ceremony was completed – dancing up a storm on the dance floor at the wedding. At the time, Louis’s wife was pregnant, and Louis was abstaining from alcohol in a thoughtful display of solidarity, so I decided that I would abstain from alcohol at the wedding in a display of solidarity with Louis. I was concerned that this might affect my ability to “loosen up” at the wedding reception, but my concerns were unfounded, because we had an absolute blast showing off our wildest and most ridiculous dance moves that we could come up with to the pop hits of the last few decades, while stone cold sober, for several hours, to the entertainment of the other attendees.
After Siena’s wedding, I remained in Ontario for about a week, but eventually the time came to continue heading east for the last part of the trip: a visit to Montreal, followed by a visit to Saint John for my brother’s wedding, before finally returning to Paris, four months after having left.