KTM 690 Enduro Motorcycle 2018

I am so enjoying my new 2018 KTM 690 Enduro Motorcycle.  Derek at Holeshot Motorsports in Langley took a trade of my Honda Pioneer 500 Side by Side Quad.  I really loved that machine until Gilbert, hunting cockapoo, hurt his back and also became blind. The Pioneer just took up a lot of storage space and only got used for a couple of weeks in fall. I”d only put a thousand km on it in 2 years.
When I’d had a Honda 250 CRF motorcycle I’d loved it for hunting and used it year round as it was street legal. 250 cc is more than enough for all the off roads needs but it was a little light on the highway, able to just make 110 km on the flat but really screaming, not good for passing up hill. I have a Harley Electroglide 1600 cc and that is the ultimate freeway machine. I loved riding from the west coast to Sturges one year on that and still love it. But it’s a bit big for a commuter and I store it at Trev Deeley for the winter because the leaves make the streets too greasy for the Harley but not  for an enduro.
I read all the reviews and sat on the choices in that category.  Kawasaki’s 650 is a beauty but heavier. The BMW was fine and I liked the Triumph.  Suzuki’s 650 is sweet and for the price the best out there. But KTM just grabbed me at the Abbotsford Motorcycle Show.  Everyone I talked to loved them.   The adventure bikes were the best to sit but I didn’t need another big machine.  I wanted a bike I could carry on a hitch rack off the back or front of my truck. The KTM 690 is only 300 lbs.  The hitch mount is good for 500.  I’d bought a second hand Palomino Maverick truck camper so had no room to carry a motorcycle like I had the Pioneer in the box of my Ford F350 long box truck.  I loved reading of all the races the KTM had won.
Leaving Holeshot with the bike on the rack at back I worried some it would fall off. I then picked up the Camper mounting it myself for the first time without any destruction. With the help of a young guy, son of the Chilliwack RV Storage, I loaded the KTM on the hitch rack.  I was all geared up for a long weekend.
1 am in the morning,  I pulled into a wilderness campsite off the road short of Princeton.  It’s great to be able to pack and sleep.  Gilbert and my alarm had me up at 7 am.   I had planned on camping beyond Princeton near Stemwinder where there are logging roads.  I found the perfect camp site.  Setting up the camper, putting out the slide, levelling the camper and stowing the food I’d bought en route in the fridge I unloaded the bike. The hitch extension I got from Burnaby Hitch allows me to open the back door with the bike in place.
It’s a tall bike. Mounting it I was taken back to a ballet class too many years ago.   Riding the Pioneer was like driving a little car about in the backwoods.  I’ve got a truck for that. This motorcycle thing is a whole other level of adventure. I pulled out of the campsite onto the main highway surprised at how fast I was at  70 then 90 km.  Then was backing offf having to let cars by so I could turn onto the logging road.
That’s where the KTM 690 got stupendous.  The KTM is the most amazing off road motorcycle. I just stayed on logging roads.  This can do deer trails. I did those with my Honda 250 CRF. But this is another level of design. It just feels right.  I was going 80 km an hour on the straights, faster than I’d normally go in my truck. It likes speed and hugs the road. But where it really performed was in the sand. I was fishtailing and thought I’d lose it a couple of times in these new corduroy soft roads with sand and lose gravel, doing about 50 km hr till I slowed to 30 and the bike took care of me.  It was work. I had to focus.  I had ridden to the top of the mountain on a spur to where there was no more road.  I was a little concerned about going back down that last stretch but the bike was amazing in first gear. I loved how it walked down the mountain.  I could give it gas and it would be off to the races but without gas it just hummed along safely walking down the mountain. Now that’s what I like in an off road bike.  I prefer safety to speed coming down and the KTM gave me that.
What I also liked was the brakes. Normally I have to balance the back brake with a little front brake. On all my bikes the front brake has been a real stopper and the KTM was no different there. What was different was the back brake. Normally they’re just not so sure.  The KTM back brake gripped perfectly. Not too much. Not to little. Brilliantly engineered for off road conditions. A big black cow startled by me coming around the corned jumped into the centre of the road and looked like ti was a bout to charge. I had to slow down fast and then deake around the big beast. That’s when I noticed how perfect the back brake was set up.  No collision between bike and cow and no me going over the handle bars or dropping the brand new bike.  Just a really good feeling.
It was a couple of hours of fun. Some racing. Some moseying along looking at the spectacular mountain landscape.  Purple, yellow, white flowers. Pine, Spruce and Fir. Great views.  The air smelt so good.  I love riding old logging roads without encountering another soul.
Today I drove the bike the hour drive along the river and old paved road.  Great winding 80 km highway.  Sunshine. Little traffic. Lots of folk along the river. I love all the ways people carry their gear and the tents and RV’s , the kayaks, bicycles. I passed several campgrounds.  Just enjoying the winding ride.  Nice bike.  Light maneuverable.  I’ve ridden my Harley on this road and loved it , probably more but this was a close second.  Kind of a European sports car to my comfortable big cadillac Harley motorcycle.  It’s less Easy Rider and younger, more enduro.  In the town it was easy to park and shop.  Getting my leg up and over was still a challenge but with a potential audience I did the Swan Lake thing swiftly and without the groans.  It’s going to come easier. I liked the lightness of the bike in the traffic. Tourist town summer.
Then back on the highway.  That was exciting.  90 to 100 km/hr it was a happy machine. I need a windshield. I love wind therapy but at high speed, and I was doing 110 and 120 passing, I really missed a wind breaker.  Still it was intense.  Nice machine on the highway at high speed with lots of power for passing. I liked that.  Passing with the Honda 250 or the Yamaha 250 I had wasn’t great except on back roads, not on the freeway. This bike will do any asphalt and performed just fine though it’s real glory was off road.
Now I’m back at the camp. I’m going out on it again. But it really is sweet. I’m pleased. ith the simple Quad you can stand up and it’s a whole lot less daunting.  I’d rather load this motorcycle and this rear hitch mount from Princess Auto is quite ht thing.  I’m really satisfied with the KTM 690 Enduro.  Years of fun and joy. Now to begin the slow process of accessorizing, first the windshield then the luggage. I already have the protected handle bars and like them.  I like the wide range of choices that come with enduro motorcycles.

Thank you KTM.

Morning with Gilbert, Maverick and the Austrian

The Austrian is the new KTM 690 Enduro I bought yesterday at Holeshot in Langley.  The bike needs a name and that will have to do for now.  The salesman Derek Vanderkooy really knew his motorcycles. He was incredibly helpful with my trading my Honda Pioneer 500 Side by Side Quad ATV for the KTM 690 Enduro.  I liked that at Holeshot I could sit on and compare the KTM, Suzuki, Yamaha and Honda machines.

It was a truly a whirlwind day. A call from Belinda, the office manager, saying the clinic had computer problems so the afternoon was cancelled.  Belinda’s husband has the KTM Adventure.   When I was asking around and comparing motorcycles I told her, “I think your husband’s right about the KTM being the best off road on road motorcycle today. Besides a man who picks a good woman is likely able to pick a good motorcycle.”  Belinda laughed. She’s amazing managing all the doctors and patients and the constant flow of data and people. Now she would have IT  there all afternoon.  What a nightmare!  I felt sorry for the patients but a sunny day and a motorcycle waiting. Well I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Thank you Jesus.

I finished my morning clinic and made a quick run with Gilbert to the storage locker to pick up old motorcycle gear.  I’ll likely need to get new luggage and such fitted for the KTM but wanted to see if the old stuff fit before giving it to Paul. He has a big Triumph and it looks like my old Harley Roadster soft luggage and leather will serve him better than me now.  Part of the trading in the Pioneer was lightening up.  It sat in storage all last year only being used a couple of times for hunting.  Only a 1000 km.  If the Quad’s could be street legal like they are in Europe I’d get a lot more use out of them. That’s the beauty of the KTM 690 Enduro. I can use it as a commuter in the city and off road hunting and just having fun.  

Gilbert used to hunt with me in the side seat of the Pioneer but now he’s blind he’ll only come along in the truck.  

The girls at Holeshot were really efficient and friendly handling the finance and licensing.  As always there’s some extra to pay but the convenience and savings from a tax point of view for a trade makes the whole thing better than my trying to sell the Pioneer first and then buy the KTM with the extra money I’d make eventually. Dave, the big bearded, laughing, father of Gilbert’s buddy, Emory,  was glad to offer his help.  He’s  got a Harley and an ATV and has been doing this for years so is a terrific source of information .I even got to discussed it with Mack, the father of Max, Gilbert’s neighbour. They bark together when ever anything new comes round.  My neighbourhood friendship network is defined by dogs and vehicles.

The KTM 690 Enduro has won all the really tough races over the last few years.  The UTube videos of these crazy guys on their variety of machines going over huge rocks, straight up little trails and across desert has been a staple in recent years, not that I plan to imitate these nut bars but it’s amazing to see what the Bikes can do.  Evil Kneevils of the motorcross.  

When I was in Saipan my friend Frank and his son did motorcross like this.  I’dwatch them together, father and son, going around the course and think Frank was crazy.  

I loved reading the Bikehedonia Grace MacDonalds Wordpress  blog this beautiful young Australian girl, travelling through Malaysia alone on her KTM 690 , something about beautiful women with their own bikes makes the tale so appealing. I confess too that I’m always dreaming of such adventures , whether it’s sailing across the Atlantic in my sailboat or driving down to South America with the motorcycle. I’ve got the truck and camper now so anything is possible.

After buying the bike at Holeshot I had to load it on the hitch carrier I’d bought at Princess Auto and put together myself with wrench and ratchet.  It sure helped to have Derek pushing the bike up the ramp and steadying it while I strapped it down.  Mostly I appreciated his reassurance that he figured it wouldn’t fall off.  And it didn’t.

I drove out to Chilliwack, to the RV storage, where I unloaded the KTM so I could load the Palomino Maverick Camper. I’d never done this on my own. Laura had previously stood at the back guiding me.  So here I was loading and off loading a 300 lb motorcycle then loading the camper. It’s all a matter of lining it up and gingerly backing up with my heart in my throat.  It just seems like it would be so easy to knock the thing over as it stands so talk and vulnerable on it’s struts.  

The owner’s son came by to let me know they were locking up.  Tall handsome bright young man with a fair resemblance of his father. We were putting together the hitch coupler, the hitch being 2 1/2 inch so needed a sleeve to change dimension to the 2 inch carrier.  It was a challenge to line up the holes and connect the pieces “If your dad were here he’d know the trick to coupling these things.”  “He would at that,” he said.

Nonetheless we got the bike strapped in behind the camper and found that the extender even left room to get into the camper with the bike out back. It’s awkward so I’m still considering a hitch at the front so I can carry the bike out front to balance weight and leave the camper easily accessible.

9 pm and I was just leaving Chilliwack. I’d wanted to get to Princeton where I could camp on the river and ride the logging trails I know up there.  I picked up food at the Superstore and thought for sure I saw the incredible Surgeon and Artist I’d worked with in Saipan.  He was with family and I wasn’t quite sure and I was on a mission. I loaded up and drank a Red Bull knowing I’d regret it when I was ready to sleep. But it was past my bed time already.  The full moon was beautiful in the night sky. Gilbert was sleeping on the seat beside me. I felt pretty good with my accomplishments, getting the bike loaded and off loaded and the camper loaded and the camper water tank filled, gassed up and rolling down the highway.

That’s how I ended up here , camped by this stream off a logging road this side of Princeton.  I just love being able to pull off the road and get into bed.  Gilbert liked the walk at night.  The KTM 690 looked great on the back of the white Maverick camper in the light of the full moon alongside the stream, pine trees all around, the air so fresh.  

I didn’t sleep easy thanks to Red Bull.  I forgot to turn off my iPhone weekday alarm too. So 7 am the alarm sounded and Gilbert began barking and oh well, I did have to pee. What a beautiful morning, sun rising over the dark green forest. This incredible motorcycle hanging off the back of the truck and camper.  Paradise.  

I’ve made myself stove top espresso with canned milk and honey.  The heater is making me hot water for a shower.  I’m thinking I’ll continue on to Princeton and the campground I’d planned to say at. I’ve got two full days.  I could stay here but I like going with the plan where possible.  Today’s big event is riding the KTM. Ready to Race. I won’t be racing but I’m sure going to enjoy exploring the back country.  I’ll also be able to drive into town leaving the camper on the truck.  By fall hunting season I may even have most of the kinks out of the system so that I can actually focus on shooting a deer with my bow or rifle. So much of the fun is the preparation and planning. I was as successful hunting when I had a Broncho II and a pup tent, rose before dawn and stalked the woods or lay in ambush.  Now I’m outfitted for an expedition. It’s not more fun. It’s less productive from a hunting perspective but it’s sure a lot of fun in so many ways.  

Vancouver Drivers and Motorcycles

Thank you Jesus for protecting Gilbert and I on our ride to work from Burnaby.  It's not a long ride but it's extremely harrowing and much more adventurous than many of the 'extreme sports' displayed on the You Tube.
I am so very thankful for all the BC drivers who make the trip possible. These are the drivers who do not have a murderous intent towards motorcycles. These are the drivers who follow the laws of the road and actually understand, because they have at some time in their lives been trained to drive a car or truck, what the turn signal is. I am so very thankful for those drivers who check to see if there is anyone in the lane they are changing in and especially those drivers who use their turn signals to indicate to those behind them that they are changing lanes. The very vast majority of Vancouver drivers know how to do this and likely do not soil themselves in public routinely either.
 The actual use of the turn signal in a vehicle is a standard IQ test and those who don't use it probably can't hold spit in their mouths either.
I would also like to thank all those drivers who stop with consideration and awareness that they are not the only ones on the road.  There are those occasional others who stop arbitrarily miles and sometimes lightyears ahead of any potential dangers. These people are likely having minor seizures and stroke like activities in their brain and their braking foot is not connected to any reality known on this planet. I hope that they will get medical attention before they cause an accident.  Of course some are looking for an insurance claim and are actually seeking to be hit from behind gently so that they can claim whiplash and abuse the insurance companies and their families and friends for the rest of their lives.  If this is the case then it's probably best that  they be hit by a Mac Truck rather than a motorcycle.
There are so many great drivers out there but there are also those who don't know that when a motorcycle is signalling to change lanes it is intelligent, respectful and considerate and evidence of good driving training to let the motorcyclist into the lane by slowing rather than speeding up. This seems to be a concern, as it was for me today, when a half dozen cars speeded up rather than let me change lanes to exit cross lanes so that I could exit from the freeway at the exit I needed to take to get to work.  I am sorry that there is Karma for these kinds of people.  I suspect I witnessed six individuals and their passengers who will have their genitalia infested by parasites and will have their entrails torn from them at some time in their life times.
I am sorry for the truck that was forced to slow when at the last possible minute in stop and start traffic I changed lanes gunning the engine and missing a near death experience.
That said I would like to thank the taxi driver who immediately slowed so that I could change lanes. Being a professional driver he was estimating the trajectories of our two vehicles and rather than hitting me from behind as I was crossing lanes or trying to swipe me from the side, took his foot pedal of the gas so that his acceleration was not an issue. I admit in the best of all possible worlds motorcyclists and indeed anyone changing lanes would not wish to cause the car in the lane to slow however that's the reason for signal and as I had my turning signal on for an inordinate amount of time a driver, not talking on their cellphone, would be able to see the flashing light and anticipate my move.  I have noticed a significant, albeit small fraction, of drivers who specifically see a flashing light and accelerate to pass the car swiftly rather than slowing as is the professional driving practice.  I accept that it is likely that these drivers are rank amateurs at the wheel and likely smoking massive amounts of BC bud as well as having murderous tendencies and likely beat their children.
I am thankful that the majority of drivers are adult and have functioning cars and brains and make the commute relatively enjoyable for the rest of us. 
Naturally, as a motorcyclist, I'd like to have the right to have a vigillante paint ball gun that would allow me to tag those really very very few drivers who by the laws of Darwin would be best eliminated from the race gene pool. Once I'd tagged them with a paintball shot to the side back or windshield of their car, police could remove them off the freeway and take them for much needed euthanasia. 
In lieu of that solution I hope that education of drivers will increase their awareness of the risks that others have driving around them and police cameras  on the highway will increasingly identify those repeat offenders.
In the meantime I am just thankful that I have arrived at work today alive. Thank you all those who drive reasonably and are aware and considerate of motorcyclists on the highway.  Thank you. 

Living Life in Spring

I'm 99% over my cold. I sometimes can't tell if I've lingering sickness or just older age and bad attitude. 
Today I was thinking about gratitude and feeling really grateful.  I'm grateful for the day and my dog and my family and friends of course. I'm grateful for my relationship with God too.  But today I was just thinking of the joy I have had in life's activities.
I'm thankful for work.  In the east work is called 'dharma' a term for prayer and royal blessing.  Work is so often under appreciated in Canada. There's this association of happiness with the 'idle rich'.  I've never met the 'idle rich' and indeed the rich people I've met have been anything but idle.  Whether people are rich or poor there seems to be a separation between those who are living life and those who aren't.  Much of this can be explained by 'depression' and commonly by drugs and alcohol.  There's a kind of soul sickness sometimes, an isolation and withdrawal as compared to participation and celebration.
Now that winter is letting up I'm enjoying that spring is upon us with it's inherrent celebration.  Sometimes I'm just holding on in winter but with spring I feel the renewal and life happening again. I've been enjoying taking Gilbert for walks and seeing more and more plant life awaken. There's yellow daffodils and blue crocuses, and lots of green sprouts.
Today I was just thankful for the activities I'm blessed to participate in. We've been fixing up my sailboat and planning the first spring sail.  Down on the docks all the guys are working away, sanding, painting, roping and generally doing spring cleaning for the day when they're start getting out on the water.  My boat is ready. I would have been out this weekend if it weren't still a tad chilly and I had a touch of cold. 
Meanwhile my other friends have their motorcycles spruced up and they're out on the highway in growing numbers. Just talked to a fellow whose birthday it is this week and for his birthday he was getting his harley out of storage at Trev Deely. My harley is stored there and due to come out to play in the next weeks.  In years gone by Gilbert and I have taken a ride out to Harrison's or Squamish on the bike by now.  This year we'll be cruising on the highway in April for sure.
Each year I get seasons tickets in the fall or book shows way ahead of when they're coming.  I never feel like going out on a friday night and wouldn't if it weren't for my foreknowledge. I feel so much better if I participate in the arts in Vancouver rather than just going home and watching netflix or NCIS. I love tv and I love take out but know that the years I didn't make the effort to take in the creative works of my community I felt the year was some how less satisfactor.
This year again I've so enjoyed the works of BC Ballet and am looking forward to another production coming up.  Pacific Theatre is my favourite theatre company and this month's Whipping Man was just sensational.  The acting and images of that show linger with me.  Early Music Vancouver's Bach production still remains in my mind as a thing of wonder and beauty which has made me more intent on getting to more of their productions. I must get out to the symphony so perhaps next year.  We are booked for U2 as I so enjoyed going to Fleetwood Mac a couple of years back.  These are events.  I loved the opera this year, the performance and singing though I really am wondering about the 'story content' of the average opera.  I love the Canadian Author's Association and the literary events I've been to in Vancouver. I wish I had more time.
I've been out target practicing and hunting and fishing are calling my name.  I'm just really busy with alot of activities.  Some are expensive but it didn't start out that way. I attended free concerts of the pianists, church productions and fringe theatre productions. If a person is interested it isn't money that keeps them from participating especially in Vancouver. I don't know how anyone can afford housing here but there's always been a whole lot of activities going on that do not require alot of money to be apart of. I used to enjoy going to the Vancouver Art Gallery on their low cost admission day. Now this last year I  was at the Moscow Museum of Contemporary Art and the Istanbul Museum of Contemporary Art and the L'Hermitage. These cost money to get to and I'm very thankful and grateful and blessed to have been able to work as much as and as long hours and as many years that I've been able to experience these wonderful places and exhibits.  But it didn't cost me anything to visit a friend's show years ago. 
I'm looking forward to a Canucks game soon but remember all the rural hockey games I attended for free or minimum admission. I've got older and older I'm more established and thankful for this but remember it's been ongoing. Even in high school there were those of us who 'participated' and those who avoided.  I went to the games and I playeed on the games. Friends took part in clubs and some of us continued so today a high school friend is a chemist, another a doctor, another a lawyer, another a playwright, another heading a university  but all of us actively involved. 
I guess I look at life as a story to be written or a canvas to paint a life on. I'm trying to learn more and grow to.  I'm looking forward to learning more about autism in a course I booked recently as I saw an autistic man and wondered about some of his behavours.  Curiosity just keeps me asking questions and continuing forward and wanting to be around others who are so motivated. I just don't have the time I'd like to have.  Saw a facebookpicture of 100 year old lady skydiving for the first time and I want that to be me. 
I can get so easily distracted by fear and self pity and become bitter about world affairs and politics but there's so much better to focus on. I loved the St. Patrick's Day celebrations yesterday.  A couple of Irish girls sold me a hat for $2 and I really did have a lot of fun wearing it and getting the feedback I caused by playing along.  I loved the Rocky Horror Picture show toilet rolls we'd take with us to throw at the stage.
I'm just thankful for all there is to do and all I'm enjoying participating in.  I'm thankful for the health and life I have.  So much I look forward to doing.  Just have to get more time.There's the book I'm working on and how I really want to draw.  Joyce's drawings were so inspiring. Listening to Ruel's guitar playing made me want to play my guitar more. By being around people who are active and stretching themselves and learning and growing I want to grow and learn. I'm so thankful for the people I have like that in my life. From my parents and family to present day I've been so blessed with so many extraordinary and gifted people.
All I can say is thank you.

Sturgis North, Canada's Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and Festival, Merritt, BC - Part 4 - Sunday Morning and Ride Back to Vancouver

I wanted a Bruce Coburn Rocket Launcher to kill the generator someone was running at 4 am in the camp grounds. Burton Cummings had finished long after midnight and I think I got to bed in the tent with Gilbert around 1 or 2 am. The music down the row from me was going till at least 3 am.  A large group of people had been dancing outside their tents and RV’s.  Motorcycles stopped driving about around then too but that generator was there every time I rolled over.
Little Gilbert had his body snuggled up to mine, lying on the sleeping bag for comfort. He was warm enough. I thought about getting his coat but decided against it as he seemed just fine curled up beside me on the sleeping bag and hoodie.  It’s just that whenever I rolled over, well, there was the pain in the back and hip to consider, since the ground was hard, then he’d have to realign himself to get the maximum amount of soft sleeping bag under him.  Of course at 7 am, when we normally get up, he was there licking my face, bright eyed and bushy tailed, all ready to go to work.
“Don’t you know it’s Sunday!” I asked him.  “I got to bed after 2 pm” I said.
He just wagged his tail.
I got dressed.  Getting jeans on is one thing in a tent.  Out of the tent I had to dance around getting into socks and my Harley Davidson biker boots.  We both went down to the stream. He had a drink and we both found some bushes to mark. Then I began the slow task of taking down the tent and loading my bike.  I don't move quickly before coffee.
I was actually the first Harley to rev up.  Thankfully no one shot me,too.  I rode out of the campground area seriously considering the possibility.
I parked the motorcycle where they had outdoor toilets and also portable water fountains, just fine for shaving. I used the mirror on my bike.  Then I saw some guys with coffee.  It turned out that they were a group of Gospel Riders.  I approached them saying, “I”ve already found Jesus. Could you tell me where to find a cup of coffee.”
They laughed, which is always a good sign with Christians. Don't want to hang out with the ultra serious ones who think they're the only ones God talks too. Better to be with the laughing set who knew Jesus and the disciples had to love life, being fisherman, carpenters and all. 
“We’re just going to have a  church service," said one guy,  "We'll have more coffee after that. You’re welcome to come along.”  Well I figured I could hear Father Mark at my home church St. James Anglican going “yes!”  Of course I went along.  They wanted Gilbert to come and I go wherever he’s welcome.
I liked the service too.  Jim, a fellow who’d done prison ministries and down town eastside gospel revival played the guitar and sang some of the good old Christian songs I was raised on. “He’s got the whole world in his hands”.  Only he changed that to “He’s got Harley Davidson and all its riders in his hands”.  I especially loved singing Jesus Loves me and hearing the second verse which I don’t recall ever hearing before.  The preacher then talked about love. God’s love as great and great enough for all of us. It was a good sermon. Simple. Uplifting.  Then more songs and that was it.  We walked back to the coffee pot and I got my coffee. Gilbert got a whole lot of petting too. A number of the guys said they had dogs but hadn’t brought them.  They loved that Gilbert rode with me.
We talked about God and Jesus and ministry.  Normal stuff.  I shared about my time with Terry and the West Coast Bikers. Seeing Third Day in concert in Langley.  I’d talked with these Gospel Rider folkbefore  on the Oyster Run. They meet in Surrey Monday night. I really ought to get out for some fellowship. Good guys. I’ve liked them each time I’ve met them and it’s now three or four times. The early ‘“mass” was typically ‘light’ on numbers. They were holding a second service after people had woken up. I saw more people crowding around the stage while I was leaving.
After that the vender wagon opened. I got an fried egg and ham sandwich.  Gilbert got some sausage from the vender and doggie dried duck treats I found in a saddlebag..   Nourished in body and soul we got on the Harley.  I stopped to get Laura a t shirt from Gilbert.  We’d all gone together to the first Sturgis North.  She still takes care of Gilbert from time to time.  She's definitely one of his most favourite human.
Driving into Merritt to fill up with gas there were all sorts of motorcycles.  A whole lot of people had stayed in motels. I’d opted for camping because I thought the motels would have been sold out.  That was the case in Sturgis South Dakota.  Camping is part of the fun but I think I’d rather be the guy with RV and generator next time.  Given I have a truck, an RV Toyhauler that could carry my Harley, I really do hope I can go next year in style.  Merritt sure is the perfect location for a motorcycle rally and music festival.  But a lot can happen in a year.
The Coquahalla with its 120 speed limit, high country views and winds were a real rush of a ride. I’d switched out Led Zeppelin for the Newsboys and was blasting along at 140 passing.  Felt like I was back in northern Montana or Northern Wyoming. Big open country and endless highway. Real motorcycle ride experience.  I slowed down as we began to drop out of the ozone but was surprised how quickly I was coming into Hope. It really seemed like no time the ride was such a beauty.
In Chilliwack I figured Gilbert needed a rest. He’d been such a good dog. We’d done a 170 km and used a half tank of gas.  I called my friend Lorne, another Kilt wearing Scottish descendant. He’d just had surgery so was wearing a cast on his foot after a ligament tear when we met up at Starbucks. With coffee and muffins and Gilbert getting bits of muffin to go with his water we were all a happy crew. It was a sunny day and we were sitting outside in the old downtown Chilliwack reminiscing about how we’d started doing this together 16 years ago. We’d both met through Dr. Bernie and we’d just stayed friends. It was great to jaw and jaw and jaws.  We got all caught up and then some.
Friends are great pit stops.  I’ve got to get together with Lorne more often. We do Robbie BurnsDinners and some Scottish events but it’s been too long since we just talked.  When a cute girl asked him what the cast on his foot was for, I answered “masturbating”.  What are friends for?  We sure did laugh a lot.  16 years is a long time and a whole lot of stories.  We both missed Dr. Bernie, of course. He brought us together and we’d often go to dinners which would mostly be laughter.
Gilbert got back on the motorcycle. I mounted up.  It didn’t take long then to get back to Vancouver.  The traffic was just building up from the weekend return but we got in before the worst.
Gilbert immediately found a yellow ball. I loved walking in and finding that my whole place had had a Mida  miracle. While I was away an angel had come and cleaned and tidied the place.  Gilbert wasn’t as impressed.  He had to spill his toy bag to find a tennis ball. I was co opted to throw while he fetched.  In his world then all was right.
Despite the Friday mini office crisis, thanks to everyone I consulted I have a solution and a new plan.  More work for me in the short term but hopefully a better long term solution.  Time will tell.  What a joy though to ride my Harley to Sturgss North, hear Burton Cummings, go back down the good worm hole of memory lane, experience the rush and high of motorcycling, add in a church service,  a visit with a good friend and spend all that great time with little Gilbert, a great companion and amazing biker dog.

Sturgis North, Canada's Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and Festival, Merritt, BC - Part 3 - Main Stage - Moxy, Molly Hatchet and Burton Cummings

It was truly epic to be at Sturgis North in Merritt. This is a great venue.  Beautiful mountains, regular John Denver location with Colorado high and idyllic mountain stream   But, and this is the clincher, John Denver, bless his soul, wouldn’t naturally bring to mind a stage ringed by massive Harley Davidson motorcycles.  This is Buffalo Chip outdoors.  Big boy arena.  No bicycles, sandals and shorts with pretty sweet vegan cute college girls who haven’t quite graduated.  This is leathers and men and women. Lots of vets. I love that the Hells Angels, no colours mind you, but you know whose who, and the RCMP are all there, kind of mixing. A bit like a soccer game between combatting soldiers on a Christmas Eve in a long standing war.  Everyone is nice. There’s ambulances and security otherwise.  This was a well run concert.  Really well run.  But like a  Sons of Anarchy movie truce, everyone was listening to the Biker Mommas. The Katie Sagal's had told everyone to behave or else.  All the women were here to strut their stuff and dance and have a good time. All the boys were told to leave their guns at home.
I love Sturgis for this.
Mostly, over 99% of the folk there aren’t part of that other scene.  There’s a whole lot of Veterans who ride Harley’s. They’re a central part of these festivals.  My favourite ride is the Vets Ride. The Christian bikers were out in force too.  Lots of Gospel Riders and Christian Motorcycle Association folk.  A whole lot of professionals ride big bikes. They can afford them. They're also really popular with the rural townsfolk.  City guys like the crotch rockets. They were there too but Harleys dominated. A whole lot of music lover too. Then there were the beer drinkers.  I didn’t see a lot of evidence of drugs.  Pot. Pot smoking all right. But the whole atmosphere didn’t have any of the Downtown Eastside flavour of cocaine, crystal meth or heroin.  I doubt people into heavy drugs could get their asses out to music festivals.  They certainly can't afford the vehicles, gas or price of adminission.  They’re living in poverty somewhere on the couch dreaming of being cool one day when they can kick their habit.  Lots of recovery folk come to these rallies. I expect there were AA and NA meetings happening somewhere. I didn’t key into them like I did at Sturges, South Dakota where they’re just part of the fabric of the place. Here it seemed that Jesus Loves You was more in evidence. That and the Siks. You can tell them by the steel plated turbans.
A friend said the Harley was the favourite Aryan vehicle.  Only here there were blacks and Aboriginals on the Harleys as well. The Asians I saw still seemed to favour big Yamaha’s and Suzukis whereas the Siks had Harley’s and Victories. My motorcycycle buddy Chiropractor Richard Cho rides a Harley but I wonder if there is a profile to different bike choices.  I see Harley’s wherever I travel in the world, most recently even in Russia.  I figure the true Aryan might ride a BMW but just about anyone rides BMW’s as they do the Italian Ducatis.  I think it’s more like a preference for performance. I think there’s nothing like my Electraglide for the American Highway.  My Turkish friends who rode through South America sure loved their BMW.  The english Triumph was the preferred bike for Africa.  My friend loves his Honda crotch rocket in downtown Vancouver traffic.
There’s just something special about a Harley sound too. Especially when it’s used for applause like it was at the Sturgis in South Dakota and here at Sturgis North. Besides Gilbert and I love our Harley. 
Moxy was playing early.  I’d known the band. They’re famous. I just hadn’t appreciated them until tonight.  What an impressive performance.  Real solid group.  Great vocals.

I confess I didn’t know Molly Hatchet though they’re really famous.  One of their songs took me way back. I’d heard it on the radio hundreds of times but I’d never associated these great tunes with the band name.  And I loved their music. Really Southern US country rock and Louisiana Alabama upbeat blues hillbilly metal rock whatever. It was fantastic and the whole crowd was dancing. It’s stomping music.  I’ve got to get their records.  I just loved the beat.

But what I came for was Burton Cummings. And he was worth it.  Hell I rode a Harley a whole day to see him but he’s such great pinnacle of a musician, song writer, entertainer that he’s worth the whole climb up the mountain. I”d heard him first at 17 when as head of the entertainment committee on the student council executive it came to me to hire the Guess Who for our high school dance. They’d  gone from being Chad Allen and the Reflections to the Guess Who.  I remember “Shaking All Over” but I believe the dance was 1969 or 1970 and that’s when they released ‘These Eyes” which became the US #1 single.  I confess I had tears in my eyes when Burton Cummings sang “These Eyes’.

The first time I heard Burton Cummings sing was when he was with Deverons and put out the song “Blue is the Night’.  To an adolescent boy with pimples and unrequited love, there has never been a better song to sum up the true angst of the world in which love exists but not for you.  I couldn’t get enough of that song.  When you're young and a wannabe poet a song like that can really help you suck the very teat of depression dry and come out the other side ready to fall in love all over again.
Moments at a time I was wafted back to high school. it was like the Vincent Massey High School Reunion where we’d all danced and I felt totally dissociated back to 17 again.  1969 was a very special year.  Then 1970 was too.  The whole early 70’s were something else. All that time before Medical School. After I got into medical school it was a whole different world. There was simply no time for rock and roll.  My party days were over and life because a serious business.
Then there I was at a Vincent Massey High School Reunion with all these other folk in our 50’s telling stories of high school.  It was a truly special time.
Like this concert.
Denise was the girl sitting beside me. She told me she’d grown up in Grand Forks, little town in interior BC.  She’d driven here with her sister in the side car and her son on the back of her 800 motorcycle, possibly Russian vintage.  “It’s like driving a big lawnmower on the highway.”  Having got rid of the one Gilbert and I had, our Ural, for just that reason, it’s really work to drive at high speed, I could only admire her for making the day trip here.  “I just had to hear Burton Cummings”, she said.
“I love his voice. His voice is one of the greatest singing voices of all time. 4 octaves.” I said.
I love America but I loved when American Woman came out. I loved that it was banned across the states. I loved that it was this strong peace message spoken to our own allies.  We weren’t against our military back then despite the song Universal Solider and Where Have All the Flowers Gone. We just didn’t like the ‘policies’ of war that wasted young lives.  I loved American Woman.  Burton Cummings and his band did it and the crowd went wild.
Clap for the Wolfman certainly went over with this wild bunch too. Hand Me Down world was a moving tribute.  Burton is an amazing pianist.  Canada’s Elton John in that regard. Stand Tall was a real show stopper. Indeed every song he and his band did was perfection.  It was a mystical time.


An incredible experience. I was up and dancing. Gibert was safe from all the cheering and dancing, curled up under a chair.  I was dancing, taking pictures, dancing, shouting.  Everyone was.  Burton Cummings is to Canadian music was Wayne Gretsky is to hockey.  No wonder he got the Order of Canada. In that regard he’s like “SIR” Paul McCartney in Canada.  A true life time achiever.
And there he was , a guy making music at a high school dance. Now a world star.  He went on to greatness like so many people I knew in those days.  It was a joy to see him at Sturgis North. He closed with Mother Nature.  Another great song.
“I never thought I’d be still doing this at 66" he said, "thank you for making it all possible.”  What a gentleman.  And no I didn’t think I’d be riding a motorcycle with a little dog into the wonders of Northern BC and camping outside in a pup tent beside a mountain stream after listening to a truly great Burton Cummings concert.  Life can be so sweet.

Veiled Crosses, St.James Anglican, and Motorcycling to Squamish and Gilbert

Gilbert and I made it to St. James Anglican Church today for the sermon by Father Mark Greenaway-Robbins.  His sermon was of course on Lent and Holy Week.  The crosses and images in the church were veiled in purple. This represented the fasting from ‘sacred depictions’.
Everyone is invited to church during Holy Week. Of course everyone is invited to church every week but especially during Holy Week. Our new Right Reverend Melissa Skelton, Bishop, Anglican Diocese of New Westminister will be the Homilist Palm Sunday April 13. High Mass with the blessing of the palms and neighbourhood process is at 10:30 am
Fr. Mark Greenaway-Robbins inspired  by Thomas Traherne, First Century stated, On the Cross of Christ, “The Cross is the abyss of wonders, the centre of desires, in the school of virtues, the house of wisdom, the throne of love, the theatre of joys and the place of sorrows; It is the root of happiness , and the gate of Heaven.”
 Maundy Thursday, April 17 at 6:30 pm Solem Mass of the Institutions of the Blessed Sacrament, followed by an all night Watch before the Altar of Repose. (People had begun to sign up in groups of three to do hourly vigils to ensure all night presence and prayer.)
Good Friday is April 18 with stations of the cross at 10 am for children, 2 pm Stations of the Cross, 3:00 pm Solemn Liturgy of Good Friday, Homily “the throne of love” and 5 pm Confessions.
Holy Saturday is April 19 with 9pm Great Mass of Easter with the Sacrament of Holy Baptism.
Easter Day is April 20 with 8:30 am Low Mass of Resurrection, 10:30 am High Mass of the Resurrection with Procession and Blessing of the Easter Garden, Homily “the place of sorrows: the root of happiness, and the gate of Heaven”. 5 pm Evenson and Benediction in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel

 Gilbert and I had ridden to the mass on Harley.
After the mass we roared off with the Doobie Brothers, the only cd I had with me, loudly playing on the stereo.  We rode to the boat to confirm all was well.   Gilbert barrelled up and down the dock gleeful running full tilt boogie.
Now annually we drive up the curvy road to Horseshoe Bay to get back into the hang of highway motorcycling  Today, we drove all the way to Squamish.  It was a spectacular day of grand vista. The clouds were hanging at the level of the snow on the mountain tops, The ocean beside the Sea to Sky highway was a particularly beautiful.  Gilbert and I loved the ride.
We stopped at Starbucks along with a dozen other bikers all of us getting a jump on this great destination for one of the prime rides of the province.  I had a Mocha and Gilbert ate a little Caesar I’d thought to pack just for such an occasion.
Thank you Jesus for good rides and such surroundings of awesome splendour.

Haircut - Baku

I'd planned to cut my hair when I returned from the Sturgis, South Dakota, Motorcycle Rally.  Long hair, tattoos and piercings are haute cotoure for a big Harley Davidson Classic males ridingcross country.  They're as essential as leather bikini tops and thongs are for women riders.  It had grown on it's own and was becoming a kind of head plant. I was impressed by the length and cultivation.  A city farmer without a plot of land, I grew my hair.
I knew I'd cut it off when I returned to sailing. Sailing solo across oceans, short hair, and ease of maintenance with water conservation is simply routine.
Long hair as a statement goes back to my teens when three men wanted to beat me with baseball bats chasing me through corn fields , simply because I had long hair.  Intolerance of difference was all the rage in the 60's and 70's of my youth.
It's like the intolerance today of Quebec.  There the hijab became an issue.  One must uncover one's face to accuse another by Canadian law.  The Siks wanted to remain armed with long knives in government buildings but I countered that my Scottish Irish heritage and religion, demanding  I carry a broad sword into court rooms and other government buildings. Naturally being Canadian today I'd prefer a Glock 9 mm pistol but if the Siks wanted knives I was content with a broad sword.
So today I support diversity and know conformity is communist and totalitarian.  At the same time it's not really that big an issue for me any more.  I'm growing old and it seems from where I sit the youth must learn over and over again that freedom is not license. Freedom is something that is lost if one does not stand, often alone, when others are lying down and crawling on their bellies.  This week we've been discussing how the United Nations is denying women children. Children are already in Canada, in the eyes of many, a luxury, denied so many as women are forced to work alongside men long hours and most days.
So my long hair was a kind of statement of freedom.  A personal statement.  A bit of nostalgia too.  For a younger simpler day when the enemies weren't layered in corporations, off shore accounts, corruption and lies.  With so many appointed boards with such increase in power I've lost track of where democracy has gone while still fighting for a Canada I hardly recognize.
Here in Baku I liked the haircuts of the men.  There's a sophistication here reminiscent of Omar Shariff and a touch of the Elvis era. I told my colleague Dr. Ney, when we were in the Catholic church how I liked the haircuts of the men. He admitted he liked them too but thought it was because they had such thick black hair in comparison to our fine and thinning Celtic locks.
I remember my dad taking my brother and I for our haircuts when we were young.  I was in grade school. We'd walk three together up North Drive then Point Road to the old fashioned barber with the candy cane outside.  The men would talk.  It was a good time and we went every 2 or 4 weeks I recall. Little hair was cut off but much male camaraderie occurred.
I don't remember girlie magazines.  Our neighbourhood was Christian. Dad wouldn't take his sons to any place that didn't respect women. He loved our mother. The other men there never talked ill of their wives.  Instead they complained about the weather, sometimes talked about the government and yes, they talked about fishing.  Sports wasn't as important to my father who hunted and fished and loved the outdoors.
He'd take us to ball games and we'd sit close together watching pitchers and batters outside in the summer sun.  Mom would be along, of course. She'd never miss a baseball game though she most enjoyed watching us kids play hockey outdoors in winter.  Dad would pay for the hotdogs way up in the stands as we all watched the game, the adults chatting freely with others around them while my brother and I mostly talked about the game.
I only had to stop men in the street and ask them where a barber was by scissoring my hair with my fingers.  I was directed straight to this barbershop by the half dozen men I asked along the way.  I was glad too.  The experience was reminiscent of my time with my dad and brother even if it was in an upscale salon.  The barber who had little hair himself laughed when he'd cut off my hair pointing to the pile it made on the floor. I meowed and not only he laughed but so did the lady at the front till.  A good time. A fun time.  Having a hair cut.
On the television I think the soldiers were German and Russia and it was the story of Stalingrad.  I looked up as the scissors began and saw a hostage being taken, not knowing from which side, but lots of screams and bayonets.  I felt a small part of myself rebelled at the loss of the wild Scottish mane.  How could I join with Wallace and Bruce and attack the dastardly Englishmen if I had short hair looking more like them than us. But then I remembered the penultimate Scot, Sean Connery, was what I was aiming for. My long hair had been looking more Rastafarian than Scottish.  Now I liked the look of civilization and care that was appearing in the mirror.
The wrinkles always catch my eye when I'm in barbershops, looking at my face, wondering where they all came from, these scars of experience. The lines are more from laughter, smiling, curiosity and surprise than dour angry lines. I'm thankful for that.  But perhaps in the past, sitting in the barbers I didn't like to see myself aging.
Perhaps this time with Dr. Ney, my senior by at least a day or two, has been good for me. He is such a man to admire and I feel no shame with age in his presence. Indeed the community here venerate the old, so apparent in the way the elders are respected by the young men and women who walk with them, with evident interest and concern. I wonder now what it will be like when I return to Canada where the youth are celebrated because governments depend on inexperience to promote their sales of lies and opportunism.  I know I was so stupid as to want change for change's sake when I was young and lacked knowledge of the world and gratitude for all that I had and all my parents and their generation bequeathed to me.  I can forgive my rash stupidity only by saying I was young.  I still have the idealism I so admire but it's tempered now with discernment, I hope.
Oh well, I cut my hair.  Even now the song refrain from the Musical, Hair, passes through my lightened head.  Maybe my memory will improve with less weight and I'll be less hot headed. I've already noticed the pleasure in having a cool head. I'm enjoying the breezes knowing too I have hats to compensate. It was the same with beards when I was a northern flying doctor. In the arctic I loved the warmth my beards gave me but was glad to shave the bristles off in the south. I've not had a beard for some years now.
I wonder too if long hair isn't a hunters tactic for stilling the anger or fear of women who rage and run so easily these days.  Looking like them I'm less likely to spook them. I'll have to beware if my short hair doesn't attract their widespread assault on the male.  There's social camouflage is feminizing ones external features but now I've let go of the long hair cammo and am revealed as a greying haired old man, a survivor in the midst of other survivors. I've always found women my own age don't care what I look like so long as I treat them with the respect their years of service deserve.  I look younger with shorter hair, though join the ranks of my fellow older men. The long hair was only a symbol from my youth.