The hubbub of Calgary’s sprawl fades into our rear-view mirrors as we head south toward Crowsnest Pass. We are on our way to the Ducati Users Club of Western Canada (DUCWC) motorcycle rally, held annually in Nelson B.C. I, however, am not lucky enough to own such an exotic bike.
Instead, I have rented a (gorgeous) 2018 BMW R1200GS… Yeah, life’s rough!
It doesn’t take long before I know that this bike and I will be good friends. The neutral riding position, BMW’s torquey opposed-boxer-twin six-speed transmission, and cruise control combine for a sporty and stable platform that handles everything I throw at it. I can almost match my riding partner’s Ducati Multistrada 1200 in straight-line acceleration, and keeping pace at highway speeds is a dream.
The Beamer’s throaty exhaust barks nicely, especially in downshifts. Walking through the gears in the other direction, the bike always responds to my inputs with a generous helping of speed — and a ‘would you like some dessert?’ roominess if I need a bit more in a pinch. The suspension is both comfortable and tight enough to enjoy the twisties as they come snaking down the road toward me. The bike remains level in hard deceleration, and once I’m used to the positions of everything that needs grabbing and pushing, the brakes are more than adequate to bleed off passing speeds.
To be sure, this is not a “Born to be Wild!” bike. It lacks the thunder, smoke, and glory of a big café cruiser, or the sphincter-clenching speed of a crotch rocket. Nevertheless, driving out of the big city and into the scenery we are seeking, it evokes solid tunes like “Free Falling” or “Running Down a Dream” by Tom Petty.
But enough about the bike — this trek is about leaving the poker-straight, largely flat highway stretches of the Prairies behind, and seeking new roads and new sights. The yellow-tinged lawn-green pastures of the foothills quickly give way to dark green tree-bearded mountain meadows, then, suddenly, to bald granite-sculled mountains stretching precipitously up towards iridescent blue heavens. As a Prairie boy, I notice the changes in altitude and angles immediately. The strike and dip of unfamiliar topography can be disconcerting for a bit, but it is short-lived as traffic thins and I settle into the ride.
We roll through the Crowsnest Pass area and pull into the town of Frank for a quick food-and-fuel stop. A Devil’s Tower-like peak rises in the distance — Crowsnest Mountain —, adding to the surreal and sudden change in views offered when riding west on Alberta Highway #3. Parked on the west side of Frank’s Slide, casually eating burgers and sipping cold root beer, I cannot help but contemplate the terrible doom that befell this bustling little town back in 1903. I find it a bit eerie looking up at sleepy Turtle Mountain, a colossal chunk missing from her face like some titanic molar wrenched from its socket. Could the rest of the mountain come down someday? Gulp!
Moving on, we drive through the summer-hot interior towns of Sparwood, Fernie, and Cranbrook (to name just a few) on our trek west. The scenery in general is beautiful, and on a sport-touring bike the roads are fun. The asphalt stretches out before us like a grey ribbon, winding through majestic saw-toothed mountains whose peaks glow orange-ish in the midday sun, next to undulating rivers of jasper green. The ride is uneventful for the most part, except for encounters with one or two of the speeding four-wheel jackasses, members of the genus known as buttheadicus Albertansis, who seem to take special delight in trying to block us from passing, or in tailgating us as we cruise along at a casual buck forty.
We slow down a bit after a long traffic jam by Fernie, when we see that the cause was some poor Harley owner who smoked into a deer. The deer is dead — the bikers have been taken from the scene, in who-knows-what condition. Only the hulk of their two-wheeler remains, still buried hard into the dirt of a roadside ditch.
We hope everyone was ok.
After Creston, the bustling hot, main-highway valley towns give way to more rural stretches of highway, following stream-riven paths through sweet mountain pine- and wildflower-smelling open stretches in wider, more open valleys. It all seems a bit dreamy as we begin climbing through Kootenay Pass, known locally as the Salmo-Creston. I’ve been concentrating on staying in the moment on this ride, but, as the scenery gets ever prettier, and my ride fatigue grows, I find myself lulled into a false sense of security.
I climb into the cooler air at the summit of this huge climb, passing places like beautiful Bridal Lake along the way. The brake-cooking descent on the downgrade side makes me grateful for a manual transmission, and I am enjoying the scope of it all, when — GOATS! A whole freaking family of Mountain Sheep whizzes by on the shoulder! Holy sheep-dip Batman, where’d they come from!? Well, there it is, I’m definitely back in the moment.
After my heart recovers from its slight arrhythmia, we start seeing the long-awaited signs for Nelson. Located in the beautiful West Kootenay region, halfway between Vancouver and Calgary, Nelson sits on the West Arm of Kootenay Lake, nestled in the rugged Selkirk Mountains of southeastern British Columbia. We have heard many good things about Nelson from friends and we have high hopes as we roll wearily into town. We are ready for some supper, and to shuck our stuffy riding pants and jackets for a while. We pull into the DUCWC rally parking lot at the historic Adventure Hotel and register. Next, it’s the sports bar for supper, a quick look around the waterfront, a shower, and off to bed, from where I write this short bike review and travelogue.
The rally began the following day, with many scenic riding opportunities, food, and fellowship. More to come.
By Roger Blager
Guest column for Moose Jaw Express/MooseJawToday.com
