Gripping and Grinding

TRAVERSING THE COQUIHALLA HIGHWAY, referred to as “Coke” by British Columbians, in the rain, pushing our Ural at 80 kilometres an hour, uphill to its 1,244-metre above-sea-level peak was hateful.

Our kickoff at Kamloops was pleasant. A warm July breeze and a bright blue sky surrounded us. We travelled 80 kilometres south on the four-lane freeway at 80 kilometres an hour while traffic on our left swept passed at 110 kilometres. At Merritt, we pulled into a gas station and filled our tank. As per my husband’s instructions, I pulled on my neck warmer and a bulky sweater; zipped up my flimsy windbreaker jacket and snapped it closed; pulled on my winter gloves and slid my hands into my leather gloves with gauntlets to protect my wrists and to help prevent the blustery wind from shooting up my sleeves. I had refused the offer from my husband to buy me a leather jacket. My conservative view at that time was that only ‘biker chicks’ wore leather.

Just outside of Merritt, it started to rain. Our destination was Hope, 120 kilometres away on the fast moving four-lane highway. I was beyond expectation of ever reaching the end of this trek without loosing my mind. My hands were numb from gripping the metal bar in front of me and my teeth ached from grinding. I had no idea that driving in an open vehicle under these wet and cold conditions could be so exasperating. I began to cry. I pushed my hands and arms under the tonneau, grabbed my blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. I tucked my chin into my chest and waited for the Ural to come to a stop.

After 61 kilometres, at the Britton Creek rest area, I pulled myself out of the sidecar and stood quiet for a moment. The rain had stopped. Hope was still another 58 kilometres away. I stood with another women and sipped on hot coffee until it was time to mount our rides. She looked as though she had been crying too. The engines roared and we departed for our half-way destination.

That evening, I soaked in a hot bath and slept well into the next day.

Urals prefer secondary roads

Britton Creek Rest Area has character