Brown's Bay the Biker's Way

WE EXPLORE our neighbourhood with our Russian URAL bike. One day we headed out to Brown’s Bay, north of Campbell River, to have a picnic and fly our kites. We settled in a cozy place to unpack and feast on fresh fruit and sandwiches. Sadly, there was not enough space to fly our kites.

A friendly seal paddled around the dock and made eye contact with us. Boats were moored and fishers took to the water.

On our way back to Highway 19A, a steep gravel road caught our attention. Frank motioned for us to take it and I responded with thumbs up. The Ural is meant to handle this type of trail especially when it’s kicked into two-wheel drive. Frank revved the motor and roared up the road. The forty-degree grade was a challenge for the URAL. It felt like riding an untamed stallion. The thirteen-kilometre vertical challenged Frank's strength as the loose gravel flew in all directions and our wheels sunk into the soft sand.

When he stopped the bike I climbed out of the sidecar to admire the spectacular view of mountains and clear blue sky. My eyes caught something uncommon on the road behind us.

“Hey! What’s all that?” I said.

We walked closer to realize that our trunk had unlatched and all the contents had fallen out. We re-loaded the trunk, locked it securely and rumbled back down the trail.

Brown's Bay Vancouver Island

We love the side roads

I Did a Bad, Bad Thing

I HAD BEEN WARNED by fellow sidecar passengers and a couple of drivers, including my husband, that wearing a lap blanket in the sidecar can be very dangerous if you’re not paying attention. Their forewarning played out dramatically on our eighty-seven and a half kilometer journey from Campbell River, British Columbia to Gold River.

September 28 offered up a bright, blue-sky morning, the perfect conditions for a ride. The fall weather called for my fur-lined leather jacket and my favourite blanket to wrap around my legs. I heard the motor roar; we slid out of our parking lot onto Dogwood Street, continued north on Highway 19 and turned left onto Gold River Highway. The autumn smells included the pungent odour of dead leaves and the cool scent of clean water wafting from Upper Campbell Lake. The contrast between the stoic dark green of the coniferous trees and the sharp orange and yellow of the semi-dormant deciduous types brought a smile to my face. I nodded off three kilometers before the Muchalat turn off into Gold River.

I was startled into reality by a striking sensation that my blanket was being torn from me.

“Frank, stop!” I shouted. He couldn’t hear me over the distinct growl of the motor. I slapped his knee to get a reaction and had my hand swatted away. I covered the top of one hand in a T-shape with the other, my signal that we need to stop, and showed it to him. He made a left turn and could I see from the panic in his face that the resistance from the sidecar wheel was interfering with his steering. He struggled the bike into the driveway of a gas station and turned off the motor. His bunched up face told me he was angry.

My lap blanket was gnarled around the sidecar drive shaft. I looked on as Frank and two truck drivers, who had seen the incident, slid under the Ural, taking turns hacking away at the blanket with their knives.

The excursion home was a bit chilly without my blanket. Since then, I’ve created a snug, zipped sleeping bag that doesn’t fly around. 

The lap blanket fiasco

One of the rescue knives

Smell The Ride

THE ODOUR OF GASOLINE fills my nostrils as I plunk myself on the cushy seat of the sidecar. My husband-driver, Frank, has just poured fuel from one of our three attached Jerry Cans into the tank. The roar of the motor fills my ears and the tang from the engine pierces my nostrils.

We drive away from the city of Campbell River, south on Highway 19A. The stench of a recent road-kill grabs my attention. I glance quickly to see the remains of a white-speckled fawn on the highway. Everything seems so close on the Ural bike. I look up to see a streak of white plume following a jet. The sky is brilliant blue and filled now with a low-flying flock of Canadian geese.

The aroma of evergreen trees replaces all fragrances with their robust attempt to stay strong. Fall season, on this part of the Vancouver Island, means that yards are being cleared. The stinging smells of burning bushes fill the air. As we roar down the highway an enormous wave of perfume fragrance fills my nostrils. I close my eyes to help keep the memory of the precious scent but soon the reek of skunk shocks me into reality. Whether near of far, the stink takes over everything.

As a passenger on an Ural bike, you have the distinct pleasure of absorbing the smells that no car passenger would ever imagine. Take your time and enjoy the ride.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.

~ Helen Keller  Courtesy of http://www.brainyquote.com

Son and grandson get to smell the ride.

The odour of gasoline.

Smell the ride.

The Journey Is The Thing

Homer, the ancient Greek poet, must have rode in the sidecar of a Russian Ural motorbike. It’s true that the journey’s the thing when a passionate driver is chauffeuring you about. Getting ready for the journey is also part of the fun. I wear a Hoodie, which I pull over my head and set my helmet on. My earplugs help suppress the noise from the motor that roars on my left and protective glasses keep my eyes wet.

September 22, 2012, on central Vancouver Island, offered a bright sunny day and moderate temperatures. I packed a lunch for my husband and I, and hopped into the sidecar like an excited puppy. We had a destination in mind, and had never travelled the logging roads to Lost Lake. To my great pleasure, on the way, we took a side path, explored more forestry roads and ended up at Loveland Bay Provincial Park where we enjoyed a lakeside picnic. We stopped at Lost Lake on our way home and walked the short hiking trail to explore the area.

It’s the fragrance of nature, the sound of chirping songbirds, squawking crows, and the sight of regal eagles that keep us travelling and stopping along our journeys.

Logging Roads Galore

Sidecar Views

Loveland Bay Provincial Park

Twin Lake - Double The Fun

TWIN LAKE TURNOFF appears after a smooth twenty-nine-kilometre ride north of Campbell River, British Columbia, on Highway 19. Mohun West Road is also accessible at this juncture. We tackled both rock-covered; pot-holed, dusty logging roads for double the fun.

My duty as sidecar passenger was to control the camera and remain calm as we careened down steep hills, through narrow forest trails and roared up vertical switchbacks in second gear. I hung on tightly to the metal bar in front of me shouting out a few ‘Woohoos!’ with great enthusiasm.

I use my hands to form a T-shape which Frank, my driver, understands to be ‘time out’. He cautiously pulls over on the narrow road, which at anytime could be shared by a logging truck and its full load. I jump out quickly to take a landscape photograph, hop back into my comfortable seat and we roar on.

Twin Lake was a Shangra-la delight. There are only a five campsites; a senior couple and their senior dogs occupied one. We struck up a conversation with them and they shared their knowledge of the area. With their suggestion, we continued up Mohun West road to Mohun Lake Campsite. It’s an assorted collection of tent sites and semi-permanent motor homes. The lake is clear and breathtaking. We walked through the large privately owned property and drove home.

Whether you’re heading out for the day or a cross-country adventure be sure to absorb nature’s fragrances, sounds and joyful energy.

Roads Less Travelled

Twin Lake

Trek to Mohun Lake

Mini-view of Mohun Lake

Monkey See, Monkey Do

FOR SOME WILD AND CRAZY REASON the sidecar or side hack passenger is called a ‘monkey’ or ‘hack monkey’. There were three of us on the September 8, 2012 (Inter)National Ural Rally that started in Campbell River, British Columbia with two bikes, and a pick up in Courtenay of another two-person team. Our convoy roared south on Highway 19A to the Denman Ferry crossing at Buckley Bay. We boarded the ship, travelled 1.2 nautical miles for ten minutes and disembarked effortlessly. The weather was on our side with clear blue skies and a beautiful wind swirling around my helmet on the roadways.

We investigated the local Saturday Market and purchased organic garlic from a local vendor. Further up the road we settled at a waterfront picnic site to share our lunch. We gazed out over the Strait of Georgia and agreed that there was no better place to be than right there, right then.

Back on the paved secondary road we left it after only a few kilometres and travelled seventeen more on a variety of gravel and soft sand roads. One of the drivers, who can shift into second gear without having to stop his bike, sped up in front of us, leaving us in his dust.

Our drivers were steering while we monkeys were taking photographs of everything that caught our eyes. What freedom to sit facing the action, hands free, safely seated on a wide, padded cushion.

Ladies, give it a go if you haven’t already done so. Wear the right equipment and soon you’ll be bugging the driver to make a regular monkey out of you.

Team waits for ferry

On and off to Denman Island

Roads less travelled

Susan on Denman Island

Rally Ready

ONE MORE SLEEP and I turn into a Plain Monkey as the passenger for the (Inter)National Ural Rally. As the significant other of Frank, the driver, right out of the gate our shiny green Patrol accumulates 50 points. Last year, we ran out of gas, but were excited to know that we’d earned 50 points. This year, our intention is to garner The Full Pucker at 100 points, meaning that we’ll run on reserve until we run the tank dry. Talk about throwing caution to the wind because Frank is a meticulous military type and wouldn’t ordinarily allow something so predictable to happen.

Our adventure roars to a start in Campbell River, BC, with friends on a Gear-Up, and a pickup point in Courtenay to gather more friends and their Gear-Up. We drive to our ferry connection from Vancouver Island to the Denman Island community.

The Unexpected Adventure Bonus could be ours considering that on the Islands you only have to wait five minutes for the weather to change. I’m thrilled at the opportunity to pull on my ‘Ural Hoodie”. It would be great to earn an extra point per kilometre for the time it’s raining.

Wish us luck. We look forward to hearing your story.

Susan under her 'Ural Hoodie'

Our 2011 (Inter)National Ural Rally Crew