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Old 10-22-2012, 12:48 PM   #174
calimusjohn OP
Gnarly Adventurer
 
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Joined: Jan 2011
Location: Sprague River, Oregon
Oddometer: 245
Cool2 Framed

Framed
Had a strange event during the night. At 11:20 P.M. a very loud explosion and shaking of the Motel awakened me. I immediately thought the gas station some two blocks away had blown up. Since I found myself standing, I openned the door just as a bolt of lightening struck the ground on the other side of the building. It really shook and rattled the building and unleashed the rains.
Rainglobs the size of golf balls splattered the ground. The Manager had suggested that I park the bike on the porch under a roof. I said it would be just fine staying in the parking lot. Good Grief! I was wrong again. At least any remaining mud/dirt were now history.
I hit the road by 9:00 A.M. That's almost a record on this trip. I seem to get later starts each day. Yesterday was a prime example. I was staggering around the room waiting for the pills to kick in. Then I plopped down on the bed. Too bad. My spectacles were directly under my plop. SPIT! ! ! I stood and looked at the two lenses lying separately from the frames. I thought - Good thing I have a spare pair. Too bad they are on a nightstand at home. It is only about a thousand miles of blurrrrrr ahead.
I start down the Highway. I reach the town of Smithers. It has to be of good size - a Harley-Davidson dealership is at the entrance. I stop and ask two moving blurs in a crosswalk about the location of Wal-Mart. Blurs don't speak English. Great. Dandy. I find an old Geezer. He says, "Nope. No Wal-Mart. They voted against it."
O.K. I find Main Street. I see a sign - Ye Old Pastry Shoppe. Well. . .. I point at a brown globule and request a cup of tea. The glob is a Cinnamon bun about 4 1/2 inches square and 3 inches tall. The tea washes the belly bomb down. I ask about Optometrists . . . go down the block. I float down the block on a sugar high. Aha! The Eye Emporium has two Doctors and a staff of four. I tell my tale of woe to a young (They are all young now) lady. She looks at the frames. She inspecks the two tissue wrapped lenses. She says the screws are missing. I hoped she meant the frames. She disappears into a back room. I sit. Twenty minutes later, she emerges and says, "Here you go. Good as new." I offer payment in adition to THANKS. She refuses. I try to shake her hand, but she spotted the folded bill held within. Drat. Last resort. "Either you shake my hand and then take your boyfriend to lunch OR you have to go and have lunch with me." Drat and DOUBLE DRAT!! She shook my hand. With a heavy heart, I left her. BUT - I could see.
My route carried me through Jasper. I rode through there last May - when it was void of tourists. Now it is filled to overflowing with people who left their brains at home. They don't look. They don't see. Motorcycles and cyclists are invisable. Tourists are allowed to speed up, slow down, park on the berm, park in the traffic lanes or do both and block the entire road while the Driver and any number of spry Elders cavort about waving food at wild animals. There should be score signs around: BEARS = 1, Tourists = 0.
So, rather than becoming one of them, I ran the gauntlet and escaped south. I did see that the surroundings, though they were the same - were different. Greens were brilliant. Sun on snow and ice was refracted and reflected in a million directions. Cameras just don't even come close to capturing the depth. Maybe a 3-D movie shown inside a geodesic dome could come close. Animals abound. The Yukon and British Columbia will remain on my "Bucket" list. I shall return.
The eateries within the park were jammed. Therefore, my big brown Cinnamon bun became breakfast, lunch and a snack before sitting down to eat at 8:45 P.M. 509 miles down the road. In Eureka, Montana I finally found a room at the Inn. The manger was taken.
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