THE KWIK-MART KHRONICLES

Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Day Trippin'' started by jdrocks, Apr 6, 2018.

  1. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 38

    The name of the establishment was Six Mile River Resort, not sure of the significance of the Six, but maybe the narrows on the Tagish River was only six miles from somewhere. One thing was certain, I didn’t remember passing this place the last time on this shortcut road, or I would have noted the location. I wasn’t sure what I’d find, maybe a biker bar way out here, but instead found an old time resort tucked in behind the trees and fronting the river, some newer enhancements too. I met the owner of only three years, Doug Dupont, he showed me around, and yes, he had a nice spot to set the tent. He also gave me a look at the restored Norton Commando that he had just bought for his wife, sorry, no camera, the damn thing was in the tank bag.

    [​IMG]

    I set the tent in some kind of world record time, rain threatening again, stowed the gear in the vestibules, and did a power walk imitation over to their dining room. They had the works, food, beer, and WIFI, the end of the day top 3 for the solo moto rider.

    In a departure from the usual, the spotless commercial kitchen was up front in full view, good lookin' uniformed gal chef and waitress, the tables had tablecloths, it wasn’t a biker bar, but a great find instead. So when I stepped up to the counter and said "I’ll be needing some food", the chef and waitress glanced at each other, I knew that look "Who let this freakin' cuckoo bird fly in here?", and the chef said with as straight a face as she could manage "We have food, please let us seat you first". Lordy, good thing I don’t embarrass that easily.

    That’s how my dining experience started in this little treasure of a place on the Tagish, but I did get a chance to apologize for my boorish behavior, and got a little extra bonus with the meal I’d ordered, so I assumed all was forgiven. This was the first time on the trip that I was actually sitting down for dinner in a restaurant, I’d sorta been on the run.

    A fine meal with four beers, the tension of the day a memory, and I made it back to the tent, light rain falling, I just didn’t care anymore.
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  2. ben2go

    ben2go Moto Flunky

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    I know that feeling. So beat you can barely feel yourself. Get some good food, screw the rest, and hit the bed. I once rode 500 hard stop and go country miles. Yep, a bunch of short roads and lots of turning. I got to my camp site and I said F it and took a nap on the picnic table before dinner.
  3. Ridin'nFishin

    Ridin'nFishin Been here awhile

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    That could have turned into a nap before breakfast.
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  4. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    i'd been running pretty hard, and needed to get closer to Skagway for a ferry reservation the following day. riding in rain most of the day, but it cleared a bit when i turned southwest at Jake's Corner, and this is the road that cuts cross country for those headed west/south or east/north between the Alaska Highway and Skagway.

    i'd run right past this place in both 2007 and 2009, i don't recall even noticing it then behind a row of trees, and actually rode past again in 2013, but turned around and went back. it was a lucky break, more rain was on the way. this place is at the Tagish River bridge, and was a telegraph station in the 19th century gold rush era. look at a map, it's an out of the way location, but the dining room was full, people had driven some distance just for dinner. the owner said they were having a very busy season, there's nothing else like it in the area.

    lot's of old odds and ends around the place, i've owned many identical outboards, some saws too.

    [​IMG]
  5. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    hey Calvin, i would have been sorely pressed to come up with anything higher on the "Stoooopid" scale when i said "I’ll be needing some food", that has to be right up there, all time. the food was excellent, and i got half an additional course along with what i ordered...possibly pity for the deranged, but i had been very apologetic for my behavior.

    remember, the kitchen was in front, so many of the diners heard what i said too.
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  6. JagLite

    JagLite Long timer

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    Location:
    Anchorage Alaska
    I rode past that place on my ride from CA to Anchorage a couple years ago, next time I will stop in and tell them you sent me :thumb

    I took the ferry from Skagway to Haines too.
    Skagway is one of my favorite towns, and the gold rush museum is amazing.

    To really enjoy Skagway you have to be there all day to see the change when the thousands of cruisers go back to their cruise ships and sail away.
    The locals then relax and breathe.
    From 600+ residents to 3,000-7,000 people is a huge change.
    It's a lot like Disneyland during the day.

    Lots of Khronicles material in Skag I'm sure!
  7. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    go ahead and stop, then pull up the Khronicle, they might remember me. get a photo of that Norton.

    with Alaska as a destination, i've never understood riders who route themselves up and back on the Alaska Highway, especially if there's no need to visit Whitehorse. while there aren't many roads to choose from, a rider can piece together a very interesting loop which minimizes backtrack miles by using a couple short and inexpensive ferry rides, a great experience in themselves. bring a camera with a long lens...

    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]
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  8. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 39

    The sun was nearly down as I turned east to Cartwright, then dark just a few miles later, and I feel better when I switch on the little Piaa fogs.

    [​IMG]

    I haven’t been using them much, but when you need light you’re glad they’re mounted. It’s so dark on this road I might as well be underground, it seems the light I’m making is the only illumination on earth. The lights don’t show much relief in the road surface and I can’t see well enough to get the crap scared out of me, rock and roll, let’s get this bike to Cartwright. A long run, the temperature is falling fast when I see some signs and then some lights, I’ve arrived, damn, what a day.

    The gas bar across the road is closed, the motel is being remodeled and a little beat up, don’t care, I need food, beer, and a bed. Hot water would be nice. The girl bartender checked me in and gave me a key, no food, the kitchen was closed, but on the other hand, the bar was open, and everyone knows that beer is food, same thing.

    I stash the drybag, jacket, and helmet, head for the bar, and walk in on Bingo Night. So now there were 75 women and only two men in the bar, the other male was the old guy calling the bingo game through a scratchy PA system. Jack the Ripper could have walked through the door and those women would have never even looked up from those bingo cards, very serious stuff.

    I was sampling all the different beers in the cooler and enjoying my gourmet potato chip dinner, man, I was starting to feel a lot better after that long ride. Even the bartender was playing bingo, and when she caught a number she would use that highlighter like she had a hammer in her hand…boom, boom.

    Just then another guy comes in, takes a seat at the bar, and asks if I’ve been traveling on the Trans Lab. Yup. Now I’m being interviewed by a reporter for some Ontario newspaper who’s doing an article on the Trans Labrador travel experience. Lucky he found me, after six beers, I’m Professor TLab, the ultimate freakin' expert on the subject.

    He ran out of notebook space to write on, I was sorta rambling, and so he reached for his video camera, and now we’re doing a video interview. I drank another beer or three, warmed to the subject, and filled up the memory card on that camera. Then I filled up the spare memory card with even more pertinent information and he had to quit, besides, the bar was closing. Whew, this Hollywood stuff is hard work.

    Eventually I found my room and retired, I reckon I pretty much used up this day. If ya happen to see that interview, take notes, I might have said something important.
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  9. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 40

    A drink from the store at Mount Robson, well, I’m here, maybe I can try again for a photo with me in it, and I looked around for another prospective photographer, maybe under the age of 90 this time, I wanted someone with 20/20. The lot was empty in 2009, today it was almost full. I was into the process of selecting a potential victim when a VW pulled up next to the bike and a young French guy from Quebec jumped out, full of energy. I had a English Springer that acted just like that when you let him out, so as long as this French guy doesn’t pee on my tire, we’ll be friends.

    I caught his eye, held up my camera, he knew right away what I wanted. He didn’t speak English, but cameras are trans-border contraptions, he knew what to do, big smile like he’d been waiting all day just to take a photo of me. Some people are like that, and welcomed wherever they go.

    [​IMG]

    Got the photo, end of story...not quite, no sirree. He was handing me the camera when his girlfriend got out of the car. I say girlfriend because let’s face it, few wives look like what was standing in front of me, plus she had the girlfriend persona that said "Be nice to me, I can leave any time, and you’ll miss me, I promise"…that kind of persona. They stood there talking quietly in French, he was fidgeting around, couldn’t stay still, didn’t know what to do with his hands, but I could guess what he wanted to do. His tongue wasn’t hanging out, but almost, like he was afflicted with sex addiction and was trying hard to hold it in check.

    She had raven hair loosely gathered with a small silk scarf, and wore a full black leotard with black dance slippers, wow. Slim, but with curves in all the right places, the leotard fit her like a second layer of skin, she sure wasn’t hiding anything under there, yeah, that’s exactly what I meant, nothing. Staring at her wasn’t too cool, so what, I think I’ll stare at her for a few more minutes, then I’ll go back to being cool. Her traveling companion was a friendly, handsome guy, but next to her, he was invisible. She looked back at me with a whimsical smile, Merci, I have to run, it’s been fun.

    If I stayed much longer, I might be tempted to try out my French, better to quit while we’re still friends.
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  10. DresserCat

    DresserCat Adventurer

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    Looks like you are standing in a puddle that might have been let by your French speaking English springer :rofl
  11. scootac

    scootac Just a Traveler

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    Northcentral PA
    You should learn French for "Let me take this helmet off first so everybody will know it's really me!"

    He handed the camera back to you....and you were too mesmerized to offer to take a photo of them together???
    With their and your camera of course!!!
    :nono

    Rookie!!!
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  12. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    naaaaw, that was just a Hardley marking it's territory.
  13. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    i can't remember why i had my helmet on at Mt. Robson, but i did drop it on the pavement at the previous stop and took a nice chunk of paint off. my comment on finding someone with 20/20 was reference to an old guy taking 6 frames of me next to a lake an hour earlier, but all he got in the photo was 25% of me, the lake, and a big boulder in front of the bike.

    the French girl was positively spectacular in her leotard, trust me, but a photo of her would have ended up in a whole bunch of places where she wouldn't want to be identified...like our own TB thread, now mod deleted.
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  14. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 41

    Turned the bike around, loaded the gear, hit the button and the motor caught. I sat there for a minute and let it warm up. The atmosphere was low and tight, fog leaning towards mist, the exhaust note trapped against the ground, malevolent as all hell, just the way I like it. Looking towards the motel office, “Adios, mutha fucker“, we’ll leave it at that, and I was up the road for a fuel stop.

    I’ve stopped for fuel at this intersection before, nobody here, but this morning I had to wait for a pump, there was a line. Ordinarily the preferred road from here would be the cutoff road that bypasses Ft. St. John, connecting back up with the Alcan well west of the city traffic. I’d been on that route in ‘09, and wasn’t too sure about using that twisting road in dense fog. A pickup came through the intersection from that direction and pulled in for fuel, good, now I can get a road condition report. The report was short "Zero visibility, except where it lets up a bit, then ya ken see all the deer in the road". Ok, looks like I’m riding the front way towards Dawson Creek. Fueled, rolled the bike off to the side, I need coffee and a bite to eat, ya know, sugar and some fried crap, diet pie if they have any.

    I was leaning against the counter drinking my coffee, the fog was so thick outside that you could get wet just standing there. A thirtyish couple was standing in front of me having an animated conversation, face it, they looked like they lived life in the breakdown lane, no spare, no jumper cables. She was gesturing at him with one of those plastic forks and said "Listen mister, you try to poke that thing in the wrong place just one more time and I’m going to stick this fork in your eye. Another thing, quit all that talkin' while we’re doin' it, ya sound like a freakin' auctioneer". I took a another quick look, the guy hadn’t replied, he was focused on the fork, then shrugged.

    I don’t think the fork mattered, he looked like he would be happy to have sex with any kind of mammal he could get his hands on, dead or alive. He had the look, watch the news, you might hear more about him.

    I left there in a hurry, although slowed by fog until it lifted, determined to get into the Yukon by day's end, knowing little at the time exactly what it would take to get there.

    [​IMG]
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  15. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 42

    The route from the gravel road to Rawlins was easy, just jump on I80, run it up to 85mph, and I’d be there in minutes. It was late now, at Rawlins I’d get out a map and decide on the next move.

    [​IMG]

    At the Rawlins exit, I ran through an unexpected pile of pea gravel laying on top of the pavement, bingo, no wiggles or wobbles, more like a woooosh, and the bike was sliding down the pavement, making an unpleasant grinding sound in the process, sparks flying off the Motech bars. That makes five times down and I was shaken again, felt no pains, and pushed myself up to my knees, looking at the bike upended in the road. Damn, I’m beatin' the heck out of that thing.

    Some vehicles stopped and two big construction worker dudes grabbed the bike and flipped it right side up like nuthin', wish I had them earlier today. Took some time to convince them that I didn’t need to go to the hospital, I must have looked old and feeble to the young and robust. The bike had more scapes and scratches, didn’t care, it’s not too beat to ride. After thanking my helpers, I was into Rawlins, looking for some medicinal comfort food, a greasy double cheeseburger should do it. Ah, Burger King, I’m saved.

    Brought a map into the BK place, got my food, and was parked in a booth trying to relax and cool off, the skies had cleared and now it was hot. Intent on my map, the young couple in the next booth over were well into the prelims of off the charts monkey sex, I though BK was supposed to be family safe, now this, call the cops. The manager was watching the show from behind the counter, probably wondering how to break this up short of a bucket of ice water.

    I was worried that the artificially inflated parts of that young girl might get squashed and explode. About then the couple decided to take the act to some other venue, I imagine there will be wild shouts of "yippee-ki-yay" accompanied by screams and loud moaning in the next chapter.

    Man, these BK places are fun, takes your mind off a bike wreck pretty quick.
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  16. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 43

    The bike was day-ride loaded for the quick out and back to West Virginia, and I could get a good look west across the open fields around the quik mart, dark clouds, more dark clouds, distant thunder, and I was in a fury to get movin‘, screw the damn radar, I could smell trouble ahead, no doubt whatever. The card reader on the pump wouldn’t work. The card reader on the pump over on the next island wouldn’t work either. Fire was shooting out of my eye sockets, smoke billowing out of my ears, I was about to go postal, keep 911 on speed dial.

    [​IMG]

    A young lady approached, she’d seen what was going on, maybe saw the smoke and was angling for the fire extinguisher, don’t know, but she said lightning had knocked out their com link, cash for everything. Ok, got it, and she was damn cute, beautiful smile, too bad about the dipped-in-orange-mud spray tan.

    Stomped through the front door, twenty-five people in line, no way I was going to be number twenty-six, walked right up to the register, launched a twenty at the cashier, “Turn on the pump“. Must have had that certain look, nobody said a word, nobody made eye contact, mainly they were all lookin’ a little fidgety, nervous, upcoming events uncertain. Filled the tank, marched back in for my change, it was waiting for me on the top of the register, no delay, no small talk pleasantries, the line was even longer.

    Man, I needed to get away from here, daylight and weather against me, I wasn’t properly attired for this place anyway, kinda like showing up for a black tie event in John Daly golf wear. Ain’t got the wife-beater, ain’t got the ripped board shorts, ain’t got the flipflops, ain’t accessorized with a color coordinated 12pack in each hand. I was hopelessly outta touch with the mainstream rural quik mart masses, oh well.

    Back on the bike, gear vents locked down, and I charged a stop light a mile away, the exhaust note soaring up and down in deafening whoops, my brain molecules were now lined up in neat rows, my head was back in the game, and I was gone to Winchester. Got the green light, on the gas, a monster lightning bolt hits a tall Loblolly pine at the other end of the bridge, I’m freakin’ blinded by the arc flash, sounds like a huge bomb went off, and at that exact second, the rain starts comin’ down, cats and dogs, a wall of water.

    I was off the gas, the bridge deck vibrating under the bike from the blast, the pressure wave had smacked me right in the chest, unbelievable, without ear plugs in, I’d have been deaf. Quick glance at the mirrors, the car behind had run up on me in the lightning strike and rain, I could have nearly reached back and touched it before the driver hit the brakes, stopping dead on the bridge, stunned most likely.

    Lucky I was playing horseshoes today, and with the euphoria that a near miss produces every single time, I was pounding on the shifter, rolling northwest, the horizon a little lighter.
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  17. ben2go

    ben2go Moto Flunky

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    Jun 23, 2011
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    6,268
    Location:
    Upstate SC USA
    I had that happen to me while driving my car. It took what seemed like a long time to regain my sight and hearing. It was probably only a few minutes, but it was bad enough I had to pull over before I wrecked or caused a wreck.
  18. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

    Joined:
    Jul 6, 2007
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    try it on a bike.

    20 miles from the bridge i rode out of the heavy rain, but then back into it at 50 miles, and would stay in the heaviest rain i had ever encountered on a bike for another 125 miles...in the dark. the few vehicles i found on the highway were mostly parked on any wide shoulder found, the drivers deciding to wait it out. when i got to the edge of the front, the rain quit and i was on dry pavement in a quarter mile.
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  19. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 44

    I rode by the Canmore exits, turning northwest towards Banff, so by the time I got up there, the fuel light was flashing. Into town, a total madhouse, wall to wall tourists, and an annual bicycle race with barricaded streets. It was chaotic, a gazillion people wandering aimlessly, just as lost as I was, so I could hardly be blamed for nearly bumping that double baby stroller in the crosswalk, hey, I was distracted by my quest for fuel, that blinking light was driving me absolutely batty.

    Besides, my Junior Johnson inspired exhaust was supposed to clear the crosswalks of the resort wear fashionistas when I ran that motor up to 7500rpm, didn’t happen, I would have gone higher, but I didn’t want to break any windows. All those Pacific Rim people must not have read that book, instead carrying a hardcover Steve Jobs in that Louis Vuitton tote. C’mon folks, y’all are in North America, where Junior is way ahead of Jobs on the cultural icon list.

    Fuel was right in the middle of Banff, maybe there from the days of horse-less carriages, now the only horse connection was that horse’s patoot who cut me off from the last pump nozzle, and I shut the bike down so I wouldn’t have to push it to the island, yeah, I was that low. Waited my turn, looked at the liter count, did the mental gymnastics to convert cost and volume, man, this gas was expensive, and I thought I just added more than 5 gallons to my 5 gallon tank.

    Into the quick mart for a Mountain Dew, lucky for me they sold it in this foreign country, ice cream and a pie for a well rounded snack, and the guy at the register was laughing so hard he started to choke when I got the Loonies and Toonies flying, I’m sorta an entertaining character sometimes.

    Back outside, three Harleys arrived, all women, and I found it interesting that they had to use the restroom, fix the helmet hair, put on the bandana, hike up the chaps, and check the makeup before they even considered fueling the bikes. Image really is everything, so attention all you big bad boys, ya might have to start thinking about another brand. Harleys are for girls now, and I got news for you, those blond girls look way better in a bandana than some freakin’ fat dude with a dome.

    I fired up the bike, exhaust rippling, time to go, those girls never even so much as glanced my direction. I left Banff without any vehicular homicide charges, although tempted by those damn jaywalkers, and I was gone to Jasper via the Icefields, miles short of the goal.

    [​IMG]
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  20. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    Jul 6, 2007
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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 45

    Through Meeteetse, no more stops, then up to Cody, a planned stop for fuel and a sports drink, maybe a Snickers if I was good.

    [​IMG]

    There was a Buffalo Bill Museum here, but I was in the area for the wild, not the drone of a docent, maybe next time. The quick mart was flanked by a, you guessed it, liquor store, and I got a replay of that video from down in Lander, except one dude looked like he was about to dive into an afternoon of rum and coke, had the fixin’s.

    Then there was that cute buffed out 6-pack abs girl in the yoga pants accessorized with her alligator cowgirl boots…call your broker, have him sell any equity that has a dime in denim, jeans are officially over, dead and done. She stuck out her tongue when she thought I was staring, she’d have been very disappointed if I wasn’t.

    C’mon now little miss cowgirl, I was staring at them boots…well, mostly.
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