Kilometres: 534.3
Time: 10 hours with too many stops
Weather:
Vernon: Sunny, 28 C at 9:15
Kamloops: Storms moving in, 20 C at 11:30
Tete Jaune Cache: Overcast, 8 C at 7:15
It was a beautiful hot, bright, and sunny morning. Just the kind I like. I had a quick continental breakfast at the motel and was on the road by 9:15. As it was so nice, and after baking a bit yesterday, I decided to wear my spandex bicycle shorts under my riding pants. The shorts are so much more comfortable than wearing jeans and are also cooler. But as the wind was cool, I wore my GoreTex rain jacket to keep the chill off my arms.
I continued north on Highway 97 and when the highway split, I took 97 west towards Kamloops. I was dropping in for a quick visit with Freddie, the innkeeper at Thriftlodge, to thank him for suggesting my route change. Highway 97 from 97A to Highway 1 (the T’Can) is a fun little road that isn’t laden with traffic. It’s twisty with some good elevation variations in a few sections.
As I came to the end of Highway 97, I noticed a huge thunderstorm brewing to the west (pic on the left). The anvil was forming and I saw one thermal rising. With a final twist in the road I realized that I was heading straight for it, which I’d prefer not to do. These things are beautiful to look at, but I know what they are capable of, so I didn’t want to experience the storm when it unleashed.
I got into Kamloops and Freddie greeted me with a big hug and kiss on the check. I told him all about the ride through the smoke and my favourite ride, Lillooet to Pemberton. I also told him that I really wasn’t thrilled with the ride up the Fraser Canyon, but as he said, “It’s better than riding the Coquihalla Highway” (think of the DVP and you’ll have a good idea of what it’s like).
Freddie went on to tell me about a couple of other roads that are similar to Highway 99 (Lillooet to Pemberton). All the more reason to return. But he told me that I’d better get going as the weather was calling for thunderstorms. If I hurried, I’d stay in front of them. I put on all my rain gear, except for my rain-off gloves and was soon ready to leave. I got another hug and he told to drop by anytime. Freddie waved me goodbye as I took off.
Before leaving Kamloops, I filled up with gas and food and then headed north up Highway 5 towards Jasper. Well, that was my intention, but I missed the turn off and headed southwest to Vancouver. I had to ride about 15 kilometres to the first exit and turn around. On the way back to Kamloops, I swear I saw the sigh that said 5 North, but I guess I was seeing things because I wound up on the same road I’d taken to go to Lillooet. Yes, I’d love to do that again, but it will have to wait. Fortunately, I didn’t have to ride far before I saw a turnoff into a mining operation. I pulled in and turned on my GPS. I punched in the word “Jasper” and I was soon back to where I’d almost started. My little detour had taken 45 minutes and 56 kilometres.
By now the storms looked menacing. Black clouds surrounded me, and I knew that I was probably going to get caught in the downpour. I love watching the weather. And this was going to be good storm. I could see the stormfront. These clouds formed a solid line at the edge of the black clouds, but they kinda curled downwards and rolled in the wind. Hmm, not a good sign. Some the darkest clouds (I don’t know the official name for the these things) had a few ragtag swirling clouds that had dropped beneath them. It wasn’t rainfall, but distinct clouds. These were darker but much less dense than the clouds above. They weren’t twisting like tornados, but they dropped down from the clouds above and hung there like fingers.
I kept my eye on those and the front. I was extremely fortunate because just as it started to rain (not spitting, but big fat blobs), I came to Little Fort. Up ahead was a Husky gas station and Subway Restaurant. I pulled in, turned off the engine and just as I undid my tankbag, the sky opened up. Down came the hail. A couple of piece of hail hit on the helmet before I reached the porch, and wow, did that sound cool. I pulled off my helmet, took out the camera and snapped a couple of shots as I waited out the storm. (In the pic, that's hail falling. If you look closely, you can see the little white pieces of ice.)
It passed in about 10 minutes, to the west the sky was clearing. In its wake, the storm brought cooler temperatures. I changed into my cold-weather riding gloves, got on the bike and headed north.
It soon began raining again, but not with the intensity of the last storm. I stopped at nearly every gas station, as I didn’t know when I’d find the next station.
Thirteen kilometres south of Avola I pulled into a rest station to put on my polar fleece. Again, I had perfect timing because the sky opened up with a heavy downpour. I pulled off my helmet and decided to wait out the worse of it. Just as it let up, and I’d put my helmet back on, thunder literally shook the ground. I’m a lightning rod on two wheels, so there was no way in the world I was going out to play in that weather. The thunder was so cool because it echoed and bounced off the mountains (that I couldn’t see through the clouds) the duration of one thunderclap was probably double to what I’m used to hearing.
The one thing I found really fascinating while waiting out the storm was the how the weather systems differ from those in Toronto. As the rain continued, mist began rising from the trees. At first I thought it was smoke from forest fires, but I was wrong. As the mist rose it swirled, almost like reverse tornadoes, or churning smoke rising, it began to gather and soon formed a cloud separate and lighter in colour from the storm clouds. These mist clouds reminded me very much of fog clouds I’d ridden through between Rocky Mountain House and the Banff National Park. Perhaps I’d ridden through the mist rising from the trees and not very low clouds.
The only good thing about the storms, I reasoned, is that they will hopefully help the forest fire situation, if the lightning doesn’t start more fires. I waited about five minutes after the last thunder clap and headed to the bike, which was only about three metres in front of me. I looked up the road to see how heavy the traffic was, when I saw lightning strike the mountain near the road from the direction I’d ridden from. I counted to myself to guestimate the distance. I only counted to four when the thunder again rumbled. That was way to close for me to go out and play in.
In total, I waited at the rest station for about 45 minutes. And as I waited I got colder. It was now gone 4:30, and I still had quite a distance to go. As soon as the lightning seemed to clear the area, I was on my bike and trying to make for some lost time. I flicked on my GPS and it estimated my arrival time at Tete for 6:30, but I still had to stop to eat and get gas. That along with the on and off rain, which slowed my speed to about 90 kph, I knew it was going to be a late arrival time.
These mist clouds (for lack of a better term) sat about half way up the mountains. Sometimes, as the roads rose in elevation, I drove right through them and it was like riding through fog. However, for the most part they stayed above the trees and didn’t cover the road. There were some spectacular views with the double clouds, and dark mountains. I couldn’t take a photo, thought, as my camera was wrapped up in a plastic bag inside my tankbag, which had its rain cover on it. Coupled with my double pair of gloves and still frozen digits, there was no way I was going to stop to take a picture.
To cut a long story short, I arrived at Tete Jaune Lodge at 7:15. I was cold and all my luggage was wet. I bought a Campbell’s just-nuke-it-and-it’s-ready soup at the little store and asked for an extra pouch of coffee for the in-room coffee maker. I needed to warm up. It was a chilly 8 C (add that to the 100 kph wind while I’m riding) and I’d just come from the sunny and hot Okanagan Valley. This was shock. I couldn’t feel my fingers and my toes were also frozen. I was very thankful that the road was relatively straight because I was in no condition to be playing on a twisty.
As I write this out, I am staying in a nice big, warm, comfortable room. There is no TV or telephone here. The Fraser River is perhaps 300 metres away from me. The lodge is owned my natives, and with the campfire ban finally lifted, about 200 metres from window is a campfire. One of the Indians is singing and playing a drum by the fire. Sometimes when I look up, I can see his silhouette as he sits on a log in front of the fire, with a big round drum in his hand.
