Day 2:

We awoke a little foggy to a comotion outside.  I sprung up thinking some local crackhead may be tampering with the bikes.  I had an imediate panick for any of our gear we may have forgotton to remove the night before.  In my long underwear I came out ready for an atracation to find a frantic woman who had spent the night in a room above ours.  Her truck had been broken into and her daughters had their Ipads stolen, their gear rifled through and now were panicking how they were going to make due until her husband got to his next job.  Unfortunately the womans vocabulary was limited to redneck profanity.  I tried to help out a bit but after about half an hour of cussing, I decided maybe I should just start getting packed up.  Daviner and I had our turns at a hot shower and packed our bikes.  Who could pack better and faster started to turn into a competition as our trip wore on.  Not because we were in a hurry but more because we are like a couple of competetive adolecents.  As our bikes were nearing complete, the police showed up and the womans husband found some of their less valuble stuff scattered behind a nearby dumpster.  A local homeless person gave a name of the crackhead that had been seen with their stuff.  There was nothing we could do about their situation and the people who were robbed seemed more interested in drawing in drama than having help of solutions so we slipped off to find a hot breakfast.

We found a greasy spoon type family resturaunt that had only just unlocked their doors to open.  We parked the bikes in sight (we were still not in the best of neighbourhoods) and sat down for some orange juice and hot coffee, had a big greasy breakfast and toddled off on our way before the breakfast rush even started.  The air was brisk and highway miles were not what we were after so we decided to take a quick ride to Quesnel then head the backroads and trails the rest of our way to Vernon, where the Rally was to take place.  Now anyone that has spent time in this area should know of  Barkerville if you dont....you should.  It is a Canadian treasure!  It is a federal park which the inhabitants are in the dress and act of the goldrush era. We turned off the highway and headed east towards Barkerville.  We were riding in with the mid morning sun with the bright fall rays warming our frozen cheaks.  Having driven this road in a car before, I knew there was a high likelyhood of wildlife jumping in front of my bike, it was hard to hold the reigns back on My KTM 950 adventure!  The road bobs and weaves, dips and dives with turns of all sorts.  we crested hills where momentarily your wheels whould leave the pavement.  This road is paved, but only just barely.  My wheels rejoined the pavement and I was nearing the bottom the hill I was forced to grab a fistfull of brakes as two carribou emerged from the woods.  Davinder was behind me and blasted past me not having time to react.  I thought this was to be the end of our trip.  Only a year before, two friends of ours had headed north and one had hit a moose.  This resulted in an emergency medivac for him to whitehorse.  My heart skipped a beat as Davinder shot past the animals.  A near miss.  Later, speaking with Davinder, he never even saw the carribou....as in.... at all!  We continued riding to the town of Wells, pumping through the corners, riding like we were kids again. It was time for lunch.  

We stopped in Wells 5km from Barkerville for fuel and food.  The summer rush was over and not much was open.  We found a small cafe and decided to eat there.  The friendly but eclectic people of Wells are always fun to chat with.  In the cafe they had a special on clam chowder, Davinder does not eat pork or red meat so asked if it had bacon in it.  The server said she thought it did and Davinder stated that he can not eat bacon so he would like the chicken sandwich instead.  When his sandwich arrived it was stacked with bacon!  poor guy just couldnt win.  Instead of making a fuss, he picked out the bacon and ate the sandwich.  We found out that Barkerville was closed for the season and had to figure a new plan.  We asked around, trying to find out if we could take the back trails to Likely and then on to Horsefly.  We had heard the bridge on the old wagon trail was out we kept asking around.  After a bit of digging, it was clear that no one actually actually knew.  With full tanks we dcided to try it.  The dirt road was actually well kept.  The summers wildfires had forced officials to grade the road for an emergency evacuation route to Likely.  A moose and a grizly bear were our main sights along with a waterfall and beautiful glacial lake.  

After some small detours to check some of the wild sights, we rolled in to the small town of Likely.  The Pub/Hotel hasbeen in the town since the goldrush days.  I am sure Begbie (the hanging judge) a bit of an Icon for these parts is sure to have stopped in for a pint in his day.  We met the lovely new owners of the Pub, had a beer and some of the fresh hand made onion rings to tide us over.  We checked our GPS maps and found a tight double track through the forest over to the next town of Horsefly.  The day was getting late and we decided to push on...hard.  although the distance was not huge, this section of the ride was amazing.  We hit the Horsefly store and bought some wine, beer and headed out to find a campsite by the river.  We set up to find I did not remember a cover for my mesh tent.  The sky was overcast and cool but I figured if I set my tent under a big spruce tree and had a few drinks, I should be able to get a good night sleep.  As we headed to bed, Davinder asked me if I wanted to cram into his tent and in my intoxicated state, I declined.  At 1 in the morning the rain started to fall significantly.  "Quinton, are you sure you dont want to come over?"  "no man im not wet, im good"  and at that, the sky opened up and dumped rain.  "Hey Davinder?"  

"Ya man bring your stuff over"

We were asleep within minutes!