I was a bit later leaving this time, and things were not quite as perfect as before. The sun was a little higher in the sky, the sky was not quite so blue and was not quite as clear. The lake was still there, glistening away, and the jet trails were a bit more numerous. Still I was finally on my way and the bike was running well.
I quickly passed those all too familiar spots – I also got the photo of Kalamanka Lake I’d wanted since day 1 – Upside Cidery, 360 Environmental Services, White Spot Restaurant and finally Sonic Wash Express; I was definitely on my way!
After the strip mall that is West Kelowna the road was great. The scenery as the road tracked the shore of Okanagan Lake was nothing short of stunning. Montana may have been magnificent, but “beautiful British Colombia” matched that magnificence, and added a stunning beauty that is hard to match.
I wound my way through the vineyards and orchards of the Okanagan Valley and, before I knew it, I was at the US border.
Here I had been advised that I needed to get a form (7501) that is needed to re-export my bike. The guy at the kiosk was typically unfriendly – they must get special training – but at least he knew what I needed. I was directed inside, where a much friendlier chap did the necessary and I was on my way again with the document tucked away safely.
This nice guy told me that they only give you the form on your last entry into the country. This puzzled me; how do they know I plan to leave temporarily and return, before leaving for the final time? I decided to remain ignorant.
The road through Washington was not nearly as pretty., but the surface was good and progress was rapid. I arrived in Okanagan and found the campsite I had selected, America’s Legion Park. This turned out to be a narrow strip of grass along the main road, with an ablution block that was clearly used, and abused, by the general public. It didn’t seem too safe to me, so I found another in Omsk, the town I had just passed through.
This was located in the town park, next to the rodeo stadium; apparently, Omak has an annual, world-famous stampede (a rodeo I guess). This seemed a much better (safer) choice, and by the time I get set up it wa full of families and youngsters partaking of various sports.
I decided to eat out rather than rehydrate something. I found a restaurant called The Breadline Café, and believe it or not, it actually served real food! It was a quirky place, full of old kitchen stoves, and had a couple of bicycles hanging from the ceiling. The food (seared salmon fillet with a hollandaise sauce) was good and the price was reasonable – <$50 for food, a beer and a glass of wine. Oh, and they had a bread bar which had a selection of breads, baked in-house, that were excellent. The service let them down a bit though!
So I headed to bed well fed, and with the unusual 😊 exertions of the day, hoping for a good night’s sleep in my wee tent. On my walk back I came across several groups lounging on the ground against buildings. While these posed no clear threat, it made me pay more attention to my surroundings, and I returned to my tent, avoiding any overly dark areas. When I got there, it occurred to me that it was odd that, given that they are inherently insecure, and much less secure than RVs, tent sites are always at the periphery of camp grounds, situated next to the old railway, or footpath, or road.
Wed 25 Sep 2024
The road next to my camp site was noisy with a big “N”; trucks and cars with loud exhausts roaring along all night. With the help of some Leonard Cohen as distraction, I managed to get a reasonable night’s sleep.
One upside of the traffic was an early start; I was out of the campsite by 0800. The guys I mentioned last night were still in place this morning, so I guess they were part of the homeless population which seems to be a major problem in America, and Canada, at present.
The weather was quite mild as I headed out of Omar and up into the North Cascades National Park. It was chilly, but not enough to really get concerned about. Passing through a little town called Winthrop I marvelled at the wooden structure of all the shops and businesses. It looked like there was a clear planning policy to maintain an old western image.
After this the road started to climb, winding through valleys flanked by huge mountains that went up vertically, but were still pine clad, even though many of these were dead; the road peaked at nearly 6 000 feet, but in places, where it was lower, the top of the hill was 3000 feet higher than the road.
I had crossed the peak and was on the way down when the rain started. I got my waterproofs on in good time, but by the time I found a place to stop for coffee – there was nothing along this road in the way of services for nearly 150 km – I was dripping!
The rain was no lighter when I had finished my snack, and it didn’t let up for the next 90 km; in fact it got worse. It reminded me of the day in Virginia I lost my bank card, and when I finally arrived in Belfast, I was really wet.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 