It warm - early twenties - but snow is still around covering the peaks & in patches roadside. The ski -lift & tourist signs state its sea to sky & it feels like it. Although I'm riding so slow I could be on a harley. No brakes just rolling on & off watching the birds, taking big gulps of mountain air and ignoring the occasional sweet smell of roadkill (or something..).
Stopping for a McD coffee (needs must), I am met by another GS rider. I'm doing the cleaning in my ski chalet in Whistler. Normally takes the unsurfaced, mountain road but its still blocked. He's retired after the Japs (his word) took away his manufacturing business.
North of Pemberton, the terrain softens & the people harden. Cars grow wider & trucks grow longer. If you haven't got two trailers on you're some sort of fairy. Roadside signs warn you about avalanche risks & wandering moose. Not knowing the best approach for either I speed up.
Williams Lake is a cross roads town just after the turning for Horsefly (a popular choice for tourists I'd say). I have booked myself into a motel straight out of a Tarantino movie where I meet Darryl playing guitar on the veranda. He's a retired telecoms engineer who does an occasional job but sails his yacht most of the time. He tells me the Japs have taken over Vancouver ("I'm a goddamn minority"), why the hell do we need french & that he has recently sawed two of his fingers off (showed me the handmade wood floor he'd made - worth a couple of fingers I thought).
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