I woke up on Day 6 to the sound of rain hitting the tent. It had rained for a good part of the night which kept the air nice and fresh.
I got ready for the day and had a small breakfast and then started to pack everything up. Fortunately, the rain stopped as I was just about to take down the tent, so I let it sit out a little longer to try and dry it as much as I could before putting it away.
I checked out at the office and when I walked outside the sun was shining in a way that made the rain of the previous night feel like it had all been a dream. I checked over the bike, was happy with what I saw, then started it up and headed out.
Got gas in the town of Clearwater (52MPG) and then headed for the FSRs that would lead me to my next stop in Williams Lake. I was looking forward to spending some time off the pavement, and I'd planned two big off-highway jaunts. This one, and a much larger one on the return trip between Penticton and Grand Forks. You may have figured it out by now, but I'm not a huge fan of seeing the major attractions in the cities and towns - I want to see the stuff and places that aren't in the tourist pamphlets, and I really want to do it at my own pace.
Anyway, in a matter of minutes after leaving the gas station, I was on gravel, heading west. The smell of the trees and the air were very potent - it was very pleasant to ride.
The FSRs are used for logging, so there's a very strange blend of "holy crap, what on earth did they do to that forest?" and "holy crap, look at that view!"
The road itself was pretty interesting, too. Nice drop-off to one side, and lots of curves and hills to climb:
The occasional bit of cloud would skim by as I was riding, but for the most part, the roads were nice and dry. I did come across a couple of areas where there were large puddles in the road - the KLR handled them quite well (I was very glad that we made that inch of rear suspension travel before I left), but with each splash, I could feel my boots filling up with water.
Some of the trees out there were very, very tall. They don't get like this where I'm from (at least, I don't think they do):
Despite the wet feet, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. My plan was to put up my tent in BCB's back yard that evening - a fellow rider who I'd contacted on an adventure riding website. He was going to be at work when I expected to get to Williams Lake, so I'd already planned to find a picnic table somewhere in town and be sitting there and drying my socks when we met up.
Despite no longer riding through the giant mountain areas, the views out here were still gorgeous. Even my GoPro was taking good pictures:
By the time I'd made it about 35km from Clearwater, it had started to rain again. Not much, just an intermittent light rain, but as I kept riding, the roads were less gravel, and more dirt:
Shortly after that point, I decided it would probably be prudent to turn around - I didn't want to be caught in the rain on these roads. I turned the KLR around and started to follow my trail back to Clearwater, where I'd then hop on the highway and get to Williams Lake that way. It'd put me a little behind schedule, but the scenery was still great and I still had some clean dry socks in the trunk.
Since the road was getting tacky, it was pretty easy to see where I'd been (and how few other people had been here - I saw some tracks, but didn't see a single other vehicle while I was on the FSRs):
I guess all the rain from the night before had softened everything up - despite the road being in good shape when I left, it was starting to get a little less good:
And then even less good:
The GoPro was running and set to take a picture every 10 seconds. So, 10 seconds after that picture was taken, the camera got this one:
I'll be blunt - I have no idea what happened. I think I was doing around 30-40kph when the bars suddenly jumped all the way one way, then the other, then I was in the air and landed on my right side in the mud about four feet down the road.
Very confused, and with my heart pounding, I jumped up and looked back - the KLR was on its side in the mud, perpidicular to the road. I realized then I must have fallen. I whipped off my helmet and took a quick look at it to see if it was bashed in - it only looked like there was some mud splashed on it, a bit of a relief there. I wiggled my fingers and toes, which now that I think of it was pretty dumb - I was already standing up, but fortunately they worked, too.
For some strange reason, it really bothered me that the KLR was lying there, quiet. I started yelling, "ARE YOU OKAY???" at the bike, and ran over and shut it off. At that point, I could smell the gas and see the water turning rainbow colours under the bike. I had a sudden bolt of fear that I'd put a hole in the engine and it was oil - I still had the SPOT but really, really didn't want to use it unless I really needed to.
I tried to pick up the bike - stupidly, I tried lifting it the wrong way - and at that point I realized that something was wrong with my ankle - it wasn't quite cooperating when I was asking it to do stuff. It didn't hurt (shock and adrenaline can be a beautiful thing), it just wasn't working properly.
I paced around the bike and then tried to lift it up again, this time properly. No luck - between my ankle and the mud, I couldn't get a good grip on either it or the ground.
I removed the topcase and Ortlieb bag and, after a few deep breaths:
I heard some hissing and found that the gasoline that had come through the vent cap had soaked into the tankbag and was slowly dripping on to (and boiling off of) the hot exhaust. Probably a good thing it took me a couple of minutes to lift the KLR up...
I loaded the bike back up and then went over it as best as I could in the circumstances. Both mirrors broken, front cowl broken at the windshield, lots of gashes and gouging, and strangely enough - there was gouging on the top of the topcase. I don't know if I would have wanted to see it, but I kind of wish I'd had the GoPro set to take video instead of photos every 10 seconds. Mud was packed into the back side of both handguards, and the right handguard was pushed in towards the grip.
I couldn't find any evidence of engine or exhaust damage - the SW-Motech crash bars and panniers did their job. I couldn't tell if the forks were bent, and frankly, if the bike rolled, that's all I really wanted.
Of course, as soon as I'm standing out in the middle of nowhere, wearing all my gear after a crash and soaked to the skin, the sun comes out (note the shadows on the ground):
After waiting for a little while longer, I decided I needed to get out of there. Dropoff to one side, lots of blind curves, and it's a logging road - I figured that statistically, the longer I stayed in one place, the more likely it was a logging truck was going to come by and flatten me or knock me off the road. Just before I got on the bike, though, I noticed something in the mud about 15 feet down the road. I went over, picked it up, and it was my phone. I still haven't figured that out - my phone was in the belt holster... under my jacket.
I took a quick photo of the scene. Sorry I didn't have the presence of mind to take one while the bike was still lying in the mud, but I had bigger things to worry about. If you look closely, you can see the mud angel I made when I hit the ground at the bottom of the photo:
And, since I was at it, I did the self-portrait thing. If you ever want to know what I look like when I'm stressed out, it's pretty much like this:
I went back to the bike, and decided to try and start it. Dark clouds were starting to slide in (you can see them in the above picture with the bike) and I wanted to get out of there really, really badly. I turned on the ignition, waited a couple of seconds and listened carefully in case there were any sounds, sniffed around a few times to make sure there were no smells, and then hit the starter.
Two cranks and it was running. The giant black wall of despair I was starting to feel cracked a little when the engine started - I have never been so relieved when a machine did what it was supposed to. That bike is awesome!
Then it was time to get on the bike. I have little stumpy legs, so to get on the KLR, I put my left foot on the peg, stand up, and swing my right leg over the bike... kind of like getting on a horse. When I went to get on, I once again noticed that my ankle wasn't working properly, but I still really didn't feel much discomfort.
A couple of revs and some test gear shifts, and I was rolling down the road.
My only rule for riding during the summer is that I avoid lightning. I won't ride in a thunderstorm. Minutes later, as the KLR and I were crawling back to Clearwater, the skies got dark and the clouds opened up. Thunder, lightning, and rain:
The rain was near biblical in places, and visibility dropped off to almost nothing in places. Between the lightning, worries about crashing again (the whole road was a swamp by this point) and meeting a logging truck in a bad way, any calm levelheadedness I may have had remaining was leaving quickly. I've never been more scared in my entire life.
After crawling along in 2nd gear for what felt like eternity, I finally made it back to Clearwater. Of course, as soon as I got onto pavement, the rain tapered off.
I pulled into the first gas station I found:
I pulled up to the pump where a young fellow was working, and friendly yellow dog was sitting there, watching the world go by. I filled up the tank (57MPG) and then rolled the bike to the side of the building.
I went inside, paid for the gas, and then asked the fellow and the young lady he was working with if I could change in their restroom. They said sure and kept asking if I was okay. I was limping pretty badly by this time, and they were really friendly and helpful. After I changed into a set of dry clothes and then put on my rain gear (I wasn't going to make that mistake again), I felt a little more civilized and my head had cleared a bit. I borrowed a mop and cleaned up the trail of mud I'd left through the store and then went outside to check over the bike.
Both of the people who worked at the gas station were very pleasant and kept me company while I took out my tools (which somehow had mud on them) and got to work. The front cowl was broken from where the windshield bolted to it, down to where it flattened out... probably about 3-4 inches. A couple of pieces of duct tape made a temporary patch.
The right handguard was loose but easy enough to tighten up a bit. Both of the mirrors were shattered beyond any semblance of use. I was able to tighten the left one up, but I couldn't fix the right one and ended up using some wire to hold it backwards so at least it wasn't flopping around.
While I was working, two guys on Harleys stopped for gas. One of them kept asking me if I was okay. Not just if I was okay, but if _I_ was okay. I appreciated his concern, but all I was worried about at that point was getting the bike back on the road.
I asked the young lady if she knew which way it was to Williams Lake. She pointed a direction down the road (which at the time didn't make any sense) and told me that I'd need to get onto Hwy 24 at Little Fort. I took my map out of the pannier and asked her exactly where we were and she pointed it out.
Another fellow showed up in his truck, saw I'd been in an accident, and then offered me the use of all his tools he had with him - another nice gesture which I wasn't expecting at all. Between what I had on hand and a couple of his tools, the KLR was as patched up as I could get it.
I went over the whole bike once more. The oil and coolant levels were still good, which made me very, very happy. Brakes looked okay, and as far as I could tell, the forks and swingarm looked okay. All of the lights were still attached and working, which was another relief - last thing I wanted was a ticket!
I thanked the gas station crew, started the KLR, and then headed off down the road towards what I hoped would be Little Fort.
Despite taking a spill, the KLR ran magnificently. I was still a little shaky, but I was already way behind schedule and while BCB was being nice enough to let me put up my tent in his back yard, I didn't want to inconvenience him if I could help it.
A short while later, I was already starting to get worried that I'd headed the right way. I seemed to be heading away from Williams Lake, but by then my ankle was really hurting quite badly and I could feel it swelling in my boot. I couldn't bend my foot to shift - I had to swing my foot out and under the shift lever and then pull up with my whole leg, or put my heel on the lever and step down if I wanted to change gears, and that was quite painful. I really, REALLY didn't want to get off the bike and go through the panniers again.
I don't blindly follow my GPS. I trust it to tell me where I am and where I've been, but I'll never be one of those people who you read about in the papers who drove off a cliff or into a swamp because that's what their GPS said to do. Besides, the GPS was an older Magellan Explorist 500, and while it was a great unit in its day, it was getting a little long in the tooth. Just as I was about to consult it, there was a sign for Little Fort. More importantly, there was another one for Hwy 24. I turned west and everything was going well... until I looked down at my GPS. I was supposed to be on Hwy 24, but I had apparently turned off it and was heading north:
All the despair and uncertainty I'd felt earlier came crashing back. I was hurt, the KLR was hurt, and I had no idea where the !@&* we were going.
I made no attempt to work out where I was or where I was going to end up - I figured there would be a town along the way somewhere and I could grab a hotel or something there.
The scenery was nice enough, but between the discomfort I was feeling and the complete and utter lack of traffic and road signs, I wasn't particularly paying attention to it. I'd also put the GoPro into one of the panniers at the gas station, too, so no photos along this stretch.
Eventually, I came across a small construction crew on the highway. One bored-looking woman was holding the SLOW sign. I'll call her Barry.
Anyway, I rolled up to Barry and stopped. She pointed at her sign and said, "YOU CAN KEEP GOING!"
I flipped up my visor and said, "Is this the road to Williams Lake?"
She said, "IT SURE IS! ONLY A COUPLA HOURS THAT WAY!"
Feeling like a drowning man who'd just floated to the surface of the water, I said, "Thank you so much! I could kiss you!"
She smiled (or grimaced, I couldn't really tell) and said, "YOU HAVE A NICE DAY!"
I waved and drove away.
A little while later, I made it to 100 Mile House. By this point, my left ankle and right hip were solid knots of pain. I pulled into a gas station and very, very slowly got off the bike. I got gas (56MPG), and then decided to call Mrs. HAL. Actually, I needed to talk to Mrs. HAL. The folks at the gas stations had been friendly, but I felt very, very alone. I was also running way behind schedule and wasn't sure what to do, and Mrs. HAL knows what to do in pretty much any situation. My cell phone was still showing "NO SERVICE" (stupid coverage plan) but I was able to find a payphone (there aren't a lot of those around anymore).
I called and while the phone rang, I was silently pleading for someone to pick up. Finally, she picked up the phone and said hello. I told her I'd fallen and the KLR and I were both a little beat up, and then asked her if she could call BCB and let him know what was going on and that I may need a little help. She listened intently and then just said she'd get right on it - no extra questions or anything. I was so relieved to talk to her and she didn't freak out or anything, just handled everything like a champ. I have a truly awesome wife.
We said our goodbyes and I limped back out to the bike. One of the gas station attendants held the bike for me while I got on - it took me a couple of minutes to get on the bike. I had to keep repositioning my foot to try and get it so I could get on the bike. I was still pretty sure I'd only sprained it or something like that, but it was starting to click a bit while I was walking on it.
Back on the bike, I headed off to Williams Lake. About an hour later, I was pulling into Williams Lake and wondering why on earth I hadn't called BCB myself. I had no idea where to meet him, where his house was... and the thought of getting off and on the bike again made my stomach turn.
I pulled into the first gas station I saw, and rolled up near the propane tank. Just as I shut the bike off, a big truck rolled up beside me, the window rolled down, and a fellow with a beard and glasses said, "You must be HAL. I'm BCB."
Holy. Crap. You know how those commercials used to spell relief "rolaids"? Well, in this case, it was "stranger in a truck". What I didn't know is that as I was getting back on the bike in 100 Mile House, Mrs. HAL was on the phone with BCB, and he threw some ramps in his truck and came out to meet me. That was my fault - I don't think I was 100% clear on the phone about what had happened. BCB got a description of me and the KLR from my wife, then headed out. He passed me on the highway, turned around, and followed me back into town. I would've only had glimpses of him as I shoulder checked - my mirrors were completely useless.
BCB asked if I could ride for a couple more km, and then I followed him back to his place, where his wife was standing in the carport, waving me in. I rolled to a stop, and BCB asked me what was going on - I gave him a quick summary, and he held the bike while I got off it on the right side (which was soooo much better than getting off the normal way).
We went inside where they sat me down and gave me a diet pepsi and what was quite possibly the best plate of spaghetti I'd ever eaten. Their young daughter wandered by, said hello, and then asked me if my elbow hurt. I took a look and there was a raised red lump on my right elbow - I hadn't even noticed. Out came the Polysporin! BCB and his wife asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, and after a little while, I agreed. My ankle and hip were killing me.
BCB lent me a pair of his shoes (I still have them, sorry about that) as I only had my riding boots and a pair of flip-flops for footwear. We got into his truck and headed for the hospital.
After a short wait in the triage area, where BCB and I swapped stories, I went in to see the doctor. She poked and prodded a bit and then sent me for x-rays. I shuffled down the hallway to the x-ray area, and after a couple of minutes, the x-ray tech arrived and took me inside. A couple of pictures later, and I was in a wheelchair, headed back to the triage area:
The doctor came by and told me she had good news and bad news. Good news was my hip looked okay - nothing broken. Bad news was I'd broken my left lateral malleolus. I think I spelled that right. Basically, I'd broken the outside bump on my left ankle. BCB went outside to call my wife and let her know what was going on.
She gave me two options - because of its location and the ligaments in the area, the break was quite stable so I could get a (something) cast, or a (something) cast. I'm calling them (something) casts because I couldn't really make out what she said. I asked what the difference was, and she said that a (something) cast is like a regular cast, but a (something) cast had some inflatable air bladders that I could deflate as the swelling went down.
BCB and I looked at each other - that cast with the air bladders sounded like something that I could maybe fit in my boot! Maybe I could keep going! I looked back at the doctor and her face was, well... "not overly impressed" when I mentioned continuing on.
We got the prescription and headed out. BCB took me to three different pharmacies, and we finally got to one that had the casts. We arrived at two minutes to closing, but the pharmacist was great and stayed until 10 or 15 minutes after closing just to make sure everything fit properly!
Unfortunately, it became quite apparent that this was not going to work on the bike, and my trip was now over.
With the cast on, I was already able to move around a little faster - it held my ankle in place so I could lurch around on the cast without flexing anything.
We headed back to BCB's place and swapped stories for a while. Instead of feeling like I'd just literally shown up out of the blue, I felt like good friends with BCB and his family - they were very accomodating and friendly.
Before long it was time to head towards bed. They had set up a bed for me, which I really, really appreciated - the thought of setting up my tent and sleeping on the ground really didn't do much for me at that point. I took a quick shower (which felt heavenly) and then went to bed. Here's my right forearm:
Right heel:
Left Ankle with cast on (yep, that's definitely not going to work on the bike):
And... with it off:
Despite feeling very tired, my mind was still racing with everything that had happened during the day - good and bad. My first crash, my first broken bone. I was very, very lucky - I broke one of the best bones to break, and in the best place, and when I fell, I fell onto mud. Sure, I was alone, but it worked out very well - I think I would rather fall by myself onto mud at low speed, than surrounded by trucks on pavement at high speed...
I sat up in bed, and wrote a long email out to Mrs. HAL, my parents, and a couple of other people, describing what had happened and that I was okay and being well taken care of. That was relaxing in its own way, and once I was done, I fell asleep shortly after.
I'd been looking for an adventure - and I'd found it. Not only that, but I'd met some fantastic new friends. And, when I really needed her, Mrs. HAL was there. I'll never forget that!
Safe riding!
Odometer reading at the end of Day 6: 13143.6km
Distance so far this trip: 2579.6km
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