This article is part of the series BC Unplugged, a 7-day, 1,400-mile motorcycle journey across British Columbia — through hot springs, mountain passes, and national parks, from Vancouver to Banff.

Coincidentally, some good friends of mine from home were also spending time in Vancouver with family. R and I spent a few days in the city with them and their kids, doing some of the tourist things people do when coming to your city. It was fun to go to Kitsilano Pool with the kids and explain that it was North America’s largest pool. We swam laps and shared how much harder the 137 m pool is compared to a 25 or even 50 m pool, as your rhythms and routines are all thrown off, but I digress. I gave everyone in Vancouver whom I loved a hug and walked back towards the bike for an epic 2500 km journey.

I love Vancouver in many ways, but traffic management in this city is a nightmare. Getting from downtown Van City out to the freeway is an arduous task. It took at least 30 minutes, with stop-and-go traffic, red lights that were always red, and drivers who weren’t always paying attention for when it was time to go. As with many races, slow and steady eventually paid off on this one, seeing the sign for Trans Canada Highway 1.

I boarded the freeway headed for Hope – the point where you truly leave the chaos of the Lower Mainland of Vancouver behind. Here I was, on Canada’s mother road stretching all the way from Victoria in the west to St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, in the east. I had previously thought that this was the Trans-Canadian Highway, in that it crossed the entire country. When I looked a little further, I learned that there were multiple Trans Canada highways, not just this one. Yes, Highway 1 is a Trans Canada highway, but it is not the Trans Canada Highway. It is a moniker like the Interstate system down south in the United States. I then noted the world of difference between the article “a” and the article “the.” Language is a powerful tool, my dear Watson, use it correctly!

I really don’t exaggerate, but getting through the suburbs of Vancouver on Highway 1 was no less than soul crushing. I’ve done 580 traffic in the Bay Area out to Tracy filled with commuters, travelers, and truckers. I’ve done the 80 traffic up to Lake Tahoe as one of America’s three major east-west interstates. I’ve done traffic in many US cities except LA.

To say that this traffic was soul crushing comes with bona fide experience. The road is under massive construction with short on-ramps and off-ramps for heavy equipment and machinery amidst high-speed traffic. Transport trucks (called 18-wheelers down south) are some of the most aggressive drivers on the freeway, tailgating with reckless abandon. Some of the trucks were belching out God knows what, stomping on the accelerator and slamming on the brakes. This kind of aggressive traffic went on from Maple Ridge all the way out past Chilliwack at noon on Thursday. I don’t even want to know what Friday rush hour looks like on this section.

I arrived in Hope a touch frazzled and ready for a break. R always told me, “you can go north or you can go east. That is all we have in Canada.” Of course, you could go south into the United States, but border crossings are always complicated. Even on a good day, you are still crossing an international border, which is not always guaranteed.

In the eastward direction, is Hope where Highways 1, 3, and 5 all meet. Highway 5 is the Coquihalla and is the high-speed corridor over the summit where the transport trucks fly through at high speed. No thanks. Dealing with the transport trucks to this point was enough. I’ve done Highway 1 in a car, so I gave that one a pass. Today’s journey is Highway 3, the Crowsnest Highway, named for Crowsnest Pass near the Alberta border. I won’t get that far down the road, but we will spend a good two days together crossing the province.

R and I had a discussion on the relative availability of cell service throughout my trip across Canada. He was adamant that cell coverage was widely available across the province along the major thoroughfares. I was less convinced. Oftentimes, when I left major highways in California, cell service would disappear. For Christmas, R added a Garmin InReach to my arsenal, which was a great safety net on this trip. As luck would have it, as soon as I was about 30 km out of Hope, cell service died for most of the rest of the way.

Highway 3 bounces along the southern part of the province, just north of the American border. Every so often, I would see signs for a border crossing with various hours of operation for southbound travelers. Each time I’d come across one of these crossings, it reinforced the fact that I was in Canada. The United States has changed. Our philosophy on immigration has radically changed. As an American north of the border, I feel that change. I’m not exempt from it. Home feels less welcoming – even for those of us that live here.

They say there are two seasons: winter and road construction. With significantly shorter summers, road construction here does reign supreme. I’m about 50 km from anything, and traffic has grounded to a dead halt. I see a road construction sign off in the distance. Traffic would inch along and then pause – just long enough to get the clutch set and then start moving again. Twenty minutes later, I come to a single-lane section of highway and a traffic light that only lets 5 or so cars through and then switches to the other direction, creating an unwelcome handoff that causes traffic to back up. I think the Americans and the Kiwis do this better – let the light run for 3 to 5 minutes, letting all the traffic flush out and then turn the tap the other direction. The Kiwis even have a timer so you know how long the wait is. Shrugs.

My second gas stop was in Princeton, BC. As I was pulling in, I saw another rider on an Aprilia sports bike eating a bite on his break. He mentioned he was from Calgary, and my mind instantly jumped back to that last episode of The National highlighting the cultural landscape across Canada, as I’m only a visitor in this land. British Columbia leans more left of center, and Alberta leans right with Calgary as one of the centers of the Conservative Party in Canada. I quickly realized I was projecting the political landscape of my own country onto the one I’m in now before any real words have been said. Slow down, cowboy, slow down, I told myself. We’ve reached unhealthy levels of polarization in the States, and I find this truth multiple times on this journey.

We chatted about bikes and roads for a few minutes before it was time to head back on the road. He was a good human. We were headed to different destinations for the evening, and I enjoyed the friendly banter about bikes and roads.

I wanted to grab a set of nibbles to take with me along the way to Osoyoos, as towns were spaced far apart, and I still had a few more hours on the road. I’ve been a fan of Kind bars for many years, but the Health Canada warning on one of the packages caught my eye. I then decided to buy the other flavor that was healtiher for me. Nice work Health Canada!

The charging station also caught my eye in the gas station. It’s aweomse to see charging stations and gas stations using the same plot of land. The gas station has all the amenities that EV drivers need. This one had a nice sun shade as well as vacuum to use. That’s one of the key things with driving an EV – make good use of the charging time. Cleanign out the car is one of those good uses of time.

As the coastal mountains gave way to the drier interior of British Columbia in the Okanagan Valley, I found myself in a landscape that felt familiar down south in California: wide open terrain that was sparsely forested and likely similar in rainfall to California.

With one final mountain pass, I landed in Osoyoos, BC, one of the major fruit-growing regions in British Columbia. The other rider from Calgary noted that this area would be dotted with produce stands (much like California), and he wasn’t wrong. However, since I was coming into town after 6 PM, just about all of the produce stands were closed. I finally touched down at the hotel just after 7 PM. The front desk clerk let me know that dinner wraps up at 8 PM across the street, so if I wanted food, I needed to make haste over there; otherwise, I’d be out of options until morning. Looks like there were a number of us riders settling into the Best Western in Osoyoos for the night. I was the last one to fit under the awning for the night.

As I was walking to dinner, I couldn’t help but notice that all of the road signs here in BC are hung from the top in a catalever system, rather than the bottom as seen in the US. It’s a better way to keep the infrastructure resilient in snowy weather with the impact of snow thrown by the snowplows.

Campo Marina was a welcome respite for this road-weary traveler. I thanked them for letting me in, as I’m sure I looked like something that the cat dragged in. A glass of Pinot Grigio in the Mediterranean al fresco setting of BC’s interior was the perfect ending to a solid day on the bike. The lasagna delivered a 10 out of 10 as well.

Food on the road is an aspect of traveling I never do well, as once the kickstand is down at the end of the day, I’m not riding anymore, as I often enjoy a glass of wine or a beer. Sometimes I get lucky with a good restaurant nearby. Tonight was one of those nights.

I wanted to extend a little bit of bougeois a bit further, hehe. I booked the room with the hot tub. The room was a bit of an 80s luxurious flair with the in room Jacuuzi that was not a part of the bathroom, but more so the main room. Hey, I’m not complaining. It was a nice time soaking all of the aches and pains of riding away in a nice warm bath.

Good news is that my tires are wearing well. I can see almost no difference between today and yesterday. Onward we go to the next warm bath: Ainsworth Hot Springs!

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