BC Road Trip: Day 5 – Golden – Dashed Yellow Line

Every adventure has its harrowing moments, and for this journey through the interior of British Columbia, crossing Rogers Pass was that moment for me. R was on high alert about this stretch due to the heavy traffic, especially the lumbering transport trucks and the seemingly never-ending construction work. The Ministry of Transportation was in the midst of turning a sleep two-lane road into a giant four-lane highway superslab like Interstate 80 over Donner Pass. Usually, construction doesn’t faze me, but after my soul crushing experience on Highway 1 while escaping the Lower Mainland, I was definitely feeling more cautious.

I had faced one day of rain on this trip, plus a couple of soggy days in New Zealand back in February, but water didn’t really bother me. Yet, the memory of that long, unpaved stretch of California’s Highway 96—a place where CalTrans had turned the road into pure dirt—haunted me. I simply wasn’t ready to risk a slippery combination of rain and mud. With a flight back east and confirmed tickets that were not easy to change, I had only one day of wiggle-room in my schedule. After hashing it out with R, we agreed that taking a rest day was probably the best call, even if it meant arriving home late on Wednesday and catching an early flight on Thursday to see my family.

As I drew back the curtains of the ski chalet, I instantly felt good about my decision. Outside, the mountains looked foreboding, shrouded in dark clouds and the very real threat of severe thunderstorms. I opted to stick around Golden for the day. The ride from Golden up the Kicking Horse Trail to the lodge was an awesome surprise — a twisting ribbon of pavement surrounded by the stunning peaks of the Kootenays. This stretch of road was definitely going to be one for the adventure books.

Thinking back to last night, I recalled pausing to take in the sight of the swollen river and a wooden bridge that sported minimal guard rails. In dry conditions, crossing that bridge felt like no big deal, but I knew I was due to face a wet wooden bridge down the line.

About 15 years ago, I’d had a nasty scare on a similar bridge when I was going too fast on my bike: my rear tire lost traction, and I slid right into the side rails of the bridge. It was a different context, a different bike, but the memory still echoed in my mind. I like to think I’m wiser now (at least, I hope so), but as I pondered crossing that bridge, my imagination danced with visions of slipping and tumbling into the chilly river below. No, No, and No.

Last night, I had the opportunity to learn about the Canadian healthcare system as an uninsured American. I knew that I had two insulin pump sites that had gotten infected, potentially from the ride, but more likely from one of the hot springs. It’s too coincidental that both sites got infected together, as this has never happened in nearly 200,000 miles of motorcycling. Hot springs are new for me, which seems like the likely culprit.

I walked into the emergency room yesterday and let the nurse know that I do not have a BC health card. Unfortunately, for me, this was the only point of care in town, and I had to be treated as if it were an emergency room visit (with an emergency room price). The triage nurse informed me that they could see me when I came in last night; however, I’d need to come in today to pay the full balance. The cost of care was $1000 US – steeper than I would’ve liked, and hopefully, travel insurance covers that balance. However, it’s better than an unmanaged case of cellulitis.

I left the hospital with a prescription for an antibiotic and an antiviral. The physician wasn’t sure if it was an infection or a case of shingles, so she treated both. I walked into the pharmacy with the prescription and hoped the cost of the medication wasn’t astronomical. The pharmacist smiled and said she’d get back to me in about 45 minutes. Owning an EV has taught me how to use pockets of time effectively. I headed over to the grocery store to pick up some rations for the day, tonight, and for the ride tomorrow morning.

I always get a kick walking into a grocery store with all my gear. I don’t fit in here. My clothes don’t fit in here. And I get curious looks from the locals, and every so often, somebody’s kid thinks I’m cool, followed by a direct and formal scowl from their mother. That’s how I pick out the future riders, LOL.

I wandered back over to the pharmacy, and the cost of my medications was about $50 US – I can certainly live with that. What I didn’t fully understand was that the pharmacist explained that pharmacists can prescribe medication in Canada. They have significantly more authority (and regularly exercise it) than they do in the United States. Next time you travel, it’s worth checking with a pharmacist first to see if it’s something minor, such as a skin irritation or infection. Hopefully, the pharmacist will be able to prescribe something directly rather than referring to a doctor or an emergency room. Another thing I’ve learned from my experience with Canadian healthcare is that pricing is transparent. Each person I spoke to could provide me with an answer for how much each service would cost. From a country with surprise billing all over the place, this was a welcome, albeit somewhat expensive, change.

I headed back up the hill towards the ski chalet, but now the bridge was thoroughly soaked. While I was getting more confident staying in the center of the bridge, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was a little bit nervous going over the wet wood. I think the only thing in my mind that has less traction than wet wood might be damp steel that doesn’t have abrasion for traction. Slow and steady wins this motorcycle non-race. Gentle on the throttle; gentle on the brakes. I kept my head looking forward and was easy on the controls, letting the bike do its thing.

Kicking Horse Road had one awesome 180-degree turn that I wanted to spend some time photographing. It was raining. I was soaked. Could I get much wetter? There was another BMW rider staying in the hotel, and I saw him and his wife come through the turn as I was taking photographs. They appeared to be an older couple in a BMW luxury tourer making their way across Canada. Their plates had ‘Ontario,’ so I’m assuming this is a retirement journey through the Canadian countryside. I’m not sure if they are coming to the west or returning home, but I hope I’m riding well into retirement!