R and I first met about seven years ago. We both rode motorcycles. We both talked about motorcycles. We’ve spent plenty of time two-up on my R1250GS (I’m not even going to entertain the idea of being on the back of a GSXR 600—that would be Internet meme-worthy). But in all the years we’ve known each other, we’d never actually ridden together on our own bikes—until today.
Some of my time up in Canada is about doing the big things: Banff National Park, Kootenay National Park, the Okanagan, and seeing Canada through my own eyes and experiences. But I can’t deny there’s also a huge part that’s about the small experiences: walking through downtown at night, grabbing coffee on a Saturday morning, and soaking up the little moments that don’t always happen in a long-distance relationship.
With my motorcycle up here, I didn’t want to miss the chance to ride the Sea to Sky with my partner. The Sea to Sky Highway is a fantastic ribbon of pavement that snakes between Vancouver and Whistler, offering some of the most picturesque views of the Lower Mainland.
The highway starts off as a four-lane monstrosity, sharing its path with Trans-Canada Highway 1, which quickly turns off to Horseshoe Bay (another favorite of mine). Highway 99 heads north and hugs close to Howe Sound. While British Columbia doesn’t have the coastal highways like Northern California, this section of Highway 99 does a pretty good job of mixing coast, fjord, and roadway, making for a fun motorcycle adventure. We started early, so traffic across the Lions Gate Bridge was nonexistent. The Sea to Sky Highway alternates between two lanes and four, with speed limits that bounce across what seems to be draconian—looking at you, Britannia Beach—to approaching reasonable by California standards.
We reached Squamish just before lunch and headed to the Starbucks in town. Each Starbucks in motorcycle culture seems to have its own nickname. When I was in the South Bay, we’d all meet at SnellBucks on Snell Ave in San Jose. When I meet people in the Castro, it was Bearbucks. Vancouver (or shall I say Squamish) is no different. Mind you, this isn’t just any Starbucks: this is Squambucks. It’s Vancouver’s answer to Northern California’s Alice’s Restaurant or Southern California’s Rock Store. It’s the place everybody gathers before heading somewhere. I’d heard about this place for years. I’d seen bikes parked at it for years. This was the first time I was actually at Squambucks with my own bike, with my partner on his bike.
Life is good.
We saw some riders come and go, and I wanted to take some time to just be at Squambucks as both an observer and a participant in Vancouver motorcycle culture. As we were getting ready to go, I saw another rider sipping his coffee and two bikes out in the parking lot: a late-model Harley-Davidson and a nearly new BMW adventure bike. His handlebar mustache definitely screamed Harley-Davidson. However, his gear definitely looked BMW adventure bike. I didn’t send ripples into the water and just left my curiosity to figure it out.
R and I continued north towards Mount Tantalus, exploring this wonderful ribbon of pavement. After a few moments, I saw that rider from Squambucks on the Harley-Davidson. This time, I walked up, introduced myself, and shared the quandary I had in my mind about what motorcycle he rode back at Squambucks. He started laughing and I joined in. I’ve always enjoyed the relative ease of connecting with other motorcycle riders—I don’t know why I just didn’t say anything at Starbucks, but hey, we are who we are and moments are what they are.
Today wasn’t the day for a grand motorcycle tour across British Columbia’s wide-open spaces, but it was a grand motorcycle day connecting a number of experiences I had only seen through the window over the years.
As we headed south, I think the lions on the Lions Gate Bridge took kindly to our day and tossed us the proverbial bone, as there was no traffic heading back into the city. There were big moments. There were small moments. But all of the moments on this day were great moments.
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