At the end of some horse shows, all the horses are ridden into the arena and lined up.  The winners are presented with their spoils, then the blue ribbon horse gallops around the exterior of the ring.  Being that horses are herd animals, this causes a ruckus and all other horses follow suit. Since the horse doesn't know winning from losing, all give a spirited go at the gallop part.  Some even add a nice buck for good measure.  As the riders all depart the lodge 2, this same excitement is in the air.  Bruce has iced his ankle all night long, but remains to be seen if he will ride out of the lodge today.  There might not be enough flexion to get the foot into the boot.  But he too wants to follow the herd, and with one final push the foot is in the boot and we are off!

For the second time in the trip, the track today has was altered dramatically from its' creation.  The day 1 hero section was omitted, after it appeared a tornado downed a large quantity of trees. Someone attempted to cleared the first KM, but even they gave up.  A few other riders ventured about 4 more KMs, then quietly retreated to the main course.  Today, we were suppose to head due south out on a Skidoo trail.  Apparently, the trail is mostly suited to a pontoon boat as it was a muddy quagmire. Deemed pretty much unridable, the Rallymaster changed the final day to this map.

The track today is 85KMs of high speed gravel out of the lodge.  Followed by tarmac into Mont Laurier.  From there, we will ride day 1 track 1 in reverse back to Ottawa.  As we stop for gas in Mont Laurier, the ER is right across the street.  However, Bruce is not wanting to take part in meeting new friends there.  Instead, we decide to cut out the second track and just tarmac back to the truck. So we end riding all of track 1 (113 miles) which is about half of the 235mi total.  And even though the trails always look different when you reverse the direction, I am happy to know that we at least got to ride it once.

We once attended a training class with Jimmy Lewis.  He advised that you should never hit anything larger than your fist at speed, lest you risk rim/tire damage.  I think the last 1000 miles, I did nothing but apparently aim for potholes and rocks.  Yet, somehow, the bikes look remarkably unscathed. 

Yet, we make a decision that we should forgo the last section of trail and opt for a nice smooth ride home.  Our decision to ride the road home was perhaps not a sound one.  We thought that it might be actually smoother, but what we found out was that the trail might have been a better option. 

A well-lived life will require a bit of orthopedic intervention. The x-ray shows some previous evidence of that motorcycles are dangerous.  Not be be deterred, its' now got 2 new "friends" to bond with.  The 2 new breaks will soon have some Titanium also.  I swear, the cremation box is going to be worth a fortune in Titanium alone. 

I am person rooted in measurable, repeatable data.  To that end, I will monitor his improvement using this chart:

Ending this journey as we end every journey, its' time to think about what the next bucket list ride might be.  I am not sure if anyone noticed the paper place mats at dinner.  They were a the local Skidoo trails.  Anyhow, below is the entire 33,000 KMs of the Skidoo trail system.  Granted, a good portion will not be suitable for any bike, let alone big bikes, but it does give some boundless inspiration for future rides. 

In closing, I'd like to point out that even with just one good foot, the Rallymaster was not the first into the lodges.  The gauntlet has been thrown down and the threat to add another 100KMs to the already ridiculously long rides to give the Rallymaster some more time "to reel us in" has been noted :-)

We were going to get up at 0400 and start the bikes then return to bed.  In this fashion, we could watch all the riders peep out of their slumber like meerkats standing on their hindlegs looking over the African horizon.  Instead, we wait a bit longer to load up and hit the trail side.  We know that today will be a bit unrelenting with 283 miles to our next lodge safehaven.

The air is thick with movement.  With the late snow melt, apparently we are in the height of the black fly season.  We have been a tasty 4-course meal for them, and I can only long for the sanctuary of the indoors at the next the lodge.  But their damage is done.  Riding with an open face shield has scooped them into the rider's hairline the day before much like sperm whale opens its cavernous mouth to gulp plankton.  The combination of black fly bites, sweat and pressure for the helmet will create a skin rash comparable to a polio victim in the final throes of death.

The first 40 miles of track today will be on the Skidoo trail system.  The track is delightfully fun to ride and has some very interesting scenery, and probably the highlight of my trip.  It's not overy technical, but has plenty to keep you watching out for as you navigate through the crevices, ruts and ditches.  But it will take a few hours before pop out the town of Parent.

The trail not only has nice changes in elevation, but also mixes up the surfaces a bit too!

But perhaps that biggest pity is that the trail no longer has any open water crossings.  I suppose though that is does prevent R1200GS' from deciding to Duck boat into the only open water crossing, only to eventually seize the motor a few days later. But experience is what you get, when you don't get what you want.

The first bit of Skidoo trail used to culminate with a darling hand-cranked trolley traversing the river.  As one can imagine, the relability was not the highest with that contraption. It also didn't work in high water and often just didn't work at all.  In fact, I am bummed to report I've never successfully navigated on it.  But the ultimate undoing of the trolley, was two people somehow were able to load 2 UTVs on the trolley.  I guess they were loading by volume and not weight. Somewhere between the two river banks, the trolley got a bit pear shaped and dumped over.  The really sad part was the both riders lost their lives, as apparently the only thing better than their load-master skills was their lack of ability to swim.   But there is now a very nice, all condition bridge in its' place.

We were given but one solid bit of advice from the Rallymaster during the pre-rider brief.

                                                  Have Fun, Don't Die!

Really it sounded so easy when the words were spoken.  We got this!  However, you know that 31 riders all have their own good idea fairies.  So, over the next 72 hrs we decided to take fate into our hands.  The tally at last count:

--One KTM broken fuel tank valve
Okay, supposedly it started pissing fuel out of the right side tank for no apparent reason.  Hey it is a KTM, they probably all do that.
--Honda Africa Twin broken both right side foot pegs 
Apparently, coming into to a corner a bit hot will result in a low-side removing both the rider and passenger foot pegs.  Despite only a few KMS from the local Honda dealer, the late model bike (2016) already had a design change so their were no parts on hand.  But your MacGyver-type repair job of adding the highway peg was admired by all.
--One broken clavicle
One enterprising team elected completely ditch the Roaming Rally route and found their own path into Clova using some local intel on a Skidoo trail.  That would have been a marvelous execution had it not been for a misshapen rock be left at the last stop sign before rejoining the main track.  The rock was apparently too appetizing not to get a closer inspection resulting a seemingly small tipover.   A tipover which got diversion to Mont Laurier ER to X-ray the broken clavicle.  But the neat thing about clavicle breaks is everyone I know that has had one has amazing posture after the bone is healed, as they put you in the torture device that holds your shoulder back during healing.
--One broken ankle
One rider, (and I can neither confirm nor deny that it may or may not have been our team) decided to look for pennies.  Not 30 minutes into the ride, just a quick distraction from the sandy trail, the next rut just threw you on the ground in epic style.  Apparently, Germans have absolutely no eloquence when falling preferring just to land on Terra-firma much like a sack of raw potatoes lands.

When in the Canadian wilderness (or any wilderness at all for that matter), you'd best partake in any stops for provisions that you find.  On this journey, we visit the little town of Clova for fuel.  Much like a convict escaping a high security facility, we must keep our breaks to a minimum.  The track is still long and the rear of the pack is in the hunt.  Lest we get caught in after dark or in a dust storm from other riders.  Leaving Clova, the trail opens up a bit.  We feel like we ride like giants, that is until we pass a sign advising trucks over 60 Tonnes to take care.  Really, seriously I can't imagine being that truck driver! 

We pop out the woods and the trail ends the way it usually does.  About 100KMs on high-speed gravel.  At least the Black Flies can't seem to see through the dust storm to eat me in my helmet!  And although we never see it, the dastardly road grader has been here recently. 

It's been a fantastic 10 hrs of riding, but I have to admit that I am bit grateful to arrive at the lodge.  We are first in and that means we have the pick of the litter for rooms.  The lodge is not not as fancy in either decor nor food palet, but its' still a very nice place to recuperate for the evening.   

It's late in the afternoon.  James, our Rallymaster (puppeteer?) is out of his riding armor and comfortably lounging on the leather sofa.  Having just finished his first cold beer, he takes a good look over the balcony at the bikes below.  Less than half the riders have arrived at the rendezvous point and only a few hours remain before the sky drops into total darkness.  However, James' most pressing issue is that he can't decide whether he wants another beer or maybe a quick nap before dinner. We do have a good chuckle about that one, and I do appreciate the mind of the Rallymaster always concerned about his troops :-)

I've yet to meet a Rallymaster who didn't have a bit of a sadistic side.  But to know the rules of engagement, is to embrace the tactical strategy.  The Roaming Rally has always been pray your skill doesn't run out before the daylight does.  Because no matter the classic or expedition edition, you best bring out your big girl panties. 

We weren’t but an hour into the ride, and the entire road surface in the horizon begins to shift.  It seems that we have a gaggle of sleeping turkeys that have now paused their dust bath preening to greet us.  By the time we have our sights on them, they are now at full on Turkey Trot.  Meanwhile, a turkey trot is a catch all name for a foot race the day after Thanksgiving, a nice Texas 2-step dance, or fine bourbon. And I am not entirely certainly what omen this might foresee, but I am certain that Turkey’s trotting down the track are certainly an unusual start.  And it's not even November! 

Turkey Trot --// 1 1/2 oz Makers Mark Bourbon / 2 oz Sprite / 2 oz Ocean Spray cranberry juice // Add ingredients one by one into a highball glass filled with ice starting with the bourbon,  followed by the cranberry and finishing with the sprite. Stir and drink

While I did bring the micro 4/3rds camera, it will see little use on this trip. This trip simple won't have that sort of spare time to wanderlust the moment.  And for that, it will be mostly the go-pros in action.  It's not really that we are the fastest team but we have a strong strategy of starting early, taking few breaks and when we do, we keep them short and keep moving at a strong pace. I don't want to be on the trail after dark!! Also our navigation skills are good which tends to cost some teams a fair bit of "lost" time.

The track takes us a is a bit under 8 hrs of ride time to clear the 253 miles of dirt, gravel and tarmac.  As we leave the city-scape of Ottawa to our backs, the track is great flowing curves some high speed gravel and a dash of technical two-track.  We have everything from whiteout dust storms, to idyllic covered bridges, to a Canadian version of a water crossing which usually means you are riding part of river with cross current. Yes, we will call that our own ‘Turkey Trot’.

Later in the day, we are nice cruising pace. We spot a 20+ pound turtle in the middle of a 40 ft dirt road. We slow down to grab U-turn, and we can’t find him. Literally, he has completely evaporated in the span of less than a few minutes. Yet,  I am still amazed how we have perception about slow turtles.

We’ve made some excellent time this morning, and pop out of the woods at the first gas stop.  Since we elected to skip out on the free hotel breakfast which was certainly a good 45 min ordeal with 30 riders and 1 wait staff, we were some of the first riders up.  Nobody passed us on the trail.  And we find no fresh tire tracks on the trail.  Imagine our surprise when the gas station has a half dozen adventure bikes lounging about.  It’s worth a good chuckle to know that there is also a Roaming Rally Highway edition in full swing.







One of the marvels about Canada is there is no lack of water.  In fact, if you don't have to swim down a river for 50m with a cross current it wasn't even a proper trail ride.

The track after lunch is typical Canada. Highspeed Gravel Travel. Even though we have road this before, it is completely different today. Dusty, white out conditions. And to make matters worse, it seems that the little town of Parent is draining for the weekend. We can only surmise by watching the oncoming vehicles that every Canadian is issued a boat, ATV and a snowmobile at birth. And it seems the dirt dirting pickups have even mastered the fine art of drifting with their toy trailers.

The most quizzical thing though was this sign.  I understand there is no gas/propane on this road.  Trees, trees everywhere a tree it's hard not to see but 167 clicks of toilette! Really, what am I missing? 

As we pull into the lodge, it's a great homecoming.  In 2014, they were offering a helo tour but we got in too late.  This year, we are in spritely early but alas the little red helo is no where to be found.  Nonetheless, the chef tonight was classically trained in France.  I've been told never trust a skinny chef, and tonight, there are no worries.  The lodge is cute as a button from exquisitely appointed animals, to well furnished rooms.  And the 4-course dinner will fill the hungry soul in all of us!

  This is one of the spoils of the explorer edition.  No need for a sleeping bag, we are all out glamping in style! 

It’s been raining all morning, and at times perhaps a defined frog strangler.  A frog strangler is a term when there is so much water that you could even drown an amphibious creature.   We march like good soldiers towards the I-83 border crossing.  We play the 20 dumbest questions that we will be interrogated on.  Lest we forget the notable crossing where my bike was completely stripped search, meanwhile Bruce cleared his custom line in record time and began reading all the welcome signs and photographing his beloved Canada.   Then there was the year that Bruce had a mild memory fart and when asked where he was heading to,  the only town he could recall he was going to was "Parent".  The US equivalent to saying that you are visiting Washington DC, but instead say Nanjemoy. 

With the driver of the truck all prepped, we are through customs in less than 3 mins flat arriving in Rally HQ by midday  After a nice lunch since the hotel room is not available until 1500, we go shopping at the dollar store.  Boy did Bruce out do himself on some nice "tourista" Canadian garb.  Really the next Hawaiian Shirt day at the office will be defined by this shirt.

After the rig is parked, we start staging the gear for tomorrow.  It is then that I realize that I have forgot my riding overpants.  In my head I shrug it off, I am just ecastic to have packed jean.  I hope for no rain, but decide that this isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen. And the jeans, how fortuitous!.  Bruce all but reading my thoughts, then scanning the back seat of the truck is suddenly very uneasy.  He shortly zeros in on the lack of my the key piece of riding kit.  I suppose this is one of the perils of taking the easy route to an event.  Never left them at home when we ride there!

It was still mid-afternoon on a work day.  The odds of finding an open motorcycle store is pretty decent.  So, with that let's go shopping. Not 15 miles down the road is a very nice motostore and I am now an owner of a pair of black ventilated REVit pants.  Such as pity that I read the weather report for the weekend later.  It will be high-50s in the morning.  My penance for a poor packout will that brisk sunrise air.  But it does prove my ultra packing strategy, you can pretty much pack nothing and just buy whatever you need enroute!

As usual, the purveyor of our event arrives with the precision of a Rolex time piece.  Bruce gladly soaks up the Tuks, and we go over the rally map.  Nearly 1300kms, we will return to this location 3 days later.  Mostly all gravel, and while there are 35 riders total there is no score and no chase vehicle.  It's a rally you best bring your A game, and a well maintained bike lest you have a long lonely walk.  We are exited for the coming days and the unknowns it will bring.

Bruce loves bird videos and memes, and bonus points if the bird video includes a white Cockatoo.  So frankly, it should come as no surprise that when the crisp fall weather rolls into Maryland, he begins the process of preparing for the long cold winter.  In this case, that means preparing the perch (e.g motorcycle lift) for long winter--it also means perching his beloved G650X in its' natural habitat for the next 6 months.

The story begins 4 months earlier, as we were in the final 30 miles of a fun trot around the MidAtlantic Back country Discover Tour Summer of 2018. The G650X has a radiator screw clamp loosen which allowed the coolant fluid to leak/squirt out.  This resulted in the hot engine light coming on right as we entered the driveway.  As the old adage goes, you never put a horse back in the stable while its' still hot.  Apparently true for a motorcycle too.  By the time the extent of the damage is realized, it is beginning to snow out and the bike now needs a new motor (or at least a top end).

The project should not have lasted as long as it did, but it was low priority and apparently not very entertaining for Bruce.  The months marched on.  Meanwhile, the return of the Roaming Rally Explorer edition is announced after a 5 year hiatus.  After entering, the bike has a destination and a purpose.

It's now less than a week out, and cleanliness aside, the bike has just about as many new parts on it as when it rolled off the factory floor. 
                                                        Remember:  If it drives, flies or floats, LEASE IT!
The new motor wasn't good enough,new knobbie tires (Mitas E-09 rear, and the Dunlop D-606 front), New Dirttricks sprockets, DID chain, and new wheel bearings. And with that, she will finally roll off the perch to her next assignment!