Gabe and I are surrounded. Several Honda Gold Wings, Harley Davidsons, BMW tourers, Kawasaki KLRs, a Can-Am Spyder and a KTM Sportbike 1190 RC8R have just loaded onto the deck of the Queen of Surrey.
We’re bound for Langdale—the southern arrival point of B.C.’s Sunshine Coast. After I hop off my KLR650 and Gabe dismounts his Ducati Monster, we stare forward at the inspiring view of Bowen Island and distant snowcapped peaks. Gabe’s attention is drawn to the KTM. He removes his sunglasses.
“That’s just beautiful,” he declares, showing his appreciation for a high-performance bike.
“It’s nice!” I manage unhelpfully.
Meeting in the middle
Gabe and I have different bikes, contrasting riding styles and mutually exclusive schedules, so it’s hard to go on a ride together. It has been, I note ashamedly, two years since our last one: a day ride up the Sea-to-Sky Highway to Squamish, B.C.
Last year, my rides on my KLR took me to remote places along dusty gravel roads. His rides took him along twisty paved roads.
So how do two riders with differences as great as these compromise on a ride? We pick a beautiful sunny weekend and find a road that has something for everyone: Highway 101 to Lund.
The seaside town is the Mile 0 of the Pan-American Highway system, a collection of roadways that—taking into account break-ups in some places—snake over 15,000 kilometres all the way down into Chile. So there’s an adventure motorcyclist’s accomplishment at the end of a scenic and twisty ride.
I attempted this ride five years ago and tried Vancouver to Lund and back again in a day. With four ferry crossings and several towns to pass through, as well as interesting distractions and secondary roads to explore, you might have guessed that it felt rushed. Gabe and I have booked two days to do the ride.
Riding with a celebrity
Gabe is a busy Vancouver actor. He appears regularly on the ABC TV series Once Upon a Time and his Twitter announcement of going on this ride with me has collected a flurry of enthusiastic responses from the TV series’ fans.
His years on film sets have created an interest in photography, and so he travels around the ferry car deck, hungrily searching for composition and the best light for an image of the varied motorcycles.
We soon go up to the passenger deck and the conversation turns to some of Gabe’s favourite topics: Brembo brakes, hydraulic clutches and fuel injection—all things my KLR doesn’t have.
Exiting the ferry after 40 minutes of sailing time makes for an exciting procession, as the motorcycles always unload first. The engines of dozens of bikes fire up one after the other and, after some jostling for position, we all bounce up the massive ramp with a metallic clunk and down the hill to the day’s adventure.
The large group of bikes veers to the left, exiting quickly for the nearby seaside town of Gibsons, leaving me to believe they are part of an organized tour. This leaves Gabe and I on our own, climbing a steep grade, then settling into a comfortable 80 to 90 kilometres an hour to Sechelt.
Taking in the sights and sounds
The seaside corridor is already filling my helmet and lungs with the welcome fresh air blowing off the Strait of Georgia. A few stoplights are all that interrupts this direct stretch past coastal forest and small communities, such as Roberts Creek. The relative metropolis of Sechelt is located on a narrow patch of land separating the Strait of Georgia and Sechelt Inlet.
We stop for a welcome sandwich and drip coffee at The Daily Roast on Highway 101 at Wharf Avenue.
Between more posing for photographs—Gabe setting up shots like a film’s director of photography—we talk about the peaceful ride so far, enjoying the lack of pushy city motorists, and take out the maps. Our next stretch will be along a twisty secondary road to end at a view of Sechelt Inlet and the community of Tuwanek.
Locals, curious about our picture taking, ask where we’re headed. We talk about our two-day adventure and one recommends visiting the Crossroads Grill near Garden Bay. We make note of this and the good review of their burgers.
We turn right off Highway 101 to follow a road that is surrounded by local industries, like seaplane charters and small restaurants, until the twists begin in earnest, some surprisingly tight as we warm up our counter-steering muscles.
The road narrows while passing Porpoise Bay Provincial Park and settles into summer cabin country before the asphalt quickly descends down to sea level to end at the inlet. With the burgundy Tuwanek Hotel to the left of us, Gabe and I coast to a stop and cut our engines.
More photography ensues immediately. But we do admire the view and talk about feeling high on oxygen as we gaze at the impressive cabins clinging to the shoreline and crystal-clear water through the filter of April cherry blossoms.
Hairpin turns and seaside scenery
Our return to Sechelt joins us again with Highway 101. This is the stretch of blacktop that will give us the most variety of road types on the trip. Once out of Sechelt, the last of the seaside resort hotels passing by on the left, we accelerate to 90, passing the exits for Halfmoon Bay and Smuggler Cove, to come up to a section Gabe and I will both enjoy.
The twists and turns leading up to Madeira Park and Garden Bay are really exciting. On my topographical map, the red road lines begin to look like someone with too much caffeine had squiggled them on the page. But in real life, those squiggles mean 180-degree turns, with more of the same hot on their heels.
With me in the lead, Gabe is keeping close, reminding me he is on the sport bike and I’m on the dual sport. The road also climbs in elevation, descending once again to end at a service station where Highway 101 meets Garden Bay Road.
“You take those curves at just the right pace,” Gabe admits to me, relief showing on my face.
I was concerned that my speed, even though I enjoyed the curves, was not meeting up to his expectations for the trip.
“Any faster and I’d be uncomfortable, I think,” he says.
A side trip to Garden Bay Lake
I smile, relaxing, and point out the next route on my tank bag map. Garden Bay is a short detour from the highway. As we saddle up and head west, pungent farmland bonfire smoke hanging in the air, we soon follow the curvy contours of Garden Bay Lake—the road a mere feet from the calm waters.
At the point of a tight turn, Gabe and I meet up with the large motorcycle tour group that was on the ferry stopped on the shoulder opposite us. We take our hands from the clutch lever to wave at our fellow riders as we rumble past.
The stopping point here is at the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club Garden Bay station—a scenic sheltered marina featuring arbutus trees and a short path to the Garden Bay Pub, which is a biker-friendly eatery that may have just catered to the tour group.
But we push on after a short view of the peaceful marina. Our intention is to catch the second ferry of the day at Earl’s Cove. After a twisty return to Highway 101, we turn left to ride the remaining curves past sizeable Ruby Lake. They end at the bottom of a hill with a view of Agamemnon Channel and a small ferry slip.
Earl’s Cove to Powell River
As there’s very little option for road transportation off this part of the coast, BC Ferries doesn’t charge a fee for passage to Saltery Bay, near Powell River. So we wind our way to park at the front, by the terminal, to wait for the Queen of Chilliwack.
After a break in the early afternoon sun, the bright white of the ship’s paint emerges from Agnew Passage and we’re soon aboard with close to an hour’s crossing time ahead of us.
Gabe and I lead the charge off the ferry to climb a hill past Saltery Bay Provincial Park, the road not as twisty but still enjoyable as we travel the remaining 35 kilometres into the mill town of Powell River. The road winds down past small houses, seaside viewpoints and marinas, to wind up at the historic townsite.
We park our bikes at the Old Courthouse Inn, which is a Tudor building converted from the 1939 edifice that housed the courts, jail and police station at one time. Steam and exhaust bellow from the paper mill in front of the inn.
We check in with friendly owner JP Brosseau, dropping off a duffel bag, before heading out once again. We still have a date with Mile 0 to meet before sunset.
Chasing the sunset
Gabe and I cross a truss arch bridge, climb sharply, then hit the throttles for a mainly straight stretch, passing through Sliammon First Nation Reserve, a small cemetery and no traffic. The golden light bathes our bikes as we curve and descend onto the dock at Lund, where there are no more roads to take.
After Gabe removes his black Shoei and I hop off my KLR, we both scan the landscape of the gorgeous marina. The Lund Hotel, a sloop sliding into harbour, and the slowly setting sun surround us. We reach for our cameras, again.
“That’s so Terrence Malick, dude,” Gabe states thoughtfully, looking at the fading light.
“Yeah, it’s a great sunset,” I manage quietly, awestruck.
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