Putting in long mileage days heading west was facilitated by gaining an hour every few days as we crossed into a new time zone. Heading east meant we had to painfully repay each of these hours. As we packed up in the morning, we could see our bikes parked higher up the hill than our tents. S noticed her back tire was completely bald. We looked at L’s tire as well, since she was also pulling a trailer. L and I had just gotten brand new back tires right before the trip. My tire still looked brand new. L’s tire was down to 1/8 inch of tread. Pulling the trailers was obviously halving the tire life.
We checked the GPS and the Harley maps, and the closest dealer was 100 miles away. We weren’t sure S’s tire would make it that far, especially if she continued to pull the trailer. I had a hitch for my bike, but our trailer has a different wiring connection that S and K’s trailer. We decided I would pull S’s trailer and just use hand signals. We wouldn’t be driving after dark, and we would have one of our group riding right behind me, so we thought 100 miles without trailer lights would be okay.
We made it to Edmonton without anyone blowing a tire. The service department put S and L’s bikes in immediately, but we knew we would be locked in for at least two hours. We used their WiFi to catch up some on my blog and to google campsites for the night. We found whatever we could on the Internet and then called to make a reservation.
New rubber met the road, and we were definitely out of the mountains. The glaciers had bulldozed everything here, and we passed field after field that was as level as a pool table. In the states, we typically saw fields of corn or soybeans. Alberta was full of yellow fields.
What is that? Mustard? Golden rod? Isn’t golden rod, well, golden? This is bright yellow. What is that?
We pressed on to Lloydminster, which is located on the very line between Alberta and Saskatchewan. We were headed to the Sandy Beach Campground but driving through flat yellow fields to get there. We wondered where on God’s green earth they were going to get sand or a beach out of these fields.
The campground was part of a park by a lake (not the glacier green, stunningly beautiful kind, but the pond from the pond succession picture in your biology text book kind) that had trucked in some sand. Our site was near the entrance, right next to a dirt track where the proprietor circled around and around in his four-wheel ATV doing Lord only knows what, but doing it at high speeds and a cloud of dust. Every vehicle full of locals sped by our tents raising another cloud of choking dust.
We had stayed at some seriously flawed camping sites, but this was by far the worst. We walked around after our freezer bag meal of red rice and beans, and we saw the lake. It was just dirty. As was the sand. The washrooms were disgusting. They even had signs on the taps suggesting that the Province of Saskatchewan recommended for your own safety not to drink this water. The man in the ATV buzzed the tents again with the resulting dusty cloud.
We checked the GPS and the Harley maps, and the closest dealer was 100 miles away. We weren’t sure S’s tire would make it that far, especially if she continued to pull the trailer. I had a hitch for my bike, but our trailer has a different wiring connection that S and K’s trailer. We decided I would pull S’s trailer and just use hand signals. We wouldn’t be driving after dark, and we would have one of our group riding right behind me, so we thought 100 miles without trailer lights would be okay.
We made it to Edmonton without anyone blowing a tire. The service department put S and L’s bikes in immediately, but we knew we would be locked in for at least two hours. We used their WiFi to catch up some on my blog and to google campsites for the night. We found whatever we could on the Internet and then called to make a reservation.
New rubber met the road, and we were definitely out of the mountains. The glaciers had bulldozed everything here, and we passed field after field that was as level as a pool table. In the states, we typically saw fields of corn or soybeans. Alberta was full of yellow fields.
What is that? Mustard? Golden rod? Isn’t golden rod, well, golden? This is bright yellow. What is that?
We pressed on to Lloydminster, which is located on the very line between Alberta and Saskatchewan. We were headed to the Sandy Beach Campground but driving through flat yellow fields to get there. We wondered where on God’s green earth they were going to get sand or a beach out of these fields.
The campground was part of a park by a lake (not the glacier green, stunningly beautiful kind, but the pond from the pond succession picture in your biology text book kind) that had trucked in some sand. Our site was near the entrance, right next to a dirt track where the proprietor circled around and around in his four-wheel ATV doing Lord only knows what, but doing it at high speeds and a cloud of dust. Every vehicle full of locals sped by our tents raising another cloud of choking dust.
We had stayed at some seriously flawed camping sites, but this was by far the worst. We walked around after our freezer bag meal of red rice and beans, and we saw the lake. It was just dirty. As was the sand. The washrooms were disgusting. They even had signs on the taps suggesting that the Province of Saskatchewan recommended for your own safety not to drink this water. The man in the ATV buzzed the tents again with the resulting dusty cloud.
The park also had a 9-hole golf course with dirt greens. L was so stunned she had to check. Yep, dirt. You had to rake the "green" when you were finished. This place was all about dirt.
Locals were allowed to access the park until 11:00 p.m. We could not for the life of us figure out what someone would come to the park for at 11:00, except to drink. This must be why the park did not have a website with photos. I told the group I was going to learn to be a little more particular in my questions when phoning campgrounds. “Really? Like what would you ask?” they inquired.
“How about, ‘Of your guests that are dissatisfied, what would their top two complaints be?’”
S laughed. “What management class did that come from? ‘Please appraise your own performance and tell me the top three areas where you believe you could improved compliance to the company’s objectives over the past year.’ ‘Uh, none, I was a great employee.’ ‘Wrong answer! No raise for you!’”
We all laughed. The sad fact is that S left that life behind to become a firefighter, which she loves, and I still hack away in corporate America with its ridiculous lingo.
Daily Recap: 360 miles, Province: Saskatchewan (LLoydminster)
Locals were allowed to access the park until 11:00 p.m. We could not for the life of us figure out what someone would come to the park for at 11:00, except to drink. This must be why the park did not have a website with photos. I told the group I was going to learn to be a little more particular in my questions when phoning campgrounds. “Really? Like what would you ask?” they inquired.
“How about, ‘Of your guests that are dissatisfied, what would their top two complaints be?’”
S laughed. “What management class did that come from? ‘Please appraise your own performance and tell me the top three areas where you believe you could improved compliance to the company’s objectives over the past year.’ ‘Uh, none, I was a great employee.’ ‘Wrong answer! No raise for you!’”
We all laughed. The sad fact is that S left that life behind to become a firefighter, which she loves, and I still hack away in corporate America with its ridiculous lingo.
Daily Recap: 360 miles, Province: Saskatchewan (LLoydminster)
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