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July 25, 2014
Day 7 - The bike truly is cursed
So, I go out to get on the bike to ride into Lake Louise for a late lunch or early dinner. And the battery is dead again. You just can't know the fears that roil my body when I turn the key and push the button to start the engine. I have very little confidence in the bike at this point. And it's nothing that I'm doing wrong. My theory is now that either a) the battery is bad or b) I have an alternator issue or c) both the battery is bad and the alternator is bad.
Fortunately, I'm at the top of a hill because to get to room 29, you've got to climb a steep gravel road. So, I start rolling the bike downhill sitting in the saddle. The plan is to pop the clutch in 1st (or some people say 2nd), and the bike will roll start. Only, in the gravel, the rear tire just slides and the bike doesn't turn over at all. Now, I decide to go the rest of the way down the hill, gaining speed like a madman, and then pop the clutch in 1st in the parking lot as I simultaneously slam down into the seat at the same time, forcing the rear tire to roll start the engine.
But instead, the bike just skids to a halt, and now I've exhausted all of my potential energy. Now, I'm sitting in the parking lot. All alone. Everyone else has left the hotel, save one lone minivan in the parking lot. Just beside the hotel is a very small gas station.
I walk over to the gas station.
"Say, bud...I don't suppose you have a battery charger do you?"
I mean...you have to understand....I'm in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. There's nothing else around here. There's a lake across the street. Mountain covered in fresh snow from last night.
We rummage through the garage, but he doesn't come up with a battery charger, but he does come up with a set of jumper cables.
"Let's go ask that guy driving the minivan if he'll give us a boost, eh?" he asks.
So, we approach the driver of the minivan, an old man with a frayed wife nipping at his heels.
My buddgy....Nige is the guy's name...asks the old man, "Can you give us a boost, eh?" he asks.
Now, they're lifting the hood of the minivan, and I dive into action. Because it's a KTM, you know that the battery will be in the least accessible place on the bike, by design. You should expect that there will be at least 3 access doors that must be removed to get to it. You'll need 7 different types of tools to get near the battery...a torx wrench, a hex wrench, and three different size of metric sockets. Each bolt will be a different length. This is how KTM designs things because they're fucking morons.
I know where the battery is because I read my manual back at the eastern entrance to Glacier when I was stranded a day or two ago.
I dive into the rear Givi case, pull out my tools, and immediately drop the rear access panel on the bottom of the bike. 4 x 8mm bolts. Only two different lengths to deal with. I quickly have the battery exposed, and now they're handing me the cables. I have no idea if this will work, or if it will explode or create a tear in the fabric of the space-time continuum. But I'm all for trying.
Get the cables hooked up, and the bike will turn over, but not start.
"You have to start your engine," I explain to the old man. The old lady looks like she's in pain.
He starts his engine. But still nothing.
"You have to give it some gas," I explain to him.
Like, if it was a real vehicle instead of a mini-van, we wouldn't be having this conversation.
So, finally, he gets into the minivan and gives it some gas like it matters. The bike roars to life, but the battery is so dead it won't idle. So I balance one of the tool bags on the hand throttle so it idles higher than normal, and doesn't die.
Nigel rolls up his battery cables and fades away. The old man folds his nagging cocklebur into the crook of his arm, drags her into the battered minivan, and strangles her loudly in the back of the van. He drives away.
And now it's just me in the parking lot. All alone again.
At some point though, it does die, but I hit the starter and it fires right back up. I start to think that I might live through the day.
I drive over to Nigel's little garage. I'd give him $100 USD for those battery cables. How nice that would be to have them.
Lord God only knows where I could find jumper cables for sale in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.
"Hey Nige...where can I get some battery cables?"
"I can sell you a set..." he starts.
"How much?"
"$44.00"
"Canadian?"
"Yes. 44 Canadian dollars."
"Ring 'em up."
So now, I have a set of jumper cables. It's not the ideal solution, but it's part of the equation for now. The cables will help me get to Prince George, B.C. In Prince George, I can buy a new battery and/or a battery charger.
I feel like I need to go for a ride, to try to charge the battery. Somehow, it's got to make it through another night.
Drive down the highway to Lake Louise Village. Now, up to Lake Louise for some photos of the lake. Now up to Lake Morraine for some more lake photos. Now, back down towards Lake Louise village.
A man stopped alone on the side of the road on a Harley. I stop to ask if he needs help. All fear is gone now. Every fear everyone ever sold me or pumped into me is long gone.
"Are you OK? Do you need help?"
His English is not great. Turns out, he's from Canne, France. On the road from Arizona, to here, then east to Edmonton to see his nephew. Not sure where from there. He's 8,000 miles into the trip so far. Very cool guy. I wish him well and ride off.
Walk into a gas station in Lake Louise Village, and there are the same two people I saw yesterday. Yesterday, these two Harley riders were standing here, warming up from a long ride in the rain. Clasping cold hands around a cup of warm tea. Today, the exact same thing. Walk in...the same two people...standing in the same gas station...clutching a cup of tea.
"What happened to you two? You should be long gone from here. Are you afraid of a little rain?"
"We lost a bag somewhere...one of the saddlebags was open and a bag fell out. We went back and looked for it but couldn't find it."
"That sucks."
Outside, it looks like it's starting to rain.
Another group of bikers and I stop to talk to the four of them. They ask my destination and I say Alaska and it impresses them in a way that should scare me if I had any sense. Everyone wants to know how I'll get back. But the truth is, I don't know. But I have been formulating a loose sort of a contingency plan. Should I make it to the arctic circle, the plan is to beat a hasty retreat south to Fairbanks, and hop on a ferry. This guy is saying that there's probably a ferry through the inland passage from Fairbanks to Port Hardee. How sweet would that be?
It's looking like rain, so I head back to the hotel. Lord God I don't want to have to go through drying all of my clothes again.
I loop through Lake Louise Village, checking out the Sporting Goods store the guy in the gas station told me about. A smarter man would go in there and buy some under-armor for the ride to Prince George. I decide to risk and try to pick something up at a Wal-Mart in Prince George.
Make it back to the Great Divide Inn and I'm just so exhausted there aren't words. I haven't even really done anything today. Haven't driven but a few kilometers...maybe 50 km at most.
Eat dinner at the lodge. Put back a couple of Kokanee's. Now, I have to figure out what to do with the bike. I can't get it into my room. I already tried that. I asked them to move me to room 25, which I could easily roll the bike into. But it's booked up, apparently.
I asked Nige if I could put it in his garage. But he said no dice.
Now, that leaves me with the plan of pulling the battery, bringing it inside, and keeping it on the heater all night. It's not much, but it's the best plan I have at this point for getting the bike to start in the morning.
Now, I've got to walk back to my room somehow. I"m so tired there just aren't words. My bike is around here somewhere. I can't remember if I parked it down the hill or up the hill. But I've got to find it, pull the battery, and bring the battery inside and let it rest on the heater all night, praying it won't die.
I see that there's not a KTM dealer in Prince George, but there is a Wal-Mart and a Canadian Tire in Prince George and both of them carry motorcycle batteries. So, maybe that's my best plan at this point.
So tired there just aren't words.
Posted by Rob Kiser on July 25, 2014 at 6:10 PM
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