Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Crowsnest and Me

Without question my preferred stretch of paved paradise in British Columbia is Hwy #3, affectionately named “The Crowsnest Highway”. She snakes from Hope in the west all the way through the Kootenays in the east, and one could spend a lifetime riding and enjoying her and neither find them self bored nor encounter a flat, direct, or straight section anywhere. Michealangelo himself could not have created a more perfect work of art if he were to dip his brush in asphalt and drag a meandering  line across this beautiful land of ours.


It is with more than a vague interest that I find myself preaching the virtues of travel on the Crowsnest Highway. Aside from the obvious majesty and beauty of the surroundings, and places unexpected that pop up along her entire route, Highway #3 has provided on more than one occasion in my life with a much needed escape route from various Metropoli that I have previously and do presently reside in.



I have actually tasted her pavement at one particular and unfortunate random locale (known in the 2-wheeled community as “the downward decreasing radius corner”), and while she took her ounce of leather and flesh from my body, she allowed me to continue on my journey...…humbled and sore, but continue nonetheless. Since that memorable episode I always remind myself to pay respect as I glide through that exact same curved stretch of her backside that took its toll so many years ago now.

On another not so memorable incident I misjudged the arc at infamous Saturday Creek crossing and firmly planted my Mother’s new sports car squarely underneath a rather large (and subsequently angry) semi-truck trailer. Ms. Crowsnest released me from that encounter with nary a scratch or bruise, and while the receiving staff at the closest emergency ward found it slightly difficult to believe the outcome of our rendezvous I realize now that this strange connection that we share has existed for longer than I have thought to consider.


If favoritism is bred from familiarity then I would have to say that the part of her I love above all else is the short but ever rewarding stretch from Penticton (via Hwy#3A) to Keremeos then eastward on to Osoyoos. Her corners are ever so subtle, her views so full of awe and coolness (as in Fonzie “coolness”), and her twists and turns so mesmerizing, they seemingly draw you in like the proverbial moth to a flame. Time is both advanced and impeded when you find yourself riding a section of 2 lane blacktop such as this. She hurries you along, whispering you into a certain place that is so enjoyable it seems as if the experience has concluded all too soon. At the exact same moment she also has the uncanny ability to delay time and space by providing you with so many morsels of tarmac seared to perfection you feel as if this dish will never end.


Experiencing the Crowsnest Hwy is recommended to all, and should be mandatory for the 2 wheeled crowd. I often wonder if those Friday evening boulevard pirates realize what awaits them....…if they would only venture a slight bit further than continually "re-cycling" Main Street or posing at one of the multitudes of Timmies parking lots. She was without question created for motorcycles and if I were ever limited to riding a single digit for eternity, there would be no question the number I would choose. I have actually been considering for some time now inking her trademarked road sign on my body, the previous scars she provided me have long since healed, and while the memories of our meetings will last a lifetime I think a permanent homage to my all time favorite stretch of road in BC is in my immediate future.



Before I depart I should also add that The Crowsnest will also always hold a very special and important place in my heart. It was beside this favorite stretch of highway of mine that we bid a final goodbye to my Mother and scattered her ashes in the Similkameen River, an equally majestic body of water that intertwines with this extraordinary piece of pavement and flows through the same grand mountains above and spacious valleys below like a twisted twin. Ms. Crowsnest is, like my Mother was, certainly a one of a kind.


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