A motel must smell good
Trip Start Oct 20, 2009
159Trip End Jun 23, 2010
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Clinton is nestled between the mountains so we were not altogether surprised to see ice on our bike covers in the morning. At 8am we were all ready for another magnificent day's ride. Des had received a warning light on his BM dashboard at the 2.5 degree mark, stating that he should be aware of ice. It wasn’t a problem and the temperature slowly started to rise into the teens. Once again the road conditions were perfect as we wound our way through the varieties of trees and wildflowers. Bright yellow dandelions lined the roadside, a favourite food of bears. Several people had told us to watch out for moose, deer and bears. So far, we had only seen a coyote running along the side of the road. He had such a thick coat and looked healthy, but we wouldn’t have seen him if he wasn’t moving
In Prince George we decided to call an end to the day’s ride. I pulled in to a motel to ask for a price for accommodation. I walked into the office and the smell of cabbage cooking was overpowering, this didn’t smell like the kind of motel I wanted to stay in. A young boy was tending the office and there was great consternation on his face about which rooms were available and how much they were. He called for reinforcements, a tiny dot of a woman who gave me a price and took Lynn and I to see one of the rooms. The smell of cigarette smoke had penetrated everything in the room, and I told the little dot that I didn’t think I could sleep here for the night because of the smell. She offered to spray some air freshener, but I didn’t think that would help. She offered to reduce the price, but I said to Lynn……"We do have standards.” The little dot followed us to our bikes, offering us a better deal with every step. We finally disentangled ourselves from her and were on our way, her parting words still ringing in our ears
It seemed all the hotels in Prince George were a bit on the pricey side and we were afraid we might have to take the little dot up on her offer. Eventually we found a motel which fit within our budget and unpacked at Grama’s Inn.
Lynn and I walked to the shopping centre for groceries, enough to cook for ourselves for a couple of days, and supplies for lunch and coffee breaks.
Des bought a phone card and in the evening he phoned an 'old’ friend of his, Judd, whom he had known in his teenage years in Australia. Judd immigrated to Canada and married a Canadian lass and has lived in Alberta ever since. Unfortunately we were unable visit Judd, but it was great to hear his voice again.