Maiden Voyage

Notable maiden voyages ended in disaster. Not mine though, since I have a riding buddy, tour guide and driving instructor at my side. Carefully Bobskoot chooses roads less traveled, in order for me to get more familiar with Nella's moves and grooves. Some roads obviously are so few traveled that they end in dead ends though ;-)

Another road with a dead end? No, just waiting for the ferry to Barnston Island, a lovely little island located in the middle of the Fraser River.

The bikes are allowed first on the ferry, and we have a bit of a scare on discovering how slippery the deck is... and it is under dry conditions. The bikes park comfortably close together.

We take the road around the island and stop at the river bank to enjoy the scenery. How considerate of Bob to bring some pops, riding makes thirsty and there are no tourist facilities on the island. Then Bob offers me to take the lead, which I reluctantly accept, and although there is only one road to follow I promptly lose him in my rear view mirror. So, I turn around and spot him stalking some Holsteiner (the black and white) cows. This is not a weird fetish or so I hope. I am sure he will explain it in his blog.
As Bob promised the road ends again at the dock, and we enter the ferry back to the mainland to ride to beautifully restored Fort Langley, the birthplace of BC., and a magnet for motorcyclists of all breeds.

We share a chicken sandwich and yam fries for lunch, and watch people and bikes passing by.
Well rested and fed we ride on westwards to Boundary Bay. Again, Bob takes the lead (he was the one with the GPS anyway), and this time he is testing me on some major roads, and challenges me with some speed maneuvers. Nella reacts well to the pull of the throttle, and keeps up easily with Bob's Wee, but I am obviously not one for speeding. My comfort zone is between 70 and 90 km/h.

Some roads involve short strips of gravel. Nella manages the change of surface pleasantly well, and so do I. The slight skidding is an interesting new feeling for me which I like to explore a bit more. Another time.

At the beach, we enjoy the warm sand and the summer breeze, time passes and soon a great day of riding is over. We part at Queensborough Landing which is halfway between Bob's and my home. Almost 200km and 9 hours later I arrive at my place, tired, a bit saddle sore and happy. Thanks to Bob who had my front, and at times, my back, too.

Finally Bob, fashion advisor and Croc ambassador talks me into this:

 I am doomed!