A
Brief update, for the record. When one of us has one of those seizures (ego takes over the throttle hand) we call it : "gettin' your mojo on." As we left Delta Junction the other day I rode the rear most of the day. When asked why, especially because we were in the dirt on part of the road to Dawson City and that is a temptation almost more than I can bear, my response was that I was paying penance for my sins on the Dalton Hwy the last few days. It should be known that I am not the only sinner among us. John has sinned regularly, and mister Frank "I go slow because it's the right thing to do" Mayorga 'got his mojo on' on a portion of the road to Dawson City road and flat out flailed it. I have ridden with Mister "always ride in the back with his under powered headlight meekly peeking out" Mayorga for many years and I knew it was only a matter of time before the temptation to sin would be too great. On this day it happened and it happened in flagrant technicolor with all its moral implications. We all witnessed an underpowered, inadequately braked old Beemer singing in compelling harmony to the muse of speed and it was inspired. He was fast as the very wind. Sorry, I digress.
Today we left Whitehorse to go back down the Alcan to Watson Lake. Things did not start out well because we left Hayne behind. Being the resourceful person he is (and he has GPS) he quickly caught up with us.
As we are tooling down the Alcan, John is in front of me and sees a big black bear start out from the woods toward a quick road crossing. The bear sees John and turns around and goes back into the woods. Once John is past (about a quarter of a mile separates us) he decides to try again and runs right in front of me. I never saw anything that big move so fast. Before I realized what it was, he was in front of me. I clamped on all the brakes I could and he made it safely across. Frank was right behind me and saw it all. Sadly this bear was faster than Frank and his camera so no pictures. It's true, don't ever run from a bear, can they move.
Later we're motoring down the highway when I noticed that my clutch was slipping, not a good sign at all. We all pulled over and discovered that Hayne's KTM was also acting up (water pump, uh oh). My problem was soon fixed by that master of diagnosis and mechanical wizard Allen Naille, as my left side hand protector having slipped down and stopping the clutch handle from fully releasing. (He worked on the right side brake handle for a minute before I reminded him that the clutch was on the left, but hats off to him for remembering reading about this problem somewhere) What a relief. Of course he wants to blame it on my "Mad Max meets Bavaria" supplemental hand protectors and candidly they might have helped move the hand protector down, but of course I must deny that to avoid giving him the satisfaction. They are staying put till the end of the trip because they work so well, and I'll just keep checking them.
Hayne's problem could be much more serious. We are probably a thousand miles maybe more from any parts that can fix his leaking water pump. What happens is that the water pump seal leaks water into the oil and collapses the oil filter then you lose oil pressure and the motor destroys itself.
After much thought and a seance, we decided that the options were limited. With no help at hand we took out the oil filter (well the real mechanic, Frank did) drained the oil and pressed on to Watson Lake. Yep, it's still a creepy place but we had no other options on places to stay because tomorrow we go down the Cassiar Hwy (Hwy 37) and need to be near the junction which is just outside Watson Lake. That night we decided that the only thing that we can do is keep changing the oil as it dilutes and hope that we can come to a KTM dealer that has the parts and can fix it. If the motor goes away, well we went as far as we could and we'll deal with that when it happens. With John's earlier problem with his starter "scabbing over" we are hopeful.
Pictures above are of the Forest of signs on Watson Lake, famous but why? And the first pit stop, on Hayne's bike and mine.
Today we left Whitehorse to go back down the Alcan to Watson Lake. Things did not start out well because we left Hayne behind. Being the resourceful person he is (and he has GPS) he quickly caught up with us.
As we are tooling down the Alcan, John is in front of me and sees a big black bear start out from the woods toward a quick road crossing. The bear sees John and turns around and goes back into the woods. Once John is past (about a quarter of a mile separates us) he decides to try again and runs right in front of me. I never saw anything that big move so fast. Before I realized what it was, he was in front of me. I clamped on all the brakes I could and he made it safely across. Frank was right behind me and saw it all. Sadly this bear was faster than Frank and his camera so no pictures. It's true, don't ever run from a bear, can they move.
Later we're motoring down the highway when I noticed that my clutch was slipping, not a good sign at all. We all pulled over and discovered that Hayne's KTM was also acting up (water pump, uh oh). My problem was soon fixed by that master of diagnosis and mechanical wizard Allen Naille, as my left side hand protector having slipped down and stopping the clutch handle from fully releasing. (He worked on the right side brake handle for a minute before I reminded him that the clutch was on the left, but hats off to him for remembering reading about this problem somewhere) What a relief. Of course he wants to blame it on my "Mad Max meets Bavaria" supplemental hand protectors and candidly they might have helped move the hand protector down, but of course I must deny that to avoid giving him the satisfaction. They are staying put till the end of the trip because they work so well, and I'll just keep checking them.
Hayne's problem could be much more serious. We are probably a thousand miles maybe more from any parts that can fix his leaking water pump. What happens is that the water pump seal leaks water into the oil and collapses the oil filter then you lose oil pressure and the motor destroys itself.
After much thought and a seance, we decided that the options were limited. With no help at hand we took out the oil filter (well the real mechanic, Frank did) drained the oil and pressed on to Watson Lake. Yep, it's still a creepy place but we had no other options on places to stay because tomorrow we go down the Cassiar Hwy (Hwy 37) and need to be near the junction which is just outside Watson Lake. That night we decided that the only thing that we can do is keep changing the oil as it dilutes and hope that we can come to a KTM dealer that has the parts and can fix it. If the motor goes away, well we went as far as we could and we'll deal with that when it happens. With John's earlier problem with his starter "scabbing over" we are hopeful.
Pictures above are of the Forest of signs on Watson Lake, famous but why? And the first pit stop, on Hayne's bike and mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment