Early start to get to the Greyhound bus terminal for my tyre and guess what it had not arrived. I waited till the next bus then when it still didnt arrive i called the bike shop and was told i had gone to Prince George 400kms or so away. So of i went after telling her not to fix the problem i knew where it was and would slowly make my way down there. I nurse the bike through oil and gas country and after Dawson Creek so lovely rolling countryside one bonus in going at such slow speeds is i get to see a lot more. I stop in Chetwyn for a break and am approached by the local journalist for an interview so my claim to fame will be an article in the Chetwyn local paper. The town is invaded by hundreds of chain saw carvings everything from native indian themes to modern indecipherable subjects very good though. I rode on and reached Prince George with a storm with lightening in the distance quickly approaching so i booked a motel room and no storm materialized. In the motel carpark i met several bikers of Iron Butt fame, one who had been to the tip of the continent. He gave me lots of great advice and told me a lot about the people a wealth of knowledge.
The next morning i go with some trepidation to the Greyhound terminal and ther is a tyre sitting on a rack a racing slick! I nearly lost my composure at this point until i found out it wasnt mine. So where was my tyre. Phone calls and 2 hours later i go back to the terminal with a tracking number and there it is what an epic just for a tyre. But wait it doesnt end there.
