Exploring northern BC with Kelly

Suzuki V-Strom 650, Suzuki DR 650, Honda 919 Hornet, Honda CRF – is there a saying that links a biker’s personality to the contents of his garage? If so, you could say that Kelly is a traveller, an adventurer and a motorcyclist enthusiast. Not to mention the fact that he cares, but you can tell that from the attention he pays to the state of wear and tear of our bikes’ components, or from his intergenerational flat-sharing with his mother and step-father.


Kelly joined the Bunk-a-Biker group shortly before the covid-19 crisis, and like for many hosts at the time, his spare rooms and sofas were little used. Since 2022, however, he’s noticed a resurgence in the number of motorcyclists eager to discover Canada’s great outdoors. This year, he accommodated over 30 people, including a group of 9, for several nights. « My garden is big enough to put up tents, and we had quite an evening chatting about our past trips and those we’re dreaming of. What’s more, the person behind Bunk-a-biker, Zee Traveler, was also visiting Prince George, he explains. It was an opportunity for all of us who use the platform to meet her. » I admit that Prince George is ideally located. It’s the last major city before heading north into British Columbia, Yukon, Northwest Territories and Alaska. It’s a pleasant stopover for those preparing to tackle the sometimes capricious weather, demanding roads and legendary landscapes.


I drink in his words and take all the notes I can to prepare for my next expedition to these lands, in 2024. Indeed, he himself made the round trip to Tuktoyaktuk, that village on the edge of the Arctic Ocean. But, as he admits, no matter how well prepared he is, there’s no guarantee that he’ll reach the end of the road: « The terrain is slippery, with nothing paved for the entire length of the Dempster Highway, from Dawson city – 886 kilometers. The last 150 kilometers, between Inuvik and Tuk, are the most difficult. If it’s raining, it’s tempting the devil to venture out.« 

Last year, he set off with two friends. While none of the three were injured and were able to dip a toe in the icy water, one of the motorcyclists he met along the way was not so lucky. A poorly negotiated bend led to the dreaded fall – and its consequence, a broken ankle. While the experience was unfortunate, Kelly admits that his presence, along with that of other riders, enabled the unfortunate man to be quickly attended to. « Finding yourself unable to get back in the saddle, hundreds of kilometres from your destination or starting point, is one of the worst sensations« . As for him, his adventure ended well, despite a few setbacks on the return journey. As they were about to take the return ferry on the Mackenzie River, the three friends were confronted with a flooded deck. The ferry couldn’t be loaded unless the level of water decreased which meant it could take a few days. They have no choice but to call on the services of a fisherman whose boat can accommodate a motorcycle and its rider, for a fee usually reserved for a crossing lasting several hours.

As an avid two-wheeler and motorcycle traveller, Kelly shares his own experiences, but also learns from those of others. That’s why he took on the role of instructor several years ago. In Canada, courses are not compulsory to obtain a license, but they are strongly recommended. For Kelly, it’s his experiences and those of others that help young license-holders avoid certain mistakes and get the most out of riding a two-wheeler. Opinion shared. After several worn tires, bad weather conditions avoided, and alternative routes taken, the advice received can get you out of a lot of situations. Or avoid them.

Une réponse à « Exploring northern BC with Kelly »

  1. […] John travels the old-fashioned way. He doesn’t trust the GPS on his smartphone, so he’s bought himself a map of the country, as he’s always done, on foot, by car and then by motorcycle. Unfolding it from my eyes to show me the rest of his route to Nova Scotia, I see that he’s highlighted the roads he’s taken in black pen. « Look, there’s this bit up north that I couldn’t do. I’ve tried it for three years, and I just can’t do it, he grumbles, still smiling. The first time was the year of covid-19. The second, in 2021, the border between British Columbia and the Yukon was finally closed when I got there. The third year, torrential rain poured down on the last stretch, past Inuvik. After 30 kilometers, heading towards Tuktoyaktuk, the road was simply covered by a metre of water. » This story echoes Kelly’s. […]

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