Today I came across a blog by Thomas W. Day that was published in 2014 in Reader’s Digest December edition, entitled Being Stupid is Not the Same Thing as Having an Adventure. His writing and his irreverence reminded me, of me.
I had been thinking of an article that I was going to entitle, Adventures are what you have when you screw up. So, without giving it a lot of thought I researched the title and found it was a quote by (John Sanford, Shock Wave) from the article by Thomas W. Day.
It reminded me of some commentary that I’ve been subject to throughout my life, mostly by physicians. One, who shall remain unnamed suggested that “Ken, you should try a different sport. You see survival is not essential, but recommended.” They are, I suppose, words to live by. But simply because I’ve always leaned towards adventurism, I’ve enjoyed a number of interests and hobbies that have proven, shall we say, challenging. I’ve always believed that preparation that leads to knowledge would hold me in good stead. Generally, this has been true, but not all pursuits or adventures are characterized by meticulous planning.
Such was the case on a trip I took riding from the BC border up north to Winnipeg non-stop on a day when the air temperature was below freezing. The day started out well enough, and the temperature was still at 5 or 6 degrees Celcius. About 4 hours into the journey, now around 8 am, the temperature dropped below zero and the wind increased to about 30 kilometers per hour. Still, not terrible but chilling. I continued on throughout the day and was accompanied by rain that turned to snow squalls after 8 hours. I was now near Lloydminster, Alberta and considered, for just a second, finding a place to stay for the night, but being stubborn and believing that I knew what I was doing, decided to push on. At noon that day I stopped to get something to eat, and it was only then, after warming up for about an hour that I realized I had become quite cold.
After donning another layer of clothing that I was sure would keep me warm, I pushed on. I considered driving south to Regina and getting a hotel for the night, but, being cheap and irrational decided to again, continue. So instead of turning south I stayed riding on the Yellowhead Route. Being November, the change in weather can be quite quick. I had been on the road for about another 4 hours, or twelve hours in total at this point, when the weather actually worsened and the temperature dropped further. It was now -8 and I was riding, tired and hyothermic in the dark through a landscape infested with deer.
I passed into Manitoba and had ridden about two hours when it suddenly struck me that I had just passed a Stag, standing in the highway and had either not seen him or been aware he was there. I missed him by less than a foot. At this point I had almost stopped shivering, not realizing that this is actually a serious sign of hypothermia setting in, but was so tired that I stopped the bike on the side of the highway, and lay down in the ditch “to warm up”. Fortunately, for me, a driver stopped and walked over to me, saying, “Are you all right.”
My answer was incomprehensible to the driver, as I said, “I’m just lying here to warm up.” He looked at me, and said. “Well, mate, it’s below freezing and you’re going to die lying there.” He grabbed my by the arm and made me get in his car, staying while my body temperature increased and my mind unnumbed, finally letting me go when he thought I was okay. I thanked him, and he was on his way. I had now been riding for 16 hours.
Like the intrepid fool that I am, I continued on past Brandon and continued on my way home. Somewhere between Brandon and Portage La Prairie I fell asleep on the bike and the rumble strip saved me. This happened two more times, but now there really was no place to stop. I was slapping my face, and singing while riding into Winnipeg, 18.5 hours after I started. I walked into my humble abode, fell on the bed, with my gear still on. I think I slept for 12 hours. It snowed later that day, and was the last day any sane person would get on a motorcycle.
Adventure? Hardly.
So, whether one calls that an adventure or just stupidity is now a moot point, as I had survived. The expression, “Adventures are what you have when you screw up,” is highly accurate. As I intend to see my 71st birthday, I’ve promised those who know me that I won’t do anything as dense as this in the future.
We’re all hoping that’s true. I can’t wait till spring to test the theory.
Ciao…
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