Never Say Die

Story by Heather Bashow// Photos by Heather Bashow
February 15 2017

And for Pete’s sake, RIDE!

I have always believed growing old is mandatory; being old is optional. And yet, as I approached my 65th birthday, I decided to sell my 1976 Honda 400 Four Super Sport. I was riding very little. It was a classic bike and I wanted to keep the mileage low, and over the last two decades, I was also concerned about reliability. But the real reason I sold her to a collector in Alberta was I felt others would think me foolish to still ride. I was unprepared for how much I would miss knowing I could still ride.

Algonquin lakeI’m a photographer, so to ease the loss I headed out to the racetrack at Shannonville, Ont., to shoot some bikes. The community warmly welcomed me and many soon became friends. After trading a photoshoot of my friend Rob Davies’ beautiful 1199 Panigale for an aggressive, twisty and tremendously-fun-in-a-sort-of-terrifying-way ride on the back of that Panigale, I recognized that I had to have my own bike again or I’d be making a fool of myself begging rides on the back of everyone’s litre bikes. I knew I could still ride well – that my reaction time was excellent, and I felt no different than I had in my 20s. So that winter, I plotted how to tell my husband, and the following spring I bought a 2014 Honda CBR500RA.

Back to Basics

Algonquin motorcycle ridingI live in a mecca of twisty roads, most of which I had never ridden. I couldn’t wait! But at 65, I was going to have to learn how to ride differently, because this little sport bike was unlike my café racer. Fully faired, it caught crosswinds more than my naked bike; super-nimble, it craved a deep lean in corners; and it had a higher centre of gravity fully loaded, so at a standstill, I had to keep it perpendicular or it would fall over. I learned that last bit the hard way when I dropped my bike, horrifyingly knocking over a friend’s bike, and paid for repairs on both. A track friend (yup, same friend), Bob Beattie was also free to ride during the week, and it’s from weekly rides following him on every twisty road within a six-hour round trip of Kingston, Ont., that I learned to ride a sport bike. I put 23,000 km on her in two years; and it was now 2016 and it was time for an adventure! When I saw a forecast that October with three perfect days, I packed up, saddled up and headed for the twists around Huntsville.
I had planned the routes weeks before on Google Maps, selecting the twistiest and most convoluted non-direct way to and from Huntsville that I could create, with a day in the middle to explore the Huntsville area. The routes looked as if I’d dropped a drugged ant on the map and said, “Surprise me.” I plotted those routes with a ton of waypoints into Tyre (free GPS routing software), and uploaded them to my TomTom Rider GPS. It would send turn-by-turn directions to my Sena headset. As a backup, I also printed out the routes with turns and the distance in between.

This would also be a photo tour, so I had also packed a DSLR into my tank bag. That left enough room for Plexus and a cloth; chargers for my phone, GoPro and camera; a portable charger for the GPS; two changes of underwear; and a toothbrush. Cleaned and lubed the chain, changed the tires . . . I was good to go.

Comfort Zone

traveling on bikeAs an older woman riding a sport bike on her own, I felt completely safe. People in this area are friendly, I had a GPS to guide me, a cellphone in case of a problem and friends all over Ontario from the track . . . who owned trailers! If I did run into trouble, I could post my problem on Facebook and be confident that someone in the area would help.

Initially, I had thought to have friends join me on my trip as I entered their areas, but it proved too restricting to set up meet times. I didn’t want to have to rush through beautiful photo ops or wait for someone to arrive, so most of the trip would be solo. But Bob met me near Tweed and rode to Buckhorn with me, which was a good thing, since I got lost twice on the 70-minute trip just to meet him. Although I had tested my GPS a number of times, for some really annoying reason on this trip, it decided I should go home – continuously. The blue air surrounding me was not from my exhaust, and it was only the thought of what I’d get on a resale that kept me from throwing it under an oncoming truck. My printed backup directions started where I met Bob, and that’s what I used for the rest of the trip.

I confess that as I left Bob after lunch in Buckhorn, I considered scrapping the trip. The GPS seemed an omen, I wasn’t sure how accurate my printed routes were and I thought I would find it a lonely trip. But I’m not one to quit, and I knew I would regret it if I did. And once I was on the twists of CR 507, the smile never left my face. I arrived in Huntsville at 5:30, not at all sore, but I did sleep well – other than the streetlight shining through my hotel room window because the curtains wouldn’t close.

Day in the Middle

The next morning, after missing the promised free breakfast because my hotel didn’t provide enough seating, I met two track friends, Cindy and Dwayne Bucholtz, and their friend Marc Picard at Timmies – they had taken the day off work to tour me around their favourite twists between Huntsville and Gravenhurst, and east and west of Hwy 11. I had arrived first, Marc second. We had not met before, so I think his heart probably sank as he anticipated a very slow ride with this older woman. I couldn’t blame him. Frankly, I would feel the same way. But it was not a slow ride – my rides aren’t. And at the first stop he came up and said, “Yup. I’d ride with you again.”

The reaction I had feared as a senior, in fact, has never happened. When I stop for gas or elsewhere, people notice my bike until I take off my helmet. Then there are double takes, and most often a smile. Occasionally I’m approached and questioned, even praised, which surprises me, since I’m just out having fun!
Having friends tour me around their favourite twists was one of the best rides ever. They knew what speed to ride and where to be cautious, and took me on roads I would never have found on my own, even with Google Maps. We rode for around six hours, never stopping for lunch, never even considering it.

The ride home on day three would be the longest. On the recommendation of another traveller at the hotel – with whom I was chatting while we waited
for non-existent seating for the above-mentioned free breakfast – I decided to add Algonquin Park to my ride. It was well north of what I had planned, but this traveller said the park was at its peak and the best she had seen it in many years. Right. The photographer overruled my butt. So without breakfast again, I headed off along Hwy 60, which was still wet from a heavy dew.

Immersed

The ride through the park took twice as long as I had anticipated. I’m usually pretty heavy on the throttle, but Algonquin was so stunning that I stopped often, and rode at the suggested speed. It was not my first visit to the park, but it was the first to be immersed in it in a way that only riding can provide.
And the joy didn’t end with leaving the park, because the twists beyond are some of the sweetest in Ontario. Perfectly paved with a great variety of sweeps and S-bends, Schutt Road and CR 28 in particular are simply sublime – so much so that the following week I took buddy Bob and Panigale Rob up to ride them, out and back.

I’m extremely fortunate at my age to still ride well, to have the time to ride often, to have a husband who understands and supports my need to ride, and to have an outstanding community of friends from the track who occasionally ride with me. Perhaps that’s why I see so few (none actually) women my age riding sport bikes on their own: possibly they lack all of this. Or, perhaps like me, they hesitate because of anticipated negative reactions. If it’s the latter, give that up. As long as you know your reaction time and fitness level, support your riding and get a bike that fits your style of riding. Find a like-minded group to join – this is easy with the Internet. Consider getting a GPS; I have one for sale! And for Pete’s sake, RIDE.

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