to see a one-storey structure with a
sign reading “Molly Brown’s Broth-
el” above its front door. I shrugged,
thinking I was seeing things. Next I
crossed a small wood bridge across
Carpenter Creek and looked to my
left where eight rusting Brill trolleys,
the kind of buses that wound their
way around Vancouver up until the
1980s, stood at attention next to a re-
stored steam locomotive. Either my
KLR650 was a faulty time machine or
I was going to a peculiar town indeed.
After putting my stand down in a
lot surrounded by aging wood wag-
ons and other rusting machinery, I
walked over to the Sandon Histor-
ical Society building. There was a
hand-operated pump standing sen-
try, not unlike a functional one I used
to fill up the bike in a West Koote-
nay town called Trout Lake City the
day before. Carpenter Creek gushed
nearby. I glanced at a pile of rotting
blanched wood. It looked like a disor-
ganized giant had piled it up. I would
discover these were the remnants of
the flume that had covered the creek
and created Sandon’s Main Street for
decades before being flooded away in
1955.
The building before me housed
the Sandon Museum, a fascinating
place housed in one of Sandon’s few
remaining buildings. Not only does
it tell the tale of the town’s rise to a
community of two thousand in just
seven years, it describes a communi-
ty where it would not be unexpected
to see poker chips in the collection
box at church and that burned to the
ground while gamblers took their
game tables outside and continued
TRAVERSE
62
playing cards.
It’s these kinds of historic towns
that the motorcycle brings me to. The
Kawasaki KLR650 has been a kind of
time machine for me. Sometimes I
imagine it to be a mechanical horse
bringing a stranger in to town. Rid-
ing a dual sport bike that can handle
many kinds of terrain has allowed
me to connect with these places
in a way other kinds of transporta-
tion wouldn’t have allowed. People
stopped their trucks and asked me
how I was when resting along “The
Hurley” to have a cereal bar and ad-
mire the view. The grit of old roads
was on my riding gear afterwards and
on my face where it had managed to
get past my goggles. It’s been a great
way to see British Columbia’s pioneer
history up close, and I’m just scratch-
ing the surface. TMH
Trevor has written two books;
Nearly 40 on the 37 and Zero Avenue
To Peace Park. Both explore the histo-
ry and wilderness of his native British
Colombia and surrounding regions,
including Canada's nearest neighbour,
the United States.
Aboard his KLR650 Trevor dis-
covers that a nations history is im-
portant to its future and that perhaps
neighbours are often suspicious of
each other regardless of how friendly
you believe you are.
Go to www.trevormarchughes.ca to
discover more of what Trevor has dis-
covered.