barrettblog

Caution…foul language possible

Scratch that

Warning…Foul language imminent

5000+ miles and I’m right back where I started 22 days before. The bike made it (not without incident), I only got mildly sick once from something probably food related…happened to Ike about the same time as well. Nothing was lost except for my very replaceable camp cup. I have a beard like santa except for the wrong color…I suppose that could be considered a casualty as it has tortured my face everytime I donned my helment for the last 2 weeks. I just can’t ever take a trip without leaving something behind…this time it was the razor cord. This helped disguise my true identity as I was several times mistaken for semi-famous television people. To my knowledge, the only time I’ve ever been on TV is while working at WVUA as a technician and even then I don’t think we were on the air. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not the “wolf hunter” whoever that is; I’m not the guy on the Free Credit Report.com ads; I’m not Charlie Boorman; and I’m not in the Canadian military. But I did sleep in the woods last night.

The Damage

It seems that once you go over 100 hours, Garmin decided best to just quit counting and forget all about everything. Stick this on my Garmin complaint list please…however, this won’t be the big one…

The olfactory colors oozing from my main panniers are tremendous in a most foul sort. And this was just a hair over 3 weeks. And I washed clothes 3 times. I haven’t gotten into the tank panniers where my dirty clothes are yet…I think I just thought of a good alternative use for earplugs.

I’m getting good at this getting ahead of myself thing. Must focus.

I suppose I must mention it at some point, as if it won’t become obvious. But what most would consider decent weather evaded me for all but 2 days on this trip…the first day and the last day. The rest ran the gamut of sleet to probably triple digit temps. I found the hottest of weather in the most unlikely of places…the northeast US…perhaps Nature’s way of dropping me a hint as to the weather for the next couple of weeks.

Day 1: Monday, June 2

All my crap piled up so as not to forget it. I don’t see my razor cord in there anywhere

I was finally satisfied with the job I’d done on the bike and prepping and packing my stuff by Monday the 2nd. I’d initially planned to leave on the 1st, but wasn’t quite ready and prefer weekdays to weekends for riding backroads. At sometime around noon, I’m rolling out…cordless.

My GPS won’t save tracks back that far, so use your imagination…backroads from green to red…rinse and repeat.

A tunnel to somewhere…looking for a campground

I had no plan…just take as many backroads as possible in the general direction of Greenfield, Massachusetts. This is where I plan to meet up with several other folks and the Vermont club for the Puppy Dog Run…a 2 day, mostly offroad run through all of Vermont to within a few miles of the Canadian border. It was around 7 before I began to look for campgrounds and 10 when I finally settled for a motel room. The first night out and I’m sleeping in a motel room with great weather out. Great start, eh? In the 3 hours I was looking, I found exactly 5 campgrounds…all closed for some reason or another. But the motel wasn’t too crusty and I could get a good check on the weather. Oh well, I’m dry tonight. Not too many pictures today either…just lots of riding.

Getting all the maps in order for the ride up.

Actually, I kind of did have a route now that I think of it. I would be following the Appalachian Mountains…loosely following the Appalachian Trail. This would accomplish 2 things of equal importance. One reason was to keep the temperatures down and the other just because I know most of the roads that follow it up are pretty good riding. Of course this isn’t so conducive to making good time, but I’ve given myself 5 days to get to Greenfield and don’t see any reason that shouldn’t happen…unless I hit weather.

Day 2: Tuesday, June 3

Last night the weather people had promised quite a bit of wetness, yet I’m thinking that if I start early and keep going, I may be able to outrun it as we’re going in the same direction. So I’m up with the roosters and out the door looking for food. Now, the woman at the front desk told me a few things about this little town last night as she was closing up. Well, she really only told me 2 things…there’s absolutely nothing to do and even more of nothing to eat. She was spot on. There was a Subway inside a gas station next to the motel (I hate Subway) and some restaurant that directions from 4 different people failed to work in my favor. Subway for breakfast it is.

Not that I didn’t look either. I scoured this town and found nothing else. However, what I did find was a very disproportionate number of law enforcement types to citizens. And every other business seemed to be a law office. I’m getting out of here before they find my baby sea turtle eggs.

Someone’s private hat museum…free admission!

I have funny ways on these types of trips. I usually just eat 2 meals per day…one large breakfast and a decent dinner with maybe a snack at lunchtime. This usually works very well, but sometimes I feel lunch coming on. I can see the storms at my back, remaining basically the same picture of the sky no matter how far I ride. It’s chasing me. I’m well ahead, but it’s behind me. Still, I’m really feeling a lunch coming on. What I found was an incredible burger with a side of fried pickles, but what I didn’t expect was the hour wait to get it. In this hour, the storm caught me.

No biggie, I’m thinking. I’ll just button up, put my tankbag cover on and ride. I usually carry 2 cameras in my tankbag…a Nikon D200 and a much smaller Canon SD600 for shots on the fly and video. However, I’m thinking I need a waterproof rig. Here’s why… I’m tooling along somewhere in BFE Virginia taking it all in when I see it. I double over laughing and reach for the camera. Crap, it’s under the rain cover and it’s raining really hard. So I’ll tell you about it. Some people hang their clothes on a line to be dried. Some hang them in the rain for one reason or another, but there were 2 sets of underwear on this particular line…one a small, feminine pair of what appeared to be ladies underwear and the TENT. This was a pair of guys breifs that had to be 4 feet across. I think them being waterlogged made for a better visual. Anyway, not funny to tell…VERY funny to witness while somewhat bored.

At about 2 hours in very hard rain, I pull over under a church pavilion to check the status of things and change clothes. Everything I’m wearing is waterlogged and I’m getting cold…really cold. I’m shivering. After drying off and changing, I get the bright idea to pull out my phone and call Ken, my buddy in West Virginia. I’m planning to stop in and see him at his cabin for a day or 2 on the way up. I put Ken to the task of checking the radar and reporting back. Bad news…there is a huge rain/storm mass covering the entire state of WV and moving in my direction. It appears that it will rain for the next 12 hours and hard. Furthermore, a check of the tankbag reveals that the Wolfman’s rain cover is nothing of the sort. It is letting lots of water in and that’s where the cameras are. I’m done for the day. At somewhere around 2pm, I find a little jewel of a motel, The Big Walker, just a few miles north in Bland, VA. Room for one please. This is now 2 nights without a tent…pisser. But I need to get my gear dried out. I’ll be out for several weeks and there’s no sense pushing it.

Today’s rather piss poor mileage

Room Key # 2

Shrimps on the barbie anyone?

A gaggle of wet maps. They dried out just fine.

I did wander a bit why the Big Walker was named so. I would soon find out. I think I mentioned earlier that I was generally following the AT up. As I was unloading stuff off the bike at the motel, I kept seeing people go into and out of rooms. But there were no vehicles there. By all outward appearances, I was the only one there. It turns out that through-hikers on the AT use this as a stopover to clean up and get a good night’s sleep.

And this is where I was educated on AT thru-hikers. Here I am thinking…cool, fellow travelers. I can’t wait to hear some of their stories. However, I’d soon find out that they’re hard nuts to crack. I have 3 friends who have done the hike through and they’re all damn cool folks. I guess I expected the same. But for some reason, these hikers seem to have a particular dislike for motorcycles and their riders. I know, this is generalizing, but I ran into hundreds of what I perceived to be thru-hikers along the voyage and was met with the same ugly looks and sneers from each and every one of them save one single person! They do seem to be a truly elitist culture…either that or something in the book they all read makes them have a particular distaste for motorcyclists. The only thing I can figure is that they get tired of hearing open pipes day and night as we tend to share the same areas…good hiking usually means good riding. I gotta say, the straight pipes annoy the shit out of me as well, but I’ll live. At any rate, I experienced this up and down…the whole trip…only one friendly out of the bunch and she looked kinda green at it…too clean to have gone too far. I’ve said all this at the risk of stepping on toes, but it’s just an observation that was impossible to overlook.

The Big Walker at night…there’s a pretty cool outdoor area out front and it’s butt-cheap.

Looking in the other direction.

Day 3: Wednesday, June 4

Well, let’s try this again. I’m up again very early and checking the weather. It’s looking kind of like yesterday, but I have a good window to get some miles in before it catches up…if it does.

Today would be a decent riding day…temps were pretty good, but the roads were all wet. I was working my way toward the BRP now, having given up on Ken’s due to time. If I wanna be in Greenfield for the start of the PDR, I might wanna head that way. So more backroads it is until it starts really heating up. The weather people were talking about record temps in the northeast to come and I was feeling it. This would be a trend that would carry on and increase for the next few days. Those of you up there probably remember it…it got brutal toward the end of it.

In an attempt to get out of the heat, I started toward the Blue Ridge Parkway to pick up some elevation and made it to the northern terminus in on and off showers all day. My plan was to ride Skyline Drive through the Shenandoah NP and camp somewhere on the north end. However, the rangers at the gate had other plans for me. I was told that I could continue, but they strongly urged against it. Why I ask? They said there were several lines of supercell thunderstorms making their way there and should be in the park within the hour. Is this going to be anything like yesterday? Yep, they tell me…just like yesterday, but worse. Come back tomorrow, they say…this is gonna get ugly.

So I’ll make a long story short…I’m motelled yet again. This is getting old. Really old. However, I’d better get used to it.

What’s holding me up

Some time after making the decision to hole up in a motel again, I realized I’d made the right decision. These things came and went and a few tornado touchdowns were reported with fairly widespread damage…not the best time to spend the night in a tent if I’d even been able to find a campground and get set up in an hour. I won’t say I’m happy about it, but it is what it is. And after tonight, the weather’s looking better. Well, at least drier.

Today’s miles

I need to make some miles to get within shot of northern Mass by Friday night and I’m still riding backroads.

Day 4, Thursday, June 5

Indeed the weather is getting better. Just a few showers here and there. However, the mercury is climbing rapidly. I probably dumped a couple of gallons of water over me through the day.

Today I would discover just how many people there are in Pennsylvania. I don’t have an exact number for ya, but it’s alot. My usual method of taking backroads to escape the masses doesn’t work when the masses have overtaken the backroads. Nevertheless, I made some headway today…trying to make up for the last few days. Toward the end of the day I finally found camping at a little spot called World’s End State Park. Now just how can I pass up the opportunity to visit a place with such a name. However, I am wandering if I’ll make it through ’till tomorrow.

There are seemingly hundreds of towns that look like this…come out of one and you’re almost immediately into another. Cool for the first dozen or so, but it gets old in 90+ degree temps when moving from traffic light to traffic light.

Some really huge thing that appears to be an aquaduct that I’ve made look small ’cause I didn’t take the time to put it in perspective. Still, since the photos are lacking today, I’ll toss it in. Looks steamy, doesn’t it? All indicators inside the jacket conclude that it is indeed very fooking hot.

In all the riding and making up time, the pics are a bit lacking today, but stopping and shooting takes time. I’ve somehow gotten myself on a schedule when that’s the one thing I was trying to avoid. But at least I’m camping tonight. And in quite a great spot I might add. There are also lots of off-road riding areas here which deserve some serious exploration. It seems that this part of Pennsylvania makes up for the heavily populated areas…there’s nobody here…in fact it appears quite remote.

And finally…sleeping in the tent. It couldn’t have come sooner. And one of these days, I’ll figure out how to focus this camera

Some fairly lofty mileage was made today…roughly 500…I just might make it to the PDR afterall

Day 5: Friday, June 6

More of very little picture taking and lots of riding is in store for today. And it’s definitely as warm if not warmer than yesterday. How it’s supposed to work is the further you move north, the cooler it gets, I’m thinking. But it’s getting hotter. The weather folk said it would be like this, but jeez…do they need to be right about stuff like this? They usually just botch the good days.

I found tons of roads like this in PA and NY…well-packed gravel with nobody around.

Not in Kansas anymore Todo

Just as I was approaching Greenfield, having ridden all day in the heat, the sun just went away and I found myself on a curvy, hilly 2 lane road in the thickest fog I’ve encountered to date. And I’m faced with making a decision. Do I keep going the 30 or so miles even though I can’t see shit or stop and wait for it to lift? If I stop, it might just not go away and I’ll be kinda stuck here in the middle of nowhere all night. Or I can take advantage of the very little light I have and push on…wiping the moisture from my visor every 5 seconds or so and religiously watching my six for rapidly approaching traffic? Visibility was only a few feet. Taking everything into consideration, I decided to press on and made it into Greenfield and met up with Ike and Lee for a bit of dinner and catching up. I’m really glad to get off the bike…I’m mentally and physically exhausted from the heat and riding in the thick fog.

And I made Greenfield just in time…2 days of dirt/gravel lie ahead…schweet!!! We’ll ride from Greenfield to almost the Canadian border on as little pavement as possible.

Day 6: Saturday, June 7

Destination having been realized, it’s time to get to riding with some other folks for a while. Today is the first day of the Puppy Dog Run put on by the uber-cool folks up at the Vermont club. I never imagined how good the turnout would be. There were at least 50 riders.

Here’s the deal…we start in 2 groups…one from the north and one from the south. We’ll meet at Allis State Park, which is sort of in the middle, for a little shindig then the 2 groups will split up again and finish the ride. Again, it’s hot, but spirits are high and everyone seems eager to explore Vermont via the road less traveled.

I only personally knew a handful of this group, if that, but after the weekend, I’m glad to call many of them friends. I also can’t say that I’ve ridden with a better group…ever. Given sense of humor, wit, skill and patience, this goes down in the books as one of if not the best bunch to ride bikes with. I’ll ride with y’all anytime; anywhere.

A bit of a set of props is due to the people of Vermont as well. To this point, I don’t believe I’ve ever met a warmer, more friendly bunch. You guys made several days of many times crappy riding disappear from my memory. This goes for the whole state for the most part. Hats off Vermont…y’all rock!

Some of the group gathering for the ride…I’m stocking up on water as the weather dude says we’re in for a record breaking day as heat goes. He would be right.

There was a rather large group of us at this point, so we split into 3 groups of 10 or so spaced out about 5-10 minutes so that we’re not practicing the ‘herding of cats’ which often occurs when trying to pack too many riders together.

WTF…why are we stopped already?

This would be our first stop. And a rather unplanned one

We had a bit of an incident here. You may notice the Vermont State Trooper car in the photo. One girl in the group in front of us crashed on the bridge and it doesn’t look good. She scared the crap out of us as she didn’t move for a good half hour. As a few of us got her bike turned off and moved from the bride, others were calling in the rescue squad and generally trying to keep her comfortable until help arrived. What you can’t see here is a raised driving surface for car tires. These conspired to toss her off right in the middle of the bridge…not so much a soft surface. To our great surprise, the medics looked her over and after a while, she was back up and on the back of another bike. She was okay, but got her bell rung pretty good and had a bit of a banged up knee. Score points for ATGATT! She was suited up very well and it likely saved here alot of grief. More to our surprise, she caught up with us at another stop and had a big grin on her face. Too good to see it turn out that way.

Freaking Papparazzi…they’re everywhere!

And on to our next obstacle…somehow we happened upon a construction zone which had been avoided by the rest of the pack…deduced by the lack of any moto tire tracks through this area. The others went around somehow. M’eh…it ain’t so bad…just don’t look down to the right.

Ike’s turn

The virtue of traveling light

Near the end of the day’s ride…the floating bridge…Allis SP is just on the other side

You are here:

The rest of the evening was spent consuming frosty beverages, foods galore, and generally getting to know one another a little better and discussing the finer points of the rotation of the Earth and all the manmade satellites which orbit it. Oh, and I can’t leave out Peggy’s recitation of pi to somewhere on the order of 100 places past the decimal point. MENSA much?

This would be my first good experience with the tiny, yet astronomically annoying blackfly. We would encounter them again and again along the trip, but nowhere were they as bad as this part of Vermont. This is where they started and would be a factor from here north. One of the little bastards got me about 2mm from my left eyeball and I was unable to do much scratching due to the 10 layers of bug spray I’d applied in an attempt to ward them off…little shit found the only spot on me I hadn’t doused with chemical.

Of course at some point, we all had to rack out in preparation for the next day’s ride. Our group would shrink considerably the next day, but would be memorable nonetheless.

Day 7: Sunday, June 8

Today we aim to finish the PDR. Once the sun climbs well into the heavens, the heat gets rather Alabamaish. I came to Vermont for this? It sure doesn’t make the dairy farms smell any better, but the scenery sure is spectacular.

We’re whittled down to 5 today. Yesterday we had probably 10. Now it’s a group of mostly familiar faces…Myself, Ike, Lee, Bill and Everett…all certified CG inmates. I can’t possibly ask for better company. And as a group, we harmonized like a choir.

Lee enjoying a bit of a rest from the heat

Freaking papparazzi…they’re everywhere

Leaving the gear on just for the blackflies

Papparazzi…behind you!!!

Stupid, ugly, ole Vermont

Our day, more or less. I may have the location a tad off, but you get the idea

Tonight, we’d camp at a little indie joint close to the end of the ride where Lee procured some most awesome steaks accompanied by a couple of sides of beans and potatoes…a most excellent meal for tent-goers.

And I go thinking…should I put my rain fly on tonight? Just after dinner, I spotted a tad of lightning off to the west. And none sooner did I set to applying the rain fly and generally battening the hatches. Not 5 minutes after I’d finished, the first wave hit. We got what I suspect was an inch of rain out of that one. The next few probably dumped another inch on us. Somehow, while we were blissfully pining our time away staring at funny stuff on Lee’s laptop, our tents were fighting the rain off and leaving most of our gear reasonably dry for the sleeping hours. Go figure. 2 inches of rain in about 2 hours and we’re not sleeping in the water. Here’s to good tents.

I’d brought along the BBC’s “Planet Earth” series on my MP3 player and countered the persisting rain with the “Deserts” episode. For those who have not had the chance to experience this series, it’s likely the best set of films ever assembled. The photography is simply amazing and keep you pinned to the show like Vermont blackflies on humans in the summer. This helped keep me warm through the night and even helped out with some dream ideas as I dozed off somewhere near the end.

Goodnight Vermont. I look forward to another of your mornings.

Day 8: Monday, June 9

Today would be a rather bittersweet sort of day. Sweet in that we’re now moving into the White Mountains. Bitter in that I really hate to leave this crew. I had a rather fantastic time riding with them. However, I wouldn’t be leaving them all. I was telling Ike about this trip back in May and he had hinted that he might be able to come along…it was either that or he was going to the RA rally in Wisconsin or something like that. I feel truly honored that Ike would abandon such a grand event to accompany me to Cape Breton. Initially, I’d planned to do this trip alone. But the company is more than welcome…Ike’s a good traveler and better company.

Ike finally realizing what he’s gotten himself into…you can smell the concern on him. Or was that the eggs ;)?

Saying our goodbyes at the restaurant…a most excellent meal, by the way…a sign of things to come

It’s funny how things work out. I was chatting it up with Muriel at the PDR about the pitfalls of beauty and how it especially applies to motorcycling. Perhaps I should elaborate. You know how you’re riding along and see something really cool and it kind of takes your attention away from the task at hand…maybe something like holding control of your motorcycle?

Well, the next chapter isn’t quite that dramatic, but not much more than an hour after we’d left the majority, I found this…certainly beautiful and worthy of a stop and a photo or 2.

It was here that I realized that I had a real problem. While turning my bars past a certain point, I lost all electrics. I knew right away that it wasn’t going to be a quick stop. I signal to Ike that I need to find a place to have a look and start getting to the problem.

If you can’t fix it, beat it into submission

Ike’s a great guy…standing around taking pictures while I suffer through blackflies, heat, grease, tight places, and general fits of laughter at the situation

Just kidding…Ike’s rather handy with an umbrella

I even let him tinker around with the wires a bit

So we’re reasonably sure the problem lies somewhere in this switch housing

And there you have it…cut right into like someone took a pair of cutters to it

IMHO, a fatal design flaw, but that’s a different story to be put in the proper place directly. Note that the red wire is well on the way to being cut as well.

A temporary fix using a bit of Ike’s cel-phone charger wire

You know…as places to break down goes…this is kinda hard to beat. The bikinis came and went as we fixed. So we took frequent breaks to take in the wildlife. No pics of that though…Ike stole ‘em all and stuck ‘em to the inside of his glasses.

And just like that…we’re back in the farmland

It’s raining, but we don’t care…it’s just gorgeous up here.

And just like that…we’re out of the farmland and into the White Mountains…one of the places on my list to visit on this trip

It’s all I thought it would be and much, much more. I’ll be going back. I need to spend lots of time there. The crowds were thin, the roads incredible and the unknown dirt forest roads beckoning for exploration. We decided it a good idea to get a motel tonight in order to try and dry out some gear from last night’s rains. Of course, air conditioning isn’t useful up here, so we spend a very warm evening by a droning fan which is trying its best to dry out our stuff. After dinner, I set out without my bags to check out some of the local roads and take a few pics. We’re getting close to the time where I can finally slow down and put the cameras to work.

Today’s travels

Day 9: Tuesday, June 10

We’ve started seeing road signs for moose quite a bit lately. If the presence of those won’t slow you down, probably nothing will. And then there’s the deer. I’m spotting lots of them close to the road and they’re quite a bit bigger from what I’m used to seeing back home. They’re the size of small horses and I’ve seen just as many down on the side of the road as I have alive, telling me that strikes with these huge deer occur fairly frequently ’round these parts. I want no part of that. Ike had also expressed earlier that he had no desire to chase down performance awards, or blue light specials as he calls them, so we keep our speeds low. I’m cool with this. There are critters galore. Everywhere.

Evil things lurking in the night looking to eat your toes

Today we’re aiming for Calais, Maine…our entry point to Canada.

Mt. Washington ahead

Home of the worst weather in the world:

Notorious for its frequent bad weather conditions, Mount Washington’s climate can rival that of Antarctica. Well over a hundred people have died on the mountain, many having succumbed to hypothermia from wind chills which have been known to reach -120°F. And it was here, on the roof of what is now the Stage Office, where the world’s highest wind speed was recorded: 231 MPH.
The average annual temperature on the summit is only 26.5°F, with the records being -47°F and 72°F. On average, 256 inches of snow falls annually, with the seasonal maximum being 566 inches. Even months like May have seen around 100 inches! Mt. Washington’s mean wind speed is a gale-force 35.3 MPH, with hurricane-force winds occurring every third day (on average). (www.mtwashington.com)

No place to camp and it’s not too far from dark by the time Calais rolls around. Today started well enough in the mountains, but the ride got a bit boring toward the end of the day. We encountered quite heavy road construction…probably no less than 2 dozen projects across the state. And I can’t say that these parts of Maine are particularly worthy of much mention. It could be anywhere Mississippi. I’m sure there are some fantastic parts of Maine, but the way we took was a bit bland as far as scenery and riding go. I’d have said let’s do the coast, but crowds are evil. And the coast has crowds. And Summer season is gathering steam rapidly. Unfortunately, this seems to be the only way toward Canada in that direction, so we’re stuck with it. It’s an all day affair getting across Maine. Slowly.

Somewhere near Calais, our weather shifted considerably. The temperature dropped by a good 20 degrees by the time we got to the border. This’ll do nicely.

Waterfront motel rooms, really nice and clean, and cheap…I’m highly recommending this place if you’re in the area. There’s an outstanding local restaurant right out front too…not fancy, but good.

They could work on the location though…this is right behind it

To the border. Tomorrow we cross over into Canada, eh.

Day 10: Wednesday, June 11

Waiting in line at the border

The helm of the USS Tankalot

I think Ike could hold like close to 10 gallons of fuel…more than double my capacity. However, I’m getting close to 70 mpg most of the time…50 at its very worst (WFO).

I suppose I’ll take the first shift. I ride through to the guard and give him my passport. He sounds off a list of things I might be carrying. I repeat one to him…pepper spray. I have 2 very large canisters of bear spray on me. This or something else gets me served with a piece of paper…”Park your bike and go inside that first door please”.

I’d heard that Canadian border patrol likes to mess with US citizens and here we go. But actually the first woman I spoke with was quite pleasant and kept it less than officious. Until she asks me if I have a criminal record. “Other than tickets?”, I say. That’s all she needed to hear…she took my passport and I heard her giving my info to someone on the phone several times. Is it because I’m not shaving? Anyhoo, long story short, she comes back and says “your background check came back negative, let’s go next door to customs”. Customs? Who were you then?

Customs was actually quite a cheery place. Not that they had intended it to be, but there were exactly 2 people at the customs desk…2 women about my age and certainly worth writing home about. At this point, I’m hoping for the strip search. There’s something about a hottie in uniform…wrewrrrrrrrrr!!! So anyway, a guy materializes from somewhere and 3 of us stroll out to my bike for a good search…I’ve deduced this by the heavy gloves which are now going onto the hands of my captors. The girl, I believe, is a trainee. This may just be her first time doing this. I just plop my butt up on a nearby table and watch the show. But not before first apologizing for what they’re about to find. I did laundry a few nights ago, but there’s still a bit of dirty stuff scattered about. And when traveling on a bike, you just pick up this funk that kind of sticks with you. Anyway…I warned her about it and just set in watching. The guy had gone to search someone else, but would come back…he was more than tolerable though…I expected gestapo…you’d think we were all in a bar having beers by the conversation.

Anyway, we get to the pepper spray at some point. I’ve been told that I can’t bring pepper spray across the border. I ask the guard if there’s somewhere I can leave it…it’s kind of expensive…the stuff for bears. He says that’s just fine…I can bring the bear spray in, but not the small cans to use on people. Go figure. I don’t understand it. But I can live with that.

I’m not sure what they went looking for, but decided that I was a waste of time after getting through only about half the stuff and gave me back my bike to re-assemble. After a little currency exchange at the 1-1 rate, we’re off to explore. Not too long ago, we had a much more favorable exchange rate with Canada, but our declining dollar will make this trip a little more expensive than traveling in the US. However, at 70mpg and splitting room/campsites, it’s not much more than I was spending back in the US when solo. Rooms seem to have been around 30% more expensive than the US but the food was similarly priced. Some camping would be more expensive…some rather cheap.

Fleeing the border

The welcome signs to Canada should be changed to read “Welcome to Canada…It’s foggy, eh?”

We’re planning to catch the St. John to Digby ferry today which will get us out of New Brunswick and into Nova Scotia. However, after that little holdup at the border, there’s no ferry

It’s around one o-clock now and the next ferry doesn’t depart until 11pm. So we can either bum around here for 10 hours or get back on the bikes and ride toward Moncton. This we expect to take around 4 hours, so it’s an easy decision…we ride.

Our steeds…ready when we are.

But not before posing up Ike on some graffiti

Is this gonna taste French?

We put in a very long day today. I think we found camping at around 10 pm. On the water. Sleep came fast.

Day 11: Thursday, June 12

We set up in a private campground last night. It was definitely one of the livelier campgrounds I’d visited as far as night life is concerned, but we’d done lots of riding the day before and really only had one thing in mind…sleep. The first light of the day had gotten my attention and I thought I should have a look around in the light…we couldn’t see what we were riding into last night. Although just before the campground my headlights pointed out another horse-sized deer…this one much bigger than the last one I saw.

Wakie Wakie

It sure is good to be sleeping in the tent again. I’ll take it over most any motel room.

Plus, you don’t have to unload all your crap. I’m charging all my batteries from the bike and camping gives me a chance to do all that. Well, I lie…I don’t have DC chargers for my camera batteries…those require a motel or electric camping as they take several hours.

Something else has gotten my attention as well…my rear tire is wearing far too quickly. I usually get over 6K on one of these Scorpion STs. This one had right at 5k on it when I left. However, I’m only about 2,000 miles into the trip and I’m seeing a new tire in my near future…I’m really not wanting to push this one much further. It’s not so much because of the traction issue as it is the lack of tread inviting punctures. Plus it feels kinda funny cornering…there wasn’t a whole lot of curvy riding getting up here. This and the weight shaved plenty of rubber off. I’ll be needing a tire before returning to the US, I’m thinking. This should be fun. This isn’t an easy tire size to find anywhere…let alone in a fairly unpopulated area. And I’ve seen very few DS bikes along the way.

Camp Ike

The winds have picked up considerably this morning

It’s still been raining on and off throughout the last few days along with long moments of fog. Clear skies were very rare.

Just down the road from camp…looking for breakfast

These roads are starting to get some curves in them…me likey

I had my first experience with a Tim Hortons restaurant in Pictou, where we found breakfast. Here we also purchased a $10 phone card which would more than last the both of us through the trip. One of these really goes a long way. And it’s far cheaper than converting your cel-phone…so I’m told. I left mine off so it wouldn’t get any big ideas. Oh yeah…Tim Hortons. It’s kinda like a McDonalds, but everything is much better. And seems to be better for ya. Maybe we’ll get some down here.

I also attempted to call Dino for the first time while on this stop. He had been keeping up with the trip since before stopping and told us to look him up once we got near. He’s in Halifax, but we thought we’d give a shout and see if he could come ride some of this with us. It would be a couple more days before we could finally catch up with Dino…work, ya know? Sheez.

On down the road we go

Not this late in the year surely

Ike and I found what might be a lighthouse not too far from the Canso Causeway and stopped to kick the tires

Okay, so that’s not a tire…it’s a sweatshirt that I’d try to convince Ike had belonged to a guy who had been eaten by sharp little bugs. No respect for the dead, I tell ya.

I don’t see no stinkin’ lighthouse

Oooooooh, that lighthouse

These 2 had been following us around for half the day. We ran into them earlier while the one on the right was trying lobster for the first time

It was pretty funny watching her many faces as she tore different parts from the lobster and tried to decide whether on not to eat that part. She had come all the way from Edmonton to visit her friend for a week…out doing the exact same thing we were…just in a rental car.

They thought Ike and I should have a picture or 2 together…we oblige.

Wait a sec…I’ve got this other pose…

Toward nightfall, we started looking for camping and were having no luck with anything at all. Ike, however, had run across a guy who said we could go camp on his private land right on the Atlantic! Well let’s go check it out man!

This is too good to be true

And it actually was

This turned out to be community land…not the guy’s actual back yard. Given that and the fact that the ground was almost all rock and really tall weeds, we went looking elsewhere. The only good looking ground looks like it’ll be underwater in a few hours.

Day 12, Friday the 13th

Today’s ride

It just wouldn’t be Friday the 13th without some surprises, would it? We would try to make it to the Cabot Trail today.

Our surprise would be the weather again. Weatherdude says we’ll have a 30% chance of rain today. Otherwise partly cloudy. Americans and Cape Bretoners have different ideas of 30% chance of rain and partly cloudy.

After breakfast we go to load the bikes and realize that we’ve got some serious wind to contend with today. One of the locals and an inn employee sees us off and warns us against riding today. He assumes we’ll be traveling along the lake to get to the Cabot Trail. We’ve actually found some backroads which run the southern coast and will hopefully keep us out of some of the wind. Otherwise, we’d be right on the lake and getting even more wind.

As soon as we get started, we notice the temperature start to drop rather dramatically along with the wind still picking up. Now we’re getting a bit of rain. Just a little at this point. Still taking backroads, I find that one turns from chipseal to gravel rather suddenly then from gravel to deep gravel leaving the entire bike plowing from side to side, eventually emerging on the other side of the deep stuff. I came REALLY close to going down in that. I look back at Ike as he hits it…same thing. This would happen one more time and eventually we would come out onto pavement again. We’re running these backroads to stay away from the crusty local traffic. Some of these fools are running their machines…trucks mostly…at their limits in serious wind. I want no part of this and try to stick to the backroads.

About an hour or so from Sydney, we start coming out of the trees, which are shielding us from alot of the wind and the rain really picks up. At one point, we experience sleet. It has gotten cold. We are wearing the warmest stuff we have along and it’s not doing the job. We’d talked of stopping in Sydney anyway because of the boat races and now that’s our destination. Not too far into the afternoon and we’re calling it a day. It’s raining sideways and the temperature is in the 30s and 40s. This would go on pretty much all day and night. However, it’s the perfect opportunity to get out and explore Sydney, albeit in the rain and gale-force winds. I’m wanting to slow down a bit anyway and get in more foot time. This would be our worse mileage of the trip…less than 100. But we were both ready to stop after what little time we spent taking in the local weather.

The only picture I was able to squeeze in on the way to Sydney.

An attempt at dinner. The restaurant didn’t open ’till 5 and riding in the cold rain makes me hungry

These camp meals are really hit and miss. For the record, this is one huge miss. It looked like puke when done. It tasted worse. I waited ’till 5 and had some fish & chips then ran out to take some pics. I could see as we were eating that the boats were starting to come in. Like boats? Then here ya go…they’re racing around the world. ( www.clipperroundtheworld.com ). Crappy weather and all, I can’t miss this.

The boats are all coming into the harbor from here

I had to stand funny to keep from being blown over by the wind. It was rather impressive and made it challenging to hold the camera still.

Across from the harbor…starting to stack up on the dock.

At some point, I gave in and set about bugging security at the harbor to let me in. Somehow it worked…they let me right out on the docks. No background check this time. Schweet!

These are very modern and expensive race boats…not your pappy’s old sloop. AFAIK, they’re multi-million dollar vessels using the latest in construction materials and navigation aids.

I’ll shut up a bit and just post pics…

Got room for one more?

They say Shrek is gonna come in here later and play this thing

Backin’ it in

Indulge me for a moment here if you will and take note of how the crews are dressed. This is what we rode in today. Granted they have spray to deal with, but we had sideways rain too. And our cycles weren’t exactly made for this stuff. They’re starting to rust a bit as the air carries plenty of salt around with it.

I’ve tinkered with all these photos to make them appear a little lighter…otherwise you wouldn’t see a whole lot. It was getting dark and the clouds were thick.

A reunion? Happy moment? Both? Neither?

There was a film crew following the journey…lots of videos on the website

Remarkably clear of clutter for such a complex machine

Today we’d planned to make the Cabot Trail, but for obvious reasons, we’re here. We’ll try again tomorrow. We’ve stopped listening to the weather forecasts and just going and dealing with it when it comes. It actually works quite well with the theme of the island though. The locals were complaining of crap weather. I assumed it was normal and embraced it. The scenery and people warmed it up enough so that it wasn’t much on our first thoughts.

Day 13, Saturday June 14

Not being so sure of Sydney’s captains, we cross the bridge before it’s too late

…into North Sydney for fuel

To date, the most I”ve ever paid for fuel

Today we aim to make Meat Cove again via the Cabot Trail. We’ll see how it goes. All systems on the cycles are go…same with the cameras. I think I’ll let them do most of the talking today

The story of the moose:

It’s here that Ike and split up for a bit. Looking at the GPS and maps, I realize he can’t go far…this dead ends in the ocean with high mountains on either side. While stopped and re-arranging stuff, I hear a moose! A moose! I’ve been waiting all this trip to see one and finally I hear one messing around just under me.

He’s just down there…

It’s about here that Ike bursts my bubble

“Shhhhhhh, he says. Hear that?” Says Ike

I do sez me

That’s a buoy. sez Ike

Sadness overcomes me. The quickly fades. That’s no moose…it’s a sea moose! The venerable and rare sea moose by golly! Croikey!!!

More photos

Somebody’s little dinghies

One for Ken

It was here, at the end of the world, that we were persuaded to attend somewhat of a concert. The community was sending a lad to Scotland for a music conference because he rocks.

I believe the fiddle guy is the semi-famous one

Not that it mattered. Everyone was having fun.

The pianist in the background is blind, by the way…and a fine one he was.

You can’t take these kids anywhere

At some point, we must end the fun for the night. Ike isn’t quite ready to leave, so I tell him I’ll be at the Meat Cove Campground and will come looking for him if I haven’t seen him by the time I set up camp. The road up to Meat Cove is a bit of a treat. I won’t elaborate…you have to find out for yourself. This is the end of the world. Nothing beyond here but Meat Cove. Wander why they call it that? And why it’s the end of the world at the same time?

On the way up to Meat Cove Campground…they’ve built a lodge recently. And here’s how trusting they are with the place…

Butt cheap too. This place does not suck

This view comes with the meager price

What a ripoff

Ike finally makes it up

5 more minutes and he’ll be Canadian

There’s something to be said for random naps

The R80…napping

Giving Ali ideas

I challenge you to find a bathroom with a better view!!!

Will the stakes hold overnight? We’re on a bit of a slope here and the options aren’t pretty. I’d check the stakes at least 3 times during the evening

Earning my new nickname…Lieutenant. This I got from the Canadian military surplus jacket I acquired today. Did I mention it kept getting colder as we went? No shit…it kept getting fooking COLD! I know we’re in the North Atlantic and all, but sheez.

Ike at the end of the world

Well worth a cigar.

Ali at the end of the world

Nightfall on Meat Cove.

The Canadian flag proudly shouting its presence in the distance…another windy night for those above the mountains…a spectacular night for us!!!

To cap it off, a couple of locals brought us down some fresh cake leftover from their dinner. I can’t say enough about the people of this island…they truly floor me in the best way imaginable.

The worst picture of all, but still telling a damn good story on its own

Day 14, Sunday, June 15

We can go no further from home on land. This is where we must turn around and start the slow trip back home. I’d agreed to accompany Ike back to his truck which has been sitting for a month or so at Fauster’s house in Harrisburg, PA.

I certainly hate to leave Meat Cove, but there are more things to see and do. I could have spent a few days here just looking at the ocean. The guy who runs the campground said that he had seen a few whales pretty close in about 3 hours before he got there. Cool! Whales! This isn’t something I had thought of before, but I start looking. It would be quite a while before I would happen upon one.

Me looking to see where I’d have wound up should my tent have taken to sliding down the hill overnight.

It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. It wasn’t a straight drop…plenty of sharp rocks to break the fall, but it was still 50 or so feet down into rocks and water temps below 40 degrees F…fookin’ COLD!!!

My stats as of roughly the turn around point

Something else worth of mention…my FI is still acting up despite resetting the BMS a few nights ago. I can’t imagine what it might be. My idle is jumping from low to over 3,000 RPM and stalling whenever it gets the notion. This couldn’t have anything to do with the electrical fix. Could it be the salt air? I’d eventually figure it out, but I’m not gonna spoil the surprise

Riding back down from the end of the world…looking for breakfast

We assume it’ll be a while before we run across any food. But not 3 minutes down the road, across from here, we strike gold

It’s a really great restaurant which is just starting up. It seems that there is a bit of development going on in Meat Cove. This appears to be its infancy. It appears that if the locals here have their way, this will become quite the destination. I’m glad I got the chance to visit before it gets out of hand.

Ike had asked that I take pics of the photos inside the restaurant. Here ya go.

I’m a sucker for maps

They get a hair more snow than Nashville

I understand that it’s common to be unable to get out of your door in the winter.

The riding today certainly was spectacular. That made for fewer pictures, but big smiles. Afterall, I hadn’t been exactly overrun with twisties on this trip. Quite the contrary actually. I’d been riding so much in a straight line that my rear tire had developed quite a flat spot and it’s getting worse. I really need to get a new one and soon. I’m sort of concerned about riding anything but pavement here as punctures can occur rather easily with sharp rocks and a balding tire.

Running down the other side of the Cabot trail…I barn for Lee

Most of the land on the inland part of the Cabot Trail is a National Park…no roads through it. I’ll be that’s where they’re keeping Bigfoot.

More Cabot Trail…yummie

A bit closer to civilization…something wierd

More wierd stuff

We had somewhat of another mechanical issue here. Ike’s losing brake fluid…fast

After a bit of looking about, he figures that his front master cylinder is leaking. I suppose this is not good. So we set out about finding Dot4 brake fluid on a Sunday. Time would tell us that Dot3 is the Canadian standard. Nobody as gas stations go has Dot 4 and all the auto parts stores are closed on Sunday where we are. Pisser. Ike decides that he will just take it easy on the front binder as we continue looking for the elusive Dot4.

We’ve been more or less trying to practice one night camping; one night motel. So far the motels are ahead due to weather, but we’re not always finding camping where we’d like it to be. So it works out. However, I’m coming to the conclusion that my tent and sleeping bag are far less crusty than some of the rooms we’re finding. Tonight would be no exception.

These rooms are overpriced for the most part too. But again, splitting them between 2 people is working. Tonight we’re in probably the 2nd crustiest room yet.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, the Skye Lodge…fit for a king (Burger King)

Complete with thick fog.

Okay, you caught me. That’s not fog at all. It seems that Ike had gotten a bit careless with his cigar. As we were sitting down at the restaurant for a bite to eat, our waitress, hovering above us, screams “THE TRAILER’s ON FIRE”!!!

And indeed it was…here comes the cavalry…from all the way across the street

To take care of this small little issue

Not much to speak of, eh? I think it took me a whole 2.6 seconds to get from my dinner chair, to the room and retrieve the camera. This has only been burning for a minute or 2.

More help arrives

Hey, get that ladder truck down here, will ya?

The fire department seems to have known what they were in store for. Not only is that truck completely loaded with food (ehem, such that we were waiting to consume just a few minutes ago), but it is insulated with quite a bit of styrofoam.

More trucks get in the game

At this point, they’re kinda waiting to see which way it’ll go by my best estimation. None of the 5 trucks here can put a dent in it

Suiting up to go in…YIKES!

The whole area is now engulfed in toxic smoke. The fire marshall has asked that we keep a distance. We can return to our rooms when the fire is out. It’s cold as hell and windy, but at least we’re occupied. Aside from that, the building next to the trailer is in danger of going up…which could catch the whole place ablaze!

Finally, a ladder truck makes it from a nearby station

And is able to start pouring water/foam directly into the hot spots

This is a pretty amazing rig and as I understand it is equipped with a thermal camera and different nozzles in order to get where firefighters themselves can’t.

After a couple of tense hours, the fire is more or less out and we’re still hungry. Understandably, the restaurant has shut down for the night leaving us to forage for dinner via takeout down at the local A&W…what I’ll call the worst meal of the trip.

Oh, I almost forgot. We got to talking with one of the spectators about things and he told us of his applicable misfortune. He and his wife and kids were staying here for a few days. Last night, their house burned down!!! They lost everything, but he was in good spirits. She…not so much so. Can you blame her?

Now for sleep. I have to find a tire tomorrow. And we need to look after Ike’s front binder.

Day 15: Monday, June 16

Ike had decided that Dot3 will do just fine for the front brake. I feel no need to go on differently. The only difference is the boiling point and seeing that we’re taking it easy, he’s okay with that decision. Ike tops up the fluid and we move on.

After close to 2 hours on the phone, I’ve found a tire to fit the bike. It’s an 80/20 Kenda…that’s about as far as I get…I’m not being picky at this point. I tell the guy we’re enroute from the Canso Causeway…it’ll be several hours before we get there. He says if I yank the tire off, he’ll fit it for $20…beats doing it myself on the sidewalk. To Halifax we go.

On the way to Halifax…the most I’ve ever paid for fuel again

Just a few days ago, the Halifax area…namely south, was hit with some wild storms…some of which set some record wildfires

We had to ride through them to get to Dartmouth…a division of Halifax. We’ll get a tire here and hopefully finally meet up with Dino.

The 2 chests I’d hope not to see the whole trip…no treasure there. However, Dino is one fine inmate. Not only did he point us in the right direction so many times, he also refused to let us have anything to do with the food bill. Hope those deserts made it home well, Dino. And the next time you’re in Nashville, you can expect a grand feast at no cost to you. Thank you. I was floored at the generosity.

Dino and yours truly

As Ike has explained it from here, we should press on to Peggy’s Cove. I don’t argue…I just pilot. For the next hour, we’re riding through Halifax’s finest.

The only image I’d manage from Halifax…too many other duties going on

Moving in on Peggy’s Cove

Quite foggy

Peggy’s Cove before the sunrise

Day 16: Tuesday, June 17

As I figured I might, I wound up getting in somewhat of a hurry to finish this thing…leaving out plenty of parts that I swore to myself I’d include and watering down others for the sake of not having this hanging over my head. I hate leaving ride reports undone. I’ll attempt to slow down now and perhaps be a bit more descriptive instead of flying through photo editing and inserting stoopit captions for time’s sake. I’ll be going back later and adding things as they come to me.

My mind seems to ramble more when riding solo. Less than half this trip would be spent solo. When riding with one or more people, I tend to concern myself more with what the group is doing and less with what’s going on inside my own small cranial cavern. Perhaps this isn’t such a bad thing. When I’m on a trip like this, thoughts race through my brain like a little computer…only without the vivid memory of the instant moment. And I swear to myself that I’ll remember them as time goes and I’ll write them down ASAP. And I did try this. This would be my first trip traveling with an MP3 player. Not that I used it while riding (with one superslab exception), but it’s good to have in noisy campgrounds/motels when I’d rather hear what’s in there than what’s around me. And some campgrounds can rival raves in their noise levels. At any rate this particular player, a Creative Zen, has a microphone and recording function which I’d assume would let me take notes when I stopped at night to sort of recap the day’s journey and thoughts. As I’d learn my first night camping, this doesn’t work so well for that purpose. Maybe I’ll get it to do that one day. I’ll leave that at enough said. However, I’ve also realized that recording sound in a very portable and hi-fi way would be very a much welcome addition to future trips. Some of the sounds I experienced need to be part of the story. From the seemingly hundreds of cyotes experienced in my last night camping to the buoys clanging as the Atlantic waves struck them…these are some of the things that stick in my head as integral memories of the trip and very important.

For example…have you ever tried to watch a movie without sound? How about TV? How about someone talking and you can’t hear what they’re saying. Sound has an enormous impact on our lives. It can drive us bonkers or soothe the soul. The sounds of the ocean, the Atlantic in particular, work to that soothing end. The Atlantic sounds vastly different from the Gulf of Mexico, from which most of my marine experience lies. Actually, that’s a bit of a fib…most of my time on the water was spent on Wheeler Lake…part of the Tennessee river stretching roughly from Wheeler Dam to some other dam north of Huntsville, AL. I spent lots of time on that water too…some in a motorboat; some in a kayak. But the point is…each body of water makes its own unique noises. And in some ways, it’s the water that has drawn me to Cape Breton and the end of the road…the road which ends in the water.

Inland waterways, where I’ve spent most of my marine time, are relatively quiet for the most part. I did lots of fishing in my youth. The waters are murky, shallow (where I was), warm, relatively stagnant, and full of wildlife ranging from mosquitoes to heron. Minnows to gigantic catfish. The sound of a bass sucking down a fly off the water can be heard 100 feet away. And you can see where it happened.

The Gulf of Mexico is a bit more turbulent - obviously always in motion. It hosts an even wider variety of marine life from almost microscopic animals to decent-sized sharks. The beaches are, for the most part, a wonderful whitish sand which welcomes bare feet and all-day excursions along its shores. However, man and machine has prostituted most of its area with high-rises, houses and industry. However serene and exciting it appears to most, it has become a tourist mecca for both the rich and the poor. This has its good points though. I can’t cite any sources on this, but I have the feeling that the tourism industry helps keep close off-shore oil exploration at bay to some degree. I’m sure this will change. At most points now on the Gulf Coast, you are more likely to spot an oil rig than you are a dolphin. I clearly remember spending lots of time there in my youth. There were no oil rigs. Everything in the distance at night was the unknown…blacker than the blackest black. Now, the view boasts the lights of rigs…quietly yet visibly sucking liquid dinosaur from below the surface of the sea. The sounds here are sometimes difficult to pick out unless you can get yourself into an area more or less empty of humans. Humans make noise and there are plenty of humans of the Gulf Coast.

Actually, there have only been 2 times on the Gulf Coast I’ve been able to isolate the sounds of nature from that of man. One was at St. George State Park and one at St. Joseph…both in Florida. St. George island is full of homes and people and all that come with it. However, there is a state park at the end of the island which is more or less isolated from the massses. It seems that most wish to avoid it because of the lack of attractions. Fools. Sometimes I appreciate fools…this would be one of those times. I was there in late Fall when the water was still warm enough to swim, yet the air temps made you want to stay in the water. About 200 yards from where I was just swimming, a family of alligators lurks in the fresh water marsh. Legions of diverse bird species swarm the area. Dolphins are plentiful…dancing playfully in the calm Gulf waters. Walking the beach exposes endless variations of skeletons of long gone shellfish. And the sun slowly sets; exposing the new beacons of the sea…the bright lights of Exxon and the like.

I’ve always dreamed of exploring the Atlantic. Before this trip, I hadn’t spent much time there…only briefly soaking up a bit on a trip to Daytona many years before. I also spent some time on the Outer Banks (NC) last year, but most of the riding was inland a bit…you have to move out onto thick sandy roads to access the ocean proper and it’s not easily achieved on a DS bike weighing in at a total of roughly 800 pounds counting gear and rider on 80/20 rubber. It would be Nova Scotia before I would have my first real experience with the Atlantic. And not only the Atlantic…the North Atlantic. This is a different animal.

The water temperatures, according to local residents, hovered around or below 40 Degrees Fahrenheit during my visit. This is a whopping 8 degrees above freezing. No swimming today, thank you. The locals (Bay St. Lawrence) were also talking about this year being the first with no ice in the harbor at around this time. Ice or no ice, the water is cold enough to kill a human in under a half hour. Sort of. I had the process explained to me by a French sailor and I’ll try my best to paraphrase what he told me. At some point in the first 20 minutes of being submerged, the body slows its respiratory and circulatory functions to the point of near unconsciousness. At that point, it’s very difficult to move any body part and thinking clearly is right out. After that, the body can actually survive up to a couple of hours, yet the mind functions to the point of knowing more or less what’s going on. But you really can’t move. You can only sit there and wait for the inevitable…fish food.

The creatures in the North Atlantic are very diverse despite the very cold water. Whales thrive in it. As do lobster. I understand certain desirable for eating species of crab need even colder water. I’ve seen several dolphin here. I’ve seen what appear to be the same dolphin in 80+ degree water. Perhaps it’s the same species…I’m no marine biologist. There are no sandy beaches here. The beaches are trecherous and rocky. The waves are immense. The tides rule here, where tides in the Gulf coast are barely noticeable in comparison. The Bay of Fundy rises and falls over 40 feet 2 times per day in some places. In comparison, you may notice a foot or 2 on the Gulf Coast. Bears and Elk run right to the edges of the ocean here. This is a very beautiful, but at the same time, a very dangerous place. And the sounds are vastly different.

The ocean waves sound almost as menacing as their power. Although tranquil from shore, they’ve battered sailors and fishermen since man has dared to try and conquer the sea. The sounds of bells and whistles from buoys occasionally pierce the fierce North Atlantic winds. The sounds of the ocean crashing onto the shore drown out all but the loudest animals and their devices. Nature is in control here. And the inhabitants of this land know that in order to survive here, they must respect it and work with it instead of against it. And in the hundreds of years they’ve been here, it looks to the eye as primitive as if it had all been built just then save the power lines. These are a people truly in harmony with nature and the sea.

Believe it or not, I was able to extract very little of Peggy’s Cove’s beauty and record it onto digital film. Despite its being one of the most photographed places, if not the most in Nova Scotia, I failed miserably in that respect. However, I won’t take all the credit for that. Peggy’s Cove, however beautiful, hides a dark underbelly.

This is June

I’d arrived at Peggy’s Cove at around 9 am or so…perhaps earlier. Ike and I had packed up camp and hoped to get in there early to avoid the crowds we’d seen yesterday so as to take a photo or 2…uninhibited. I met June about 5 minutes after getting off my bike. Her friend, who you can’t see in the picture, was selling knitted stuff to all the tourists. This is where I become a bit baffled. Is she just hoping some will show? Some people are coming and going…some by car and some on foot…probably 10 people every 5 minutes or so…definitely crowded, but not overwhelming. I relay this observation to June and she says…’just wait’. So I do. We sit and shoot the breeze for a good hour. June has noticed something pop up in her garden recently that was rather unexpected. It seems that she’s had a phantom crop of poppies expose itself almost overnight. Well, I lie…they’ve been there for a day or 2. 2 days later, more than half of them are gone! HAH! Grow your own conclusions…I didn’t take them. Anyway, we had a most excellent talk. And near the end of it, I realize what she was saying by ‘just wait’.

Even though the area is mostly protected by law, encroachment by hoardes of tourists is a regular occurence. Ike and I had pulled in here at twilight, long after the crowds from the day before had gone. Had I been more perceptive, I’d have noted the size of the parking lots. They’re quite large. But I just assumed that lots of hikers and beach-goers flocked to the area for a day in the sun (2 months out of the year). I would soon learn that this wasn’t quite the case.

And all of a sudden, this happened

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where the fuck did they all come from? I knew I was seeing more people, but fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!! Here’s the scoop. We’re 25 miles from Halifax. Halifax, unknown to me, is a port for cruise ships. Each passenger on a bus pays $100 to have one of these bring them out here to hang with the same bunch of doofs they’ve been on the ship with for however many days. Suckers. And this is only a concentrated shot of the buses. I counted 40 before leaving! IKE!!!…LET’S GET THE FLOCK OUT OF HERE!!!!!

Believe it or not, I’d manage to squeeze off a few shots before and during the mass cruise ship exodus…skillfull in keeping all the tourists in one place they are (gift shops). Suckers!

I know what you did last Summer ?

After a good eyeful of all the tourists we care to see, Ike and I set our sights on Digby, NS. From there, we’ll catch the ferry to St. John, New Brunswick. This gets us back off the island and onto the mainland and on the way back toward Harrisburg. But not without, of course, surprise weather.

As I’ve mentioned before, these little bastards keep appearing everywhere. This would be the smallest deer I’d see and the only one I’d capture on camera. I’d estimate his weight at about 150 pounds…the weight of the bigger deer back here at home

And of course, once we get underway…instant fog

We’d go through clear spells then there it was again

But for the most part this day, it would be very thick.

Just another shot along the way

Just another day in paradise

And another short day was in store for us. We began encountering rain shortly after leaving Peggy’s Cove. Everyone we’d talked to today had been telling us of a unicycle race which was roughly running our route up to Bridgeport then on to Digby. We kept a keen eye out for the elusive one-wheeled creatures supposedly numbering in the hundreds. As best we can tell, they’re avoiding the rain as well. We’re totally soaked by Bridgewater…another moteller. Pisser. We’ll live though…Bridgewater was cool enough…

I actually really enjoyed the stopover in Bridgewater. There wasn’t too much to do there being a small town and all, but it gave me a chance to stretch my legs. I probably walked a good 5 miles aimlessly poking about the town. Well, I won’t say completely aimlessly. I did have an idea or 2.

When we pulled into here, it was raining cats and dogs. Our gear was soaked again as had become the custom on this trip. Just another day at the office. And as I believe I mentioned before, when cold, wet and dreary, I get hungry. So one of the things I’m seeking out is food. Ike and I had come across some quick gas station food on the way in, but I didn’t get much down and was still hungry…this time hunting seafood. Surely I can find some seafood in Nova Scotia. My other mission is to find a book. I left the one I had intended to bring at home because of size…it didn’t wanna play nice with the maps in my tankbag. And maps are more important reading. However, I now have room and desire for a little light reading, so that makes mission # 2. Ike is holed up in the room catching up with his wife via the phone and various and sundry via the motel internet. I’m sick of seeing the insides of motels and need to remind myself of where I am.

Again, there’s not much to do in Bridgewater, but there is a cozy little downtown as well as a mall within a mile of the motel. No pics of the area. I didn’t take a camera due to all the rain. After an hour or so of walking, I found that independent book store in an old house turned business. However, the store had closed a few hours before. No book for me today. Not here anyway. Another hour or so of walking and I came across that mall, which did indeed boast an open bookstore. I hovered around there for a good hour; scouring all the books and chatting it up with the sole store keeper.

This looked identical to any mall you’d encounter anywhere in the US complete with phone stores, clothing outlets, and a colorful food court. Actually, you wouldn’t know you weren’t right at home somewhere if it weren’t for the blinking green lights out in the streets. WTF do those mean anyway? I mean, they have steady green and blinking green. For some reason I’m waiting ’till now to ask. I got by fine for however long without that little sliver of knowledge. I wouldn’t find anything to my satisfaction as food goes in the mall. It’s all chain joints like Tim Horton’s and McDonalds…no thanks. I’m hoping to score a REAL meal including hopefully a little local fare.

Some things I just drop after a while and some deserve some true perseverance. I’m leaving Canada and the coast too soon and I’d like to get in as much local flavour as possible before returning inland. The lady in the book store suggested that I try a spot called Waves in the strip mall across the street. I remember passing it on the way over to the mall. And I had thought of stopping there on the way to the mall, but was waiting to get even hungrier. So Waves it is…a last ditch effort to squeeze in some fresh seafood before heading south.

Sometimes you really stink it up and sometimes you score big. This would be one for the books. In a good way. This little indie joint, Waves, showed me not only piping hot service, but also the best meal I’d had in all of 35 years!

Here’s how you find Waves

Here’s what you have to try…Haddock Au Gratin!!!

I’ll attempt to sort of describe the dish for you should you be so inclined to go out of your way. And I’ll try and emphasize it again…this is truly a dish worth going out of the way for. It’s sort of like a big bowl of chowder, but it’s chock full of haddock and who knows what else in a cream sauce. It’s served with a dozen fresh mussels on the side with a bit of drawn butter. Yeah, I know, I don’t really sell the thing well, but I figured the new title of the ‘best meal ever’ should carry some weight.

To shine an even more positive light on my evening is the fact that I seem to have found myself a most excellent way to pass some time.

After scouring the store looking for good adventure stories and coming up empty-handed, I remembered that most of the good ones I’ve read have been history. Duh. To the history section. This certainly qualifies. The author, Captain Joshua Slocum , tells the story of the first man to sailed around the world solo…by himself. How can I resist a story like this? One full and one partial sentence should be enough to get you to the book store to pick up your own copy; here goes: ” The first man to sail around the world all alone was a brown-bearded, bald-headed Massachusetts skipper named Slocum. He was fifty-one when he started from Boston on April 24th in the Spray, a 37 foot sloop of 9 tons register net which he himself had rebuilt from a derelict hulk.” Although departing on his most famous journey from Boston, Slocum was actually from Nova Scotia…Annapolis County to be more precise.

Perhaps the most impressive part of the story is Slocum’s means of travel. Would you sail around the world in this?

Okay, that’s enough of the story. Go get your own copy…you won’t be disappointed. I’m still reading it and for what it’s worth, it just keeps getting better.

Tomorrow we’ll try for Digby and the ferry again.

Day 17: Wednesday, June 18

Today would begin as the rest of the others lately…nice & foggy. I expected no more or less. Actually, expectations of any sort have gone away for the most part…but especially where the weather is concerned. I don’t think it’d be so much of a good idea to embark on such a trip with too many expectations. That’d be almost downright foolish, as nothing ever goes according to plan when traveling. Weather held us up at very few miles yesterday. We have no reason to think that it won’t again today. But at a little after daybreak, we start for Digby. For the ferry to St. John. We’d missed the St. John ferry coming in the other direction last time. Little did we know it only runs once per day some days; twice others. But now we have a schedule, having picked that up on the way in at St. John.

The ride from Bridgewater to Digby is inland…more or less crossing that part of Nova Scotia. It’s a pretty quick ride to get all the way across NS…only a couple of hours. But we wanted to leave early in the case of any mishaps. Getting there a couple of hours early won’t be a bother. We’ll get to check out Digby.

And that’s just how it went. A couple of hours and we were in Digby without incident. Before going out to check the town, we bought our tickets…a rather lofty $90 to cross the Bay of Fundy on the Princess of Acadia. Ike paid 70. Or was it 80. I dunno exactly, but he got a break for not being in his 30s. I paid full price. Once tickets were in hand, we set out for Digby again. As usual, the continental breakfast didn’t do the trick. Cold hard boiled eggs, stale cereal, milk/oj from a bag, and various unidentifiable pastries of completely consistent size and shape isn’t my idea of breakfast. Call me spoiled. If there’s one thing I really appreciate on a bike trip, it’s a hearty breakfast. Seeing that I’m on the 2 meal per day plan, I’m usually considering breakfast the cliche-ish most important meal of the day.

But why complain now? We’re on the way to Digby to find real food. And real food we’d certainly find.

Enjoying a very fine bowl of seafood chowder at digby. Yeah, I know, I forgot food pics. I was hungry.

Digby Harbor

The ferry was a bit more than I’d expected. The only ferries I’ve ever ridden have been open-deck boats where you drive right on and hang out next to your bike if you want to. My experience with them is limited to the ones which run along the Outer Banks. They’re all the same. I don’t know why exactly I expected them to be like that. This one runs through the Bay of Fundy which accepts and deposits its waters from the frigid North Atlantic. No, this ferry certainly isn’t much like the OBX ferries. It’s more like a cruise ship.

Departing Digby

I’d been thinking about taking a cruise at some point. I don’t know if it was a girlfriend who had it in mind or what, but I’d thought of it. I mean…why not? It’s a boat. I love boats. It’s going across a pretty big chunk of water. I like water. And big chunks of it are no exception. Cruise lines always do well in making their boats look like rather attractive ways of spending time…pretty girls, abundant sunshine, flowing drinks, everybody’s having fun…what’s not to like?

Then I think of what it’ll actually be like. And what I’ve heard. First of all, you’re sort of trapped. They sell you on the idea and then you’re on. Is it what they sold you? Who knows. But I’m guessing most cruise ships leave with several thousand people on board. Let’s say 2,000 for shits and giggles. 2,000 young, single, outgoing folks locked in the same acre sounds sort of good on the surface. You get to meet lots of folks, everyone’s on vacation, everyone’s at least trying to have a good time, plenty of good food, you can get some sun and check out some exotic locales. The ultimate in relaxation.

Okay, let’s start with the exotic locales. Happen to recall the portion from Peggy’s Cove in this story? This was an exotic locale for all those cruise ships. To refresh your memory, everyone there had paid the bus company $100 to drive them 50 miles round trip there to see something unforgettable. What they got was a grossly overcrowded tiny, tiny, tiny town with the same folks that were just on that ship. Now taking that into account, I got a good eyefull of what was on that ship. And it was not pretty girls, abundant sunshine and flowing drinks. What I saw was scores upon scores of really old couples and the occasional family all clad in fanny packs and sporting compact cameras…taking pictures at every spot recommended by the signage. Nobody looked all that happy. And we couldn’t wait to get away from them.

Good food? I have no idea. I sincerely hope so. Certainly everyone we saw looked extremely well-fed.

Getting some sun? In Nova Scotia at this time of year? yeah, right.

Ultimate in relaxation? My idea of the ultimate in relaxation is finding a nearly abandoned beach, forest or otherwise and soaking it all in. A cruise ship is neither abandoned, beach, or forest. Conversely, it’s a huge steel hull full of vibration, noise, commotion, and traffic awash in its own set of rules, policies, and limitations. It’s basically a large hotel that you can’t leave no matter how badly you want to escape. You’re stuck.

From what friends have told me, when you pull into port in warmer locales, you’re pretty isolated from what actually goes on in the area. For example…Jamaica. I have friends who have taken a cruise to Jamaica. When they got there, they were herded into a tourist area, warned against leaving a certain perimeter, and told to be back at a specified time. Back to the teenage parental years anyone? No thanks.

But I’d pretty much had all this in my head before getting on the ferry. We’re only gonna be on here for 3 hours. And although we won’t have a stateroom, I’m guessing that this won’t be entirely unlike a cruise ship. The ferry is very big. I walked the deck for a good half hour without seeing anyone else. I’m guessing this is because it was quite cold out and moving at 30 mph works up a good breeze, especially in the rain and fog. But I appreciated the solitude. But at some point, it got too cold for my gear and I can’t get back to my bike for more clothing so I mosey inside to warm up a bit and get a snack. If you’ll recall, cold and wet makes me hungry. I wander if I can find some cheesecake inside?

Not only do I find some of the best cheesecake I’ve ever had, but there are tons of food choices. The boat is FAR under capacity, so the crew is limited, but still plenty of food on board. There are several large rooms on the boat. The one up front on the lower level resembles an airport lounge, but the chairs are much better…like 1st class airline seats (sans leather) but in long rows. There are some on the side too. Behind that in the same room is a theater with a movie playing (Fool’s Gold). The sound was too low to overcome the crowd…seems that most have converged on this part of the boat…but it’s something to do. There’s also a mini-arcade right behind the theater so that you can go play games and disturb all the folks trying to watch the bad movie. I have some cheesecake there and move on. The room behind it is a quite large dining area. Between these 2 is the commisary and gift shop (open for only 30 minutes during flight) as well as stairwells and elevators and many doors leading to up and down.

The upper floor is almost as big. The front also had big row seating and another theater with screens in the middle playing to the port and starboard sides, although the screens were not turned on. Behind that was another area with 2 small rows of gambling machines and internetted computers and a bar. Bar good, but we’re riding. As much as I like my malty beverages, I have a rule about drinking and riding…only after…never before. I’ve never broken this rule and never intend to.

The upper lounge windows and wheelhouse

After an hour and a half of that, we emerge from the fog and rain and get back into only clould skies…fair weather as NS is concerned on this trip. I’d see the sun very little and just got used to it. And since I’m wearing ATGATT, it’s not such a bad thing. But I did get that unscheduled whale encounter…while all the other suckers are inside. There is something to be said for cold wind and spray…most don’t listen.

A whale off in the distance

Big ropes

Okay, how’s about I shut up for a while and just post up some pics of the boat?

Think I pushed it?

Approaching St. John

St. John, NS

We rode in the butt of this thing and will ride out the nose…which pops up to let us out.

Tossing the rope over

This 18 wheeler missed my front wheel by a few inches pulling in here. Yikes!

Trapped

The surface that you have to drive on on these things is like icy wet moss, only slicker.

Departing the ferry in St. John showed us the good weather we had on the way in. But with a twist. We’re taking the Trans Canada back down to the border at Calais, ME…the point where I was unceremoneously held up for an hour or so on the way in so that Canadian officials could decide whether I was worthy.

The Trans-Canada from that point is somewhat similar to US freeways in that there are separated 4 lane highways for the first some odd miles then 2 lane the rest of the way. About the time the road went from 4 to 2 lane, we hit the thickest fog yet. Some people just keep chugging through this stuff. I, on the other hand, refuse to ride faster than my line of sight. In this case, my line of sight was working at no more than 20 mph. Ike had a large, tall windscreen which blocked most of the moisture from his visor. My shortie Dakar visor, which is great for hot weather, failed me miserably in the overhumid conditions. I was limited to 20 mph where the rest of the traffic carried on at a balmy 70 mph! At this point, I’m thinking that I’m pretty sure I know what causes crashes. It’s the speed differential between 2 vehicles. Show me differently and I’ll buy you an ice cream cone. I’m stuck. But I keep riding…just on the shoulder of the road…WAY over to the right and ready to take the ditch should I see something off course…watching my 6 religiously. For over 2 hours I would repeat this ritual until we eventually came upon the border and crossed without incident. Getting back in was FAR easier than getting out. Again, as I’d been told, the Canadians like to fuck with us. The US border patrol was glad to see me back home in 1 piece. Actually, the BP officer’s husband had run the Paris/Dakar race at one point according to her and the Dakar decal on my faux tank had peaked her interest. “No, I haven’t done the race…just riding the bike named for it through Canada”, or something like that. She goes on telling me how much of a nutbag I am for riding through all that fog then waves Ike forward as I wait for him on the US side. Again, no problems for Ike.

Not only would we score a room in the same joint we stayed in on the way in, but it would be the exact same room we had on the way. Perchance the only room they had left and by my estimation; the best they had to offer in Calais (pronounced callus - yes, the not so desired skin condition). As had become custom, Ike took the helm of the USS Samsung while I took a late night stroll…soaking in the air for one last time. I’m on the way back home and I’m not happy about it. I could stay out for months more. But duty calls. I must return home. Getting ahead of myself again.

Before sleep gets me, I’ll take in, to date, my favorite passage in Slocum’s book. If you’ll recall, I’ve picked up a book along the way. He has come to a point where he’s rather concerned about savages, having witnessed them at various points along the way. Somewhere along the passage through Cape Horn, he writes:

“Now, it is well known that one cannot step on a tack without saying something about it. A pretty good Christian will whistle when he steps on the ‘commercial end’ of a carpet tack; a savage will howl and claw at the air, and that was just what happened that night about twelve o’clock, while I was asleep in the cabin, where the savages thought they ‘had me’, sloop and all, but changed their minds when they stepped on deck, for then they thought that I or somebody else had them. I had no need of a dog; they howled like a pack of hounds. I had hardly use for a gun. They jumped pell-mell, some into their canoes and some into the sea, to cool off, I suppose, and there was a deal of free language over it as they went. I fired several guns when I came on deck, to let the rascals know that I was home, and then I turned in again, feeling sure I should not be disturbed any more by people who left in such a great hurry.”

To paraphrase the situation, someone had given him a sack of tacks at port days earlier and told him that they would prove better than a sack of gold. He was correct! As a defense, Slocum had lined the deck of the boat with carpet tacks knowing that the ’savages’ were always barefoot. Suckers.

His makes my adventure look like a midnight trip to the toilet with the lights on.

Today’s miles

Day 18: Thursday, June 19

Warning: Strong fucking language today.

If you were paying attention before, you may have picked up on my dislike for most of the state of Maine. I’m not sure exactly what it was. Perhaps it was the persistent road construction. Perhaps it was the rude people. Perhaps it was the rain. Perhaps it was the climbing temperatures. Perhaps it was Laconia (sp). Little did I know, or maybe I did, that the infamous Laconia rally was happening in NY at about this time. For the uninitiated, it’s a rally of mostly chrome-type motorcycles and riders which descend on some point unseen by us for a week or so of debauchery and then some. Over the entire next couple of days, we’d be graced by the presence of those chromy vessels which seemed mostly to ascend snout upon us DS types…probably mostly because of the roundel.

I’ll make it clear here and now that I have no adversaries in motorcycling…in such that there are adversaries in motorcycling. Let’s call it Ford vs. GM. You know…Mustang vs. Camaro. But some BMW and Harley riders share an adversity common to the US carmaker rivalry. I’ve had a Harley rider save a trip of mine and went well out of his way to do so. We ride German machines which are generally used for touring. As do HD riders. And there are endless jokes regarding reliability and longevity betwixt. When in fact, we’re all doing the same thing…travelling. But still, the adversity is there. And, fortunately, most is comical. We jeer at the HD riders for sporting chromy, unreliable lumps of ass jewelry. They sneer at us and call ’snooty’ and overprepared. Whatever the case, we’re all riding bikes distances and having a good time. Some take it further than others. But we all have fun in the process. I will say that I’m genuinely tiring of waving at motorcycle riders at this point…they’re more common than cars. And they’re ALL chrome. We dual sports are outnumbered bigtime. And Ike’s bike is teetering on the edge of DS and road bike…so I may just be the only dual sport bike I’ve seen in 1000 miles. And I’ve picked up another habit of ignoring mostly anyone not wearing a helment. I don’t acknowledge dead people. I’ll leave that right there if it’s all the same to you.

The roads we travel through Maine are some of the worst I’ve ever encountered. They’re ass full of traffic and the people are ruder than New York. In fact, I don’t recall a group of ruder folk, bikers excluded. I’ll forgo the details…I don’t care to recall them. I’ll bury them back with the memories of lane crossers and bad bathrooms. Let’s just say that mid-Maine is Steven King’s Maximim Overdrive on crack. Suck. Pure suck. And not in the porno sense. I’m sure there are decent parts of Maine, but what I’ve seen I’ll equate to Mississippi on its worst day. And I”ve spent lots of time in Mississippi.

Waiting out a storm somewhere along the way

At almost the terminal point of our trek across the not-so-great state of Maine, I say to Ike across a construction zone “we’ll get across the New Hampshire line and there’s gonna be a double rainbow”. At this point, we’re 10 miles from New Hampshire. It’ll be another hour before we actually cross the line. And not because we’d like it to be that way…but because of all the road construction. And backroads leading in the direction we wanna go are non-existent. If I remember correctly, we’re needing to cross a river or 2 and there’s no other way. I’m out of my GPS map set too…no getting off the main roads. We have to continue with the masses. This is really testing my patience…Maine should not take all day and be this shitty at the same time. Mississippi is not this shitty. Not near this shitty. Maine, in my eyes, has become the new Mississippi. Fucking fuck. Again, to try and save a hair of face, I’ve seen pics of parts of Maine which are breathtaking. I did not find any of those places.

And then as the dusk is closing in and we’re thinking of camping/motel decisions, we break into New Hampshire. Fer fuck sake thank FUCK we’re out of there!!! I’m sure Maine has many redeeming qualities, but we didn’t see any. Perhaps on the next trip. I believe the problem is that the northern part of the state is more or less closed to vehicle travel. Which is fuck good. But the part which you have to get through to go the way we went is for the fuck birds and the fuck birds and the heartiest of truckers. It’s a bunch of fuckall. And not only is it fuckall…it’s where the heat picks up again. I’ve been in cold temps for the last week and a half and now we’re getting back into fuckall US temps. I was just getting used to the the metric system

So we’re stuck with the find camping or motel decision again. Thunderstorms loom and the room wins. However, the rate is good and the place looks okay. Until we get settled. As Ike would explain to me, this is a work camp made from a motel. Fuckall. If I’m staying here, I’m having a stiff drink…leftover from a bottle of rum procured days earlier. So I mixes my drink, settle into my chair next to Ike as he’s enjoying a cigar and look away at the eastern sky…which displays suddenly a DOUBLE RAINBOW!!! Read back if the 3 ex marks mean nothing to you. I should go buy a lottery ticket now. Hot shit…a double rainbow? Even the shady prisoners in the room next to us are impressed and call loved ones to tell them of this phenomenon. And rightly so. It’s something to behold. The air is warm…electric if you will…and sporting a double rainbow. We’re definitely not in Maine anymore.

And pictures don’t come near doing that most beautiful sight justice. It was far larger than it looks in photos. It was severely surreal. It brought out everyone in awe. It has to have been one of the 7 wonders of at least my existence. I’m pretty sure I’ll never see one again. Perhaps it’s Maine’s way of telling me to come back…afterall, I’m pretty sure its terminus’ were in Maine as we were just out of those borders.

Yet another crusty motel room. Should you find yourself here…keep moving…at least for now.

On a side note, I’d have finished with this report by now, but Comcast has decided that I’m a bandwidth whore and has cut me off. So I’ve been forced to take on another carrier…Clearwire. It’s great for browsing and not so bad for online gaming. However, they prouldy block certain ports and practice bandwidth throttling. Doing a 20 meg upload? You’d better have an hour to kill. While I dig the simplicity and portability, it suxors for bigger file transfers. And these are my only 2 options. Perhaps I’ll try to make good with Comcast…the lesser of evils.

Given the current speed of my internet connection, I’ll forgo a map for today. I’ll come back and stick it in as bandwidth allows

Day 19, Friday June 20

Back out on the road. Just another day in paradise. We’d contend with a bit more of this today

For reference, this is what lots of Maine had in store for us. You can probably see why the pictures through there were thin. There wasn’t much to look at. But enough about Maine. It’s history for now. And we’re back into what I’m calling my new favorite state…New Hampshire! Well, once we get out of this, that is.

Getting bored

Mmmmmmmm, more traffic. I’d do anything to have my map detail back right now

Got something to say, eh?

Hrmmmmmmmm, still bored.

Nothing of real interest to speak of today. We just rode…a good bit in the fog and rain again. Still getting warmer…probably 5 degrees or more per day. Keep in mind that we’d been in the 30s and 40s just a few days ago and I have no complaints about that. Today it gets to the point where all the gear except for the outer jacket shell and pants goes. Everything else is shoved in the steadily decreasing area of the compartments remaining.

But on a good note, we’d be able to camp tonight. To be completely honest, I have no idea where we set up camp. We’re slabbing it now to make some time. So there is no map. We’d start contending with storms again, so we put up somewhere close to where I’d just had enough of it all. I was tired. Tired of interstates, traffic, storms, rising heat, shit food, and trying to reach a certain point. I don’t normally ride like this. But we’re trying to make Harrisburg . Perhaps tomorrow. At least we’re camping. I got in my tent before the sun had completely set. This is very rare for me. I just wanted to get the last couple of days behind me. Did I mention I HATE this type of riding? If all motorcycling had to offer was interstates, I’d never ride again. I HATE interstates. And I don’t like them either.

Day 20: Saturday, June 21

Today would start out slowly. We woke fairly early to a thick blanket of fog. Great…not only are we doing more superslab today, but we’re doing it in the fog. Wonderful. Love it. I’m turning into a crabby old bastard, I tell ya. Or is it that weather has tried my patience for 3 weeks now?

More of my favorite riding conditions…illustrated.

About a mile from our destination…Fauster’s crib…we run across this:

Note Ike in the distance trying to figure out why the hell we can’t pass the USS Vanintheroad. Turns out that that lovely vessel belongs to a local rescue squad member and there’s a wreck ahead…somebody pulled a new car out in front of a not-so-new one and got themselves a t-bone dinner. And now it’s fooking HOT. We’ve broken into the 90s and all I can think about is getting back into the mountains for some temperature relief. After a good 20 minute layover, we’re cleared to proceed…to Fauster’s and Ike’s rig.

From here, he’s headed back to Columbus with a trailer full of bikes and tears in the eye…he’s gonna miss my grumpy ass for sure. I’m actually gonna miss Ike too. He’s pretty damn good company and even better to have on a trip. See, Ike instantly disarms even the most rowdy of characters within seconds of appearing. I seem to repel and anger them, so the synergy keeps things more or less balanced. Bon Voyage Ike. I’d love to sit and chat, but it’s hotter than Shrek’s nutsack out here and I’m looking for altitude. I’m aimed at the northern end of the Shenandoah…AKA Skyline Drive. I’m told that is something to do once. Hmmm, only once, eh?

Once I’m more or less out of what Fauster declares has nothing to do with Harrisburg, I miraculously get my maps back again. BACKROADS!!! FUCKING WOOT!!!

Gotta watch out for the squids though

Fauster, you sure have some great backroad riding around your hood. Not many pics…just enjoying having backroads again. But the barns/farms were rather picturesque.

What’s up with this place? Oh, what I’d give for one of those within spitting distance of my joint.

I wound up finding a campsite somewhere near the middle of this map, but I can’t find a name. This was a weird sort of camping experience. Everyone here seems to have found his/her way via the map they were given at Walmart. It seemed that absolutely everyone was a beginner camper…there were tons of families and quite a few couples. Of course I’d be the solo oddball. But my neighbors were nice enough and later I would notice something very nice about this place…there were only 2 motorhomes in the campground…the host and co-host. Everyone else was tenting. WOOT!. And even though it was loud at times, I was 3x more than happy to be back amongst backroads and tents.

I’m enjoying riding again. The roads are roxors; fairly void of other people, and I’m camping again. WOOT! Goodnight Maryland. And thanks for the good night’s sleep.

Day 21: Sunday, June 22

Just as quickly as I’d put up the past day, I’d returned all my gear to the bike and set about finding the northern end of the Skyline Drive. I’m not dead set on this ride, as I’ve seen it from a distance from the western end, but am gonna take a look at the traffic at the top and see if it’s worth the $20 ticket to have a go at it.

As it turns out, the 5 minutes I spent at the gate were enough to tell me that I had no interest spending $20 bucks to tool around with the rest of the Sunday traffic. I’ll take the backroads again, thank you. And backroads I’d find. Holy Shit did I find some terrific roads paralleling Skyline Drive. Grinny ride today, folks. It’s still hot as hell, but I’m back to open vents and pouring gallons of water over me. The scenery is taking the heat off my mind.

At some point along the way…probably already passed it verbally, I noticed that Harper’s Ferry, VA was close. I get geographically challenged at times…pardon please. At any rate, it was the last thing I wanted to do getting into the touristy part of Harper’s Ferry, but I no sooner turned off to make an adjustment when I realized I’d done just that. Bawls. Oh well, might as well see what all the hubbub is about.

Basically, you can ride through a good bit of the town. I spent maybe 2 minutes in there, riding slowly, again picturesque if you like pictures of tourists. Holy crap…the camera flashes were going wild…snapping up thousands of images of tourists touring. What a treat! Now, if you take this same road I was on, take a left at the dead end and then a right at the RR tracks, you can somewhat get away from the crowds. Actually, it’s more like rural Alabama back here. SCORE. Less folks. I see a few folks fishing along the river, but other than that, I have this shitty, torn up, heavensent of a road running along the river.

Vultures pissed ’cause I’m breaking up the buffet

Famous Harper’s Ferry, VA!

K, flying under the birds now…no pooping

Gimme this all the way home and I’ll never ask to ride another bike again

Okay, so I’d ride again

Camper for sale…cheap!

And wouldn’t ya know it…I’m not the only one on the trip with a brake fluid issue

At the first available point, I stopped at an auto parts store and picked up a bottle of DOT4 and some nitrile gloves, found myself a shade tree, and set about trying to figure out why my reservoir was spewing fluid every time I gave the front lever a squeeze. It’s leaking around the upper cap seal. After pulling it and having a good look, I could find nothing wrong and the fluid was plenty topped up…levels in good shape. All I can do is take it easy on the front binder and keep an eye on it.

And I do that all the way to Waynesboro. Yip…Waynesboro again. Can you guess what happens next? You should be able to given the first part of the story. Today would be no exception and the storms would fire up again in the afternoon once again stopping my progress. I’ve been riding for a good 8 hours on backroads and am ready for a break. After doing this every day for 3 weeks, I’m a firm believer in pacing myself. I’m calling 8 hours a full day. And remembering that I scored a phenomenal deal of a room here on the way up, I go back. I get the same deal. Right next door to where I was last time. And in time to enjoy more of the town and a good dinner of seafood lasagna.

Back at the motel, I wound up striking up several conversations with different riders who were also holing up there because of the weather. Even if you find a campground here, you’re pretty close to sea level and it’s hot and muggy at night. I spent a good 2 hours talking with a couple from Alaska riding a Gold Wing trike complete with matching trailer. Nice folks and good conversation and even got to play around with all 2000 pounds of that thing for a while…all the buttons…it’s like Star Wars on wheels. Not my style, but they’re out riding. That’s what it’s all about, eh? There are mostly Harleys and Wings here…breaking from the BRP. This seems to be a pretty popular place for bikes as it is the northern terminus of the BRP and southern terminus of Skyline Drive…perfect spot for a meal and a nap. I’ve stayed here twice now and loved both times. The town is just the right size for getting used to.

With little else to do today but re-arrange some gear and get some rest, I get to it while I let more thunderstorms and power outages sing me to sleep.

Big miles today, eh?

Day 22: Monday, June 23

Well-rested and ready for the weather again, I set out for the BRP. I’ve never ridden the whole BRP end to end and am thinking this might be a good time to do it. Or will it? The winger from last night was telling me that there are 2 detorus ahead…one around Boone which is reasonably short and another around Asheville which will require me to ride 40 miles of I-40. Interstate? When I’m trying to ride the BRP all the way down? Say it ain’t so. Well, it would be so. Maybe on the next trip.

I sopped down some of my cereal bars for breakfast, remembering what the conti breakfast was like here, and head on down the BRP in fine spirits and looking forward to the ride. The BRP, If I haven’t mentioned it before, has to be my favorite road anywhere. And since I’m expecting light traffic today, even better. Sometimes you score. Today, traffic would be particularly light. And even though it would rain a little, this would be one of the lighter days of it. And I should be able to get past Roanoke and back into the high country before it gets too hot.

Roanoke, actually approaching it from the south, is where you begin to lose most of your altitude for good as the BRP goes. And altitude is my friend today. It’ll be getting hot again…mid 90s and plenty humid and I want none of it.

Somewhere along the BRP

Now WTF…getting this shit on the BRP too? I’ve never encountered as much road construction in my life as on this trip

Guess I’ll take another picture of myself while I’m pooting along. I just loooooooooves the camera.

Fog all around, but it’s below me. No complaints there. I’ve had enough fog fer now, thank you

Wishing I had a fishin’ pole…gotta be some fish in there. I did alot of largemouth bass fishing growing up in Alabama and this is where we always found the big ones. It ain’t easy getting a lure in there, but running a plastic frog or worm across the top can yield huge results.

Closeup

This is a little pond off the side of the road where I stopped for lunch. The fish here clearly aren’t afraid of people. I’m going on the assumption that they’re being fed by folks stopping here.

Exploring some of the backroads which parallel the BRP. Until you hit the mountains, there are numerous roads which crisscross the BRP…most unpaved and noteworthy. So little time

Lizard tree…somewhere off one of the side roads

Getting back into the mountains now

This morning, I’d called up an old friend, Daniel from Boone…fitting, eh? Anyway, I gave him a ring to see if he could pull a night camping. Unfortunately not only did he have to work, but he had moved to Asheville. I relay that my chances in making it all the way down to Asheville tonight on the BRP are slim and maybe we can do it next time. The speed limit is 45 on the BRP and I’m in no hurry to get another federal ticket. I’d picked up one on the Nachez Trace close to home on Christmas Eve last year and that’s enough to last me for a while. The feds seem to have little patience for speeding motorcycles.

Actually, I’d make some pretty impressive miles on the BRP today…around 400 including all the side trips. That’s a long day at an average speed of probably 40 mph. And it’d put me into camp at right around dark.

While setting up camp and gathering wood, I kept noticing every now and then this most horrific smell. It smelled like poo, but worse. Bear poo maybe. I keep looking around for a stinky animal…no…no stinky animals around. Something that could produce that sort of stink has to be huge and hairy. But no animal at all. I’ll assume at the time that someone has poured some tallow or something on the ground nearby and it’s just rotting. Whatever…I’m just very glad to be back in the woods again.

At about the time the Sun went down for good and I’d finished setting up camp, I made a mental note of how quiet the place was. I’ve never, ever, ever camped somewhere so quiet before. It was surreal. I can hear my ears ringing…that’s how quiet it is. I’m afraid to fart as I’ll wake the campers 200 yards away. No sounds. Nothing. No mosquitoes, birds, planes, cars, trains, snoring, generators, wind…NOTHING. This is spooky. I should light my fire now…it’s dark.

“HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWL” screams the first coyote. Jesus H. Christmas, that scared the shit out of me. He’s probably 50 yards away, but I can’t see him. The ‘jungle’ is incredibly thick here. Then came the rest…If I had to guess, I’d say a pack of them had been hunting something and I was hearing the kill. There had to be at least 50 of them…cubs, adults, adolescents…all shrieking at the top of their little doggy lungs and ripping through the dead silence I’d had just moments before. WOW, that came out of nowhere. 2 minutes later, silence again. They’d obviously made quick work at whatever had excited them. Time to light the fire.

Some fires come more easily than others. The area had received a good inch of rain, probably more, the previous night and this morning. All the deadfall I found was soaking wet, but I’ve never had a problem with wet wood before. It just takes a little planning and patience. This wood, however, was soaked to the core. 2 failed attempts sent me off to the camping bag for my secret weapon…white gas…cooking fuel. This did the trick for igniting the small wet stuff and would hold me over for a couple of hours.

However, this stuff was so wet that despite my best efforts, it gave out when I had nothing smaller than 1 inch diameter sticks. Since there’s no more fire to be had, I’m gonna turn in and read some more Slocum.

He’s now gotten through Tierra del Fuego through many trials and tribulations and ‘savages‘ and is headed toward Australia, which will take him somewhere on the order of 100 days. I believe he’s 72 days of open ocean until he lands at Samoa.

I have to share this little snippet from Samoa, which he obviously regarded as ideal in every sense:

For food the islanders have only to put out their hand and take what nature has provided for them; if they plant a banana-tree, their only care afterward is to see that too many trees do not grow. They have great reason to love their country and to fear the white man’s yoke, for once harnessed to the plow, their life would no longer be a poem.

Gripping.

Tonight I have some thinking to do as well. Should I stay on the BRP and its detours, I’ll surely accumulate traffic as I approach the Smokies. And that’s an area I’ve ridden quite a bit in the last few years. I’m within slabbing distance of home or 3 days backroads through what will likely be heavy traffic and heat once I reach the end of the BRP. But I see no reason to make that decision tonight. I’ll think tonight and decide tomorrow. I don’t really need to be back for another week, but every day I spend out is money spent and I can use that for several other trips I’d like to make this year. So to bed…to sleep on it. The Sun will rise and I will think more of it then. Tonight I’ve more reading to do. Decisions are for daytime and it’s past working hours.

Today’s miles:

400 someodd ain’t bad mileage for the BRP

Day 23, Tuesday, June 24

I’ve made my decision, but it’d be a tough one. I’m weighing all the factors. I can go home today at the cost of a bit over a tank of fuel, which will be less than $20 or stay out and camp at near sea level for the next couple nights in steamy weather. Again, I don’t sleep sweaty. I’ve tried many times. I just can’t do it outside of howling drunk and I’m solo. No need for that. It’s back to Nashville.

I’m keeping the story short. I slabbed it home. I made record time. I ran the F hard…a grand under redline for most of the day pulling in at around rush hour and leaving at rooster time. It was a long day and hard-earned, but nothing but slab.

It’s another bittersweet moment. I haven’t seen my dog in over 3 weeks…he’s screeching at me when I pull in. “pappa…why so long asshole?” And I still have plenty of work to do…unfunk all my gear, pay all my bills, cut the yard, shizz…you know…all the stuff that comes along with being gone for the better part of a month.

Today’s miles

Decompression and carnage report in the works. I broke a few things while gone. And my neighbor, in the process of stealing cable, ripped up my internet access.

Raiding stashes: Day one

Several of us took cameras…unfortunately Ike gave up photography long ago, but I managed to find quite a few shots from the PDR from Lee, Peggy, and Bill. Thanks guys. I’m stealin’ your fotos.

Here goes…trying for chronological order…no promises made to that end.

The clusterfuck of us at the southern end getting ready for the PDR

The victim of one of those nasty covered bridges…awake now Here’s to good gear!

These guys showed up fooking quickly for the middle of nowhere. Thanks for that. We could have had a real problem

The people in regular clothing here are the real deal. They went out of their way to see that everyone was okay and summoned the officials. And not only that, but they gave me my first taste of the REAL Vermont…they live here. They rock beyond words.

All this got cleared and we moved on. And at our next stop guess who showed up on the back of a bike. Yip, she just crashed, bike unrideable, but she’s still on 2 wheels. Props sista!

Peggy showing off

I can ride this thing…where’s the key?

Somewhere along the way on day 1…a merry band of…something

Lunch at day 1. A very memorable and awesome lunch at that. This is a whole foods joint…rare if you travel or you live where I do. Me likey. It was here that I was educated on Scones. I kept accenting the E to the delight of almost everyone in the store. I’d later learn the E is silent. They’re not sconies. Just scones. Who cares? They’re good.

This can’t turn out well

Overcoming adversity

Trying to find Allis

So we found Allis. And would you believe…this whole group are certified CG inmates? Never seen a finer bunch of misfits…all Chain Gang inmates…mostly from the Vermont club.

Raiding Stashes:  Day two

Packing up to leave Allis before the blackflies carry us away

But not before perhaps the best breakfast on the trip.  Thanks MOV!!!!!

Somewhere along the trail.  We’d gotten separated from the group here

Camp…prepping a most excellent meal.  Thanks for the grill Lee!!!

Riding out that storm I’d mentioned before.  Where TF did Everett get off to?

Still raining

Thursday, May 22 - T minus 9 days

This trip has been a long time coming. I’ve been thinking and plotting for years, but now I have the opportunity to make it a reality.

I’ll spend a month, at least getting myself from Nashville to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia and back.

Why Cape Breton? It’s just in the cards. No reason really…just looked good on the map.

Why attempt a trip like this? WTF else am I gonna do? Work? Sit on the couch and watch TV? Make my lawn pretty? Generally attempt to improve upon humanity? I’m going because I wanna go…because I can. I’m making no excuses. I’m not trying to save the world. I’m not going to raise funds for some noble cause. I’m not going to find me. I’m not going to pad my portfolio (this is somewhat of a lie). I’m not going to protest anything. I’m just going. That’s it. Just because I can. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. But I can. And I’m doing it on my favorite motorcycle…Ali.

Ali in usual dress

Stripped down, ready for a bath, 6k, and general thorough preflight

My destination

My route

Looks like a good road to me

Friday, May 23 - T minus 8 days

The bike gets washed and ready to tear down for a few items.

It seems like there was something else I was needing to do while I’m out here. Oh yeah…washin’ the dawg

This didn’t go over very well. The great protector (from cats and other vermin mainly) doesn’t take water well. You’d have thought I was peeling his skin off by his protests. All done and he’s still not happy with it

However, a stick of rawhide and all is well

Now for the bad news…ALL of the valves are out of spec .

But they’re all on the loose side. I thought valves typically tightened up. They’re significantly off though…I’m in for a shimming. I just hope I have everything I need here. I’m looking at a 2 hour round trip in the cage just to see if the dealer has what I need . I guess there’s one way to find out…pulling the cams. I have a decent stash of shims here, so perhaps I can make do with what I have. I got lucky on the last check and was hoping to have that happen again here, but no dice. Gonna go play in oil for a while…hopefully be back with good news.

Sunday, May 25 - T minus 6 days.

The dates are kind of unfair. I’m really updating late on Saturday night…officially Sunday morning, so you could say 7 days out if you wanted

I made lots of progress on the bike today…got the valves all sorted with what I had here.

I also put the factory exhaust back on. Yeah, it adds 7 pounds, but the Scorpion was getting WAY too loud and had already developed at least 3 leaks…this was inevitable and will make the ride much more enjoyable for everyone.

I kept thinking while removing the old one…I remember the stock exhaust being quite a bitch to take off. And thinking that I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a bitch to get back on. That turned out to be an understatement. I spent 2 hours at least wrestling with it and the rack. However, after oil was replaced and the bike fired back up, it’s clear that I’ve achieved my goal of hushing the beast. It just purrrrrs now…like a competent and busy, yet well-oiled sewing machine…making quiet, lyrical fabric out of controlled chaos. I’m sold. So far it’s worth the 7 pounds…I’ll compensate by narrowing my tool stash. I’m overlapping on quite a few things and am trying to leave unnecessary stuff at home. After all, I’m not traveling into the bush…and the Canadians are on to the metric thang.

I scored these radiator guards back during the winter. Actually, I got them, a TT chainguard, ABS protector, tail latch brace, the other tail brace, all the hardware, 2 blinkers, 2 new oil filters and a few other goodies for $25 shipped off an ADV member…SCORE!!!

Quite a bit more protection over stock

Checking every bolt on the bike, loctiting, and marking them when done…almost a daunting task, but it’ll pay off

Monday, May 26 - T minus 5 days

Yesterday I got everything put back together and ready for some road testing. I also played around with some tank panniers I’ve had lying around for a while.

Perhaps I’ll take fewer pics of this thing with a flash. I’d forgotten that there’s lots of reflective material all over it now (on all the bags). It took a while to figure a way to get the panniers to sit where I wanted them, but it eventually got done…now out for a little testing at speed to see what’s gonna fly off. On my first run up to 70, the right tank pannier lost one mount (of four), but I think I winged it more or less permanently. It’s fine at speed now.

One thing I expected out of the tank panniers was heat. They block airflow to the legs. But I wanted to see how much. Yesterday was a perfect time to do this, as it was over 90 and fairly humid. I don’t expect more heat than that on this trip…actually, I expect to be rather cool on most of it. I’m going to do my best to ride the Appalachians all the way up to the Northeast US into the White Mountains (an added destination along the way…more on this later). Staying at elevation and in the trees usually makes for a much cooler ride than down closer to sea level. Anyway, this is pumping out more heat than I thought it would. Not only is it blocking airflow, it seems to be channeling engine heat onto my legs…not always the most welcome thing in the Summer. But again, I’ll be at much higher altitudes and latitudes, so a bit of heat down there might actually be welcome as I move further north. If it becomes too much, I’ll re-organize, but there are some pluses to this. First, I can carry more stuff. But I don’t plan to. I kind of wanted to move some of my weight forward by doing this. And from what I can tell from yesterday, it’s making a pretty noticeable difference in handling. A good one. A very good one. The bike actually feels more stable with less weight on the rear. I’m going to try very hard to stick with the tank panniers for now. They’ll hold all my clothes, shifting probably 15 pounds or so from the rear to the front…a pretty sizable difference.

I didn’t take many pics yesterday as I was paying more attention to little details than the scenery, but this one did catch my eye

People worry me sometimes

Friday, T minus 2 days

I’d’ love to say that I’m completely ready for the trip. However, you may notice something missing

Yip, still have the fork seals to do. They’re torn off, broken down, and waiting ’till tomorrow. I got up at the asscrack of dawn today to cover for my lacky co/worker who just HAD to have the day off. Sorry, Ss, I had to ‘). I’ll do my best to finish tomorrow.

Here’s the issue…leaky fork seal. Not bad, but worth attention since roughly a few thousand miles are ahead

Honda seals should work just fine…I hear the Germans and Japanese came together and decided on a size. Or is it just that BMW used a Showa fork, which is also used by a few Hondas? Who cares…it beats waiting on parts from Germany

Sheez, so much technical stuff. Getting bored yet? Maybe I’ll hop on this thing and leave one of these days.

Saturday, May 31 - T-minus one day

Fork seals really are the bane of my existence. Before I can get to the F650 seals, I need to move a current project out of the way…in the middle of seals for DRZ-SM forks

I got so fed up with these, I went and got me some S forks. Actually, I wanted S forks anyway, but these need to be rebuilt. In good time.

I really hate doing fork seals. First of all, they’re messy as hell. So you have to find a place you can get messy with them, but not too messy…plenty of fragile parts in there. Then there’s cleaning them up. That sucks and is super time-consuming. Then there’s keeping them clean. Then there’s lining up everything and fostering the patience to carry on even though you’re now behind schedule. All because of a little rubber ring. I do recall, however, a little rubber ring bringing down a Space Shuttle back in 1986…not just bringing it down, but taking a few lives with it.

A buttload of patience and work and the forks are finally ready for final re-assembly and mounting.

If everything goes well from here, I should be test riding tomorrow as well as loading and then finally leaving on Monday. If not, then Tuesday. I’m off for a month…not gonna rush it hardcore like, but I am ready to get going. I’d planned initially to leave today. Seems the adventure has already started.

This probably won’t speed up testing any

T Minus zero

Well, I’d love to sit around and post all day, but I’m already leaving a day late.  So I’m out.  More from the road as access allows.