Part XIV “Three Provinces In One Day”

Wednesday, September 14^th, 2011
Fredericton, New Brunswick.

Morning came early and I awoke not fully aware of where I was. Drawing back the drapes I was surprised to see it had rained in the night, quite heavily judging by the size of the puddles in the parking lot. The rain had stopped but the skies were still ominous and it looked chilly. I decided to wear my rain gear as it would keep me dry from the road spray as well as provide an additional layer of wind break on what was likely to be a cool ride. Now, so far I hadn’t had one rainy travel day and while it certainly had rained earlier, it appeared I was going to dodge a bullet and lay claim to another dry riding day. My rain free record was intact!

Rolling up the Saint John River Valley some of the trees had just started to turn but nowhere to the extent I was expecting. Evidently it hadn’t been cold enough and without the overnight frost the leaves were still very green. The scenery was very pretty all through the valley and when I stopped for lunch the sun was out, the clouds were gone and the day was smiling. It was still a tad cool so I stayed with the rain suit for the rest of the day.

After a while I start to yawn and before you know it I’m nodding. This is not a cool thing to do on a motorcycle so I start scouting out places for a quick nap. I’ve done this many times before and I typically locate a safe, quiet spot, lay on the ground and grab some shut-eye. There is not much to choose from so I force myself to stay awake and I pull into the truck-stop at the Quebec border. I ride to the far back corner, park the bike, lay on the dry grass and I’m out like a light. Most of these wayside siestas last about thirty minutes and I get up refreshed and roll. Not so the case today. I wake up and it’s been over an hour and a half. Ninety minutes I’ve been passed out on the lawn! The once empty parking lot is now full of trucks, none of which I heard come in. Feeling in somewhat of a daze I get up and walk around to try and wake up. I’m soon back on my feet and officially enter Quebec.

The next stop is Riviere du Loup on the St. Lawrence River approximately fifty miles north. I roll along passing small neat , tidy farms, villages of white clapboard houses and the everpresent church with a cross on the spire, all the while dodging road machinery, flag-guys and holes. Big holes! On the edge of Riviere du Loup I spot a Tim Horton’s and immediately call Tea-Time. Inside I place my order, in French I might add, chat briefly with the kid at the counter. No English is spoken and I mark my first encounter in Quebec a success. All through Quebec I strive to conduct all my business in French and only got stuck a couple of times where my less than perfect grammar couldn’t measure up to my much better vocabulary. All-in-alI I found the people were not rude or discouraging. They sensed my effort and would often rephrase a question to help me rather than switch to English and give me the easy way out. In the end some folks were complimentary to my efforts and it all worked out fine.

During the tea break I meet another couple on a Harley Dyna. Lucas and Jenny hail from Bayfield, Ontario and like me have been on a long distance tour through the Maritimes. They too enjoyed Cape Breton and agreed it was well worth the long ride to get there. We take off and I see them a couple more times along AutoRoute 20.

Hammer time and I’m rolling west or in this case Ouest to Quebec City and then Montreal. At the Quebec line I gained an hour as I was now back in the Eastern Time Zone. This time was money in the bank and after some quick, in the head, cyphering I realized that Ontario was within grasp and certainly reachable tonight providing I didn’t waste any time. Another advantage would be as in the case of New York City, I’d be passing through another big city after dinner, in the evening, when the commuter traffic would have subsided. This proved to be a good decision as I went through Montreal without a hitch and was soon out on the West Island sprinting for Ontario. The GPS was programmed for Cornwall and I watched as the kilometers counted down and in what seemed no time at all I was in Cornwall. The first hotel I came to was full. Oh no I thought. Not again. I’m tired, of course. I’ve been in the saddle for just under one thousand kilometers and here we go again! I pull into the next hotel an Econolodge and it looks empty, whereas all the other hotels are full. Knowing it’ll probably be a flea pit I have no choice but to check it out as it’s likely the last game in town. The lobby is kind of shabby and dimly lit. On the greasy looking couch there is a gal that looks like she may be, you know, “working”. The bleached out blonde at the front desk clerk is leering at me, almost daring me to stay there. The clientele is sketchy and look like they may be renting rooms by the hour. In the hallways you can smell the lingering ghosts of every cigarette that was smoked there. Once in the room though, I’m surprised to its cleanliness and fresh smell. I can deal with this. I’ll lay low and make sure the bike and the door are double locked!

I manage to cook up some rice and beans in the microwave, thank you Mountain Equipment Co-Op for your freeze-dried culinary delights and get on-line and get my fix. I have a real computer Jones and have a hard time going a day without checking and writing emails as well as weather reports and other information sources I tend to frequent. Skyping with the Lady for a while and I’m going down for the count. We sign off and that’s about all I remember.

See you tomorrow.

Thursday, September 15^th, 2011

Cornwall, Ontario.

Again I wake up befuddled and yank open the drapes. Does this routine sound familiar? I am shocked to see pouring rain. Not just a few showers but a downpour right outside all over my motorcycle! That’s not fair! I’ve been on the road for a month and have not been rained on once. Nary a drop. Looking at the sky it’s obvious this is not going to let up in the next few hours so I sigh and kiss good-bye to my perfect record. A quick check of the Weather Network and Environment Canada web-sites and I see the storm is centrally located right over Cornwall. Gee, isn’t that where I am? The weather radar does however depict the storm continuing East and all is clear after, Kingston about an hour away. This is the price I pay for crowing about the fabulous weather I’ve enjoyed on this trip. A little dose of reality never hurts so I suck it up and pull on the rain suit.

I need fuel and some air so a quick stop at the Petro-Canada across the street and I’m on my merry way. Toronto is 430 kms away so I figure with stops I’ll be in Georgetown by mid-afternoon. As promised, the raid lets up just as I get to Kingston so I say thank you to the women and men of Environment Canada for being correct in your forecast. The ride down the 401 is neither exciting nor boring; it’s simply a ride along the 401. Quick and efficient. Plain and simple. The En Route Travel Stops are a marked improvement and a far cry from the old Esso Voyageur stations I remember from the past. They have a decent selection of eateries and at one point I stop at one with a Timmy’s and grab a bagel and of course a cup of tea. I also take time to call my Mother and arrange some accommodations, call the Suzuki dealer to arrange an oil change and call an old friend from the past to arrange a get-together.

Soon I’m nearing the Eastern outskirts of Toronto and the traffic and the speed picks up. Soon we’re going warp speed ignoring the posted 100 kph. Oh well I figure, when in Rome….. It’s not long before I’m passing the airport and rolling along to my exit at Trafalgar Road. Once off the 401 I take a moment to shuck my rain suit, make a washroom pit-stop and chill out from the cross-city tear.

I arrive about 20 minutes later and settle in for an evening with my Mum and Step Father.

The next day, Friday, is set aside for getting the bike’s oil changed at Brampton Powersports. Fast, efficient, courteous and well-priced. What more do you want? Check them out if you’re in Brampton, Ontario and your Suzuki, Honda or Yamaha needs a doctor.

I get the errands done, go visit my brother, get the latest two blog postings finished, edited and ready for posting, kick back and head out to have dinner with John, an old pal from eons ago and his wife Brenda at their home in Brampton.

Tomorrow I’m heading back to Vancouver. I’ve looked at a couple of different routes and it appears the most efficient and the fastest is via the U.S. West from Georgetown, cross into Michigan at Sarnia / Port Huron, west to Chicago and then it’s a straight shot either on I-94 to I-90 in Montana, U.S. 212 from Minnesota all the way to Idaho or even old Hwy 2 a bit south of and parallel to the Canadian Border. This looks like I have a decision to make once I get to Chicago. We’ll have to see how it all unfolds.

Tomorrow morning! Bright and early! I’ll be there!

We’re heading for home!