Here is Richard’s take on the trip… http://www.svrider.com/forum/showthread.php?t=125728
Below is MY take on the trip…
Richard convinced me to use my vacation days to travel out east… on a motorcycle… with his Dad… in June. If you’re not familiar the east coast in June; let’s just say it’s still cold. We loaded up the bikes. I had a tail pack, backpack and tank bag. I fit enough clothes for NINE days in three little bags. We lined the luggage with garbage bags to prevent water leakage… thank god we did that.
We headed out at 5am, we wanted to beat the morning rush. It was a little foggy and both Richard and his Dad seemed apprehensive. I thought if they’re nervous I am screwed. I had never ridden for more than a few hours. I had never even gone a highway, but there I was strapped in and ready to roll. Our planned root was … Ontario-New York-Vermont-New Hampshire-Maine-New Brunswick-Nova Scotia-Cabot Trail and home: Nova Scotia-New Brunswick-Quebec-Ontario-Bed… (because that’s what I needed by the end).
At 7:30 we had successfully crossed the border into New York. The weather was looking up, but the dark clouds still followed us. We were headed to Albany to pick up our fourth member, Zach. A good friend of Richards and fellow SV rider (They had met on SVrider.com a forum for SV owners).
The first day was the worst… my bums and bits we’re numb and I was grateful for the cushion Richard had insisted on buying. We landed in Albany at an “America’s Best Inn”, we decided to call it quits as soon as we heard about the tornado warnings. I had survived my first day, my first highway and toll booth. Let’s say my first night, sharing a hotel room with 3 guys, was a different story. We explored the bits and pieces of civilization around us and found nothing. We dined on chips and pop and called it an early night hoping to get to Vermont before tomorrow night.
We woke up to RAIN… lots of rain. Now on a bike trip you don’t get a choice. You suit up and head out. What an experience, your visor fogs and fills with rain, your fingers go numb from wet and cold and the bike does what it wants, you’re just along for the ride. We had rain gear, but that isn’t 100%. And Zach, captain unprepared, had a $10 rain suit from Wal-mart. His suit didn’t even make it out of New York.
We stopped for breakfast and had a great debate of Canadian bacon and what it really is. We did our best to warm up and air out. Zach even scored a ride with a complete stranger to a hardware store down the road to buy new gear. The duct tape just wouldn’t hold.
The roads seemed beautiful, but it was rainy and cold. After 450km we decided to call it a day and settled in at the Coos Motor Inn, ironically the exact hotel Pete had stayed with his brother.
This is a good time to explain the ‘planning of this trip’… we were going to the Cabot trail. That was it. No mapped routes, no timelines, no hotel reservations, just a map and an open road. This made it even more interesting. It is also the reason I dropped my bike for the first time. On day two we had gotten lost and needed to ‘whip a shitty’ or ‘make a U-turn’. I am not good at Shittys (that sounds terrible)… I like WIDE turns. This time was even worse, because the guys are flawlessly negotiated around the median. I didn’t . I lost control. Fell and dropped my bike. Now I don’t also pull the ‘girl’ card, but this time I did. I kicked the bike, that was now laying in the middle of the road, and stormed off. The foot peg had cut into my leg and ripped my rain suit. I was cold, wet and whiny. As soon as Richard and Zach noticed they flew into my rescue, but the concern was on the bike, obviously. They managed to get my bike up right and then check on me. I was bruised and a little bloody, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I had a second to sort myself out and then it was back on the bike.
That night we explored ‘town’ and even found a little pizza shop. We dried out our gear with the little wall hair dryer and tucked ourselves in. This trip had very little night life. I couldn’t imagine riding hung over.
We woke up to sunshine. Woot! And rode all the way through to Fredericton New Brunswick. The End. Kidding. We found some great roads along the way and had a pit stop at a bike shop in Maine. The owner was there and offered us a coffee, motorcycle riders are some of the nicest people I have ever met. Pete bought a new battery, Richard helped Zach with the zip ties holding his bike together and we pushed on.
I learned a great lesson about letting the bike do what it wants, with a loose grip.
We hit a bit of construction and a dirt road (another first for me), but I survived.
We found the border crossing after contemplating its existence, we rode through nothing for 50km, before a little hut appeared. One guard walked out and in the most stereotypical Canadian accent asked about our trip before waving us all through and into another deep forest. To this day we struggle to get Zach to believe we actually have cities in Canada and we don’t all live in log cabins.
In Fredericton we found a Best Western and checked in. They we’re big on ‘cots’ so Zach had to snuggle in with Pete.
Sidenote: some hotels had cots, but a lot looked at us sideways when we asked for it. At one point we even BOUGHT an air mattress, because I couldn’t get the staff to understand ‘cot’ or ‘pull out bed’.
The next morning we planned to hit the Cabot trail. We almost made it, but decided to stop at the very base. We crossed the long bridge on to the island and found a hotel. We wanted to relax and give our asses a rest. That night we celebrated. We had made it to the trail. We went out in search of food and booze. Shockingly we found very little of both. This was the best hotel yet, it had a steak house built in and a pull our couch. No Cot for Zach tonight, still funny to see him trying to pick up the waitress ‘Room 210 on the pull out’.
The next morning we were all SO excited to get going, until we noticed Zach’s tire. The big guy had sprung a leak. Now we’re 2000km from anyone we know and he has a flat. We’re also in Nova Scotia on an island; the chances of finding a bike tire replacement were slim. Determined to make it ON to the trail that day we rode around looking for a mechanic. We filled his tire with green slime, crossed our fingers and headed out.
Finding the trail, the thing the island is best known for, is harder than it sounds. We had to turn around twice and when we finally found it, it started to rain. We pulled over and strapped on all our rain gear, but we were on the Cabot trail. It wasn’t great. It was inland and the roads were a mess. It was a disappointment for the first 100km. Then we rode the ferry and things started to look up. It’s a barge that you roll your bike on to and it floats across this river to get you closer to the good stuff. It was only a little terrifying when the 18-wheelers pulled on.
We took a small break at the General Store for some pictures in the sunlight, because we knew we wouldn’t keep this weather for long… boy were we right.
That afternoon would bring the coldest, wettest weather yet. When we got to the peak of the Cabot Trail we hit snow. Yes. Snow. We had to stop and figure out a game plan, because our visors were fogging over. The best we could do was breath heavy and leave them open a crack. Whewf. The roads and the view seemed nice, but it was hard to enjoy.
We finished the night at the top of the trail in Pleasant Bay. What a gorgeous place. It was unbearably cold, but the sunset was stunning. We booked a whale watching tour for the next day and went to bed.
Finally the sun came out and it didn’t seem SO cold. We waddled down to the waterfront (in motorcycle gear for warmth). There we met with Wesley of Wesley’s whale watching and suited up.
We hit the water and watched for whales. We saw a few before heading back.
After lunch we got back on the road and what a perfect day for riding. The weather warmed mid day and the sun stayed high. The roads were curved and amazing, the views were incredible and everyone was in good spirits. We rode the entire west side of the island and found ourselves back at the foot of the trail. We happily sunk into our pillows that night. That day was worth all of the headaches.
The next morning we packed up to leave the Cabot Trail, none of us wanted to, but our vacation was winding down and it was time. We made it all the way to New Brunswick. It was out last night with Zach and we spent it reminiscing about the trip.
We don’t have a lot of pictures of this, because no one wants to remember the end of the vacation, but there is a great shot showing how we tied up the bikes at night. We pulled them in as close as possible to one and another and then used rope locks to string them together.
We also had disc locks and steering locks. If someone wanted these bikes they would have to take all of them and I am sure we would notice before they had a chance.
I learned that I can’t ride in running shoes and that not everyone has common sense. It was a fun night.
In the morning Zach took off for home, straight south, and we went west. We crossed into Quebec and survived Montreal. It was our longest day, but we refused to stop in Quebec. I hadn’t practiced my French. We did the mandatory stop every two hours to refuel, but pushed through and made it to Cornwall around 8pm after 850kms. My ass was SO sore. Richard, Dad and I went out to celebrate after checking into the most expensive hotel yet.
We waddled, clearly suffering from numb bum, over to Casey’s where we ate and drank into the night. The trip was over and tomorrow we would ride all the way home with a pit stop in FrankFord to visit my family. Quebec also gave me my very first Moose. I have spent years trying to see a moose, but without luck. At first there were only dead ones along the high way, but finally near the border there was a moose just standing there. I even found myself waving as we passed.
The other odd thing about Quebec was the time change. You cross the border and lose an hour. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that on the way there, but on the way back I felt ripped off.
Our last day and we’re in it for the long haul. We get on the bikes bright and early, stopping for lunch at my Brothers and finally showing my nephew the motorcycle.
Then we pushed to get home, through Toronto and rush hour. It was close to 7pm when we finally rolled in the driveway.
Richard was happy. Pete was tired and I was happy to be alive.
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