Category: 2017 Bike Trips

East Coast Tour, 2017, Part 6
Moncton to Bangor

What a glorious morning; 20C and nothing but sunshine at 8am on July 31. The forecast for today was a high of 26C and not a chance of rain. Life on the road doesn’t get much better than this.
Over breakfast at the A&W just down the road from the Sheraton, we discussed todays plan. Well actually, I told Roz what my plan was and she said, ‘Whatever’. I had booked us back into the Best Western in Bangor, Me for tonight. If we rode straight there, its only about 425 kms, allowing us about 175 kms of wandering to keep under my promised max each day of 600 kms. We had talked to fellow bikers at the bar last evening who were headed to Hopewell Rocks this am. Sounds like a destination.

We crossed the River via the Findlay Causeway and turned right onto hwy 114. Hillsborough Road follows the meandering river all the way to Hopewell Cape, passing thru many small villages. We pulled into the parking lot at Hopewell Rocks Park and were amazed at the number of cars and vastness of the parking lots. It was 10am on a Monday morning and there was a lineup of about 50 people to get thru the pedestrian gates. I managed to find a spot to squeeze the 2 bikes into about 100 yards from the entrance, left Roz there and went over to inquire about fees, walking distance, etc. At the booth a very friendly young lady explained that there was a shuttle to take us down to the lower level but of course it did not go out onto the beach area. The cost of admission was $15 per person and because Roz is a senior with a disability the shuttle was free. She did admit that the view of the famed Rocks was somewhat limited from the parking lot at the base of the cliff and that walking on the rocky beach might not be comfortable. Roz was not prepared to submit herself to the discomfort of a rocky walk and did not think it was worth the $15 to get a distant view of some crumbling old rocks. So, off down the road we went.

Not far down hwy 114 we came across a stretch of roadway near Hopewell Hill, with an incredible view of the Bay of Fundy and one of those iconic white churches. I had to stop and try to take in the spectacle. Amazing, and the view was free. Just a few miles further down the road we stopped at an old covered bridge that was protecting a roadway to nowhere. The newer road had bypassed the old bridge but the old covered bridge had been preserved. At the corner of rte 915 and hwy 114 sits the tiny hamlet of Riverside-Albert and at the edge of a large dirt parking area is a big billboard showing a very faded map of the area. Rte 915, stretching off to the left, was not well paved and in fact the centre-line was about as faded as the map on that billboard; but it appeared to head down toward the Bay. Roz was dubious, but I insisted that this was an adventure just waiting to be experienced, so off we went.

Rte 915 was all it promised; meandering, narrow and full of pot-holes. About 5 miles down the road was a sign pointing to a sideroad on the left; ‘Cape Enrage, 12kms’. I stopped and looked at Roz. How can you pass on an invitation like this. And that name ‘Cape Enrage’, now that’s intriguing. The narrow road immediately took a dive down into a valley, across a marsh area and then up an escarpment; thru a pine forest then down into another marshy valley. As the road turned at the head of the marsh we saw the most amazing little beach where a few cars had pulled over. The road was built onto the rocky berm separating the beach from the marsh and the beach was protected on both sides by cliffs of stratified rocks. Over the years the severe weather had obviously broken pieces of the strata off, littering the beach. Passersby had taken the task of erecting those flat rocks into hundreds of Inuksuk statues. The entire beach was a seashore village populated with various sizes of rock people. Amazing. How Canadian.

Just past the beach the roadway rose again over the cliff in two very sharp switchbacks then around a curve and directly into Cape Enrage Park. The park is stuck at the end of the northernmost spur in the Bay of Fundy and consisted of a lighthouse, small museum, a gravel parking lot and several hiking trails and boardwalks. A $5 fee was collected at the gate and we were directed to the handicap parking next to the museum. The café was closed but the gift shop sold softdrinks, etc. I walked out along the boardwalk, down one of the hiking trails, around the lighthouse and up the tower to the platform for the non-operational zip line. It is a fascinating place. One can only imagine the isolation of the lonely keeper and his family when this place was manned and the only access would have been up from the Bay.

We returned back out that twisty road and left onto rte 915. Just a few miles down the road we returned to hwy 114 and the village of Alma. Alma is one of those quaint little fishing villages that now derive most of its income from tourism. There are several motels, shops and cafes to wander thru and explore. And the Fundy National Park is just across the bridge with its hiking trails, campgrounds and golf course. We chose the Alma Boathouse restaurant for lunch simply because there was a parking spot right at the front door. Roz ordered the lunch special, fish and chips and I chose a bowl of fish chowder. Both were excellent. Roz sat to enjoy an extra cup of coffee and a chat with the very friendly waitress as I went for a stroll around town. At the Alpine Motel I stopped and talked with several bikers enjoying a cold one at the picnic area overlooking the harbor. They were from Quebec City and this was their first trip down this way. As I walked over toward the docks I noticed that there was no water in the harbor. A boat was sitting on the muddy seashore and a man on a ladder was attending to repairs. I quess this kind of thing must be fairly common during low tide, but as a landlubber, it sure looks strange to me. As I walked back along the sidewalk to where the bikes were parked I spotted 2 teenagers with their guitars in front of the pizza shop. They were very good and truly seemed to be enjoying themselves belting out local and popular east coast songs. I emptied the change from my pocket into the open guitar case as I skipped past.

We hopped back on the bikes and headed west on hwy 114 again and thru the Fundy National Park. Just past the park I spotted a sign for McCabe’s Ice Cream. It was about 27C and sunny and I just could not drive past. Mr McCabe greeted us in the small, rickety, old building that he called his ‘ice cream factory’. He explained why McCabe’s is the best ice cream ever made. He told a great story, but its still just ice cream. It was good, but I found the flavor a little lacking. But i guess on a hot day like this, any ice cream is good ice cream even if it was over priced. It was almost 3pm when we hit hwy 1 and we still had about 350 kms to travel today, so I decided that we should just hop on the hwy and head off to Bangor even though there are many great looking roads in the area that were begging me to explore. The ride back to Bangor was boring, and we had travelled this route in the other direction last week. We made one quick stop at the Irving for gas before turning onto Hwy 9 and west to Bangor.

We arrived at the Best Western, WhiteHouse inn just before 8pm and because it was a Monday, the bar in the basement was open. We were hot and thirsty and decided to take advantage of the free beverage that came with our room before deciding where to go for dinner. There were only about 6 people in the bar area which featured an old wooden bar that ran about 25 feet along one wall with perhaps a dozen stools. We plopped down at the two seats on the end of the bar and put our coupons on display. Karen, the bartender explained that the coupons were good for one small glass of local beer each, 3 to choose from. I took the IPA and Roz the lager. Both were excellent, but too small, we finished them and ordered large refills. Karen introduced us to the lady sitting a couple of seats away. She was a regular and came here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for dinner. The bar did not actually have dinner, but Karen made her own dinner at home before coming to work and 3 days a week brought extra to share with Laura. Laura was a widowed, retired school teacher and had taught Karen and her kids. This was Karen’s way of returning the favour and maintaining Laura’s sense of community. We struck up a lively conversation with Laura about Bangor, Maine, local and national politics, etc. It was obvious that even though Laura had voted Republican most of her life, she did not care for Mr Trump. Karen asked that we keep our voices down, the patrons at the other end of the bar we red-neck Republicans well into their evening of drinks. Then Karen advised that even though the bar does not offer a menu, she could order from Dysart’s Truck stop next door and they would deliver, or she could toss a frozen pizza into the oven if we preferred. We opted for the pizza, we had experienced the truck stop food on our previous visit. Just as we were finishing the pizza and our beer we were joined by Doug, a truck driver who gets up this way a couple of times a week and stops over for a beer and a chat with Laura and Karen whenever he can. Karen said he was a Democrat, so it was ok for him to join us. Laughs all around. We ordered another beer each, stayed for about another half hour before heading up to our room.

Another great day; about 600 kms, wonderful roads, great vistas and fascinating people. I do love this life.

Ingonish, Cape Breton

It was beautiful, sunshiny morning in Port Hawkesbury and after breakfast at the A&W, off we headed. I told Roz to take the lead and pointed north. We went thru town, past the Tim Horton’s then left past the Sobey’s. She almost got onto the hwy 104 but I told her to go straight up hwy 4. Route #104 heads toward Sydney, wrong direction for us today.  Roz says that I tend to lead even when I follow and I got her to turn left onto Riverside Road. This is one of those meandering semi-paved roads that seem to lead nowhere. I loved it but Roz kept stopping to ask if we were lost. ‘We are on holidays, we are riding the bikes in the sunshine, so how could we be lost. Just enjoy the road, it will be fine’. And yes it finally did come out to Hwy105 and off we went toward the Cabot Trail.

We have traveled this road many times and decided not to stop until we were up the Cabot Trail a ways. We rode past Whycocomagh and Baddeck, but if you are riding this way only once, make sure you stop for a day in Baddeck. Visit the Bell Museum, it’s a fascinating place. And there are many great little shops and cafes in this beautiful little town on the Bras D’or Lakes.

We decided not to wait for the Englishtown Ferry. The lineup extended all the way back to the intersection at St Anns. The ferry crossing will save you about 30 minutes, but only if there is no lineup. Besides, the road around Englishtown Bay is a wonderful, bendy-road ride. Because we have been up this road many times, we have our favourite places to stop. One of them is the Clucking Hen Bakery & Café just past Cabot Shores. They now have a new larger covered deck overlooking the ocean. The menu is limited depending on the time of day, but everything we have tried has been fresh and tasty. Tea and scones, sitting in the sunshine overlooking the ocean; welcome to Cape Breton indeed.

Just up the highway after Wreck Cove you get your first glimpse of Ole Smokey, one of the most photographed rock faces in Cape Breton. As you climb the escarpment you twist around the only true switchback on the island, followed by several quick turns that don’t allow you the time to look out over the spectacle of the Atlantic Ocean. There is a pull off area at the top but you have to walk about 500 meters to look over the edge and back down that iconic roadway. I think its worth the hike.

For the next several miles the road follows the coastline around a few bays and thru a few small villages. The village of Ingonish has a few stores, a couple of cafes, an Inn, a bank and the Beer Store. When you leave Ingonish you enter the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. There is an entrance fee that allows you to stop at any parking area in the park. The small park office here also has info on camping and hiking trails. We decided to ride thru to visit Hugh first.

We arrived at the hospital in Neil’s Harbour about 1pm to find out that Hugh and Margaret had left about an hour ago. Great; now back down to Ingonish. I guess the news that Roz and I were on our way was enough to get Hughie up off his ass. Hugh is now 90, Margaret is 83. They live in Burlington, spending summers in Ingonish. They have been our friends for almost 30 years and we have been fortunate enough to have visited their lovely cottage about 15 times.

The cottage is called ‘Happy Days’ and is on a small strip of property right on the Cabot Trail with a full ocean frontage. The cottage is really a glorified mobile home that has been jacked up and placed about 25 feet from a ten foot cliff on top of Ingonish Beach. The beach is a semi-circle of sand about 30 feet wide and 5 miles long stretching around Ingonish Bay. Hugh and Margaret have built a small deck that sits right on the edge of the cliff and a walkway leading to a larger deck that runs off the kitchen of the cottage. A few years ago they built a one room cabin about 20 feet north of the cottage for guests. The cabin is complete with a queen sized bed, a small table, a kitchenette and a ½ bath. The whole front wall is windowed and completes this perfect, picturesque locale. It aint fancy, just awesome.

When we arrived at Happy Days, Margaret ran out to greet us with lots of hugs and kisses and teary eyes. Hugh was sleeping but had been overjoyed to hear that we were on the way. Margaret was preparing lunch and could barely contain herself; Hugh has been a great challenge for her of late, she was looking forward to a long chat and perhaps a G&T or two.

Hughie had been acting his age lately, less energy, disinterest in anything, refusal to eat, disgruntled; then he caught a cold which turned into pneumonia. Hughie is a cancer survivor with several other problems associated with the elderly, but until recently had been quite active. I had played 9 holes of golf with him the previous summer and had difficulty beating him (I never beat him before he turned 80). The local doctors had informed them that Hugh should get back to Burlington as soon as possible to have the doctors have a look. Hugh was responding well to the anti-biotics but the doctors in Burlington would be better equipped to deal with the problems.

Margaret asked how long we could stay. She had phoned and had their return airfare tickets changed to a week tomorrow; that was the earliest flight they could arrange. Problem was they didn’t want to leave the cottage without cleaning things up a bit. They have a regular tenant that arrives September first each year and leaves at the end of June; a school teacher from Halifax. They wanted to make sure things were in order for her. Hugh usually spends all his spare time each summer repairing and cleaning, etc. This year he was unable to do anything.

As I said, we have visited here many times. We have been here more than any of their family or other friends. OK, we’ll stay for a few days and see what we can accomplish. We do love it here, the scenery is idyllic, the people fantastic and of course there is the Cabot Trail.

For the next 4 days I spent several hours each day painting, cutting grass, cleaning eaves, repairing lawn furniture and emptying ‘things’. I got up early every day, made a coffee and sat on the beach deck watching the sun rise. Absolutely awesome. After breakfast I got as much work done before noon as possible, then it was off to ride the Trail and hike the Highlands. In the evenings we drank beer and played cards or just sat and listened to the ocean. I love this place.

Quite a bit has changed in the 25 or so years since we first visited Cape Breton. Our favourite pub used to be the Thirsty Hiker in the basement of the GlenGorm Inn; but that is under new management and the pub is now closed. They used to have a one man band there every evening and the place was packed with fun loving tourists and locals all singing along with the ballads and shanties. We did manage to take Margaret to her favourite café, The SeaGull for lunch. They still have the best fish and chips in the area, but somehow not as good as I recall. The SeaGull is a very old family run restaurant with an enclosed (in plastic sheeting) patio overlooking Ingonish Bay. The place was packed and we stood in line for about 20 minutes before finding a table in the main room. The service was terrible, too many customers, not enough family.

Prior to leaving on this trip, Roz had made friends with a fellow Spyder rider on Facebook who lived in Ingonish. Mike and his wife had recently sold their home in Kitchener and purchased the Island Inn. Roz called Mike and he invited us over for a coffee. The inn was a beautiful old frame mansion on the hill in the middle of the little village of Ingonish. After coffee on the huge verandah and a very pleasant chat with Mike and Rhonda, Mike volunteered to lead us on a ride up the coast. Of course we had been on every road in this area many times, but it was a lovely day for a ride.

There is only one main road, the Cabot Trail, that winds its way up the coast. If you have never been to Cape Breton, go. The Cabot Trail is renowned worldwide as one of the premier motorcycle riding roads in the world. Some of the scenery is truly breathtaking. The problem is that it is a narrow 2 lane road and the traffic can be quite thick, especially on sunny weekends in July and August. This is further complicated by badly needed road construction. The main hiway past Neil’s Harbour is closed for the summer as they completely tear it out for a 5 mile stretch for widening and replacement. We seldom take the main hiway anyway preferring to ride the old hiway along the shoreline. Now all the traffic must go this route.

We travelled up the road, not bothering to explore the few sideroads. Mike stopped at Angie’s Family Restaurant for lunch. Service was slow, food was mediocre and prices were a little higher than would be expected for such a small, cozy place. We travelled back to Ingonish only stopping once at Broad Cove to admire the scenery.

On the third day at the cottage and after my choirs, I took off on my own to rediscover some of my favourite places. On the scenic road around Neil’s Harbour the first bay you come to is the little hamlet of New Haven. When I pulled over to take a photo of the view a young lad, Trevor, rode over to me on his bicycle to admire the Harley. We chatted for about 10 minutes, he was born here and had never been farther than Sydney. His dad was a fisherman and his mom worked at the hospital. One day he was going to buy a Harley and ride to Halifax or maybe Boston.

My next stop was the sideroad down to White Point. I love the short trip off the mountain down into this picturesque old fishing port. It is truly a different world. Next, back out onto the Cabot Trail then a ride out to Dingwall. Many of the roads around here wander along the coast or follow a river or some other natural flow of the land. Most are poorly paved and if you decide to leave the main road be prepared to encounter large potholes or gravel. If you do decide to be adventurous, use caution but you will be rewarded with some startling views and interesting non touristy locales. My favourite along this section of the Trail is Bay St Lawrence. The village has almost disappeared, populated now with only a couple of scattered shops and houses perched on the rocks around the Bay. Bay St Lawrence was apparently the first place John Cabot stopped when he visited this area over 400 years ago because it has a deep, accessible, natural harbor. If you are real adventurous, take the side road up to Meat Cove, but beware, the last section up the mountain is gravel and steep. There is a campground at Meat Cove with a spectacular view and a Chowder Hut. Check it out if you can.

The following day I decided I needed to go for a hike after several hours trying to be handy Andy. One of my favourite hiking trails in the area is Mount Franey, but that is at least a 4 hour hike and quite a climb and I am getting to old to jog around like I have in the past. My second favourite is MiddleHead. To get there you have to ride past the Keltic Lodge and the Highland Links Golf Club. The lodge is now an upscale inn and spa catering to those with lots of money. They do have an afternoon tea that is reasonably priced that will allow you to take in the old world atmosphere. Try it. And 25 years ago The Highland Links Golf Course was rated as the number one course in Canada. The first time I played there they did not have cart paths so you had to carry your clubs. Not a big deal until you consider that the tenth tee is about 1000 feet above sea level and the first few holes run along the coast and it is almost a kilometer between the 8^th green and the 9^th tee. Take the cart if you want to play this challenging and extremely scenic course. The course is remarkable in many ways, rough cut in the 1930’s by hand. There are only a few places on the course where you can even see another fairway. If your ball leaves your fairway it is lost in the bush, just drop another and take the penalty. The view from the 15^th tee is unbelievable, almost 600 yards long, down a steep, bumpy hill with the iconic church steeple as a guide to the green and the Atlantic Ocean as a back drop. .

I parked in the lot just past the Inn and removed my chaps. I had come prepared, wearing shorts and hiking boots. The MiddleHead trail is an old cow path from the original farm settled here by a Scottish lord in the 1800’s. The ‘MiddleHead’ is a mountainous spit of land that juts out into the ocean for about a mile. The trail has many spots along the way where you can stop for great views of Ole Smokey across the Bay, but the real treat is the headland itself. The Trail ends at a cliff standing about 100 feet above the Atlantic Ocean. Sea birds flash the cliff edge to get a lift on the air flow rising off the sun drenched cliffs. And if you are extremely lucky you can perhaps catch site of a whale at sea or seals on the rocks at the foot of the cliff. Its a perfect spot to stop and enjoy a quick snack. The round trip takes about 90 minutes depending on how quick you walk and how often you stop to be amazed by the scenery.

Then it was back to the cottage and a quick dip in the ocean before dinner. Margaret’s homemade offering was capped by a spectacular evening sitting on the deck watching the ocean and sipping on a cold one.  Yep, a tranquility and peace that the rest of the world may never experience.

Tomorrow we continue the adventure.

East Coast Tour

Part 5

Ingonish to Moncton

The time had come for us to bid goodbye to our friends in Ingonish and their ‘Happy Days’ cottage. We will miss this place, but new adventures await down the road.

From Ingonish we headed north to complete the loop around the main island, following the Cabot Trail and stopped at the Bean Barn Café for breakfast. It’s a wonderful little spot with great coffee, friendly service and reasonable prices. The larger and more popular Coastal Waters restaurant further up the road, lacks the atmosphere and café style food for breakfast and is better suited for evenings.

This morning was very sunny and the views along the way were stunning so it is no wonder that the Cabot Trail attracts so many tourists every summer. At the north end of the island are the famous mountains forming the ‘highlands’ of Cape Breton. The road is under construction in a few places but because this was a Saturday, the crew was not on duty so we encountered no real delays. There are many spots to stop as you cross the mountains and you will recognize many of the scenes from the iconic Cape Breton postcards and calendar shots.

A stop at the Rusty Anchor restaurant for a snack is almost mandatory on every trip around the north shore. There were several bikes in the parking lot and quite a few cars. We decided to just grab a coffee and go and sit at one of the picnic tables. As we walked toward the tables a big biker spotted us and moved around the table to free up space. We sat at the space offered and struck up a conversation with him and his mates. This was their third trip in the past 5 years to Cape Breton from Woodstock, NB. And as always, it is amazing. They were on their second day on the island, travelling clockwise this trip. They had travelled counter-clockwise on their previous 2 trips and decided a change was in order. Like most frequent riders of the Trail, none can agree on which direction offers the best ride; its all good. They had stopped at Margaree Harbour last night staying at the same motel we had stayed on our previous trip in 2015.

A little further down the road is the town of Cheticamp. Most of the western shore of Cape Breton is French speaking, but they are still Cape Bretoners, happy and friendly. There are many small shops and curious places to stop along here but if you enjoy country music or just want to hear a sample of typical east coast music, stop at Charlie’s Country Music store. Their collection of local artists is awesome.

The cuisine is slightly different on this shore due to their French heritage and we decided to stop for a quick lunch. We picked Le Gabriel this trip, but almost any of the family run cafes and taverns would offer a similar menu. Le Gabriel is a rather large tavern that features a big stage with very lively entertainment each evening. Be prepared to enjoy yourself, ‘Coaster’ style if you are fortunate enough to find yourself within walking distance of this venue. And I mean walking distance, I have been told that the local constables look for out of town patrons leaving the establishment. On this trip we were here at lunch time, so just a cup of tea as we shared a chicken pot pie and poutine. Yummy. And apple pie for dessert. The best.

The next stretch of roadway is one where I always stop several times to take more than a few photos. It is just so East Coast with that magnificently meandering road along the ocean. Its an image you will want to add to your memory banks. We stayed on the main roadway, made the turn at Margaree Harbour, turned right at Margaree Forks and right again at West Margaree and then pulled into the park area in Inverness for a break.

Inverness is a beautiful vacation village with many shops and cafes and a long, sandy beach. There is a Links-style golf course here overlooking the ocean that is a small, tight course suitable for the average golfer, but watch out for the sand traps and tall fescue grasses. A sand dune and boardwalk separate the golf course from the ocean and on a nice sunny day like this the beach was full of sun seekers and families just enjoying the water and sand. I walked down to the other end of the beach where I found a small hut serving typical beach foods, hot dogs and ice cream, but there was a line up of anxious kids and I decided to pass. When I returned to the parking lot, Roz was engaged in a conversation with a couple that had parked their Harleys beside us. They were on their almost annual trip around Cape Breton from their home in Halifax. They were also travelling clockwise this time.

Back on Hwy 19 and south to Mabou, home to the Rankin family, the famous singing family who run the Red Shoe Café on main street. We were not hungry so didn’t go in, but an ice cream at ‘The Rolling Cones’ caravan across the street was just too much to pass on. After the ice cream we went exploring a little and found an absolutely fantastic old church on the hill around the corner. I am not a religious person but there is something magical about the architecture of an old church on a hill.

We continued on down Hwy 19 and into the old town of Port Hood. This is one of those places that looks like it was perhaps modelled after a Hollywood set of what someone thought an old port town should look like. Or perhaps this is the place that some set builder from Hollywood visited before they designed a slightly run down, once prosperous, main port and fishing village. Or maybe its just me, but that’s what I think everytime I pass thru.

Next stop, Port Hawksbury. This time we were lucky enough to book the Econo-Lodge, MacPuffin Inn. We have stayed here several times because it is a less expensive, small, clean, friendly and family run inn. They also own the restaurant and motel across the street (good for a $5 discount on breakfast). We took a quick dip in the indoor pool, went for dinner at Papa’s Pub in downtown Post Hawkesbury, then sat on the deck chatting with our neighbours. A fitting end to this beautiful day.

The next morning promised nothing but sunshine for the day and we decided to ride the Sunrise Trail enroute to Moncton. We had prebooked the Sheraton again on points, so all was good. The MacPuffin restaurant was packed, it was Sunday morning; so we settled for the A&W. They actually serve a very nice breakfast and its cheap.

We crossed the causeway and stayed on hwy 104 until Hwy 106 and then up to Pictou. If you have time, get off at Antigonish and take rte 337 up to Cape George then along the coastal hwy. Very beautiful. But we didn’t have time on this trip for both that and the Sunrise. Alternatively you could take the ferry from Pictou to PEI. But again no time on this trip.

After we crossed the causeway on hwy 106 into Pictou we grabbed rte 6 and headed off toward the cape region and the famed Sunrise Trail. Just a few miles outside Pictou, I spotted a roadside cafe that served ice cream. Gotta stop. It was one of those quaint little family run places with Grandpa behind the counter, Mom at the till and 2 teenagers waiting tables. We ordered ice cream and headed outside to join the locals at the picnic tables. And as happens all too often, the conversation was about Roz and her Spyder. ‘You rode that all the way from Toronto? Amazing’. We rarely ever get comments about my Harley Ultra. Hmmmm.

This roadway follows along the edge of the Northumberland Strait separating PEI from the mainland. If you like ocean views, small villages and rolling farmland; you will love this road. We stopped at the Chowder House on Main Street in Tatamagouche for lunch. The seafood chowder was quite tasty and with a fresh baked scone, very filling. This little town is the largest along this famed roadway and is quite picturesque.

We turned right onto Fox Harbour Road at Wallace. It is a smaller less travelled road but equally scenic. I pulled over at the Gulf Shores Camping ground for a break and walked down to the shore, took off my shoes and walked a bit in the cool waters. Very relaxing. Nice spot. We joined back up to rte 6 at Pugwash and stopped at the corner gas station to fuel up. A trio of bikers pulled in beside us and asked what was down that road. We were happy to tell them, more of the same with a wonderful little park.

Just past Port Howe we pulled onto rte 366 then around  a loop and onto Hwy 16 toward Moncton. We arrived at the Sheraton about 5pm and decided not to submit ourselves to the over-priced menu at the in-house restaurant. It was a beautiful evening and we decided to just head out see what we could find. We ended up in Shediac and a small Mexican place overlooking the local waterway. The owners were actually from South America and suggested an authentic fish dish. It was delicious. The DosEquus was cold and the atmosphere very pleasant.

We arrived back at the Sheridan about 9pm and took advantage of the free drink offered before heading up to our room.  Into bed by 10:30 after a very full day.

East Coast Tour

Part 3

Franconia to Port Hawkesbury

My morning walk took me out past the Dow Academy along the Gayle River and up Fox Hill hiking trail. One of the things about hiking in an area you have never visited before is to look at a map before you head out. I did not have a local map but luckily I found a posted hiking map at the junction of the river trail and Fox Hill. It promised a 3.2 mile loop hike. I suppose that the map was correct, the problem was the trail markings, there weren’t any. And there were many intersecting trails. Somehow I managed to get up the hill and back to the river in about 90 minutes. I have no idea if I was actually on Fox Hill but the hike was exhilarating and the view from the top almost worth the climb.

While I was cleaning and loading the bikes, the couple who had parked their Harleys next to us came out. They were from Montreal and quite often came here for the weekend. Franconia was a pleasant afternoon run down from Montreal and the roads here are great for exploring on bikes. I asked about a place for breakfast and they suggested the Pancake House only a few miles away.

Roz emerged about 10am and off we headed. The Pancake House was indeed only about 5 minutes away. The parking lot was packed and the line-up was out the door. Pass. We decided to head back to Bethlehem and the Maia Papaya.

After breakfast we headed east on hwy 302, north on hwy 3 and turned right onto #115. The Owl’s Head Hwy crosses over a couple of mountains and thru 2 spectacular valleys. It made me wish we had planned on spending more time in this area, there are so many more roads to explore. We turned east on Hwy 2 and made our way toward Bangor, Mn.

Hwy 2 is an old interstate hiway that is well travelled and passes thru many small towns. For the most part it is a pleasant 2 lane hiway past rolling farmlands and along beside rivers, great for just riding. We stopped at the McDonalds in Farmington for lunch because we couldn’t find anything else. A biker in the parking lot afterwards told me that we could have gone to the BrickYard Café back on the west end of town. Too late.

We pulled into Bangor about 4pm and decided to roll downtown before checking in to the BW. Oh look, a Tim Hortons. We had to stop. The Tims is located on the main street and overlooks a large park. There was a festival of some sort happening in the park and we sat on the patio outside Tims listening to the very loud rock music. It was so loud and distorted it was impossible to recognize any tunes or tell if it was any good.

Our BW was located back on the west end of Bangor just off interstate 95. The hotel is called The White House Inn. It is indeed a large white building with a small portico styled entrance. Inside the lobby was a life-sized cut out of President Trump. Apparently they keep a cut out of the current president in the lobby at all times. Roz had to have a picture with her favorite politician (not). Furthermore, the hallways are lined with official looking photos of all the past presidents. Our room was in between Nixon and Johnson.

The only convenient place for dinner is Dysart’s Truck stop next door. This is an older truck stop and is very popular with the locals. It was crowded. The service was friendly but very slow. The food was not good. I ordered the dinner special, hot turkey sandwich. The mashed potatoes were pasty and the gravy was too salty. Roz ordered the fish and chips; the batter was too thick, but the chips were hand cut. The BW does have a bar downstairs, but it was Sunday and it was closed.

On Monday am I packed up the bikes and joined Roz for the BW breakfast. It actually wasn’t as bad as most. The scrambled eggs tasted like real eggs. Amazing. Roz got into one of her political discussions with a couple from Connecticut. Roz is a liberal and big Bernie supporter. The couple from Connecticut were unapologetic Republicans. Oops.

We returned to downtown Bangor and headed east on Hwy 9. The weather was cool and overcast so we decided to just head straight for Moncton.  About 11am we found a quaint little restaurant called the Homespun Family Restaurant in the middle of Maine on Hwy 9. It was very nice and friendly. The only other couple in the place were locals and expressed their amazement that we had travelled all the way from Toronto on motorcycles. The homemade tomato soup and fresh baked bread were excellent.

The Hwy continued its meandering thru lush New England countryside until about 2 pm when we arrived at the intersection of hwy 9 and hwy 1. We needed gas and a coffee, so we stopped at the Irving Big Stop. We parked beside an older RT Spyder just as the rider emerged from the cafe. He was from Fredericton, travels this way often and always stops here. He was on vacation and headed to Boston to visit friends and take in a baseball game. He recommended the lemon meringue pie. He was right, it was very good.

The new border crossing at Calais (pronounced Kallaze by the locals), is now open but is primarily for commercial traffic. I decided to proceed to the old crossing at St Stephen. There was absolutely no line up and after a quick chat with the border guard, we sailed right thru. The main street in St Stephen is totally torn up and we were rerouted thru the parking lots behind the stores. The signage is down and I missed the turn to the hiway. We travelled a few miles along the coastline before I found a road leading back out to join hwy 1.

We pulled off at St John and found a Tim Hortons and a Petrocan. I called ahead to the Harley dealer in Moncton and made arrangements to have new tires put on the next day.  These tires had about 22,000kms and would probably do for another 3000 but we were headed for Cape Breton and into a few days of rain.

Our lodging this night was the new Four Points Sheraton in Moncton. Very nice and the right price (free with our Aeroplan points). I went out and toured around to find the Harley dealer and a beer store. It was raining when I returned to the hotel so I covered the bikes and we decided to eat at the in-house restaurant. It was expensive but the food was quite well prepared. Roz had a rib-eye and I had the chicken dinner. Both served with lightly sautéed veggies and baked potatoe. Yummy. Oh yeah, and a very hoppy local craft beer.

I was sitting at the Harley dealer by 8:30am, they didn’t open til 9am.  Promptly at 9 o’clock they wheeled in my bike and got right to work. I went for a walk and found a great hiking trail down and along the river. It went out across the marsh and along a dike. I walked part way with two ladies and their dogs. Very pleasant chat about this new walking trail and the plans to extent it along the river front for several miles. I was back at the Harley dealer by 10am, looked around the store and did not buy a t-shirt. Just as they were pulling the bike out the service door, my friend Roger showed up. I had emailed him yesterday and told him I would be here this morning. Roger is from Moncton and had lived in Oakville, Ontario for many years. We rode together many times when he was a member of the same riding club, SCRC57. Roger moved back to Moncton a couple of years ago after a bike accident forced him into early retirement. He is in a new relationship and is recently back riding for the first time since the accident. I excused myself and declined his offer of coffee, I had to get over to the hotel in time for the 11am check-out. Thank you to the guys at Toys for Big Boys and their excellent service.

It had started to rain and we chose to stick to the hiway and head straight for Port Hawkesbury. As is my custom, we went online the previous night after deciding where we would end up the following day, to book a room. We have been to Cape Breton many times and quite often stop at Port Hawkesbury before trekking up to our friends in Ingonish. I could not get a room at our preferred motel and had to settle for the Skye Lodge. It was cheap. Enough said. We phoned Margaret and Hugh last night and told them of our plan to be there Wednesday, simply stopping for lunch and carrying on. Margaret informed us that Hugh was in the hospital with complications from pneumonia. We offered not to come by if not convenient. On the contrary, she insisted that we get there asap and help cheer up Hughie. He was very ill and in a terrible mood. Please….. Ok, see you about noon tomorrow.

It did in fact rain all the way from Moncton to Port Hawkesbury. And the room at the Skye Lodge was not very nice, but its all we could find and this is part of any biking adventure. I rode in the rain to the beer store then across the street to the KFC and grabbed us some dinner. Yep, real classy.

Just after we finished our hi-class dinner, the rain stopped and I went out for a walk. The sky over the Canso Causeway was clearing and promised better days ahead. I believe that ‘Red Sky at Night, Sailors Delight’ is an apt saying.

The East Coast trip

Part 2

New Hampshire

The White Mountain Inn is situated on a hill overlooking the small village of Franconia. It is an older Best Western and is showing its age, but our room was pleasant and conveniently located 2 doors from the lobby. The village is very small and only has one restaurant.

The Dutch Treat is about what you might expect for an older, small village in the mountains. I guessed that about half the patrons were from the Inn, not wanting to travel far after sitting in their cars all day. We ordered chicken wings and salad with beer. A safe choice. The food, when it finally arrived was quite good. The waitress helped us select from a long list of local craft beer. Mine was very hoppy, Roz chose a lighter lager. Both were excellent, but we were part way thru our second pints before the food arrived. The food was tasty and properly prepared, but the slow service and a few bratty, noisy kids kinda spoiled the ambiance. Rather than stay and chat with the other travellers, I grabbed a six pack of Ying Ling at the local Mac’s Market and headed back to our room.

The next morning I decided to go for a walk around the town before waking up Roz. A little way past the Dutch Treat on Main Street, there is a roadside pull-off with an historic plaque. The plague and accompanying story board outline the history of the stone furnace located on the opposite shore of Gale River. Apparently the early settlers built several of these large stone structures to assist in melting the ore found in the local hills and making steel. It is hard to imagine working at the site and enduring the intense heat that must have been necessary to forge.

I followed a hiking trail back in the opposite direction along the river and turned right on Easton Street. I was curious about a large yellow stone building I had spotted when we arrived. The Dow Academy boasted to provide the finest pre-college education and training to proper young men and women. The Academy was founded in 1884 by Moses Dow. The current structure was built in 1903 and included the sports field and track next to the river.

I returned to the Inn just as Roz was emerging from the room to go for breakfast. The breakfast area was small and crowded. The inadequate seating forced guests to sit in the lobby, perching their cereal bowls on their knees or on the coffee tables. The standard BW breakfast buffet was as disappointing as ever. We grabbed a coffee, a banana and a yogurt each and returned to our room. I don’t know why hotels even bother with this type of attempt at breakfast. I would prefer they reduced the price by $10 and offered nothing.

About 10am we hopped on the bikes and set off to explore the region. As I mentioned the Inn was situated in the White Mountains and we were hoping that the roads were worth the 2 days we had set aside here for exploring. We were not disappointed.

We went thru town and turned left on hwy 42; a nice relaxing back road thru forests and fields up to the town of Bethlehem. On hwy 302 I found a little café called The Maia Papaya. As we stood at the counter of this hippy-styled and rustic café searching the overhead chalkboard, an older gent in shorts and hiking boots came over and offered his assistance. He comes here almost everyday on his way home from his morning hike and highly recommends the dark roast coffee. There were 3 coffees in urns on the side table, all were organic and from fair practice central America plantations. And because we had passed on the BW breakfast we each ordered the egg sandwich special. Both the coffee and the sandwich were excellent as was the conversation. A nice find for sure. Outside I noticed a sculpture standing in front of a building a few doors up the road. I walked over and was totally amazed at the metal sculptures on display. The one that really caught my attention was one that looked like The Alien riding a motorcycle. All the separate pieces welded together looked like they were actually from motorcycles. For instance the tires were several rows of bike chains. Unfortunately the store was closed so I could not go in to explore the smaller objects inside or talk to the artist, but the half dozen large pieces outside were totally awesome.

We continued along hwy 302 and down thru Crawford Notch. This was definitely worth the ride. The notch follows the river most of the way thru the state park and is cut thru the granite in several places. It is an absolutely stunning ride with several spots to pull over and take those amazing scenic shots. But the destination today was really Mount Washington.

Mount Washington is located off hwy 16 about 15 miles north of hwy 302. The scenic road up the mountain claims to be the oldest amusement park in North America and the highest point you can drive a car (or motorcycle) east of the Rockies. I have tried on 2 other occasions to ride up this mountain but was disappointed because of the weather. Today it was bright and sunny 25C and virtually no wind. Perfect.

After paying our $17 each at the base of the mountain we noticed a very large sign warning us that the road is steep and twisty in areas and not always protected by barriers. If you suffer from vertigo or are afraid of heights, you are advised to park your vehicle and take the shuttle bus. Roz stopped and read the sign and asked if I was serious about this. I told her that we had come here specifically to ride this road, I was doing it; she could take the shuttle if she wanted. She followed, ‘But don’t go too fast’.

The road is 8 miles long and except for one small section is well paved. I did not find it all that twisty or steep and because we were on bikes, did not have to get too near any steep embankments when downward cars passed. We have been on much steeper and twistier roads on our travels but never anything this high into the sky. There are a few spots to pull over on the route but most are not well paved and one had fresh, deep gravel making it difficult to stop. At the top, 6400 feet, is a large graveled parking lot. Up a set up steps, about equal to 2 stories, is a large building with bathrooms, a small café and a gift shop. All were much too crowded to be bothered with, I was more interested in climbing the last 20 feet or so and standing at the cairn marking the highest point. Certainly an amazing and exhilarating sight. One of the things that struck me most was the wind. As calm and warm as it was down at the base, the wind at the top howled and it was necessary hang onto the railing to make sure you didn’t get blown over. And it was cold, only 12C according to the gauge on the Harley. I walked around soaking up the atmosphere, trekked over to the weather station with markers commemorating hikers and weathermen. Apparently the highest wind ever recorded was on this peak. Whew, that must have been a real scary day. I walked over to the railing and peered over the edge at Roz down there in the parking lot. Yep, well worth the trip; fascinating adventure.

On my way back down to the Harley, I passed a little sign with an arrow pointing to the way down via a hiking trail. I cant imagine walking all the way up, but just then a young guy emerged to greet his friend claiming that it only took six hours from his campsite. He would love to get a ride back down. Personally I would have taken the opposite tack. On the ride back down I told Roz to lead, I figured she could find her way. As we approached the small dirt section, we noticed a car pointed toward us but it was backing down the mountain. As we got closer we noticed a woman further down, in the middle of the roadway, with her cell phone to her ear and screaming. ‘I cant do this, I cant go any further. I cant, I cant’. Apparently she was the driver of the car now parked in the centre of the roadway and was talking to the driver of the car backing down the road. I guess she either did not see the sign at the base or had been talked into ignoring it. We squeezed past and wondered how they were going to resolve this problem; there were no pull off or turn around areas handy. But I’m sure the staff had seen this scene more than once.

We continued up hwy 16 to hwy 2, over to 115 and back down to Franconia. We had missed lunch so decided to simply revisit the Dutch Treat for an early dinner. We fell into bed early that evening convinced that the ride up Mt Washington would be the highlite of this trip.

Well maybe.

East coast tour 2017

Part one;

Burlington, Ont to Franconia, VT

I have been looking forward to having the time to do a real road trip. My semi-retirement was going just as planned. I still had about 100 hours of work to complete each month and with some shrewd scheduling I could get it done in two weeks. That left two whole weeks for road trips each month. And now  that Roz had a large touring trike, there was nothing to stop us from completing that longer tour. The trip to Drummondville (see ‘Spyder Homecoming’) had been a test ride of sorts. Now for the real thing; Cape Breton.

At 10am on July 19 we were all set and ready to roll. Even though it was sunny and warm, a quick check of the weather showed that a front was moving in and rain was expected by noon. This rain would last only for an hour or so then the sun would come out for most of the afternoon. So off we went.

At about 11:30am as we got close to Bownanville, we noticed the black cloud chasing us. Seemed like a good time to stop for lunch. The Toasted Walnut on King Street was the perfect spot. The rain started just as we got off the bikes and walked across the street. We had arrived just ahead of the lunch crowd and settled at a tiny table near the door. The Toasted Walnut is a small bakery-café with seating for perhaps 20 patrons. By 12 noon the line-up was out the door. Most were grabbing sandwiches and returning to their offices, some waited to get a table. We each ordered the soup, a hearty vegetable with ginger along with a chef salad. Absolutely delicious.When we had finished our lunch it was still raining quite heavily and we don’t usually have dessert at lunch time. We explained to the waitress that we were riding bikes and were in no hurry to get out until the rain stopped. ‘No problem, you can stay as long as you want’. We ordered another coffee each and a butter tart to share. The rain finally stopped just before 2pm and off we went.

Our first scheduled stop on this trip was to visit a longtime friend, Dimitri who had moved from Toronto 2 years ago into an old farm house near Warkworth. The roads in that area are well worth the ride with lots of rolling hills, sweeping turns and beautiful farm lands. Dimitri’s farmhouse is an old, fieldstone structure that he has renovated to suit their needs. The renos included an art studio, a performance space and recording studio. In addition to being an architect, Dimitri is an artist (painter) and a musician. He has created an absolutely amazing place. And I loved the 20 meter by 3 meter inground pool hidden behind the house, perfect for doing lengths. After an hour or so of witty conversation, a house tour and a great cup of fresh ground coffee we were ready to leave. I asked Dimitri where the nearest gas station was located, my tank was nearing empty. The nearest station was about 25kms away. I should be OK, but Dimitri insisted I take some gas from his lawn mower’s supply. I took about a litre and off we went. It was after 4pm and we had to get to Cornwall for the night, about 300kms away. After a quick stop at the Shell station, it was onto that boring 401.

As with previous visits to the Cornwall area, I booked a room at the Best Western. We have been here enough times to get to know some of the staff, our favourite is Tanya, the waitress most evenings in the dining lounge. Tanya brought us each a local craft beer and made dinner suggestions. Tonight’s special was fish and chips which Roz ordered, I decided on the house burger with salad. There is something very comforting about being made to feel at home when you are away from home. About 10:30 we headed back to our room with a beer in hand as a nightcap. This certainly was a great start to our adventure.

This particular Best Western serves a very good hot buffet breakfast that is included in the room rate. At check-in they give you a voucher that is good for the buffet, but if you don’t see what you want there, you can order from the menu and take $5 off the price. Perhaps it is because we have been there a few times, or perhaps they do this for any guest, Roz always orders from the menu and they never charge us any extra. Like I said, the staff is special here and they know the meaning of service and make you feel special as their guest.

As part of my regular morning routine, I always check over the bikes and give them each a quick cleaning. I always take my own micro-fibre towels and a can of lemon Pledge. I wet one of the towels at the sink before I leave the room to blot down the worst smudges. The Pledge does a fantastic job on removing bug guts from the windshield and giving an acceptable shine to the metal parts. The can takes up very little space and replacement is available anywhere along the route.

As happens quite often lately, while I am cleaning the bikes and loading the luggage, someone stops to admire them. Then they ask about the Spyder. Most of the admirers are seniors and I can see the gleam in their eyes, they would love to just jump onboard and take off on an adventure. The attraction of the Spyder is obvious, it has 3 wheels, it just looks a lot safer and easier for a novice to ride. The fascination of a large touring motorcycle is equally obvious; dreams.

The plan for today was directly across the bridge at Cornwall into the states and secondary hiways all the way to our pre-booked hotel, the White Mountains Inn in Franconia, NH. I had booked 2 nights there to give us an opportunity to explore the area. The rest of our vacation would be more ad hoc, making plans no more than a day in advance depending on weather and what we found.

As soon as you cross the bridge into the USA route 37 ends at Hwy 11, we turned left and followed the meandering roadway for a few hours. We stopped in the town of Mooers for fuel and at Sandi’s Kountry Kitchen for lunch. The diner was old and was decorated in cheesy Adirondach antiques, including a ‘Muskoka’ chair, a butter churn, a set of broken skis on the wall and an old toboggan. There was only one other patron in the room and our waitress was eager to chat. She was a local, born only a few miles away. She had worked at the state prison about 20 miles down the hiway for 10 years. It was a well paid job but she preferred the restaurant. We ordered the burger and fries that she recommended. The fries were fresh cut and properly cooked, the burger pretty ordinary.

We continued along hwy 11 past Hiway 87, turning right onto Hwy 2 at Rouses Point. Hwy 2 travels down the Grand Island peninsula thru North and South Hero. In places the water of Lake Champlain is visible on both sides of the roadway. We decided to stay on hwy 2 and travel into Burlington. I made a quick stop at a park entrance to take a selfie of the sign over the entranceway, City of Burlington. Unfortunately hwy 2 winds its way thru the downtown core; it was 4:30pm, rush hour hit. We had intended to stop and wander around but could not find a parking space so continued on, settling for a McDonalds on the eastern edge of the city.

We decided that it was too late to stop by the Ben and Jerry factory if we were going to make it to our hotel at a reasonable hour. Hwy 2 parallels Hwy 87 until it gets to Montpleier where 87 dives south. The road meanders around the Green Mountains thru some fascinating scenery, but it is not a quick ride if you intend to get somewhere soon. We turned on Hiway 93 at St Johnsbury for the last leg of our trip today.

We arrived at the Best Western in Franconia about 6pm.