WHERE TO GO NEXT YEAR?

For each of the past 11 years, I have been faced with the task of telling Don and Marcelline Waugh where we are going next.  When I ask for suggestions, I always hear “I am following you,” or “I don’t give a damn, let’s just go.”  So, earlier this year I suggested to Don that we go back to Newfoundland.  After all, we hadn’t been there in two years.  After a few moment s of excitement, it was decided: Newfoundland or bust.

It was supposed to be simple. Ride to Newfoundland, tour from port to port, and then back home.  Four days to North Sydney, four days in Newfoundland, and four days back.  But, over time the destinations changed, as did the riders in the group.  The basic plan changed each time we discussed the ride.  Additional destinations were suggested, like Prince Edward Island (PEI), the Cabot Trail, Peggy’s Cove, Halifax and the “you remember where we stopped before”.  Of course this all had to be squeezed into a 12 day ride of more than 4,000 miles.  I finally settled on three destinations for our trip, PEI, Newfoundland (Nfld) and Halifax over 14 days.

With the destinations defined, all I had to do was make ferry reservations from North Sydney, Nova Scotia to Port aux Basque, Nfld (pronounced Port Aw Bass (like the fish)) and return reservations four days later from Argentia, Nfld to North Sydney.  But then I discovered the ferry times and dates were changing and rooms and gas would be at a premium around Nfld, so the planning took a bit more time and coordination to ensure everything would fall into place.

With passage booked for everyone on the ferry crossings, hotel reservations made in Nfld where we would be stopping across the 565 miles of road on the island, and with hopes for good weather, we set out June 29, 2011.

Our group consisted of: Don & Marcy Waugh, Bob & Mary Ott, me, Bob Francis and his young nephew Alex Buchanan, Chuck & Patty Mills, and another single rider, Joe Funkhouser riding an 800cc Suzuki.  I had my doubts about Joe and his ability to keep up with the bigger touring bikes.  But he proved me 100% WRONG!!

The plan was to ride 500 miles a day for two days and cross into Canada on July 1, 2011, where we would ride to PEI and lodge for the night. We all took turns teasing Alex about how often we stopped to eat.  He didn’t believe any of us when we mentioned it was time to eat again.  He had a very unique bewildered look on his face every time one of us would tease him about one thing or another.  I think that was because he had no reason to doubt us after his experience with our eating habits.  He was a lot of fun and we all enjoyed his company immensely.

We tried to be on the road as early as reasonable, starting out preferably at 7:00AM, but occasionally allowing for a slightly later start.  The mornings in Danbury, CT and further north were crisp and cool, but for the most part, as the day wore on, the sunlight was bright and the daytime temperatures warmed up.  By the end of the first day and into the second, the group had learned about each other’s riding behavior and also to keep a watchful eye out for each other.

From the southern border of ME., to Bangor there are several toll booths on I-95.  We decided to let one bike pay for the entire group making it easier for everyone to get through.  As we were slowing to go through the last toll booth before Bangor, Don shot to the lead to pay for the group.  The only problem was he entered and passed through a booth accepting EZ-PASS ONLY.  So he was stymied as to what to do.  The rest of us stopped at a booth allowing cash and let the lead bike pay for everyone.  Don was approached by a booth agent and handed a paper which was kind of a “you have been a bad boy” information sheet.  He was instructed to call the ME Transit authority to confess his booth running sin.  He was told to make that call in the morning after 9:00AM.  Of course Don being Don he had no idea what he had done or why he had to call the number to confess to anything.  So the next morning I called reporting myself to be Don Waugh.  Yes I told them everything.  I confessed to being gay, a hardened criminal wanted by the Virginia authorities and that I was riding a Honda.  Just kidding about the Honda.  Anyway, the toll charge was $1.25 for his side car which he was to mail in when he got back home.  Actually he got off cheap, because the rest of the sidecars and trike were incorrectly charged $1.90.

Next, Don wanted to lead the group for a while.  Awwww CRAP!!  I had been tracking the miles ridden from each gas stop to ensure the three sidecars which got the least miles per gallon, would be refueled at or before going over the 100 mile mark.  So I told Don he could lead, but we needed to stop for gas in less than 20 miles and as the leader he had to take us off the interstate within 20 miles.  I am certain he didn’t hear a word I said and away he went in the lead with me as the second bike.  When I saw we had covered 18 miles and passed by several refueling opportunities, I took everyone behind me to get gas at the next exit.  Like our ride last year to Mississippi, there was a point where Don would run out of gas, and he wanted to get there as quickly as he could.  He was more than a mile ahead of us when we turned off of I-95.  One thing for certain, Don provides some great entertainment on these rides.

While we filled our bikes, I was wondering how far down the road we would find him out of gas.  But as luck would have it, Marcy was looking out for him.  Bob Francis called her via cell phone.  We made arrangements to meet them on I-95 several miles north, where he would rejoin the group with a full tank of gas.  When we rode by him, he rejoined the group near the rear and didn’t ask to lead again.  When we next stopped, Marcy hugged me, thanking me for looking out for them.  That’s my job each year on these rides, and by the way, I do enjoy it.

We stayed overnight in Bangor, ME., which was just three hours from the US, Canadian border on I-95.  Early in the AM we started out for the border, stopped for gas, and rode on northbound looking for the US/Canadian border.

The border crossing went as we hoped it would, allowing us all through in short order.  We were then looking for a place to having a celebratory breakfast in New Brunswick Canada.  We ran across a very nice place where we celebrated our first milestone on the trip.  It was exciting to see the look on the faces of those who were joining us for the first time Chuck, Patty, Joe and young Alex were all excited to be in Canada. I can just imagine young Alex wondering about things like language, the way the young ladies dressed, the food, how cold would it get and were there hockey players standing on every corner.  I am sure the more he learned the more questions he would have.

One thing I found very useful was switching my GPS from statute miles to kilometers, and then using the GPS as my speedometer.  Some others may also find it useful to do the quick math for converting kilometers to statute miles.  You simply multiply kilometers by .61 to derive the statute miles.  However after the first full day in kilometer land, it was pretty easy to estimate the statute MPH and be safely in the ball park.  I recall seeing 50, 70, 90, 100 and 110 kilometers more than any other.  And these are roughly 30, 40, 55, 60 and 70 MPH.

Our evening destination was Charlottetown, PEI.  For those who have never been to the PEI Province of Canada, you ride in across a very large toll bridge where the winds can be very treacherous.  For us the winds were calm and it was a delightful ride.   The toll for a two wheel motorcycle was about $18.00 Canadian, and a side car or trike was about $45.00 Canadian which is paid when leaving PEI.

The plan was to arrive several hours earlier, giving us time to ride around the eastern end of the island, but that just didn’t happen.  As part of the planning, I built in two places where we could save or make-up time if needed.  PEI was one of the two on this trip, and this one was needed.

We had lodging at a pretty nice Best Western in the older downtown area of Charlottetown.  After checking in, some of us managed to take in a local pub/restaurant and enjoyed some local foods.  I remember Bob Francis and I had Shepherd Pie and it was terrific.  I think young Alex had a hamburger.  Did you know that hamburgers in Canada are very similar to those found everyplace else in the world?  Go figure.  Chuck and Pat had some local foods as well and I found that Chuck really liked to taste the ale’s from different parts of the world.  Bob and Mary were with us as well, but I really didn’t poke my nose into what everyone was eating or drinking.

We also figured out how to tell a resident from a tourist.  The tourists were all bundled up and the residents were walking around in t-shirts, shorts and tennis shoes.  We were definitely tourists.

As it happened, July 1^st was Canada Day (Their Independence Day).  It was a real pleasure to celebrate with the residents of the PEI Province on their special day.  Residents of all ages were very enthusiastic about Canada Day.  The evening was filled with cheers, hugs, congratulations, welcome and fireworks.  At the end of day three all was going according to plan and even the weather was cooperating.

To save time the next day, we decided to take the ferry from PEI to Nova Scotia instead of the long toll bridge and the long ride around to our next stop in Truro.  This change gave us time to tour around a bit of the south eastern side of the island.  Bob and Mary Ott, and I went to a small restaurant and gift shop near the ferry port for breakfast, while the others went to a light house at Wood Cove to watch a reenactment by women dressed in the period.  After taking in the lighthouse festivities, they joined us at the restaurant for a quick snack.  Then we all rode to another lighthouse north of the port.  This particular lighthouse was the first land based station to hear the SOS from the HMS Titanic.

We managed to ride through some other small towns and see some of the local farms harvesting mostly potatoes.  Everyone had a good time visiting various points of interest in this part of PEI, but time was running out and we had to get back to the ferry station for the ride over to Nova Scotia.  BTW, the mosquitos were huge and plentiful.

We arrived in Nova Scotia via ferry and rode the 90 kilometers to Truro where we lodged at a Best Western for the night of July 2^nd.   On the way, we stopped for gas.  When we got ready to depart, the station attendant was frantically calling out that one of us had not paid for the gas.  The guilty party resolved the problem quickly and we were off and heading to Truro, free of the fear of being arrested for driving off without paying.  As usual the constant teasing of Alex was entertaining.  On a sad note, in Truro we learned there was a casino in Charlottetown, which we missed.  DANG!!

We left Truro on the morning of July 3^rd bound for North Sydney hoping to arrive sometime before noon.  The usual stop of every 100 miles took some time as did following a very slow pickup truck for 35 kilometers.  That was very irritating especially since we guessed the driver was probably going to the same ferry as we, but certainly didn’t share our sense of urgency.   We had learned that riding for about 100 miles between gas stops gave us plenty of time on the road to take in our surroundings.  We saw the hills and valleys, ponds (we call them lakes) their shores and coastlines.  You could smell the fresh breezes enhanced with the scent and fragrances of flowers, trees and even manure on one occasion.  What would otherwise have been a boring and dull ride was inwardly very eventful.

Part of the plan was to make a final gas stop just before getting on the ferry at North Sydney so we would all have full tanks when we set out from Port aux Basque on the morning of July 4^th.   So we stopped as planned and topped off our tanks with only five kilometers to the ferry port in North Sydney, NS.  Part of the check-in at the ferry port is to get a lane assignment for boarding.  They usually align all of the motorcycles in the same lane.  We managed to get a fellow passenger to take a group photo just before the boarding call was made.   Ooops, Where is Mary?  She was actually in the cafeteria eyeballing some food.  This ferry ride is a short six hours at sea from North Sydney, NS to Port aux Basque, Nfld.  The weather was terrific during the crossing.  Port aux Basque is always a bit chilly, foggy and misty, so it was no surprise to see that when we arrived at 8:30PM.  Nfld is an interesting place in terms of world time.  It is the only place on earth that is ½ hour earlier or later than its neighboring time zone.  Nova Scotia and New Brunswick is one hour ahead of our Eastern Standard Time.  So Nfld is 1.5 hours earlier than our eastern standard time.  This makes things a bit complicated when we agree to meet at 8:00AM for instance.  The common question, “Is that local time or the time at home?”  My standard answer was, “local time.”  To me it seemed easier.

When we departed the ship, it was like stepping into a refrigerator with a fan turned on high.  It was cold, wet and breezy, which is fairly standard for this southern port in Nfld.  When we arrived at the hotel, the lobby was full of people who had recently arrived via the same ferry.  Since there are only two hotels in town and the other was fully booked, I was very glad I had made early reservations for everyone as part of my trip planning.

We were in our hotel rooms by 10:00PM (local time) and in the lounge by 9:30PM (east coast US time).  Bob and Alex were the first to hit the hotel guest laundry facility.  Marry Ott found it later then it was my turn.  The washer did a fair job, but the dryer left a lot to be desired.  The hotels guests were not shy about tossing your clothes out on to the dryer if you were not there when your clothes were done in the washing machine.  I think that is the standard operating procedure for most guest laundry facilities.

The morning greeted us with cold winds accompanied by a misty rain.  So everyone put on their rain gear and prepared for a long cold ride to Deer Lake about 170 miles away.   Our ride plan took us over roads and traffic conditions we had not ridden before.  We were told to be on the constant alert for MOOSE, so as we rode along slowly, which is what the road signs recommended, I was sure I saw a moose behind every tree, bush and telephone pole.  Actually I didn’t see any, but I know those critters were out there waiting for us.  Another thing we discovered from reading articles about touring Nfld was to NEVER pass up an opportunity to top off with gas.  Many of the stations do not carry premium gas, but we later discovered that even the Harley 110 CI engines ran ok on regular.  Not really, but a slight ping was better than not running at all.  It was sort of strange to be in Nfld, knowing it was July 4^th and no one was excited about it.  Maybe you had to be there.

As we approached the 50 miles point from Port aux Basque, I started looking for gas.  We came across a station at the 70 mile point and stopped.  I didn’t fill up because I can go about 230 miles on my six gallon tank, and by my calculations I had another 175 miles on this tank.  By this time the sun was out and the air was warm and dry.  So off came the rain gear.

When we left the station and had ridden another 10 miles I glanced at my gas gauge and saw it was on empty.  NO WAY!!  I checked my navigation system and the onboard indicator told me I could go another 60 miles.  How could a full tank be empty?  My only thought was to find gas and not worry about who or when my tank had been siphoned.  We found gas in another 25 miles and everyone managed to fill up with premium.  But the bottom line was that some low life had drained my tank.

As part of this stop, Joe allowed Alex to ride around the station grounds on his Suzuki 800.  Alex had some dirt bike riding experience, so this was nothing brand new to the youngster, but it was a bit more of a challenge.

Our next planned stop was at Deer Lake, which is a small town that serves as the gateway to one of the most beautiful places on earth.  We arrived early enough to take in some of the local sights.

Gros  Morne National Park is claimed by a few sources to be the second most visited natural and national park area in North America, second only to the Grand Canyon.   Interestingly, it didn’t get really dark until about 10:00PM, so we decided to ride into the park and eat at a seafood restaurant in a place called Trout River.   We were told it would be worth the ride even under the threat of running into the moose which are more heavily populated in the park than anywhere else in Nfld.

The ride through the park in the late day sun was the first indicator that Nfld was as unusual in landscape as it could possibly be.  God was certainly having a good day when He laid out and painted the Nfld landscape.  Don said it best when he said it was like going back in time and seeing a place untouched by man.  We rode into the midst of some awesome terrain full of various shades of green and speckled with what we would call lakes, or ponds as you wish.  At one mountain crest we could look down into a bowl formed by several mountains.  Off to our left we could see what appeared to be a mountain that had been sheared off about half way up.  From our level all the way to the top there was no green, only baron brown granite, soil and small rocks.  It was an awesome sight to see this brown “Table Top” nestled in the middle of the grandeur of green.

On the way we stopped at a small village, which had a nice little gift shop.  The cabins they rent are modern in appointment and I hear not too bad as far as rental fee.  But they are small.  While in there, Don took an opportunity to talk to the store keeper who was more than interested to share her stories of life in Nfld with him.  I am not sure if Don made a sale or not, but he handed out cards at every opportunity.

Trout River is known for a fisherman’s museum which is dedicated to preserving local fishing heritage.  Some of the displays in the museum showcase some the methods and equipment used in traditional inshore fishery.  While we didn’t visit the museum, there is a wealth of information about Gros Morne and some of the highly visited tourist stopping points available within the park, elsewhere in Nfld and of course online.

When we got to the restaurant in Trout River, we met a couple on a black Ultra who were riding from a town we were riding through the next day.  So they had a lengthy ride back home in great weather with the sun setting at the end of the day.

In the restaurant, we were greeted and set at a table accommodating all of us.  Our drinks were brought and our orders taken.  That is when the wait began.  About 45 minutes later we were served.  The food was excellent, but our patience was short, because nightfall was upon us and we had an hour or better to ride through these hills, where peering eyes would be watching us as were we watching them.  Of course we hoped none of the eyes were nestled in the head of a 2500 pound MOOSE!!  But again, the ride was perfect and we returned to the hotel just as the night air began to turn to liquid.  This was the first sign of real rain on the entire trip.

I might mention that we plan to go back to Nfld again for the sole purpose of riding all the way through Gros Morne Park.  There are some deep ravines, Viking Digs and more landscape to see in one area than we would dare to imagine in any two or three states here in the US.  The Viking Digs are one thing I want to see.  These are villages where the first explorers of Nfld lived.  As with other parts of North America, the Vikings were the first to set foot on the new world.  So one day I and hopefully the others will be heading north again.

The next morning we saw sunshine and comfortable temperatures.  What a great way to start the day.   We rode north and east, bound for the town of Gander, where we had lodging already booked.  Remember all the planning I did earlier?  It was paying off.

As we rode on we noted again the terrain and ecosystem seemed to change as we topped every mountain.  Two things became apparent as we rode along the second of four days in Nfld.  1) Several helmet mounted cameras set at varying time intervals would have been helpful (HERO by GoPro http://gopro.com/cameras/hd-helmet-hero-camera/?gclid=CJvLrobJhqoCFQgbQgodPEtG0A meets these requirements), and 2) the roads were in terrific condition for such a faraway place.  All the roads were two, three and four lanes wide with ample opportunities to pass using the frequent passing lanes designed into the roads.   The provincial government is always servicing the maintaining what is called TCH-1 (Trans Canadian Highway -1), so there were several areas where traffic was slowed to accommodate the ongoing road work.  That is a necessary evil up there since the TCH-1 is the only major road connecting the one part of the island to another.

This leg of the trip was the first time we saw a real, no kidding moose.  There she was on the roadside grazing as I rode by.  She looked up when she heard the bikes, turned and sauntered back into the woods.  Those behind me had camera’s ready, but her rear end was all they could see.  It is hard to imagine the size of this animal even when you see them from 100 feet away.  All of the semi tractor trailers have a “cow catcher” grill on the front which is supposed to protect the truck from severe damage when encountering a moose.  Personally I am not convinced these add on devices will do what they were designed for.  I wonder how it would look on a motorcycle.  As accessories go, it would be interesting.  Maybe Honda will come out with one to go along with the airbag on their GL1800.

Sadly we saw many, many roadside crosses where someone, for some reason, perished.  One can only assume their demise was from some traffic related incident involving a moose.  The number of moose strikes involving motorized vehicles on the roads in Nfld tops 800 per year.  We passed road signs indicating there were about 650 moose related strike already this year.

As we rode east, we encountered colder air and at the next stop it was time to put on the rain gear.  It was not raining yet, but there was rain in the forecast for Gander.  Keeping in mind we had been on the road for seven days and no real rain encountered while riding.  So it was not a surprise to see a few drops as we arrive and parked our bikes at the hotel in Gander.

Gander holds a unique distinction of being the one place in the northern hemisphere where many passenger aircraft were diverted when the US airspace was closed on 9/11.  The people in Gander are proud of that as they should be.  The town stepped up to assist in any way they could to accommodate the passengers and airlines in this time of crisis.  In September of 2011 they have a huge celebration planned to commemorate the event.

Next to the hotel was a “Jungle Jim’s” restaurant, so we dropped in for lunch.  We had been in these chain restaurants before and never noticed the banner that struck us square in the face.   “JUMBO HURRICANE!!!”  And when we looked at the menu, there it was again.  Well, those guys are so good at advertising we ordered four.  How could we resist???   Anyone who knows Don understands he is a fan of this particular drink made famous at Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans, LA.  There are none better than the original found at Pat O’Brien’s, but in this case quantity trumped quality.  After our meal, several of us indulged in a long afternoon of “double deck pinochle.”   This became the card game of choice on the trip.  Even young Alex learned more about the game and some of the important bidding and playing strategies.

The next morning in the bright sunlight we headed out for St. John’s, the gem of Nfld.  We again experienced the changing colors, terrain and ecosystem of the island as we moved across fantastic road conditions.   We made the usual gas stops and of course a stop for breakfast.  They make a bologna in Nfld that is thick and flavorful.  That and baked beans are a part of every breakfast up there.  This leg of the trip was the longest in Nfld spanning almost 375 kilometers or a bit short of 230 miles.  The weather was changing for the worse.  The winds increased and heavy dark clouds appeared on the horizon.  I was certain our perfect weather luck was running out.  As we rode on to our next gas stop up over the mountains in front of us, we rode into the clearing sky and warming temperatures.  This changing weather pattern prevailed all the way into St John’s.

As we rode into St. John’s, it was an awesome sight to see a sprawling metropolis in such a faraway place.   The TCH-1 leads you right into the southern parts of the St John’s, and then on to the modern business center part of town.  But this is a bit deceiving because in the midst of the area near the Airport, there are the older, rustic and historic parts of town.  Navigating through the streets is a challenge because the street corners are not all 90 degrees.  Some corners are such a tight turn right or left that you think you are heading back from the direction you just came from.  Our hotel was the Comfort Inn at the Air Port.  It was in a terrific location with easy access to TCH-1 and any part of the town.

After checking in and unloading our luggage, we decided to take in some of the tourist sites and parts of the town.  But first things first, we had to see the Harley dealership in St. John’s.

I am constantly reminded that we are spoiled by the quality of service and help we find at Waugh HD.  Chuck Mills was riding a trike and was keenly interested in finding a set of highway pegs.  So where else, but an H-D dealership to find what he needed.  In the parts department he asked for assistance in finding what he needed.  The man behind the counter simply handed him a catalog and told him to look in it for his pegs.  Now that is the kind of attitude you get from a business that is the only game in town. Meanwhile Don was treated like royalty in the service department.  Elsewhere in the dealership we found the support to be near that of what Chuck found in the parts department.  The interesting thing is the man who owns this particular dealership also owns the one in Halifax which was our next overnight stop.  To their credit, the service manager did call the Halifax store and arranged for a rear tire change for Bob Ott when we arrived at the dealership in Halifax in two days.  We later found that service and customer support in Halifax was totally different than that in St. John’s.  So the question is how two dealerships under the same ownership can be so different.  Maybe the owner is unaware of the issues in St. John’s.

There is a lot of history in St. John’s.  Places like Cape Spear noted as being the most easterly point of land in North America.  We decided to ride to Signal Hill and see the coastal areas near St. John’s.  Many go there because of that geographic fact and for whale watching.  Signal Hill, which got its name in 1762 (or 1763), because it was used in flag communication between land and sea. One of other significant facts is that it was the reception point of the first transatlantic wireless transmission (end of 1901), which was originated from the Poldhu station, southwestern Cornwall, England, by Guglielmo Marconi and his assistant, George Kemp.  It was also the sight of The Battle of Signal Hill in 1763. The battle included soldiers from France versus The Montgomery Highlanders and the Massachusetts Militia.   Like many old towns, St John’s has an “old town” flare along with the new and modern side you would expect from the capital of a state or in this case the Province of Newfoundland- Labrador.

After leaving Signal Hill, we decided to navigate our way back to the hotel and perhaps find some food along the way.  We rode again through various parts of town heading back to the hotel.  This is one of those downtown areas where walking around for an afternoon would be a real treat.  Stopping in at the various stores and then there is the food.  I would love to take a couple of days to just shop and eat, not necessarily in that order.  But our travel plans did not allow for that pleasure on this trip.

The next day was an opportunity for the group to do what they wanted individually or in a smaller group as long as they were in Argentia, Nfld to check in for the 14 hour ferry ride back to North Sydney.  This was also our last opportunity to get “Screeched In.”  That is an informal ritual performed by a local authority whereby visitors and tourist can be made an honorary “Newfy.”  It consists of kissing a cod fish (pucker up ladies), drinking a shot of “Screech” (a locally bottled Jamaican Rhum (Rum)), eating a chunk of locally made bologna and reciting a pledge.  But time was running out and finding an official to conduct the ritual was no easy task.  So Don, Bob and I did the next best thing, we bought some “Screech” to bring back. Then we were off to Argentia.

The others in the group went to Cape Spear for an early morning view of the sea from the eastern most point of land in North America.  Bob Francis described it as a place of beauty where the high mountains fell into the sea, surfing waves with occasional pipeline, crashing into the coastal rocks.  The wind was chilly as it rolled in from the sea, the sunshine blessed by no fog, seemed to roll in from England.  After visiting this area of the coast the group rode into the Bohemian section of St John’s for breakfast.    Joe started out with the group heading to Cape Spear, but split off to see some sights of his own.  He wanted to ride the Irish Loop for one.  Newfoundland has a great history of Irish influence.  You can hear it in the accent of their speech and in many other ways of their lives.  The influence is everywhere in all parts of Nfld, but mostly in areas around St. John’s.   Many of the pubs, restaurants and other public forums reflect the historic and current traditions of the Irish.  For more information on the Irish history and influence in Newfoundland, here is one of many references:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_Newfoundlanders.

Joe reported he managed to ride a portion of the Irish Loop but noted the time and decided it was probably best to head towards Argentia, or be left to become a Newfy.

Our ride to Arngentia was fairly uneventful.  We stopped for a bowl of very tasty soup at a restaurant along the way.  In there we discovered what “highway robbery” meant.  The soup, coffee, soft drinks, and a small salad came to over $50.00.  We discovered by way of the bill the soup was a touch over $8.00 per bowl.  That meant everything else was basically free.  Remember the near 18% sales tax in Canada.   We also ran into a grumpy truck driver in there.  At first I thought he was grumpy because of an encounter with a motorcyclist who he claimed was on a trike and playing “grab-ass” with him on the road.  But as it turned out, he ordered the soup too.   Not really, he was truly upset about someone on a trike trying to give him a hard time.  It was none of us and it wasn’t Chuck, because they were still in St. John’s.

All of us arrived at Argentia well ahead of time and took time to talk to the locals at the port.  We found as before that many of the locals were either transplants from other parts of Canada, or were residents from other parts of Nfld, or, some who were born there, went away and returned.

In my trip planning I specifically booked the long trip on the “Atlantic Vision.”  She is the largest ship in the fleet of three and has the best passenger accommodations.  We booked passage on her once before and it was a terrific crossing then.  I hoped it would equally smooth this time.

While waiting for the boarding orders, Bob Francis was in contact with his wife who was ill.  He decided that once we arrived in North Sydney, he would have to head south and not take time to visit Halifax.

As we rode onto the ship, all the motorcycles were directed to one area where we tied them down for the voyage.  These are mostly for liability reasons, but nonetheless it is nice to know that even if things got a little dicey, the bikes would be secure as the ship settled on the bottom of the North Atlantic.

Everyone had sleeper accommodations on the ferry since we would be crossing at night and arriving in North Sydney in the morning about 9:00AM.  Remember we were in a half hour time zone while on the island of Newfoundland.

If you are a people person, you cannot pass by an opportunity to strike up a conversation with everyone you meet.  In Nfld, I was never disappointed meeting anyone I spoke with.  It is an interesting contrast on board the ferry because you meet people from all over the world.  For anyone who manages to take this trip in the future, I would like to chat with you and hear your opinion of which country has the rudest tourist.  I have my opinion.

The ferry ride was pleasant and smooth.  Decks six and seven were available for entertainment, food and refreshments.  Sleeping quarters were on deck eight.  There was a mild rocking motion to the ship as we moved away from Nfld in the fog of the Nfld coast.  There is food available at all hours and a dining area serving an “all you can eat buffet” of food and great dessert treats.  There was also live entertainment.  On our particular cruise, the live Country entertainment was more annoying that entertaining.  But I guess some of the passengers enjoyed the music, or perhaps they were either too drunk or sleepy to know the difference.

After several spirited games of pinochle it was well after midnight and time to check out the sleeping accommodations.  The sleepers were well appointed and offered two or four bunks, individual washrooms with a shower, sink and toilet. Each room also had a closet, TV, radio and in my case, a window view of the ocean.

When I went to bed I was initially aware of the rocking motion of the ship.  Side rails were not available nor needed on this cruise.  Soon the rocking motion of the ship drifted or blended away as the darkness of sleep overtook me.

Morning came and I think everyone in our group was energized from a good night’s sleep.  When I arrived on deck seven, I met up with the other early risers in our group.  Coffee was hot and strong; the sun was beaming in through all the windows and doors as more early risers made their way to the deck.  We noticed that, in spite of signs reading “no sleeping” in some areas, there were families carrying pillows and blankets from those areas.  Watching people walk around in their night clothing and PJ’s was kind of unusual but not unexpected.  We were two hours from arriving at North Sydney.  The ocean was smooth as glass and the outside air was the warmest we had encountered on any of the cruises to date.  Breakfast was being served so many of us made our way to the buffet where we all declared to be over 65 to get the seniors discount.  Alex was the only one who could not have passed as a senior.  I have seen some senior’s act 13, but never a 13 year old pass for a senior.  Alex was cool about it.  He stood upright and made no attempt to be a young looking senior.

Soon the landscape of North Sydney was in view and we were arriving at last.  With the sun shining brightly and the early morning air around us, it was a pleasant docking.  We arrived and the hordes of passengers all made their way down to the third and fourth decks where all of the vehicles were safely tucked away.  We untied our bikes and made ready for riding off the ship.  This is where those in cars, trucks and RV’s had us at a great disadvantage.  A steady stream of vehicles rolled off the ship, but we had not yet moved.  As space would allow we managed to merge and ride off the ship.  It was a pleasant ocean crossing, but I have to admit it was nice to be on the bike again.

We left North Sydney, but before getting too far down the road, I led the group into a service station where we could all say our good-byes and safe travels to Bob and Alex.  Bob wrote a terrific daily log of the entire trip including his ride once he and Alex left the group just outside of North Sydney.  Some of his daily log is used in this report.

I estimated Halifax to be about five hours away, but it took us seven.  This was due to no fault of the others or my ability to estimate travel time.  It was all due to my inability to follow the GPS guidance as we entered the outskirts of Halifax.   However, due to my navigation error, we were running critically short on fuel.  That is when we discovered there are not gas stations on every corner like so many cities in the US.  Finally, we ran across a station and fueled up.  Then with the assistance of an H-D rider at the station we found our way to the Halifax H-D dealer where they were waiting for us to service Bob’s bike with a new rear tire.

After a meal and retrieving Bob’s bike, new tire and all, we decided on a hotel.  We found a hotel which offered a pretty good AARP discount.  It was not as close to the boardwalk as the one we wanted, but it served us well.

There were three points of interest we had on our agenda.  They were the casino, the Maritime Museum, the casino and the Farmers Market.  Did I mention the Casino????  I have to admit, the casino had its attraction, but some of us found the Farmers Market to be the real attraction.  In there you could find a wealth of fresh produce, many home made treats, jewelry, clothing, fresh cooked foods and other Halifax traditional rarities.

While at the Farmers Market I heard someone calling me as a United States Air Force man.  When I found the guy calling me, we began to exchange war stories about our Air Force careers.  It seems he was an H-D rider and an Air Force F-4 Phantom pilot who eventually retired in the mid 1980’s (just before me in 1988).  He loved and visited the Canadian Provinces very often.  Eventually he met and married a lady from Halifax and moved there to be with her full time.  He reported he never regretted his decision or a moment of the time he lived there.   You do meet some interesting people when you ride a Harley.

We did visit the Maritime Museum which is a real treat for those interested in the history of Halifax and Nova Scotia.  In there we found actual ships (scaled down of course) which helped us imagine the contributions of Halifax to the early sea going history of the area.  There was video entertainment depicting the destruction of Halifax when a munitions cargo ship was struck by another vessel in the Halifax harbor.  The explosion was so massive and secondary fires so widespread that Halifax was almost completely destroyed.   The maritime accident was the fault of the munitions ship captain.  Ohh Boy was he in deep doo-doo!

There were also a short video on the construction, launch and sinking of the HMS Titanic.  The video also portrayed in some detail the trauma centers set up in Halifax as well as the temporary morgues that were arranged on the docks in Halifax.  There is a grave yard in Halifax where many of the unclaimed bodies were buried.  In those days, visual identification was the only way to determine who was who.  Without that visual identification, many were buried as an “unknown passenger” of the Titanic.  We didn’t make it to the graveyard, but seeing the video was enough to bring to life the depth of the tragedy.

These two videos provided me with an easily understood history lesson regarding the destruction of Halifax and the huge role several ships from Halifax played in the search and rescue of the Titanic survivors which were few, as well as the recovery of those less fortunate passengers, which were many.  Next year is the 100^th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.

Later in the afternoon the rain ceased and the sun came out.  Bob, Mary, Chuck, Pat and I met for an evening meal at one of the local seafood restaurants.  “Salty’s” had a great reputation and they were very quick to seat us, serve our drinks and take our food orders.  The food was very good and it was a great way to top off a nice visit to Halifax.  So if you are ever in the Halifax, be sure to go by Salty’s and indulge in some of their great food.

We departed Halifax by way of a toll bridge and again I missed a turn on the GPS.  I had more problems on this trip than any other trip I have ever taken.  We managed to get back on the road heading North West towards Truro which was about 60 miles away.  We stopped for breakfast at a remote turn off in Nova Scotia.  It was one of those exits that indicated food to the left, so we turn left around a big looping exit, then right.  Still no restaurant.  We rode on a bit further and there it was, the Double C Truck Stop.  The parking lot was definitely heavily used by big rigs and there was more evidence to validate this suspicion when I saw two of the big guys in the parking lot.  This is proof enough for me.  When the truckers stop in a place like this to eat, the food has to be good and plentiful.  So here is where we planned to stop and put on the feed bags.

The chance stopping at the Double C was unique and fun.  The business is family owned and operated.  The lady who served us was interested in our ride, where we were from, had been and were going.  But the most interesting and funny exchange was when Don tried to explain to her what he wanted for breakfast.  He wanted ice coffee.  Now that is not too unique, but a sandwich made of bologna, egg and peanut butter was something she had never heard of before.  She said that made her day because she finally had someone order something unique and very different.

The breakfast was very relaxing and made for a perfect break in the road time.  A couple other riders stopped in while we were there and we noted there was a pretty good flow of traffic up and down the road, which by most standards was off the beaten path.  But then we were not used to the low volume of traffic in Nova Scotia as compared to where we live in north central Virginia.

I hope the folks at the restaurant are all doing well and get a kick out of reading this about our motorcycle journey.  Thanks for a great breakfast and best of all good things to you!  We do hope to see you again in the near future.

Our objective for the day was to get into Augusta, ME.  This was about 500 miles which I like to equate to five gas stops, at 1.5 hours per tank.  This made a 7.5 hour day of riding, not including the time for food and the gas stop itself.   The ride through Nova Scotia and into New Brunswick was fairly uneventful.  We continued to ride and eventually made our way to the US and Canada border crossing.  To me this meant that we were over half way to our objective for day.

At the end of a fourteen hour day, we made it to Augusta.  We were nearing the outer limits of a tank for the low mileage bikes so we took an off ramp that promised gas.  Eventually we found the gas station and stopped, all of us were very exhausted and ready to park for the night.

Joe joined us after topping off our tanks and asked if we were stopping here for the night.  We all agreed Augusta was the stopping point.  All except Joe.  He said his bike was pointed south and he was going to see the sun ride in Virginia.  We said our goodbyes to Joe, offered our concerns for his plan and away he rode.   If anyone has an occasion to ride with Joe at any time, don’t miss the opportunity.  Regardless of which bike he is riding, I promise you an enjoyable time riding and chatting with Joe Funkhouser.

We found our lodging for the night in Augusta, ME., and settled in for a well deserved rest.  I remember going to sleep reminding myself there was one more night on the road, and that would be in or near Stanton, PA.

Day 13 has arrived on the trip.  Today we were bound for Scranton, PA where we would lodge overnight and take a leisurely ride into Orange the next day.  But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.

Leaving Augusta there was one more leader and GPS error to overcome ahead of us.  Yes, I managed once again to screw up and miss a turn to stay on I-95 instead of going into Portland on business 95.  With a few more missed turns and a stop at a gas station with no washrooms, as noted by Marcy, we eventually had to backtrack eight miles on I-95 to the turnoff I missed.  I can’t apologize enough for making all of these errors while using my GPS.  And it is not a case of not trusting it, it is a case of not paying more attention to it.  But I guess keeping my eyes on the road is not a real bad thing either.

After getting on down the road, riding out of ME, in and out of NH, MA, NY, CT, and finally into PA, we were never so glad to get off of the roughest road in the north east.  I-84 is one rough road and it is in very poor condition for being a major highway.  I have heard the same said about the I-70.  Maybe it is a PA. thing.

Chuck reflected back on a couple of incidents in the ride as we rode south on I-84 before Scranton, PA.

Here is his first of two:  How short my memory has gotten.  It must be because I have had too many birthdays in this life. However, it is all coming back to me.  So I want to share another interesting bit of information about an incident that occurred during our trip to Canada.  I know that some of you may think that I am piling on and picking on the most senior and respected rider on our trip.  However, here we go.  As we were cruising through Canada, Pat and I were bringing up the rear and Don and Marcy were directly in front of us.  Along came a string of cars that passed us on the left.  Everything was fine until a SMART Car (not exactly known to be a European racing car) was observed driving parallel to Big Daddy’s bike.  It seemed to us as though the occupants in the SMART car where paying special attention to Don and Marcy’s rig.  They stayed parallel for an extended period of time and Big Daddy may have thought that they also wanted to challenge him.  I asked Pat, who was riding on our Harley trike with me, to take a picture of both vehicles if she could.  Pictures attached along with thought lines.  I have to say that I was somewhat embarrassed as the SMART Car suddenly took off at a high rate of speed leaving Big Daddy in the dust so to speak.  I hope that the executives from Harley Davidson never read this article as they would no doubt immediately send their design engineers back to the drawing board.  Big Daddy seemed to be a good sport and did not over react and give chase.  The attached pictures are worth a thousand words. To sum this story up, one could say that the trip certainly would not have been as exciting without the Don and Marcy along to provide opportunities that will be treasured by the entire group.  They both are truly good sports and we hope to have many more pleasant and fun filled adventures with them in the future.

Here is his second observation:  Every trip on a motorcycle has its moments that are significant to capture and share with other riders who may also share the same experience during an organized ride to far off places.  Some unique situations experienced will be forever imprinted in the minds of those who also observed the special acts or situations.

During this particular trip, most riders in our group were well behaved.  However, during the latter part of the trip as we were headed back to our original departure point, one of our most seasoned and respected riders broke out of his flawless practice of following the rules as dictated by our Road Captain, Dick Becker.

Yes, Big Daddy (Don) was the culprit, it happened as we were in a single formation cruising around 65 MPH.  Along came a bike from the rear and passed us.  The mistake the rider made was gunning his engine as he passed the group.  To some this is considered a challenge to race.  To all of our surprise Big Daddy took the bait and broke out of the group in chase of the other rider.  All of the other riders in our group were completely caught off guard.  Don was now in hot pursuit of a wobbly wheeled older Roadster 1200 ridden by a less than polished crusty dude. Don was not going to let the rider off the hook and chased him for some distance.  We all thought that Don was going to run up the guy’s pipes as they disappeared in the distance.   Most of you know Don is currently riding his new supped up 110. Oh by the way, Marcy his lovely wife was riding in the attached sidecar.  She later explained that during the chase she was physically pounding on his leg begging him to give up the chase.

Big Daddy (smiling) finally returned to his position in the group.  During the next gas stop, he was feeling rather proud of himself and the performance of his new Harley.  He immediately declared himself the winner of the sprint and will always have the bragging rights of winning the race with an old wobbly wheeled 1200 Roadster.

Dick Becker and I were wondering how one could win a race when you never passed the lead bike? After all, first place is to the winner, all others are losers.  Big Daddy later explained that he could have passed the other bike if he had continued on.  However, due to the severe pain in his leg from Marcy’s pounding he felt it best to give up the chase and return to the group.  Marcy also admitted she forgot Big Daddy’s cane was in the side car with her.  Had she remembered, Big Daddy would have had welts on his leg and lumps on his head!!

I guess the lesson that I learned from this most wonderful trip and particularly from Dig Daddy is:  you are never too old to accept a challenge from a younger man riding an older wobbly wheeled Roadster 1200.

Finally we reached the point where I-84 ended for us.  We eventually got on I-81 near Scranton, PA.    The road conditions were much better and the ride became more enjoyable as we motored along.

Things got a bit more relaxing knowing we were on the last leg of our journey.  One thing I figured out, or maybe should say, “remembered” was that you cannot get a steak cooked medium rare in Canada.  I was told it is because the Canadian Government health program, in an effort to cut down on the number of food borne illnesses, mandated that all meat is to be cooked to a certain temperature.  Meaning, nothing less than medium well is available.  So I guess everyone there learned to accept that style of cooking.  So it was a real treat to go into a steak house in Scranton and eat a real good medium rare steak.  Yummmmmm!

After eating we attempted to find lodging in the area, but all of the hotels and motels in the area were booked.  We were told to go south for another 8 miles and there should be rooms there.  So off we went to Wilkes-Barre Township.  There we found a very nice Fairfield Inn and lodged there for the night.  The rest was welcomed and rewarding.

The next morning we hit the road after a quick hotel breakfast.  What happened next was a little strange and I am not sure how it all happened.  But after filling up, we managed to get out on the road leading to I-81 south.  Somewhere and somehow, the two lead bikes (Bob Ott with Mary, & I) got separated from Don with Marcy and Chuck with Patty.  I missed the on-ramp to I-81 south and had to lead Bob down the road and back to find our way on to I-81 South.  That was a bit less trying than what Chuck had to do to wrangle in Don, who also missed the on ramp and rode like the devil was on his tail in the wrong direction.  When Chuck did catch Don, he got him turned around and was headed back towards the I-81 on-ramp.  At about that time, Chuck and I lost CB communication.  So I slowed way down to allow them time to catch up to us on I-81.  It seemed like a very long time spanning many, many miles that I heard from Chuck on the CB.  They were a couple miles behind us and closing.  Eventually they caught us and we resumed our normal speeds on the road.

Our fun was not over yet.  I had no idea how many miles Don had put on his bike going where he wasn’t supposed to in Wilkes-Barre Township, so I made a decision to pull the group off near the 80 mile point from our last fill up.  The problem was that Chuck while in no danger of running out of gas was in the left lane, I failed to call him on the CB and he did not see us exit from I-81.  However we made contact on the CB and agreed to meet a short distance (no specifics) down the road.  So those getting gas did so as quickly as they could and we were back on the road.  I assumed we would close in on them within about 40 miles, but I couldn’t hear of see them.  So after about 25 miles, we pulled off into a rest area, just in case Chuck had decided to pull off for gas and was somewhere behind us.  As we waited I was constantly call for him on the CB.  No reply.

We got back on the road heading south maintaining a 65 average.  I was sure we would meet somewhere soon.   Time and miles rolled by, but there was no word on the CB or sight of them anywhere.

I was getting ready to pull off for gas when I heard Chuck calling on the CB.  A distant signal but with each call his signal was stronger.  They had to be behind us and closing.  We pulled off and got our gas, waited and called on the CB.  This was not working, so I called Patty on the cell phone and thankfully she answered.  They were now 12 miles ahead of us.  How did that happen??  We agreed to make a rolling rendezvous on I-81 south.  So off we went rolling along at a pretty decent clip.  Within 30 minutes we caught them and I for one breathed a deep sigh of relief.  I am sure I was behaving like a mother hen looking for her chicks, but it was important to me to know everyone was safe and together.

We decided to stop for a real breakfast at about 12:00PM in MD.  Hey, another sure sign we were getting close to home: a Cracker Barrel.   It was a real joy to eat with my friends at that time.  This was our last meal on the road and to me it was very special to share it with my riding buddies Don, Marcy and Bob, Mary as well as my new found riding friends Chuck and Patty.

The ride over the remaining 120 miles seemed to go on forever.  We rode south on I-81 to I-66 south of Winchester.  Six more miles and we would be on US-522 at Front Royal, where we made our last gas stop.

By now the heat was sweltering.  I was thinking about the very hot ride to Mississippi last summer.  As we rode south into and through Front Royal I was thinking about Don last year in MS where the heat was so very, very uncomfortable.  Riding up over the mountain south of Front Royal was refreshing and it was pleasant to eventually get into Sperryville.  In my mind I could see the miles clicking by as we rode the last few roads leading us to the junction of 15 and 20 in Orange.   It was only a few minutes after 3:00PM when we arrived at Waugh Enterprises.  I was hoping to arrive a few hours earlier, but then we would have missed all the fun earlier in the day.

As I looked back on the memories and photographs of the ride, there are few things I would have changed.  I enjoyed the ride, the company and fellowship of all those who traveled, the scenery, and the different places we saw for the first time as well as some of the places we had seen before.  I truly hope to ride up there again and hopefully many of those who rode this time will be on the next trip.

As I wrap up this ride report, I am wondering...

“Where the hell can we go next year to top this ride?”

NEWFOUNDLAND RIDE SUMMARY

Departed June 29, 2011, returned July 12, 2011.

RIDER , PASSENGER and BIKE:

Don Waugh – Rider,  Marcelline Waugh - Passenger – H-D Ultra and Sidecar,

Bob Ott – Rider, Mary Ott – Passenger, H-D Ultra and Sidecar

Dick Becker - Rider – HD SE Ultra

Chuck Mills – Rider, Pat Mills – Passenger, H-D Trike

Bob Francis – Rider, Alex Buchanan – Passenger, H-D Road King with California Sidecar

Joe Funkhouser – Rider, 800cc Suzuki

TOTAL MILES RIDDEN

(Does not count miles traveled by the three ferry’s)

4161 miles as recorded by Don Waugh on his bike.

STATES & PROVINCES COVERED

VA, MD, WV, PA, NY, CT, MA, NH, ME, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Labrador – Newfoundland.

RIDING DAYS IN RAIN

ZERO!!!

READY TO GO AGAIN?

HELL YEAH!!