A mari usque ad mare

One of the highlights of the trip: les fous de basan on isle Bonaventure

Jane at the Gaspé site where Jacques Cartier planted a wooden cross in 1534

Riding off the ferry at Forestville after crossing from Rimouski.

Last Thursady, August 4th at around 2:50 in the afternoon, I rode my motorcycle into my garage at home; and with that the Summer 2011 Eastern Tour was finally over. But most importantly I had achieved my goal of riding from coast to coast accross Canada. I have now had the opportunity to ride through all ten provinces and to experience the beauty, diversity and magnificence of this amazing country Canada, which I'm so proud to call my home and native land.

Jane and I had a wonderful time with Jean and Jacques in Québec City. The weather was lovely as we walked around the Citadelle, the river and the old city which was full of tourists. Our last day riding took us along route 138, le chemin du Roy, through many small picturesrique towns and villages between Québec and Trois Rivières. It was really nice having Jane with me from Charlottetown to home. While I know she was not always comfotable behind me, she was always positive and her chatter through the headset, often about the flowers she was admiring, was very nice to hear. While she couldn't see it, it made me smile.

Here are some statistics from this year's ride:

9,356 kilometres

414.1 litres of gas

1 litre of motor oil

31 days

4 States

6 Provinces

3 time zones

21 different lodgings (plus 1 room on a ship)

7 ferries

hundreds of pictures

And along the way many meetings with some interesting characters with whom I sometimes shared meals and stories and who are now part of my thousands of memories of this trip.

It was a remarkable experience. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

Percé - Gaspé - Rimouski

Well we made it to Percé mostly through the rain. Jane actually said she liked riding in the rain beacause she could hear the rain pelting on her helmet. The truth is that it's not that bedm, except fro the feet, when you're well covered in rain gear, and the smells of the ocen and the shoreside fields seem to be accentuate by the humidity in the air. We arrived in Percé around six and went to our room at the Les trois soeurs motel which had a great view of the Rocher through the early evening fog. We had a great dinner at Chez Matilde, a fine dining establishment next door to, and associated with the motel. I had the fisherman's platter, and no simple platter it was consisting of delicious cod, cod cheeks, salmon, sole, trout, scallops, big and small shrimp, crab, a half lobster, rice, vegetables, roasted tomato, tartar sauce, and drawn butter. Jane had a bouillabaisse that was topped with a fist-sized lobster law.

When we awoke Sunday the weather looked more promising. Indeed one of the charming chambermaids said she had done a sun dance that morning and she promised that the sun would come out in 15 minutes. While she missed the timing somewhat, she was right about the woutcome. The sun did come out and we had a great visit to Rocher percé and l'Ile Bonaventure where we followed the 45 minute walking trail accross the island from the where the boats land on the island to the colony of gannets, or their much more interesting french name: Fous de Bassan. The trail is amazing, and wait awaits at the end is nothing short of spectacular. On approaching the site where thousands of birds guard the 5-foot diameter space around their individual nests, which consist of a few twigs and some other small scaps of vegetation and feathers, you begin to hear their squawking. The sound rises to the point that it's hard to have a conversation with anyone when you're right next to the colony in the roofed (you can imagine why) specially-constructed viewing galleries. The site which is a world-recognozed landmark is well maintained by Parks Canada that provides guides on the boats and on site to explain the history of the island and details on the flora and fauna found there. The visit to the colony is the highlight of the whole trip.

We walked around Percé, had a nice pasta dinner Chez Real, and retired early - after all these are retirement rides.

Yesterday we rode the xxxk from Percé to Rimouski, passing through Gaspé where we had a small breakfast and the greatest cup of coffee on the trip, and visisted the site where Jacques Cartier planted a cross in 1534. While the forecast was for rain, we only experienced one brief shower before lunch which we stopped for at the same restaurant in Ste-Anne-des-Monts I had been to on my last motorcycle trip to the Gaspé. The ride along the Gaspé peninsula is really magnificent. The vistas are amazing and the ditches and fields are full of blooms including the fireweed which Jane through her running commentary, interupted by her OHs! WOWs! and OH WOWs! informs me are bigger than she's seen anywhere. As I said at lunch, you ain't lived until you've driven around the Gaspé, all 800k-plus of it.

Today we taake the ferry accross the St-lawrence to Forestville and go down the north shore to Québec City, our last stop before the ride home.

PEI and on to Carleton-sur mer

As it was raining Thursday morning we decided to use the car to visit some of the local sites around North Rustico and Cavendish. The skies cleared and Jane and I were able to go for a walk along a beach and visit Ann of Green Gables, another well maintained Parks Canada site that attracts large crowds of tourists, including busloads of Asians who are devoted admirers of Lucy Maud Montgomery.

The clear skies also allowed our friend Jeff to take his spouse Laurie and his children Annie and Gavin for rides on the motorcycle, which they all really enjoyed. Jeff, a skilled rider, had always wanted to ride a motorcycle on the island and I think he was grateful for having been given an opportunity to do so on a BMW. In return we had a great oyster and lobster dinner with the family.

Yesterday the weather was hot and the sky clear and sunny. After breakfast at the Inn where we met a charming couple from Lethbridge who are flying a small plane from their home to the East Coast, we rode 564k to Carleton-sur-mer, a small resort village on the shores of la Baie des chaleurs. About 10 kilometers before where our motel is located, we stopped to visit the gravesites of my maternal grandparents and some uncles in the Nouvelle cemetary, and then rode the Miguasha point road up and over "la Bûte à St-Onge" past the ancestral homestead. The views of Miguasha Bay and the surrounding verdant hills are magnificent and it's not hard to see why my mother, having been transplanted to the bleak landscape of Coniston in the mid-40s, had a lifelong yearning to return to her birthplace.

We were able to make a reservation at 'Le marin d'eau douce', a local fine dining establishment, where we had a good though uneven meal. The highlight were most certainly the locally brewed beer and the fish soup that contained many seared scallops and salmon, matane shrimp, mussels, and slices of carrots swimming in an expertly spiced rich fish broth.

We are presently waiting out the rain hoping that it clears before the meter on the motel room runs out. Then it's off to Percé for the rest of today and all day Sunday.

On Red Mud Island

The oldest bank in PEI.

















The Barachois Inn. Our room is on the top floor.















The catholic church accross from the inn

Arriving at Wood Island PEI. Looks like a biker, not a sailor.

I took the ferry from Caribou to Wood Island at 11:15 yesterday and then spent the better part of the sfternoon riding around the northeastern part of PEI and then making my way to the Barachois Inn in North Rustico where I will sleep for next three nights. On the ferry I introduced myself to two very nice Québec bikers, Guillaume and Sylvie, that I had spoken to at my Forteress of Louisbourg stop. The skies were overcast all day and when I was riding back to the inn from a seafood dinner at the relatively new Lobster House in Charlottetown the rain started and continued on and off for the next 24 hours.

Jane and I had decided that given the weather forecast we would rent a car at the Charlottetown airport. As it turns out this was a good idea since the skies really opened up shortly after we returned from picking her up at the airport and having a lunch of oysters and mussels, followed by Cows ice cream cones. Having a small car meant that we were not stuck in the inn, as nice as it is, for the rest of the afternoon and evening. And it did rain; torrents of red water washed accross the roads at places and red dirt roads quicklly became red mud paths, no places for a motorcycle, particularly a BMW touring bike loaded with two passengers and their gear. We drove around, happily catching up on what had happened in our lives over the last three weeks, much of which we had, thanks to technology, already been able to share by phone or email already.

We had a lovely, but not overwhelmingly good, dinner at The Pearl, a restaurant just outside of Rustico that won the best of PEI award for 2010.

Today we are planning to tour a small museum a few meters from the inn that is set up in the first farmers bank established on PEI, here in North Rustico, that some claim is the birthplace of the coop movement. Then it's off to visit Jeff and Laurie, their children Annie and Gavin, and Laurie's parents Art and Shirley who have a lovely summer home overlooking the water about a kilometre from the inn.

Forteresse de Louisbourg and to Pictou

The Gouverneur's bedroom and office















A view of some of the buildings of Louisbourg














Children being entertained while "mothers" watch

A place of memories

So yesterday after a smooth crossing from Port Aux Basques to North Sydney on which I met a Harley driving physician from Glace Bay who knows Bill Tholl because he's involved with the medical protection association, arrived early enough to be able to ride to Sydney and back. Jane and I have very fond memories of Sydney, in partcular a bar, Smooth Herman's, where she and I had a few bad bar scotches after day-long sessions at the Canadian Medical Association meeting that was held in the Arena in Sydney. Alas, while the name is still on the building, other signs suggest that the fine establishment, Smooth Herman's is no longer in business. Also, the only fine dining restaurant in Sydney, Le Petit Jean, has changed hands a few times since the mid-90s and is now the Governor's Pub and Eatery. while the fare is not as refined as it once was, I can vouch for the linguine with lightly curried seafood and vegetables. All the ingridients were fresh and the mussels, shrimps, scallops and vegetable were cooked to perfection. A glass of Jost Chardonnay was the perfect beverage with the pasta.

My visit to Forteresse Louisbourg, that Gerry Maffre had strongly suggested I do, was WELL WORTH the time. The weather was ideal, brilliant sunshine and in the mid-20s. The reconstruction of one-fifth (and that was always the intention) of buildings that were on the site in 1744, is remarquably well done and the numerous employees in period costume, many of whom have been working on the site for a long time, are extremely knowledgeable about the period and they add so much to the ambiance as they go about the daily activities that those they represent would have attended to here in the middle of the 18th century. Everything is as authentic as can be; for example all the costumes are hand stitched on the premises, and the food served in the auberge, where ordinary folk ate, and the hotel, that the higher class frequented, is based on period recipes. I can say that a mid-day meal of turnip, carrot and onion soup, followed by a plate of roast porc, more turnips and carrots, and rice, with bread pudding for dessert, accompanied by a glass of red wine, would have been satisfying, if not to contemporary tastes inspiring.

One final note on Louisbourg and Parcs Canada; once again I was very impressed by the guide, a woman who has been working there for many years, who led us on a one-and-a-half walking tour where she explained the historical context and the significance of Loisbourg to the french. She also pointed out the homes of, and gave us a glimpse of the lives of important residents, le gouverneur (like our GG), le commissaire-ordonnateur (with all executive powers), l'ingénieur (whose residence was the nicest), la seule femme qui appartenait une des 24 auberges de la place, and many other buildings.

After lunch I rode from Louisbourg to Pictou via a series of smaller roads going through places like Marion Bridge, Eskasoni, Grand Narrows; then down Highway 105 over the Canso Causeway and on 104 as far as New Glasgow; then a short hop to my room at Dolan's Inn in Pictou.

Tomorrow I take the ferry from Caribou, a few kilometres from here, to Woods Island PEI.

Deer Lake to Stephenville and on to Port Aux Basques

Bottle Cove at the end of 450















Waterfall off 450 after Frenchman's Cove














Cape Anguille Lighthouse. The largest building is an Inn















Rose Blanche at the end of the road -470














Reconstructed Rose Blanche Lighthouse

The last two days have been spent taking side trips off the Trans Canada Highway. First at Corner Brook I took 450 along the south shore of the Humber Arm and road under cloudy skies all the way to the end of the road at Dark Harbour and Bottle Cove. Then, after having checked in to my Holiday Inn room, I continued beyond Stephenville on 460/463 and circumnavigated Port au Port Peninsula on the French Ancestors Route through villages like Lourdes, Petit Jardin, Cap St Georges, and Grand Jardin, De Grau. I rode in sunlight to the end of the paved 463 to Black Duck Brook near the northern tip of the peninsula on a narrow spit of land where you can at the same time see the Gulf of St. Lawrence on one side and the Port Au Port Bay on the other.

Today I rode from Stephenville to Corner Brook and again took as many side roads off the TCH just to see what was there. One nice detour took me, via 406 to the lighthouse at Cape Anguille. Notwithstanding the detours I arrived at Port Aux Basques around 12:30. After checking in at the Port Aux Basques Hotel and lunch at a restaurant overlooking the ferry to North Sydney, I rode to the end of the road at Rose Blanche. Unfortunately for nearly the whole 40 or so kilometres from Port Aux Basques the fog was so thick that I couldn't see the water's edge, even if it was but meters away ffrom the road at times. I visited the reconstructed lighthouse at Rose Blanche and was given a personal tour by the guide.

Tonight it's football on tv. Tomorrow it's au revoir to Newfoundland and the ferry ride to North Sydney. I'm so glad I took the time to ride to so many interesting small places in Newfoudland. It's a very varied and beautiful province.

To the tip of the Northern Peninsula and back

This iceberg we saw on the 2 hour boat tour

















A picture of part of the recreated Vicking village













The first iceberg I saw just off St Anthony (note the chunks in the water just off shore)

Arches Provincial Park

Well, it won't surprise most of you that there's not much wifi connectivity at the B&Bs in St Anthony, which explains why you haven't heard much since I left Deer Lake on Tuesday morning. The weather for the ride up to the very tip of the Northern Peninsula wasn't all that great, no rain but rather cool. The hottest it got was around 18, but that didn't spoil the trip. The first part of the drive through Gros Mourne National Park is very scenic as the road rises several hundred metres above sea level along a coastal range of mountains. At times the views of the mountains on the rright and the Gulf of St Lawrence on the left are staggeringly beeautiful; there are some audible "WOW" moments in my helmet. Further along on 430 after a short stop at Arches provincial Park, named for a formation of stone with a series of arches on the shoreline one hugs the coast of the Strait of Belle Isle from where you can easily spot the coast of Labrador on the far shore.

The 430 takes you right into St Anthony, where there's premium gas, a Tim Hortons and a bay, litterally at the end of the road, with an iceberg waiting too be photographed from shore. I subsequently learn that the bergs are late this year, as no less then 2 weeks ago there were none, anywhere along this stretch of shore. I can report that that is certainly not the case now. As a matter of fact I could see some from my L'Anse of Meadows B&B bedroom window, from the restaurant where I had lunch and during the boat tour from Griquet I took yesterday, along with the three anglophone sisters (Toronto, Victoria and Brisbane) and the french couple from Westmount (he in shorts -freezing). The L'Anse aux Meadows Parcs Canada site is well worth the visit. The recreated viking village is well done and the guides are prepared and more than happy to answer all questions. The Vickings who settled in this area around 1000 were ccertainly a hearty lot. Notwithstanding the efforts to recreate the setting, it's still quite difficult to imagine how life would have been at that time in that place. There ceratinly would not have been a four star Frommer restaurant where I had an excellent dinner, with live local entertainment on Tuesday, nor a charming and hospitable hostess at Marilyn's B&B who not only fed us (the three sisters were also guests there as were two gay guys from Dubai - well one, a Serbian-Canadian, originally from St Catherine's and his partner from South Africa) bountiful breakfasts but also a wonderful dinner of pan fried cod, that her husband Lou had just caught off Labrador, and all the fixin's including "still melt the butter" hot homemade bread. Mother would have loved that meal.

So, this morning as I left Cherryl's house - oh, I forgot to mention that when I arrived at Marilyn's Hospitality B&B, she informed me that there had been a mixup and that, if I didn't mind I would be sleeping (in my own room) over at her friend's, Cherryl's place next door for the next two nights. Well, you see, Cherryl, a Toronto bookstore owner had visited L'Anse aux Meadows this past April, had fallen in love with the place, and, for $50K had bought Marilyn's brother's house that had been on the market for two years after he died in a snowmobile accident. Cherryl, a maritimer born and raised in a small village in Nova Scotia, had arrived last week and was settling into her $180-a-month-mortgage piece of paradise, was already a member of the small community, and a close friend of Marilyn - I retraced my route back to Deer Lake. Except for the pair of big moose just next to the highway a few kilometers west of the intersection of 436 and 430, the rest of the trip under cloudy skies was uneventful.

Tomorrow, it's down to Stephenville, where I've been told I must tour the Port au Port Peninsula.

St Johns to Deer Lake via Gander

Around Badger's Quay













Deadman's Bay
















The purple bits are wild iris'

Well Dears,

Yesterday was the longest ride so far on this trip, 653 k, and the weather generally was favourable; that is there was not much rain after a short bit out of Avalon Peninsula. I rode from St Johns to Gander and made a long detour north of the Trans Canada Highway on routes 330, 332 and 320 which took me throug such beautiful spots as Beaver Cove, Noggin Cove, Musgrave Harbour, Deadman's Bay, Badger's Quay, and Hare Bay. It's along those secondary roads that hug the shoreline that one really sees what the small fishing villages look like. In many places houses facing narrow streets are perched on rocky outcrops, or along the sides of narrow coves, with fishing boats tied to flimsy looking docks in their back yards. There are many small churches, mainly white and mainly Angelican or United, with small cemeteries near them. There is an overall sense of quiet and tranquility, and the beauty of flowers growing in boggy areas between the road and the shore is stunning. One senses that a slower pace orders the affairs of the day around here; only the endless crashing of the waves on exposed rocky shores disturbs the peace.

The room at the Comfort Inn in Gander was, well like any other Comfort Inn room, and I had a good night's rest after a very good T-bone steak with salad and Bloody Ceasar dinner in a palce called Jungle Jim's.

After meeting two couples from Sudbury (actually one of the women attended the same parish as I did in Coniston) at breakfast in the hotel, I rode 316k under variable skies (it was raining when I left, the sun came out and the temperature rose from 18 to 24, and then it clouded over again and raindrops reappeared) from Gander to Deer Lake on the TCH. One covers a lot of k's rather quickly on a road with a posted speed limit of 100k where everyone rides between 110 and 120, but there is not much to see except for 'watch for the moose' signs and Christmas trees. "Someone should put up a string of lights every now and then"!

On arrival in Deer Lake I stopped at a Newfounland and Labrador tourist information kiosk to obtain information about the availability of premium fuel on the Northern Peninsula. This is not a trivial matter when riding a motorcycle that operates only on higher octane fuel. After a few calls the helpful employee was able to confirm that I would be able to refuel in Port Saunders about half way between here and L'Anse aux Meadows where I'm off to tomorrow.

Baddeck to North Sydney - Ferry to Argentia - to St Johns

The Atlantic Vision in North Sydney


















Signal Hill, St Johns









































A flower from cape Spear for Jane's collection






















Cape Spear, 11 degrees and foggy

How's she doin!

Yesterday's ride in the rain was short, from Baddeck to the ferry terminal in North Sydney: which meant that I had a lot of time to wait for the departure of the Atlantic Vision. The ship is modern ansd very well appointed. We boarded on time but the departure was delayed by two hours or so. I had been wait listed for a cabin and when I asked the purser what the chances were of getting a room I was informed that all 2-berth cabins had been assigned. I asked what the chances were for a 4-berth and was told "it doesn't look very good." I went off to find an "air seat", which is like a VIA-1 reclining seat in a room with a large-screen television at the front, where I might spend the night but kept my ears open to hear the names of the lucky room lottery winners that were broadcast over the ships P A system. When the last list of 4 names was called the last name I heard was "Guy Bujold" or something that sounded like that. I hurried to the pursers desk to pick up my key and after having retrieved luggage from my bike I found my inside cabin: small, but all mine.

While in line to board the ship and again on the vessel I spoke to Mike, a retired V-P, another BMW rider who, after 32 years at Exon, is now, like me, doing lengthy road trips on his motorcyle. Like me he also has a very understanding wife who supports his passion for seeing a lot of real estate from the seat of his motorcycle.

I had a particularly good dinner of halibut at the à la carte restaurant on the ship. The overnight ride to Argentia was smooth; just a gentle rocking that put me sleep.

We arrived in Newfoundland sometime after 10:00 and I rode directly to the Travellers Inn in St Johns where I was able to immediately check in. I had arranged to meet a good friend, Christopher Loomis, the Vice President Research of Memorial University and a member of the CANARIE board, who took me to lunch at Blue On Water, a nice restaurant on Water Street. The meal, fish (cod) and chips was great, but what was even better was the conversation with Chris about politics in Newfoundland and federally, the state of Memorial University where Chris had been the President pro tem, and a number of other topics that we crammed into our two hours together.

Afterwards I rode to fog shrouded Cape Spear, the furthest point east of North America, and to sunny Signal Hill. From top to bottom the temperature rose from about 11 to 23 degrees.

Tomorrow it's off to Gander and undtermined points from here to there.

Cape Breton in the Fall

Two views of the coasline along Cabot Trail

The scarecrow park

Well you'd think it was the Fall what with a grey sky, cold drizzle and temperatures as low as 11 going through Cape breton Highlands Park. But, that being said, the views are spectacular. Just north of Chéticamp, there is a roadside field filled with scarecrows; 85 with individual masks to be exact, according to the french gentleman who has been taking care of producing new clothes for them every year from donations which visitors care to leave behind. You can have your picture taken with the likes of Chrétien and other world leaders, a wedding party, and assorted other characters who helpfully have a cardboard label stapled to one of their outstretched arms. The owners says he does it for the smiles of those who stop by to see them. It all started 25 years ago when a passer-by stopped to look at the three scarecrows he had in a garden a few yards away and told him to forget the garden and put up more scarecrows; three grew to twenty-five, and the rest is history.

I stopped for lunch, a dozen delicious local oysters and lobster rolls at a place called the Rusty Anchor in Pleasant Bay. The service was friendly and the food good.

While the sections along the western shore and through the national park and around Ingonish are in good shape, the same can't be said for all of the Cape Breton Trail. Some sections are quite bumpy and in generally bad shape. A rather large moose was but a few yards to my right next to the road near the northern tip of the parc. I slowed down, nodded, and I think he winked before he casually sauntered off into the brush.

I detoured into the roadway to the Keltic Lodge, just to see, and made may way south along 312 and 105 to Baddeck where I'm staying for the night.

Tomorrow it's to North Syney to board the overnight ferry to Argentia. Here's hoping the weather warms up a bit.

Antigonish from Halifax; the long way

After a rainy day in Halifax yesterday the sun came out this morning as I left the Commons Inn and worked my way along Route 7 to Sherbrooke where I stopped at the Main Street Café for a small lunch. Along the way I detoured oof Route 7 to the tiny fishing village of Little Harbour wher I was able to see the boats, and the lobster traps piled on the wharves as the lobster season has already ended in this area. After lunch I followed 211, including a short cable ferry ride accross the Country Harbour River, and then Routes 316 and a stretch of 16 to Canso, about as far East as you can go on the Nova Scotia mainland.

After a short stop on the Canso wharf for pictures, under increasingly cloudy and threathening skies I retraced my steps on Route 16 all the way along the edge of Chedabucto Bay and northwest to Route 104 which I took to Antigonish. Along the way a now familiar (last year's western ride experience) warning light appeared on my bikes display. I was able to buy the requisite grade of oil at Dad-Tire in Antigonish and succesfully topped-up the lubricant in the hotel parking lot before heading out on foot for dinner. I had a great dinner of papardelle with seafood putanesca sauce and a glass of Goats Do Roam at the Alcove Bistro and Lounge, and a bit of conversation with a couple from Montreal who are touring Nova Scotia in a convertible. not as much fun as on a motorcycle but, as he said, when the weather's bad you can put up the roof.

Tomorrow it's off to cape Bretton.

From Digby to Halifax

Peggy's Cove
















Peggy's Cove lighthouse and waves.















Memorial - Flight 111 at Bayswater N.S.


















East Pubnico Harbour

Hello from wet Halifax,

I guess if you're going to be stuck somewhere Halifax is probably not the worse place to be. Since they're calling for rain all day, with winds to boot, I've decided to spend a down day catching up, planning for the next few days and just relaxing.

Last Saturday even though the weather wasn't very nice, overcast with showers, I rode to Grand Pré and visited the Parcs Canada site where the deportation of the Acadians started. This, and Port Royal, which I also stopped at on my return trip to Digby, are two sites with particular meaning for my family. Our ancestor Pierre-Alain Bujold (1668-1708), chirurgien et notaire du Roi, arrived at Port Royal, where Champlain had established a fort in 1605, and married Elisabeth Melanson in 1693; they had 6 children. The name Bugeau appears on the plaque in the reconstructed church in Grand Pré commemorating the Acadiens who were "déporter" starting in September 1755.

The weather for the last two days was perfect for riding, sunny on Sunday when I travelled from Digby to Bridgewater hugging as much of the coast as possible via routes 1 (the Evangeline trail), to Yarmouth, and up the eastern seaboard on routes 330, 309, and 3 going through such places as The Hawk on the tip of Cape Sable Island, Lower East Publico (where from the pier you can see a fairly large wind farm), Shag Harbour (none in sight), Port La Tour, Allendale, and Liverpool. The Bridgewater Days Inn is a nondescript motel with tiny windows; just as well since there are no views. WARNING!! If ever in Bridgewater and you're given a recommendation for a meal at a seafood restaurant called Waves, DON'T. The fish and chips, which comes with two coatings, crackers and batter, both of which are equally bad, is served with frozen french fries, a pink creamy coleslaw concoction, "homemade" tarter sauce and lemon, which I have to ask for and comes in thin slices, is next to inedible. However, the Propeller Ale is cold and good.

Yesterday's route was very beautiful. My first stop was Lunenburg where I spent a few hours visiting the well appointed museum on the waterfront. Thanks to an excellent presentation by one of the guides I now know more about the Atlantic lobster than I care to admit, including how to differentiate between a male and a female lobster; now that will come in handy if ever we meet up with a 40 pound beast diving in the Atlantic. The exhibits on the fisheries off the Atlantic coast, and related matters like shipbuilding, sailmaking, quiltmaking, are all very well set up and there are knowledgeable guides to answer any questions. After la good unch of mussels and bacon-wrapped scallops, I continued my treck along route 3 through Mahone Bay, a postcard perfect setting, and Chester, to route 329 and Bayswater where I stopped at the first of two monuments (the other which I also visited is near Indian River at Whalesback near Peggy's Cove on the other side of the bay) to the 229 passengers of Swissair Flight 111 who perished in Margarets Bay. It's a relatively simple and moving monument that lists the names of those who died in that horrible crash on September 2,1998.

I certainly can see why a side trip to Peggy's Cove is a must. The cove itself is nice, with it's narrow opening to the sea and it's weathered sheds and colourful fishing boats surrounded by traps and other fishing gear; but the real showpiece is the smooth rocky coastline near the lighthouse. The continuous crashing waves and sprays of foaming salt water just capture you're attention and you find yourself watching the show for minutes on end.

From Peggy's Cove I make my way to Halifax, and the Commons Inn where my great assistant Jane has reserved a room for me, via Route 333. Pierre-Alain and Michèle, this is a biker's dream route: great surface, twisty, and some pretty impressive views along the way.

In Halifax, following a recommendation from Nancy Carter at CANARIE, I have dinner at the Bicycle Thief. While the service is a tad slow, which you tend to nitice more when you're eating alone, the salumi appetizer with a glass of Valpolocella, and the whole herb stuffed wood-fire grilled branzino with a glass of Petit Chablis, are excellent. This is definitely a place to return to, it has a Batali feel to it.

Tomorrow it's on to Antigonish.

À plus tard.

Down day in Digby

Bonjour à tous!





Well, it's time to do some catching up. As it turns out not all promised wifi is actually functioning wifi. "Yes we have wifi in our rooms, but it's not working today."





In any event when I last wrote I was in Kennebunkport. Since then as the title of this post suggests I've made my way up the Atlantic coast on Hwy 1 to the Calais-St Stephen border crossing and on to Saint John where I took a late ferry (more on this briefly) to Digby.





Thursday, after a small detour to see Old Orchard Beach, I stopped for lunch at J's Oysters on the waterfront in Portland. The local oysters and mussels went down very well with the glass of cold Chardonnay. I stopped for the night at the Hotel Navigator Motor Inn (of the not tonight wifi fame) in Rockland and had a nice dinner of local oysters and beautifully seared scallops (with a lovely french white) at The Pearl, another one of those on the pier establishments. If you're starting to detect a pattern in the meals, then you're on to something. Jane has suggested I should have called this summer's blog Guy's Eastern Coast Seafood Retirement Ride; she's so smart!





Yesterday I continued to follow Hwy 1 and drove through the small town of Penopscot Maine. (Quick, what famous tv series character had that name? And for bonus points why?)


At Elsworth I took a small detour on Route 3 down to Acadia National Park, Seal Cove (none there yesterday), and past Bar Harbour. Lunch of steamed clams with melted butter and ice tea at the Lobster Pound at Trenton Bridge was very nice, if a bit messy.





From the bike I arranged, through my most efficient travel assistant, Jane Coutts of Coutts Comminicates -should any of you require more than writing and editing expertise - for a reservation on the ferry from Saint John to Digby and for a motel room in Digby. Since the scheduled departure was 11:oo pm I had plenty of time to ride into downtown Saint John and have dinner. O.k. I strayed from the all seafood and white wine diet and hade a big hunk of prime rib with a glass of Malbec at a place called Churchill's (not bad, but not a patch on the fare at the similarly named restaurant in North Bay). With the help of two Harley riders - oh how embarassing was that- who showed me how to tie down my BMW, boarding the ferry went smoothly. Our sailing time came and went, and went, and went; some problem with a, I guess critical, hydraulic hose somewhere in the bow. In any event, I along with most of the other passengers stretched out on apholstered surfaces and nodded off. "And when I awoke" there were lights out the window (other then those on the outer decks I mean), and we were approaching Digby Harbour. The three hour voyage had lasted five and a half hours. Thank God for guaranteed late arrival. The key was in the motel room door as promised, I dropped in bed at 4:3o and fell asleep wondering what tomorrow would be like.





Rain, rain, rain. Oh well, it's been sunny every day since I left. A day to stop, plan, and catch up with emails





À la prochaine.

Day 2 from Gorham to Kennebunkport

Another beautiful day for riding; but limited miles covered (247km). Rode south along the East side of the White Mountains, including Mount Washington, on Hwy 16 to Dover and then north along route 1 which, like on the West coast, is the coastal highway. The White Mountains are very beautiful and the highway is in very good shape. Had a delicious lobster roll for lunch at a seafood diner in Ogunquit. The area along the coast and around Kennebunk and Kennebunkport is quite pretty.

Spent a good chunk of the afternoon walking in town. It was happy hour at the Kennebunkport Inn so I had to stop in for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a dozen local oysters; yum! And for diner, since this is Maine, a lobster dinner (yes with melted butter and a beer) on a pier in Porpoise Cove.

Summer 2011 to the East Coast

Flowers "picked" for Jane and yours truly leaving at 8:00 this morning

Hello everyone.

Well it was that time again; the bike has been prepped, including new tires, and I've packed the saddlebags, topcase and tank bag with the essentials for another roadtrip. Last year, as you will recall I headed west, got toVictoria BC (with Jane on the back of the bike from Calgary to Vancouver), got as far south as San Fransisco and returned via Death Valley, Yosemite, Las Vegas, Hoover Dam, Grand Canyon, Colorado, a buch of flat states in middle-America, Chicago and southwesternOntario. All told, 13,300 kilometres.

So the plan (to the extent that there is a plan) for this summer's trip is to head to the East Coast via a route through the northern parts of New York, Vermont and New Hampshire and on through Maine to Portsmouth. Then, I hang a left and hug the Atlantic coast to somewhere I can take a ferry to Nova Scotia. After it's exploring that province from bottom to top. From North Sydney I'm thinking of another crossing to Newfoundland. East to West on the Rock; then back to North Sydney. Jane and I are planning a rendez-vous on PEI and a return trip to Ottawa together via Gaspésie, the home of my ancestors, and Québec City.

Today I rode from home to Gorham New Hampshire. The secondary roads that I prefer to nasty expressways were in very good shape, and the weather was great, beautiful sunshine and not too hot. Can someone explain to me how a bee can go behind a windsceen when you're going 6o mph, into your shirt and then sting you? Well, when it happens you have to carefully move to the shoulder of the road, remove your jacket, untuck your shirt and shake out, and then squish the offender.

I'll try to keep you posted as the trip unfolds.