The Viking Run, Day 33 - Wawa, Ontario

 

It's been a week or so since my last entry. Multiple reasons for that. Several nights without available internet or too late to get one started or the fact this computer I bought sucks. 

Since my last post from Manic 5 in Quebec I have ridden some incredible roads. Hwy 389 from Manic 5 to Baie Comeau was an absolute roller coaster. With only a few sections of bumpy road it was just a great ride for about 130 miles. But then it came to an end, as well as the entire feeling of riding the Trans Lab Hwy and northern Quebec. As I pulled in to Baie Comeau the traffic and large commercial centers all began to appear. I probably saw more cars and people in a single city block than I had seen in the past week. Truth be told it was a little sad. I pushed on that day, making my way to Portneuf sur Mer where I would be expecting to spend the night in the tent at a campground. The weather forecast was calling for heavy rain that night through to the morning, so rather than deal with the tent I asked (via Google translate) if I could just sleep in the pavilion. They said "oui" and the bike and I stayed cozy and dry listening to the rain come down on the metal roof. 

The next days riding would be through spots of intense fog, light rain or sunny skies, depending on what side of a mountain i was on. I passed through half a dozen small villages nestled up against the Saint Lawrence river. One could almost imagine they were riding along the French Riviera. LAte in the day I crested one mountain in particular and off in the foggy distance was Quebec City. Once there I needed to get the big maintained immediately and then spend the next day exploring. 

I can't say enough about the people at Moto Vanier. Easily the nicest BMW dealership I have ever been in, they were incredibly friendly and took great care of me and the bike. They even gave the bike a very much needed bath to remove all of the mud and muck that had remained from the muddy hell in northern Quebec getting to Manic 5. After some chain maintenance and get the fluids service, plus plugging a hole from a nail we removed from the rear tire, they had me on my way.

The following day was meant for touring Quebec City and it did not disappoint. The city is stunning, nearly every direction you look. How can a town just over the border from the U.S. have such a European feel. In an area known as Le Petite Champlain, buildings that are centuries old now act as apartments, shops and restaurants with the regal Chateau Frontenac ruling over all from high above. I took a guided tour of the Citadel that is still an active military fortress housing the 22nd Regiment headquarters. Interesting tour to say the least and I learned some interesting history of the Quebecois. Taking in a fantastic dinner that evening and one or four glasses of wine, I took my final stroll through town as the sun was setting low. Quebec City was a winner. 

The following day I left Quebec City and trudged along the major highway towards Montreal. About an hour and a half on a wide four lane at highway speeds and I was ready to call it quits. At Trois Riviere I was finally able to get off the highway and head north west through farm country until I got in to the area where the hills and mountains took over and ski resorts were common place. I spent the night in a campground at Riviere Rouge  and the following night camping by a river...somewhere. The day after the river camp was a bit of a slog. I was lucky enough to break camp while it was still dry but once thirty minutes down the road the rain would commence. And it would stay raining for most of the day. The bike had the temp at 53 degrees and the rain itself had to have been colder than that. Neither of which is such an issue, but in driving cold rain, you can't see any scenery, you just concentrate on the road. 

The rain did break eventually, though it never warmed up. So with the rain dissipating I would cross the border in to my last Canadian province of this tour, Ontario. By days end I was in Timmins. A scheduled over night stop and all I can say for Timmins is...what a shit hole. 

After my night in Timmins, cloistered in my cozy AirBnB. I left this morning bound for Wawa. Yesterday was clouds and freezing rain and today was...perfection. Sunny, 60 and nary a cloud to be seen. Three and a half hours, much spent riding perfect twisty tarmac in solitude for miles on end. And then, Wawa and the goose. The cherry on top of a great days riding. 

The Viking Run, Day 26 - Manic 5

 

This morning I left Labrador City and Labrador. I crossed in to Quebec within twenty minutes or so. and very shortly after that, rain and gravel roads. Where to begin about gravel roads? Firstly, they suck! The road from Labrador City is 50% dirt, gravel, silt or mud. Split in to multiple segments. Segment one was about seventy miles long and the rain had made it incredibly slick. It was at best 2nd or 3rd gear, 20 to 30 miles per hour. Multiple times the rear wheel would slightly break free or the front wheel would push a bit off track. It was slow going and tense the whole way. As I settled in to the horrible routine of minute left and right handlebar movements in an attempt to keep the bike upright, the sun would begin coming out. The rain would eventually stop but the road had already been saturated. At least I could open my visor and better see the road without the water spots in my view. And then...out of the blue, the tarmac just appeared. 

Once on the pavement the sun appropriately broke through the clouds and the remainder of the day would be gorgeous, at least weather wise. I got off the bike and removed my rain gear and down jacket I had put on. It was 54 degrees when I left Labrador City and had warmed up to 74 degrees as I meandered south and out of the rain. The bike however looked the part of a serious off road warrior. Poor bike. 

Continuing southward I would come across two separate construction zones, five to ten miles long each. The gravel in each was dry and very passable. 35 to 40 MPH was easy enough. Once through the last construction zone I thought I was home free and would only have to deal with the uneven and bouncing blacktop. As I rode through huge elevation changes and wonderfully curves, at the crest of a large hilltop I came across the only fuel stop I had seen all day. I was just over sixty miles from my final destination and knew there was fuel available there, but thought I should stop anyway. It just doesn't seem wise to pass up fuel out here. 

After leaving the fuel stop I had traveled maybe two miles when low and behold the tarmac would fade back to dirt again. And this rode of gravel would last all the way to my final destination of Manic 5, the large hydroelectric dam on the Manacouagan River. Sixty miles of gravel and silt. Slow going and the silt would change the direction of the bike and there would be no control of the steering. When there was compacted gravel it would be so washboard like and rough it would jar and rattle every bone in your body. It was a long and arduous task and thirty miles in I was not enjoying it. At fifty miles it was just keep pushing and get off this damn road. And then, 1.5 miles from from the dam, the pavement came back. I was so happy. 

Immediately once on the pavement, the road aggressively twists and turns and drops down in elevation until you come around a curve to find yourself staring straight up at Manic 5. The worlds largest multiple arch and buttress dam. The size is remarkable and it is a sight to behold that pictures can not justify. 

Tomorrow the road is to be perfect and with no gravel. And tomorrow I will start finding my way back to civilization for a time. So my visit to the "Big Land" of Newfoundland and Labrador has ended. Onward to Quebec City. 

The Viking Run, Days 22 & 23- St. Barbe, Newfoundland / Port Hope Simpson, Labrador

 Today is my last day on The Rock. Newfoundland has been amazing and seeing it has been a dream come true. From the moment I drove off the boat in Argentia all the way up today, my last night in St. Barbe, I have seen some incredible scenery and met some of the nicest people. Life here must be hard in the way that you would have to be extremely self reliant. There are no hospitals, police or simple stores and services we take so for granted in the states anywhere for hundreds of miles. 

I some some of my grandmother's effects at home, one item being an old matchbook from the Sinbad hotel in Gander. Well Gander was a planned stop any to see the aviation museum, so when I was researching the trip it would turn out the Sinbad Hotel still exist. It's been re-modeled a few times but I book a room and had a pleasant meal in the hotels restaurant. The following morning I stopped briefly at the North Atlantic Aviation Museum, mostly just to see any 9/11 exhibits they had. The museum was small but the take a lot of pride in it. 

 

From Gander it was a long and windy (or so I thought) ride to Rocky Harbour, where I would camp for the night. As you get of Canada's Hwy 1 for Rocky Harbour, you ride along the souhern boarder of the Gros Morne Provincial Park. So many people go on and on about the Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia and I'd have to say, no riding has ever been better than Gros Morne. 

After my tent night, it was another very long riding day ahead, up Newfoundland's northern peninsula. And this time the wind was no joke. They even post rode signs warning you of high wind areas. At many points during the ride the bike would be leaning heavily in to the wind, tilted over while I would try to keep it in the lane. Were a child ever to ask me, "where does the wind come from?' The answer would be emphatically...NEWFOUNDLAND!!! The wind however would only be the beginnings of what would make for what has to date been the most treacherous riding I have done.

Leaving Rocky Harbour I had sunny weather and a beautiful morning. I was able to swing by the Lobster Cove lighthouse and grab a few pictures. I was also able to stop along the shoreline and see the remnants of the S.S. Ethie, a steamer that went aground in 1919 and was fabled for the daring rescue of its crew and passengers by the locals, including a famous Newfoundland dog, although history would later reveal it was a rough collie that was so heroic. 

My destination that morning was L'anse aux Meadows, the site of the first European settlement ever in North America. Centuries before Columbus would ever find the "New World", Vikings were inhabiting northern Newfoundland. The road to L'anse aux Meadows is named the Viking Trail. And this trip gained it's title from this planned ride up the north coast and to see the Viking settlement for myself.

I had beautiful and nearly hot weather at 80 degrees for my entire ride to L'anse aux Meadows. But as I mentioned earlier, the wind. Now let's talk about something else on the Canadian roadways. The highways and roads that are in the middle of nowhere are in great shape. They see little traffic and the country funds their upkeep. When you get near a town or village however, say ten miles on either side. The roads begin to get potholes in them. That's what the locals call them, the government too I guess because sometimes they'll even put a sign up informing you of the pothole situation. Now let me tell you, these are not potholes. The are abysses of death. They are so big and deep that if you said your name in to one it would echo back several times over. So now you have a blustering wind that can move you completely out of your lane of travel AND push you towards impending doom if you manage to drop a front well in one of these pits at speed. All bad, we haven't got to treacherous yet.

The Viking settlement at L'anse aux Meadows is a UNESCO heritage sight and to me one of the highlights of this trip. Park personnel dressed in period attire answer questions and show you around. Their knowledge of the settlement and Viking life is mesmerizing. I would end my day here and stay at a BnB less than a mile down the road. the next day's forecast, rain.

In the morning I would wake to fog and drizzle, better for packing the bike than a full on wash, but that was coming. I need to make a two and a half hour run back they way I came, heading south down the peninsula to St. Barbe. This meant riding again through the hellacious wind and the pothole landmines. Only now, now was where we were going to make this jaunt so bad. Twenty minutes in the the ride the rain started. A cold north Atlantic off shore rain. A rain that fills the potholes with water and makes them invisible. A trifecta of oh lord please let me make it through. It was a white knuckle ride all the way to St. Barbe in which i rode between 40 and 55mph as the conditions allowed. Luckily I made it through unscathed. Challenge accepted and I came out on top.

In St. Barbe I would fuel up the bike and my reserve can at the towns only gas station; afterwords I would cross the street and have dinner at the towns only restaurant and then go check in to a wonderful AirBnB run by two very nice folks with whom I must of spent several hours chatting with. The following day I was to catch the 10:30 ferry out of St, Barbe to Blanc Sablon, which is actually in Quebec. Issue here was that i could not get a reservation on ferry and would have to be at the booking office (also the restaurant) before they opened to purchase a non-reserved ticket. There are only so many of those to go around so my plan was to get up at 4:30 and be at the office by 6AM. 

And that I did. First one there, again in the rain. Eventually about thirty-five people showed up. When the doors opened at 8:30, I was first in and got the number one unreserved boarding card. As it would turn out, motorcycles also board first. 

The ferry left right on tome at 10:30 and I said fare the well to Newfoundland. Two hours later I was riding my bike of the ferry ramp and on to the shores of Labrador! I had a two hour ride ahead of me through off and on rain with the last forty minutes or so in beautiful  sunshine. My destination was Port Hope Simpson, from where I write this evening. This is the last stop of civilization between here and Goose Bay where I will venture off to tomorrow. 

So yeah, I'm riding a motorcycle...IN LABRADOR!!!! 

The Viking Run, Day 17 - St. John's, Newfoundland

 

Welcome to Newfoundland

It's kind of hard to believe I'm actually here. Newfoundland is like another planet. It looks so unlike anywhere else. Rocks, lakes, rivers, ocean all coming together and the views are expansive. 

Immediately after getting off the ferry in Argentia I stopped for some fuel and decided to try a scenic route to St. John's versus straight up the highway. About thirty minutes down the road the blacktop gave way and I would find myself on gravel, loose gravel, for about twenty miles, only seeing two other vehicles the whole time. It was third gear at best but not often. About fifteen miles in the road narrowed to a one lane bridge spanning two small waterfalls. Another five miles and I was back on tarmac. A twisty, hilly, freshly paved two lane that I would have all to myself for the next twenty miles. It made the slow going gravel worth all the while. 

I would eventually start working my way up to St. John's. About ten miles from the city a thick fog rolled in dropping visibility to maybe fifty yards on the highway. It would only be for a few miles but I don't think I've ever seen a fog so dense. 

My first stop in S. John's was at the Toy Box, the local BMW dealer. I had called prior to leaving Florida and made arrangements for some basic service, check the chain and look over the bike. They allowed me the use of their watewr hose and some cleaning items do I gave the bike a quick wash, got all of the dirst and dust off it from the 20 miles of previous gravel. Once clean I turned the keys over and caught a cab to town and my hotel. 

I spent the day walking around town. And all the way up Signal Hill for the tremendous view of St' John and the Atlantic Ocean. It was incredibly windy up there, but it was nice after hiking up that rock pile. After a while I began the much easier walk down. It was time for lunch so I went to a recommended spot for a traditional Newfoundland meal, Touton. 

Touton (too-ton) is a bread like pancake. I had mine Newfoundland style with steak. Well...that is to say Newfoundland steak, which is actually thick cut fried bologna, baked beans, a fried egg and bacon on top. They serve it with a side of molasses. It was delicious. 

There are at least two parks I came across in town dedicated to the islands famous four legged inhabitants. The Newfoundland dog, which my grandmother loved and the Labrador Retriever. They have bronze statues of each in both parks. It was nice to see Whiskey, our Lab back home, honored in such a way.

Tomorrow morning I'll go pick up the bike and head off to Gander, most famously known for how the town of less than 10,000 people took in 38 aircraft at their small airport and housed and fed over 6600 passengers and crew when their planes were diverted there on the day of the 9/11 attacks on the WTC.

The Viking Run, Day 14 - North Sydney, Nova Scotia

Having left Nova Scotia's lower isles i got an early morning start for Cape Breton and the famous Cabot Trail. The Cabot is considered by many to be one of the penultimate motorcycle roads in the world. Well I can certainly say, it is one of the grandest roads I've ever been on and the scenery is out of some J.R.R. Tolken novel, or a huge Game of Thrones movie set. 

The Cabot Trail

I had perfect riding weather all the way around the north coast of Cape Breton and stopped for lunch an area known as L'Acadia, a french area of an island mostly populated by Scotts, Irish and Brits. I had one of the best lobster rolls ever. Which makes sense considering the lobster was probably caught the day before in the bay behind the restaurant.

I really enjoyed riding the Cabot Trail. It too shall be a lasting memory from what is definitely an amazing journey so far. 

The Viking Run, Day 13 - Havre Boucher, Nova Scotia

 

Hyclass Ocean Campground,

Havre Boucher, Nova Scotia

I left Halifax in my rear mirror this morning and made an almost direct run for Havre Boucher and the Hyclass Ocean Campground, were I would spend my first night under the stars. I took a little detour off the highway suggested by my GPS and what an amazing ride that turned out to be. For an hour or so I rode along a very twisty and hilly stretch of country two lane through farm and dairy land. For the most part I had the road to myself and it was so peaceful and perfect. I can't get over how much this part of Nova Scotia resembles northern Minnesota.

After that little excursion it was back on the highway and up to Havre Boucher. The owners of the campground are so friendly, we talked for about 30-45 minutes before I ever went to my campsite; which by the way is right on a peninsula jutting out on a calm ocean bay. It's charming and quiet. 

They have hot showers here, they're on a timer and it costs you a loonie for 3 minutes. Now, I don't know what a loonie is, but I gave a guy an American Abe Lincoln and he gave me seven pieces of pirate treasure. One of those gold coins got me a hot shower, so I'll assume one piece of pirate gold is a "loonie".

Tomorrow I'll cross over to Cape Breton Island and ride the Cabot Trail, considered by many to one of the best motorcycle roads in the world. It's going to be a long day, with a lot of saddle time and amazing scenery. Tomorrow night I'll sleep in North Sydney, Nova Scotia; the day after, I'll be on the boat to Newfoundland.

The Viking Run, Day 12 - Halifax, Nova Scotia

 Today I took a day off the bike and spent the afternoon touring Halifax. Just a few points of interest, the primary tourist spots. The first and main attraction was the Citadel. A "star" shaped hole in the center of the city that has been a fortress since the 1700s. I really enjoyed it. It has a fascinating history. Outside of the Citadel is the old town clock. And I found the the city of Halifax to be very reminiscent of Duluth.