Friday, 8/17

Miles - I don't know
Total Miles - lots!
(I will update sometime later)


Thursday night was a light show. A strong storm moved in and created a light show with all the lightning. I was so glad I had a strong tent. I lay in my sleeping bag watching through the window glad that I was staying dry.

Later that morning, as I emerged from my tent, I was greeted by water everywhere. My rear wheel was in an inch of water. Emmm. Oh well, all part of the experience. Pack up, shower, helmet on, and away we go.

The road heading south west from Halifax to Yarmouth is a great twisty road with light house after light house. I was making good time so I stopped at a store to buy some food and true to form, here come the locals. “I have a bike” (Ever wonder why so many people who own bikes are never seen on them?). “Going to be foggy today”. Some guy avoided going shopping with his wife by talking with me – I am sure he will hear it about it later. Anyway I was off again and just having a great time. My plan was to get to Yarmouth and take a rest day. I had been riding hard for a week and was about three days ahead of Pete.

I was 75 miles outside of Yarmouth, motoring along when I saw a sign “No Service on Highway 103”. Well, that’s OK because I am on Highway 1. WRONG – Highway 1 turns into Highway 103. OK, I have gas, no problem. WRONG – ¼ of a tank. OK, this could be fun. There was nothing to do except keep pushing forward and not think about it. With the reserve light on a sign said “Gas”. Pulled in and took a deep breath, strong coffee and of course, locals. One guy asked about the age of the bike (about 4 months). “Oh, my brother-in-law just bought a 2004, what are the differences?” How should I know? I was polite and gave him a list of things to take back to his brother-in-law. Somehow I think he was going to tell his brother-in-law he should have bought a 2007 and why had he wasted money on a 2004.

As I pulled into Yarmouth I decided to go to the docks and make sure they had my reservation. If something was a miss I had some serious riding to do. I checked in and the ticket agent, after understanding that my name was Pierre and my license plate was also Pierre, asked “Want to go know?” “Sure”. “Well, here is your ticket, go get in line, quickly”. I jumped back on the bike and looked for the line. No line – I was the last one on the boat.

I parked in what seemed like a sea of Harleys. They were all strapped down. I asked a worker if he strapped the bikes down and realized from his blank look that it was my job. I found some straps and tried to figure out what to do. “Don’t worry, the only bike we lost was some idiot left it in neutral” said the nearby worker. I checked to see what gear I was in and realized I was almost an idiot. Up on deck I watched Nova Scotia fade away and smiled. Traveling by yourself is great and allows for a great degree of freedom. Time for a hotdog and cold beer.

After a 5 hour crossing to Portland we were told to go to our bikes and get ready to disembark. The bike had made the crossing fine. I was surrounded by leather wearing Harley guys giving me the evil eye. Why? I was also surrounded by their girl friends asking me about my back seat and “Is it comfortable?”. “Yes, and the seats heat up”. If I had said much more I am sure I would have had to fight my way off the boat. Suddenly all the Harleys started up. Imagine all those bikes in the hull of a ship revving up. I smiled as I imagined all those guys thinking “he may have heated seats but I have loud pipes”.

The most dangerous part of the trip so far has to be getting off the boat. There was a mixture of sea water and oil on the ramps. Over 850lbs of bike, plus gear and me and you can imagine the things the wheels were doing.
I pulled up to immigration and was asked to turn the bike off. The immigration officer took my passport and the exchange went something like this:

“Hello”

“Hello”

“What do you do Pierre?”

“I am Vice President of Sales for Four Rivers Software Systems in Pittsburgh”

I am sure at this point he looked at this grey bearded, road dirty guy and thought “yea right”

“Can I search your bike?”

“Yes” (but please don’t as it is all packed nicely and those tomatoes I bought on the side of the road will not make you happy)

“What are you doing?”

“Riding around on vacation”

“Is your wife with you?”

“No”

“How did you manage that?”

“I have a great wife”

“You should tell her”

After another few questions he changed completely and became a ‘local’, asking me if I needed help getting directions or food. I am sure all those bikes behind me were thinking “see, he may have heated seats but the immigration guy is giving him a hard time. Oh, have you heard my pipes!

I rode to my camp site to be told they where full. It was 10:00 PM so I pulled into a lighted gas station and called “On Star”. No, I do not have On Star on the bike but that is what the family calls dialing home for help while on the road. I asked Cathy to find me a hotel as it was to late to figure out another camp site. While I was waiting for Cathy to call me back the gas station guy walked over and asked if I was OK? Would I like a cup of coffee? Do I want to use his GPS in his car? I could wait inside if I wanted. I thanked him, said I was OK. Riding solo is fun.

As I type this I am in a Fairfield Inn in Portsmouth, NH. The TV is on, someone made coffee and prepared breakfast for me. Turns out Pete turned back and is in Concord, NH. I am sure we will meet up tonight and ride home together.

It has been an unbelievable first week.

Pete just called and we are going to meet in Woodstock tonight. 253 miles – but I am in no rush. I am having a great time.