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Keith's Big Ride- Leg 2: New Brunswick, PEI, Nova Scotia
 Friday, June 20 - Sat June 21 Approx. 460 miles Friday - Fredericton to Stanley Bridge, Prince Edward Island Finally, after 5 straight days of on and off rain, I awaken high above the Saint John River, just north of my old college town of Frederiction, New Brnunswick, and the sun is streaming brightly in the windows. The sun is back! Time to ride again! Finally!  I'm to meet my old riding buddy Rick Leblanc near his home in Moncton, about 2 hours away (via the scenic route). Rick's not ready to hit the road till about 1 PM, and we're meeting my cousin Danny and his wife Trudy, riding their picture perfect 2003 anniversary edition Fat Boy and Super Glide, respectively, at 2 pm. Today's destination: Prince Edward Island, Canada's smallest province, famous for its red soil, great beaches, pristine farms and villages, and of course, it's most famous historical resident, Ann Shirley, aka, Anne of Green Gables. Had to run around yesterday afternoon to get an oil change done here in Fredericton. There's no Harley dealer in town, but I got pointed in the direction of Chopper Rod's. Very cool place. And a far cry from the modern Harley dealer, which has somehow transformed into clothing stores with a repair shop attached somewhere out back. Not so for Chopper Rods. This is the real deal - Rod Johnson and his guys spend their time building, fixing, and tuning bikes. Rod's got the fastest Harley around, and has a 9.73 second quarter mile time to prove it (at 137 mph). Go Rod!
When I tell the boys I'm passing through town and need an oil change, they roll my bike right in and do it right away. Great service! Chopper Rod's has plenty of Harley parts and cool "go-fast" stuff, and a few of their custom-built bikes sitting out on the floor, if you remembered to bring your checkbook. I give these guys a big A+ for style, friendliness, and great service. Keep it up guys. But back to today's ride.....
By the time i finish breakfast and f... ing around, I take a glance to the west and shit - there's a huge line of black clouds moving toward me. I pick up the pace, load up the bike, and head east, figuring, hey, I can outrun this thing...... Opt for the slow scenic route to Moncton. Start with the old Highway 105 running along the North side of the Saint John River. This is a slow meandering road along a slow meandering river. First class scenery on a bike, with no traffic whatsover, beautiful sunshine (still), and the incredible smells of everything growing ferociously along this very fertile farming area.
I can't help myself - the foolish grin is back. Good thing I have a windshield. Otherwise, I'd be swallowing 100% of my daily allowance of bug-based protein every hour or two. Cruise past the town names I remember fondly from riding this road on motorcycles when I lived her in college days: Lower Saint Mary's, Maugersville, Sheffield, Jemseg. As I approach the high bridge to traverse a section of Grand Lake, I have a flashback to one of the scariest moments I've ever had on a bike. I was riding by this spot one night many moons ago, going around a long sweeping turn at 50 or 60 mph, when suddenly my headlight went out. The adrenaline surge was immediate and powerful - but not enough to suddenly give me night vision. It was pitch black and I was sure I was about to die. I couldn't even see the white lines on this two lane road. But a solution was at hand. Or was it just a more certain means to die? Within a spit second of losing my headlight, I realized there was a big rig truck coming at me from the other direction. I had the answer - just aim for his headlights, but make sure I stay few feet to the right. This, of course, was not a great strategy, but my options seemed pretty limited at the time. My heart was in my throat for the next few seconds as the lights of this Mac truck got bigger and bigger in front of me. I had never been so scared in my life, and probably never have been since. I had a small margin of error at our combined speeds. A slight miscalculation on my part, and I was roadkill on his front grill. Contrary to what they say, I don't think I had the sense that time slowed down, but my eyes and ears were incredibly acute for the next few seconds. I managed to pull it off, and to this day, wonder if he truck driver even knew I was there on that dark lonely road, so close to death. So here I am more than 30 years later, in broad daylight, on a big new bike with dependable electrics - and very much alive. To celebrate my long-ago victory over the grim reaper, I pull the bike over, get off and walk over to the yellow line between the lanes. There's nobody around, and I take a long relaxing piss right on that yellow line - the one that made the difference between life and death, so long ago. Hah - I won that round!! Feeling great about being alive on this gorgeous day on this beautiful road, I glance west and the line of black clouds has either shifted direction or dissipated. Yeah!!! Won another round! Continue along these scenic little places - White's Cove, Mill Cove, Waterborough, along the shore of Grand Lake, with it's cottages, boats, luxuriantly green shores, and serene relaxing environment. Switch to the 10 East at Young's Cove. Stop for gas and coffee at a restaurant/gas station a few miles east of Young's Cove. The young lady behind the counter who serves me keeps looking at me like she has a question. Finally she blurts it out: "I want to get a bike just like that....I've wanted a bike as long as I can remember.... I got my license last year." I tell her of course she should get a bike - just go for it. I realize from the piercing glare I'm getting from the older woman behind the counter, that I am in the presence of "the Mother." Mom apparently doesn't agree with her daughter riding a motorcycle, and not with her talking to strangers on bikes either. I leave quietly but quickly before Dad shows up with a shotgun. I hope she does get that bike someday - you go girl! Switch to the 112 East at Coles Island. Putting along in no big hurry, enjoying the sights and smells on this warm sunny lazy summer day on country roads. It doesn't get much better than this! My grin grows some more, and I'm singing off-key but happily as I meander along. Stop at a little bridge over a creek and sit on the cement guardrail to write my thoughts, including some thoughts on the meaning of life that I'll share with Claire when I get back to Encinitas in 3 weeks or so. Meet up with Rick an hour later at our rendezvous at Magnetic Hill, near Moncton. We exchange insults about looking older, fatter and grayer. We're both right on all counts - but hey - he's almost bald too. At least I have hair. We blast off to to his house to swap the truck for his bike. To my amazement, Rick rolls out his bike: it's the same 1976 900 Kawasaki that he had last time we rode together. Shit - that was in 1977 or 78, and the guy still has the bike! Amazing!
Quick time check - we're going to be late to meet Danny and Trudy, gotta roll. 40 minutes later, we spot them sitting very conspicuously astride their bikes in the middle of a traffic circle at the intersection of Hwy 15 and the TransCanada highway near Port Elgin, NB. Why do I say they look conspicuous? Well, other than the beautiful shiny bikes, they stand out as a couple. Danny is a gentle giant of a guy, at 6'3" or more, complete with shaved head and tatoos. Trudy is tall, slim and trim and is nicley decked out in riding leathers. We exchange greetings (Danny's my cousin), gas up, and formulate a plan - sort of. It's a pretty loose plan: Ride over to Prince Edward Island, find a bar with live music and excess beer, and figure tomorrow out when tomorrow comes. It's unanimous - it's a winner of a plan, though somewhat short on details. I always find that if you are clear on the big picture goals, the rest will fall into place. This time should be no exception. We cross the the bridge to Prince Edward island, and appoint Rick as the leader of the pack. He plots a course for Cavendish Beach, and we fall into place behind him. Trudy brings up the rear. If you've ever been to PEI, you know what I mean when I say I was struck by the amazing neatness of the place, Every house and farm just looks storybook-perfect, with not a blade of grass out of place. I imagine the penalty for littering must be immediate death by firing squad. I will be careful.
Maybe this place is going to be too too calm and serene for us - after all we are on a mission. And I know that Danny, the big gentle giant, is famous for his partying skills and stamina. I wonder if this is a good idea after all. Oh well, he's been a cop for the last 30 years - he should be able to talk his way out of any disagreements we might have with the local constabulary. Stop at a restaurant for mid-afternoon snack and to seek inspiration - what's next? Discover PEI Nachos (potatoes instead of tortilla chips), and we quiz the waitress. "Where can we find a fun bar with live music, but within stumbling distance of a motel?" She grasps our plan immediately. She knows we're on a mission, and reads us perfectly. She points us further North on Highway 6, telling us that Carr's Oyster Bar in Stanley Bridge is the place to be. We're off.... Just a few feet from the driveway into Carr's is a homemade sign that says "Cottages- $49/night" We pull in to Carr's, send Rick down the road to find this sweet-sounding deal. He's back in a flash with the news that the place is just a few hundred yards up the road. We roll up, but the proprieter (proprietress?) has bad news - there's only one cottage left and it's $99. Do we want to walk over and take a look. We ride over, and find a spectacular 2-bedroom house right on the water, with huge decks and an incredible view. Heaven! We crack open some cold ones and several beers later remember that the nice lady from the office expected us back to check in after 5 min or so. Oops!
Spend a great night at Carr's, seated strategically right next to the band, and close to the beer supply. We're adopted by two local young ladies (Mi and Carol?) who dance the night away and party as hard as we do.
friends.....">
Stumble back to the cottage (without Mi and Carol) after shutting the bar down. Day Two: Stanley Bridge, PEI to Shediac, NB, via Nova Scotia. Drag our hungover asses across the island to Wood Islands to catch the ferry to Nova Scotia. The weather is cloudy but not enough to be scary or interrupt us on our mission.
Danny and Trudy bid their goodbyes in Pictou, where they will catch the TransCanada Highway back home to Musquodoboit Harbour, just east of Halifax. Great ride guys - be safe! Rick and I decide to skip the the main highways and take old Highway 6 along the Nova Scotia coast. This road is called the Sunset Trail (Sunrise?) and is picturesque, if occasionally bumpy. We snake along secondary roads for another 100 miles or so, back to Rick's place, and I decide to call it a day and rest my poor hungover head.
Tomorrow's another day, and the road trip continues.... Add Your CommentLogin to leave a comment. |
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friends.....">
