not all those who wander are lost | two earthlings ride around the world

[Rockwell]

On The Road Again

June 9, 2013 - June 16, 2013

We left a week and a day late but it was nice to have a little extra time with everyone. We had everything packed at Rocky's moms house but we spent the night at my moms. I tried to cuddle my cats as much as possible before leaving the next morning. Saying goodbye was obviously tough, I cried. My mom wasn't about to make it easier on us. She tried a few guilt trips, hoping I would change my mind, but her and I giggled at the attempt. My brother, Mike, drove us around the corner to Rocky's mothers house. Rocky's brother Jay was there with his wife Andrea and their daughter Mady. My best friend Greg showed up with his girlfriend Eden, and our friend Peter, who lives next door to Diana (Rocky's mom) was also there with his two children. I cried, again. We left there and headed towards my sister, Maryline's house. Her husband Dennis and their four children, Lucas, Josephine, Madison and Sofia were all there. I was glad that my tear ducts were completely drained, otherwise I would have bawled. I'm going to miss everybody.

Our next destination was Tobermory, Ontario, a really cute town with an unspoiled countryside. It is known for its relaxed pace of life and fresh water scuba diving. There are numerous shipwrecks that lie in the surrounding waters, but we stayed on land. After splitting an order of delicious, fresh White fish and chips and clam chowder soup, Rocky and I rode around in search of a place to camp. We found the perfect spot by the water, next to a historic lighthouse. Just before we began unloading the bike, we met a guy named Ivan. He mentioned that he was also from Hamilton, Ontario. He lives in Tobermory with his girlfriend and pet dog and works as an engineer on the Chi-Cheemaun ferry.

We woke up early the next morning but it was a bit chilly and I didn't want to get out of the sleeping bag. Rocky warned me to get up because it would rain, I should've listened. We got a bit wet packing up the gear and loading up the bike. We were going to take the Chi-Cheemaun ferry. It traverses Lake Huron from Tobermory to Manitoulin Island. $51.50 was a bit expensive but it was an hour and a half journey and I'm not a good swimmer. While waiting to dock, we met a young man named Marty, who was from Austrailia and also touring on a motorcycle. He flew to British Columbia and took a train to Toronto, where he bought a Kawasaki. He is also heading to Eastern Canada and I wonder if we'll bump into him again along the way. Ivan, the engineer on the ferry, found us and offered us a tour. I don't know much about boats but I found it really interesting to look at. He took us through the engine room, all the control rooms, along with the bridge, where the captain was. I felt like I was on a really awesome school trip.

As soon as we reached Manitoulin Island, it was raining pretty hard. We rode at least 5km up the rode and stopped at a Home Hardware store for refuge. We were soaked. The rain didn't seem like it was about to stop, so we decided to ride a couple of kilometers up to a restaurant. We found a great little place called Musky Widows where we met Matthew, the owner. After a hot meal and a few cups of coffee, it was still pouring rain outside. Matthew mentioned an abandoned barn a few minutes away and said he would take us there if we were interested. We were excited to sleep under a shelter.

We peeked into the barn where we were prepared to stay until Matthew mentioned the Hanger a few meters away. We chose the Hanger instead. It was easier to unpack all of our things and bring the motorcycle inside. We kept the large doors open to watch the storm. Our belongings didn't dry well because of the moisture in the air but at least they didn't get any worse. It ended up raining all night. Although I enjoyed sleeping there, I have to admit I was a bit scared. Raindrops and every other small sound echoed loudly. It got a little bit scary in the complete darkness.

We took our time getting out if bed in the morning. Once we packed, we took a ride back to Musky Widows for breakfast. We left the small town of Manitowaning and headed towards Sudbury, Ontario. It was getting late and we almost settled for a place to camp. I'm glad we kept searching because we found the most perfect location. Ramsey Lake is extremely pretty and surprisingly quiet. We walked across large rocks were we found a patch of grass just big enough to fit our tent. It was simply a perfect place to be.

Our plan was to go visit Rocky's dad. He recently moved to Cobalt, Ontario. The ride was only a couple of hours from Sudbury, Ontario, and it rained on us the last hour. At least this times we were prepared. We pulled over to put on our rain liners just before the rain came down. Cobalt is a small town with a population of 1500. Known as Silver City, it is the Silver Capital of Canada. The only other thing that could be said for Cobalt, Ontario is, it had delicious tap water. Conrad, Rocky's dad, is in his 70's and looking for love, ladies. He is a really nice guy with a funny vocabulary. He uses words like gee willikers, gosh golly and darn tootin. When he addresses me, he either calls me Sis or Salami. He is hilarious. Even when he is sleeping, he is funny. We've caught him talking in his sleep. He has full conversations.

We were there a few nights and decided not to leave until Fathers Day. It was tough saying goodbye but we got everything prepared for Conrad to get his passport. Since he is a French Canadian we assume France would be an easy sell. We would love for him to visit us in France.

After a year and a half of being back home, working, saving and rebuilding the motorcycle, we set back out on the road. We left Hamilton on June 9th and headed north.

Our second day on the road, we crossed over to Manitoulin Island on the ferry from Tobermory. The crossing took about two hours and cost $50 for the motorcycle and two riders.

While waiting for the ferry, we met Marty. Marty is from Australia and purchased a motorcycle in Toronto to ride across Canada.

The night before taking the ferry, we met Ivan. Ivan mentioned that he was the lead engineer on the ferry to Manitoulin Island, called the MS Chi-Cheemaun. He told us to find him onboard and he'd take us on a tour around the vessel.

Shortly after arriving on Manitoulin Island, a torrential downpour also arrived. Paula and I found a restaurant in a nearby town to hang out and dry out our soaked gear. Matthew, the owner of the restaurant, called Musky Widows, offered to take us to an abandoned farm where we could spend the night out of the rain.

The farm had an old barn and a hanger, where we decided to set up our tent.

The rain poured down throughout the entire night, pinging the metal of the hanger roof until morning.

Morning came and the sun finally broke through the clouds as the sky cleared up.

We spent the next night in Sudbury, Ontario. One of the best parts of traveling the way we do is trying to find a spot to camp for the night. With the sun going down, we found this perfect little spot on the edge of Ramsey Lake.

Ramsey Lake

Our next stop was Colbalt, Ontario, where my father had recently moved after separating from his wife.

The last time I had seen my father was almost two years prior, during the first part of our trip. He had aged noticeably since, but hadn't lost is lively spirit, despite battling bouts of depression over the break-up of his marriage.

We met "King Ross" at a Tim Horton coffee shop in the nearby town of New Liskeard. I don't know whether he was the craziest or one of the most intelligent people I have met, but he certainly was entertaining and interesting to talk to.

My father's diet consisted of beer and cigarettes (though he didn't inhale). He woke up one morning and got a beer from the fridge at seven in the morning. I mentioned that there was already a freshly-opened beer on the table. He thought it was mine, as though everyone had a beer first thing in the morning.

After a four-day visit with my father, we left Colbalt and headed towards Montreal. While with my dad, we applied for a passport for him and made tentative plans to meet him somewhere in the world, maybe Paris, France.

 

[Rockwell]

Québec

June 17, 2013 - June 23, 2013

The sky was threatening to rain when we left Cobalt, but we only got spit on. We rode all day until we were ready to find a place to camp. Pembroke, Ontario had a good flat field next to a school and we decided to spend the night there. I tried to set up the tent quickly because I was getting attacked by mosquitos, but they were about to quickly disappear anyway. Just as the sky became black, lightning began brightening up the sky. Thunder followed, causing the earth to shake beneath us. It was very exciting to be in the tent as the storm traveled past us.

Early the next morning, we continued riding until we reached Baie-d'Urfe, Québec. We were going there to visit Alex, who we had previously met while traveling in Mexico and Guatemala. He had also stayed with us as he traveled through Hamilton. Alex just purchased a motorcycle and made plans with Rocky to join us on our trip through eastern Canada. I like to hope that we inspired him to travel by motorcycle but I think he decide to do so because he couldn't turn down a $400 motorcycle.

Baie-d'Urfe is a beautiful suburb of Montreal. Alex was currently living there with his father, Patrick. Patrick is a great guy and cook. He treated us to a delicious duck dinner our first night there. After a few bottles of wine, the conversation somehow turned to health insurance. I learned that, although we have health care in Canada (OHIP - Ontario Health Insurance Plan), we needed to request an extension (for a maximum of 2 years) if we were planning on being absent from the country for more than seven months. If we didn’t, our OHIP coverage would expire, and we would be denied medical treatment upon our return to Canada. The following day, we turned around and rode 45 minutes back into Ontario to apply for the extension. Before heading back to Alex's, we stopped in Montreal for a few last minute necessities. Montreal is a great city. We were unable to take advantage of the awesome nightlife or shopping but we were still able to peek at all the beautiful people. Montreal is known for its lovely looking ladies.

After spending a couple of nights in the suburb of Montreal, Alex, Rocky and I packed up and hit the road. As we followed Alex through the thick traffic in Montreal, I began questioning if he was ready for the road. Alex is a great guy and he's very smart, but he is in his early twenties and he just got his motorcycle license. We were trying to follow his lead but he was weaving in and out of lanes, squeezing through places we wouldn't be able to follow. I was glad when we were finally able to get out of the city.

We contacted couple, Katie and Raymond, on couchsurfing.org and planned on staying at their house for a couple of days. They live with their cute dog, Complain (which means companion in French), in a suburb called Sainte-Redempteur (Levis), on the south shore of Quebec. It was pretty late when we had arrived, so we didn't do much until the following day. Raymond is in the Military, Katie is a Veterinarian, and both of them were gone for the day. Alex, Rocky and I, decided to take a bus to Québec City for the day and Katie said that she would meet us out for drinks once her shift was over.

Québec City is one of the prettiest cities I've seen. It is full of culture and character. More than 90% of Québécois (the people of Québec) speak French as their first language. I was warned that many of them weren't pleasant towards English-speaking people, but I never did experience that. It is often said that the people in Québec are very arrogant and rude because they want to be separated from Canada because they are different. The central cultural argument of those who wish to separate is that only sovereignty can adequately ensure the survival of the French language in North America, allowing Québécois to establish their nationality, preserve their culture identity, and keep their collective memory alive. I personally love that Canada has its unique twist of cultures.

After spending the day exploring the streets of Québec City, we decided to meet up with Katie and a few of her friends. A large street party was happening and we were ready to have fun! Quebec city knows how to throw a good party and Katie and her friends know how to have a great time. I didn't drink too much but I'm glad I wasn't hung-over the next morning. We had a long day of driving as we got back on the road.

The ride from the city up along the coast of the St. Lawrence River was really beautiful. By the end of the day, we all imagined that sleeping by the coast would be ideal. As we rode around searching for a place to set up camp for the night, Alex followed behind. Rocky signaled to make a left hand turn, and just before we had fully crossed the street, Alex cut us off and almost crashed into us at a very high speed. I don't fully understand Alex's perspective of what had happened but I do know that it was a mistake he didn't make intentionally. It is just hard to ignore something that could've put an end to our trip, or even our lives.

We pitched our tents on the shore of the St. Lawrence River along the coastal Highway 132. It was a great place to gather our thoughts as we enjoyed the view. Early the next morning, we headed towards Gaspé, Québec. After a few incidents, we all realized the difficulty in riding together. Alex continued in his own direction without us. Rocky and I remained in Gaspé and found an abandoned house to set up camp in the backyard. I love camping but I've been getting eaten alive. Mosquitos bites annoy me but black flies are attacking me, biting me repeatedly, taking small chunks of my skin and leaving me bloody, bruised and intensely itchy. It is tough being delicious.

Not far from where we slept was a small city near the tip of the Gaspé Peninsula, called Percé. We decided to stop there on our way to New Brunswick, Canada. Percé is mainly a tourist town particularly well known for the attractions of the Percé Rock, translated to English as the pierced rock. It is one of the world's largest natural arches located in water. Percé is known as one of the most beautiful villages of Québec. It was a perfect location to remind us of the beauty of Québec before leaving the province to visit New Brunswick for the first time!

We arrived in Baie-d'Urfe, a suburb of Montreal, on June 17th where our friend, Alex, lives with his father, Patrick. We first met Alex while traveling in Mexico, and later randomly saw him hitchhiking at the side of the road in Guatemala. After arriving in Baie-d'Urfe, Patrick cooked us all a delicious duck dinner.

The next day we were invited by Patrick, who is an avid sailor, to the local sailing club for dinner.

Twinsies - Paula and I are often made fun of because, while traveling, we look the same since both wear blue jeans and the exact same hoodie. We don't mind so much since we wouldn't give up the best sweater either of us have ever worn. At $135 it's a bit pricey, but worth every penny. p.s. - MEC sponsorship is welcomed - call us.

Alex's father, Patrick, is also a motorcycle rider. He is also a bit of a workaholic, but planned on meeting up with us for part of our trip through the eastern part of Canada.

After several days at Alex's, Paula, Alex and I set out on the road. Our first destination was Québec City. A food that was popularized in Québec is Poutine - french fried potatoes topped with gravy and cheese curds.

The three of us spent the day walking around beautiful Québec City, situated alongside the St. Lawrence River.

Historic Québec City

The three of us had planned on meeting Katie, our couch-surfing host, later that evening. The streets were being readied for a large street party that was taking place that evening, and we had planned on meeting up with Katie and a few of her friends.

With some time to kill, Paula, Alex and I walked over to the park to relax and to take a nap in the warm sun.

Alex & Paula In Quebec City

In need of our daily coffee fix, we searched for a Tim Hortons coffee shop, but, unable to find one, we had to settle for Starbucks. Later that day, we stumbled across a Tim Hortons that didn't appear on my GPS. Tim Hortons quality has suffered a decline in recent years, but it was still our go-to coffee shop for its selection and price. The chain also originated in our home town of Hamilton, Ontario.

Our couch-surfing host, Katie, was a veteranarian, and, after a long day of work, we met up with her at the street party. Earlier that day, Katie had performed surgery on a dog. There were complications during the surgery, and the animal didn't make it through. Already saddened by the turn of events, Katie had to deal with the devastated owner of the pet who blamed her for what had happened. We tried to cheer her up with a few beers.

We met several of Katie's crazy friends.

 

[Rockwell]

While at Alex's house in Baie-d'Urfe, Patrick introduced us to a type of honey wine. We liked it so much that we decided to stop along the way at the Vieux Moulin, located along highway 132 in Québec, where the wine is produced. Since we couldn't carry a lot on the bike, we only bought one bottle of wine, but would like to have stocked up on a lot of their delicious goods, which range from different kinds of wines to various types of honey, honey-filled chocolates and other honey-based products.

Following the southern shore of the St. Lawrence river and up to The Gulf of The St. Lawrence, the ride along Québec's Route 132 was beautiful. It was spotted with small fishing villages, hills, mountains, cliffs and waterfalls. We were surprised not to have heard anything about it before.

Alex Along Route 132

The day before, while looking for a spot to camp, we were almost in an accident with Alex. We're not certain exactly what happened, but, for whatever reason, Alex didn't leave enough space while following to notice that we were making a left turn. We narrowly missed hitting each other at a high rate of speed. The stress of riding together got to both of us, and we both decided that it might be better if we split off on our own.

Later that evening, Paula and I looked for a place to set up camp. We found an abandoned house in the town of Gaspé that seemed perfect. We waited until dusk and spent the night in the yard behind the house. We packed up in the morning, had some breakfast and headed on.

Our next destination was the small, tourist town of Percé, Québec. Percé is known for the Percé Rock, one of the world's largest natural arches located in water.

Paula at Percé

I found a gravel road on my GPS that appeared to ascend the hill overlooking the town of Percé. We rode up a steep gravel road and found a lookout that gave a great view of Percé.

After leaving Percé, Paula and I headed on towards New Brunswick. We had spent almost a week in the province of Québec, but could easily have spent much more time there.

 

[armmim]

Love your travels and pictures Rocky. You have an artistic eye for detail. What type of camera and lenses do you have? Traveling on a bike it wouldn't seem like much.

 

[Rockwell]

Thanks!

I do carry a lot of electronics. My entire tank bag is filled with my camera, a few lenses and other electronics stuff. I have a Canon 5D Mark II and a few lenses (24-105, 14mm, and a cheap-o 50mm)

Love your travels and pictures Rocky. You have an artistic eye for detail. What type of camera and lenses do you have? Traveling on a bike it wouldn't seem like much.

 

[Rockwell]

The Maritimes

June 23, 2013 - July 5, 2013

It became obvious when we had entered New Brunswick because most of the street signs were also written in English. Campbellton, New Brunswick is situated on the south bank of the Restigouche River opposite Pointe-a-la-Croix, Quebec. We found a perfect spot to camp, located on the top of a hill, overlooking both coasts. Eastern Canada has no shortage of great spots to camp.

I contacted a guy, named Ryan, on couchsurfing.org and he welcomed us to stay with him in a small suburb of Moncton, New Brunswick. The Petitcodic River separates Riverview, New Brunswick from Moncton. In the late 1960's, a controversial rock-and-earth fill causeway was build between Moncton and Riverview to prevent agricultural flooding and to carry a crossing between the two communities. Before the construction of this causeway, the river had one of the largest tidal bores, which ranged 1-2 meters in height and moved at 5-3 km per hour. Ryan's backyard had a beautiful view of this chocolate coloured river.

The day after arriving in Riverview, Rocky and I made a coffee run in the morning while Ryan was at work meetings. About 300 meters from us returning to the house, the motorcycle lost all power and Rocky had to push it the rest of the way. After spending some time problem solving through the electrical, Rocky noticed that the exhaust had melted some wires. We were lucky to have been such a short distance away with a nice large garage to do the repairs.

Ryan is a charming character with an abundant storage of information. As the CEO/owner of Chatham Biotec and Mega Chaga, his background is in innovative forestry products. He lives with his dog Mocha, a pretty Shepard/Boxer mix. The four of us took a ride down to Caladonia Gorge, a protected natural area. We hiked through the forest until we reached a creek. The water squeezed and crashed down through a narrow slot, it's wake churning into a deep cold pool.

Ryan told us we'd be swimming at Crooked Creek, so I came prepared with my bathing suit. Although, I didn't come prepared to jump off a cliff into the water. I'm such a chicken. It took me quite a few minutes to mentally prepare for my pathetic attempt of a jump. But, I did it, and after I did, I realized that in order to get out of the cold water, I was going to have to climb up the cliff I had just jumped off of. Ryan made fun of me. He said that I was hugging the cliff all the way up, holding on for dear life. I'm such a coward.

Spending a few days at Ryan's was a lot of fun, but we needed to get back on the road to maintain some sort of schedule. We were on our way to discover Nova Scotia. Rocky's friend Kathy, who he had lived with in Taiwan, now lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband Ryan. The both of them live with a few roommates in North Halifax, a great area named The Hydrostone. The moment we arrived, Kathy greeted us outside and embraced me with a big hug.

As I began unpacking the motorcycle, Rocky noticed a hissing sound coming from the front tire. It had a strange hole on the wheel wall where the air was escaping but after removing the tire, no hole was found on the inner tube. The tire was placed back on and seemed OK but we weren't comfortable keeping it. We had planned on getting a new rear tire because ours was low on thread but we then decided that a new front tire was also necessary. Although the front tire was fairly new, it was the same tire used when we were in our accident. Rocky and I agreed that there was a good possibility that the tire was unsafe and should be replaced.

We had planned to spend the long weekend with Kathy and Ryan. Ryan is in a band called Three Sheet and was booked to perform at a few venues throughout Nova Scotia. Ryan also owns a motorcycle and had the weather been better, the four of us would have gone on a great little camping road trip. Instead, Ryan went by van with his band members because the weather called for heavy rain all weekend. Rocky and I couldn't do much but wait for the sky to clear up. After relaxing all weekend, we finally decided to take our chances against Mother Nature and our faulty tire. We took a short road trip to Peggy's Cove and it was well worth it. The rain had stopped for a short moment and the scenery was incredible. It was definitely one of the prettiest coasts I have ever seen.

The following day remained somewhat dry as well. Rocky and I rode to the motorcycle shop to pick up our tires because they had finally arrived. Without any other choice, I placed each arm through a tire and held on tight as I sat on the back of the bike. We rode from the shop for just under one minute before lights began flashing behind us. We were being pulled over by an undercover cop. He asked us where we were going and said that carrying the tires wasn't the safest idea, we could get charged. He then asked for the tires, said that he would place them in his car and he would follow us to where we were going. Amazing! I laughed the entire ride. Especially at the thought of the paranoia Rocky must have felt from a cop following behind him for 20 minutes. Once we arrived at Kathy's home, we enjoyed a good chuckle with him. We exchanged info and he told us to call him if we had any troubles. In case you are reading our blog, Mr. Detective/Constable Upshaw, we did not inhale.

Rocky and I spent a while changing both tires. With the bike ready, we were excited to get back on the road. It had almost been a full week spent with Kathy, Ryan, their roommates Andrea and Adrienne and the household dog, Jetson. The night before we planned to leave, Jordie Lane, an amazing musician from Australia, came to stay at the house with his beautiful girlfriend Clare. Although it was nice to relax and spend time in such an interesting household, we said our goodbyes and got back on the road the following morning. It was too bad that we didn't stick around to watch Jordie on stage. He is extremely talented.

Our next destination was Cape Breton Island. Although it is physically separated from the Nova Scotia peninsula by the Strait of Canso, it is artificially connected by a rock-fill Canso Causeway. We rode until we found a place to camp in a field near an industrial section of Port Hawkesbury. Just as I was setting up the tent, I began to realize that we were in the center of millions of Mosquitos. I tried to hurry but it was futile, I felt as though I was getting eaten alive. I was happy once we were in the tent, but I still spent a long time killing the mosquitos that snuck there way in. I don't like to kill anything but I felt no guilt as hundreds of them pressed against the mesh to watch the bloody massacre.

Located in Cape Breton, the Cabot Trail is considered one of the world’s most scenic drives. It truly was gorgeous. After riding for most of the day Rocky pulled over for a bathroom break. A gravel driveway led us to an outhouse but to our surprise, it also led us to a beautiful place named Neil's Harbour. A small river found its way into a larger body of water. A few meters away was a sandbank that separated the freshwater from the ocean. We set up our tent in the small, designated picnic area along side of the Harbour and listened to the ocean waves crash against the opposite shore. I didn't imagine it could get any better until some of the locals lit up some fireworks visible from where we camped. When the fireworks were over, the black sky was filled with billions of stars. It was a perfect place to admire.

We packed everything up the next morning and headed towards Sydney, Nova Scotia. We camped in a large field and planned on taking The MV Blue Puttees Ferry to Newfoundland the following afternoon. Everyone kept saying how amazing Newfoundland is, but I get really seasick and was not looking forward to the long Ferry ride.

 

[Rockwell]

We left the province of Québec and crossed into New Brunswick on June 23rd. Entering the town of Campbellton, we rode around and found a spot to camp next to a radio tower, atop a hile overlooking the town.

We awoke the next morning, packed up and headed for the city of Moncton.

We had contacted a guy on couch-surfing, named Ryan, and he agreed to host us in the town of Riverside, a suburb of Moncton.

Ryan took us to a great spot off the beaten path, called Crooked Creek.

The three of us took turns jumping into the river from the rocks on the bank. The water was cold.

Ryan's best friend was Mocha, his pet dog.

Ryan, Mocha & Paula

On June 27th, we said goodbye to Ryan and headed for Halifax, Nova Scotia. My friend, Kathy, whom I had met ten years earlier while living and working in Taiwan, was now living with her fiencé, Ryan, in Halifax. They had invited us to come and stay with them as we passed through the area.

Paula and I endured a long stretch of rainy whether when we arrived in Halifax. We had ordered and were waiting for two new tires to arrive, so we hadn't planned on doing much travel anyway. Ryan is a musician in a band called Three Sheet. They had several gigs on the Canada Day long weekend. Kathy decided to tag along with them.

Ten years prior, I had lived with Kathy in an apartment with many other roommates. Kathy and I quickly became good friends.

On Canada Day, the skies finally cleared up and Paula and I decided to ride out to Peggy's Cove. Peggy's Cove is a small fishing village 45 minutes outside of Halifax.

Peggy's Cove Lighthouse

Peggy's Cove

Paula At Peggy's Cove

Adrienne was one of Kathy's roommates. She was the best friend to Jetson, the household dog. Adrienne planned on traveling to New Zealand and invited us to come stay with her if we made it that far.

We left Halifax on July 3rd and headed north, towards Cape Breton Island. The following day we rode along the world-famous Cabot Trail. The drive was certainly beautiful. We had heard so much about it that our expectations were set very high. It was a stunning ride, but it was a short ride, and Paula and I both agreed that we preferred the ride along Route 132 in Québec much better.

Somewhere Along The Cabot Trail

We decided to head off the main road along the northern tip of Cape Breton Island. It was a nice detour that lead to some great scenery.

Cape Breton Island

Nearing the end of the day, we found a great rest stop on the outskirts of Neil's Harbour. It had a beautiful stream and a fresh-water lake that was separated from the sea by a small strip of beach. We knew we had to camp there for the night, so, we waited until dusk, after the park ranger made his last round, and set up camp.

While waiting for the sun to go down, we took a dip in the lake to wash off. We headed out the next day for North Sydney, Nova Scotia, where we had planned on boarding the ferry to Newfoundland.

 

[Rockwell]

Newfoundland

July 6, 2013 - July 16, 2013

Over five hours on the ferry and I didn't get sea sick! Either the small patch behind my ear worked or the ocean was calm enough not to make me feel queasy. We finally arrived in Newfoundland and it didn't take long to notice people spoke very differently on the island known as The Rock. We also quickly learned to pronounce Newfoundland as the locals call it, New-Fun-Land. The ferry docked in Port Aux Basque, a tiny town that took us just minutes to ride around. We were in search of a bite to eat and our options were limited. We surprisingly ate a Subway sandwich. It has been well over a year since I've been able to stomache even the smell, but it actually tasted delicious. I'm not about to eat one (or two) every day like we had on our last trip, but I'll definitely enjoy one every now and then.

It was late in the day by the time we were ready to search for a place to set up the tent. Even though there was enough sunshine still out, we were warned by many to keep off the roads during dusk to avoid hitting moose. There is a large population of moose living in Newfoundland. We decided to stay near Port Aux Basque for the night and it didn't take long to find a great place to camp. Newfoundland once had a railroad that traveled across the entire province. Since it was no longer in service, a gravel path is left where its tracks once were. Locals find this useful to ride their off-road-vehicles on. It seemed like everyone owns an ATV or a skidoo.

We rode for a few minutes down the gravel road until we reached a wooden deck just big enough for our tent. It was perfect. We unpacked as quickly as possible so that we could admire the incredible panoramic view before it got dark. It didn't matter what direction we looked, the view around us was breathtaking. As the sun began to set and we both just stared in awe. It was one of the prettiest moments I had ever experienced. We were speechless. Early the next morning, we continued down the gravel road until it became sand and knocked us over. It was a gentle drop and we got up easily but the sand got deeper as we continued, and we eventually got stuck. Half of the rear tire was buried and moving the motorcycle felt impossible. Rocky and I removed our bags and the panniers as two kind strangers offered to help push the bike out. Riding through off-roads always seems to be a crazy adventure but it was well worth the view we witnessed. As we pulled onto the highway, we learned that we had just spent the night in JT Cheeseman Provincial Park.

After a beautiful but windy ride, we arrived in Corner Brook, a small city on the western side of Newfoundland. We sat in a parking lot next to a park waiting for the sun to set because we planned on setting up the tent somewhere nearby. As we waited, we were approached by a man named Delano. He was riding a Kawasaki KLR and asked a few questions about our KTM. We shared a few words, and shortly after he left he returned to tell us of a really great place to check out. We followed him up a hill to an area named Cooks Lookout. The site was used by Captain James Cook as he kept an eye out for smugglers and privateers from 1763-1767 when he charted the coast. It offered a fantastic view of the Gulf of the Saint Lawrence. After a short walk around, we came to a memorial monument boat, built of stone. It was the perfect size to fit our tent and motorcycle. It seemed like the perfect place to set up our tent.

The following morning, we decided to stay in Corner Brook. We stopped at the local YMCA for a shower and enjoyed the rest of the day laying under the sun at a local park. Since we really loved where we had camped the night before, we decided to spend another night in the boat. Even though it was a popular place to visit, the locals were very friendly about us being there. Some even complimented the idea of camping there. Early the next morning as we were packing up the tent, we were approached by a man on his morning walk. He spoke with us for a few minutes and invited us to his house for breakfast and a shower. There was no way that we could possibly say no. I love meeting kind strangers. We finished packing and met with Dennis at his house. While sitting on his back porch, we enjoyed a great view of the city. He made us coffee and brought out bowls of fruit, including a fruit we had never tasted. Cloud berries, also known as Bake Apples, are an orange looking blackberry with a tart taste to them. After freshening up, filling our bellies and sharing some stories, we exchanged hugs and he wished us well on our journey. What a great, friendly city.

We got back on the road and planned on going to Gros Mourne National Park where we would pay to camp in a campground. We usually don't pay for camping because we can't justify paying $30 to sleep on the earth and also because we can't afford to, but it was a special occasion. Rocky had never tried a hallucinogen and I found us some magic mushrooms before we left home. Unfortunately, they weren't as strong as they should've been but it was enough to heighten our senses. During an evening walk past another picture perfect scene, we ate the 'shrooms and eventually made our way back to our campsite. We gathered the wood to build a fire and lit up a joint. It was really dark and it took me a second to notice that there was a man standing beside us. Initially I was startled. He appeared out of the darkness and, once my eyes properly focused, I realized that he was the park ranger. I looked at Rocky to warn him but he was busy smoking the joint and that made me want to laugh. Suddenly, the park ranger began to speak and I could barely contain myself. Apparently, I can't understand anything Newfoundlanders say. It is English I assume, but I began to understand why they are called 'funny talkers'. To make matters funnier, the park ranger stood there talking to us long enough for us to wonder if we were supposed to offer him a few puffs. Rocky and I laughed for a while after he had gone.

The next day we prepared to go on a hike. I've been on many hikes before. I thought I knew what to expect but Rocky decided to create his own path that day. He wanted to climb to the top of a mountain but we had to walk through thick dry brush. I like to be adventurous but I was wearing knickers, I had just shaved my legs and moisturized. I ************** and complained the entire climb up that mountain. Once we reached the top, I realized it was worth every scratch. The view was incredibly beautiful and we even found a lake up there. We laid on on the grass for a while (wink wink) with not a person in sight in all directions. Rocky took the opportunity to say something romantic, along the lines of "See...I told you so. Isn't this awesome? You should just trust me from now on."

When we returned to the campsite, we were charging our electronics under a large overhang and met a couple from New Brunswick. Martin and Cynthia were riding throughout Eastern Canada on a BMW. We exchanged stories over a bottle of wine they were sharing and Cynthia made me laugh to tears. We found out, weeks later, that Martin and Cynthia were related to Adrienne (their niece), who we stayed with in Halifax, Nova Scotia. What a small world! We hung out with them for a while and then Rocky and I headed back to our site for a nice big campfire to toast some marshmallows. I wish we could have a campfire everywhere we camp.

The next morning, we packed up all of our belongings so that we could continue traveling north. I wasn't feeling well and I wondered if I was experiencing an allergic reaction to black fly bites. I had over ten bites just on my neck and scalp and all of them were extremely swollen. After searching on-line, I am convinced that I had black fly fever. I felt weak, nauseous and feverish. We left Grose Mourne and rode for a few hours until we reached Hawkes Bay. Rocky was annoyed with the way the motorcycle was riding and wondered if the problem was coming from the wheel or if it was electrical. He said the the motorcycle has been riding weird for a couple of weeks, just after we spliced the electrical wires together or since we replaced the tires. We pulled over to investigate and Rocky noticed that the ABS sensor was slightly rubbing against the ABS grill. That could've been the cause of the surging and wobbling he was feeling, but everything was assembled properly. He couldn't figure out why it was scraping. As the sun began to set we decided it would be best to spend the night next to an abandoned office across the street where we had a perfect view of the Bay. We weren't the only ones to think it was a good spot to stop. The coast guard helicopter parked there as well.

We enjoyed a lazy morning and continued riding north towards Saint Anthony. It was a beautiful ride with the ocean to our left showing many shades of blue. Saint Anthony is a small town on the northern reaches of the Great Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. We rode through until we reached the furthest tip of the town and decided that camping beside the lighthouse was a great spot. We were on a cliff top, high above the ocean with the view of icebergs in the far distance. It was a great place visually, but it was also intensely windy. But, then again, most of Newfoundland has been windy. Early the next morning Rocky took the bike apart as I packed everything. I knew he was stressing about what the problem could potentially be because he woke me up numerous times throughout the night saying "I wonder if it's...". As I packed up our things, I took a moment to look out at the ocean as I folded the tent and noticed a bunch of dolphins swimming past. That was probably the coolest thing I have ever waken up to. I was mesmerized, staring out into the distance.

After waiting a while for Rocky to work on the motorcycle, I warned him that I really had to pee. Rocky told me he would be a couple of hours and that I would have to find somewhere outside. What? Not only am I in a very open touristy area with no bush to hide behind, the morning sun shining bright and the wind blowing hard, it is difficult to be unnoticed especially if I was squatting with my pants around my ankles. There was no bathroom for a couple of kilometers and I hadn't peed in more than nine hours. I was upset that he couldn't have waited to take the motorcycle apart at a more convenient time and location. I must've looked annoyed because a man approached us and asked if everything was ok. I asked him if he knew of a nearby bathroom and he offered to drive me to one.

Richard was a sweet man (much sweeter than Rocky, hah!). He drove me down the street to his house and let me use his restroom. Before driving me back up the cliff, he stopped at a Tim Hortons and insisted on buying Rocky and I a coffee. Once we reached Rocky, Richard told him to put the motorcycle back together, just enough to be rideable down the cliff. We were invited to use his garage, take a shower and wash our laundry. He even offered us some jarred moose meat and drinks prepared with iceberg ice. The thought of drinking something that had been frozen for thousands of years just blows my mind!

With the bike taken apart, Rocky re-spliced a few wires with hopes that it would stop the surging. He also changed the spark plugs just in case that may have had something to do with it. And, in the process of all that, he discovered and fixed an oil leak. Rocky had worked on bike for hours as we all hung out in the garage. Richards brother Todd was visiting and many of their friends would stop by to say hello but I think Richard became concerned with me being bored. He invited to take me to the top of a cliff that offered the best view of St. Anthony where he shared a lot of the local history with me.

Shortly after arriving back at the house, Richard prepared dinner and invited us to join him and his beautiful wife for a meal. His wife Gay had just finished her day of work at the hospital and she was just as friendly as Richard. During a hot cup of coffee with our bowl of dessert, she told us stories of Saint Anthony and how there was once a Polar bear in her back yard. Ummm.... Polar bear? I never imagined Polar bears in Newfoundland. Supposedly, the Polar bears that visit the area are from the Davis Strait population (a strait lying between Greenland and Nunavut, Canada) which is estimated to occupy 1400 bears. They accompany the heavy pack-ice that occasionally drifts further to the south than normal during the spring break-up. Whoa! I would be super scared if I ever had a Polar bear roaming my yard.

With the bike fixed and ready, Richard suggested the route that we should take to return towards the ferry. But first he suggested that we pitch our tent in his yard or garage instead of searching for a place. After hearing that there was a Polar bear in their yard, the garage sounded like a lovely spot to sleep. Richard, his wife, Gay, and his brother, Todd, were a fine example of the hospitality in Newfoundland.

We were on our way through L'Anse Aux Meadows, the only confirmed Norse/Viking site in North America outside of Greenland. On our way there, we stopped for lunch and enjoyed a meal I have been anxious to have for a very, very long time. Fresh crab is my absolute favourite and there was no way I was about to reject the cheap price. With our tummies full, I was ready for sleep but it was still early. After all the work that Rocky had done on the motorcycle, he was still experiencing what he described as a feeling of surging and a wobble in the front tire. Rocky became obsessed with fixing this problem. He took the wheel off in the parking lot of the restaurant and still found no problem. Once we arrived in L'Anse aux Meadows at the most northern tip of Newfoundland, Rocky took apart the tire once more. People always gathered around to offer their help. As everyone exchanged ideas on the potential problem, I could see the frustration in Rocky's eyes, and then a hint of hope. When Rocky replaced the front rim, after the accident, he used the old spacer. Maybe, just maybe, the spacer was slightly smaller than the new one. He reached in his tool bag for the spare spacer and compared it to the old one he had installed, it was slightly different. That would definitely cause the abs sensor to rub against the plate! But would it cause the surging and the wobble?

Richard had told us of a place he called, the Salmon Hole. We planned on camping there for the night. The Underground Salmon Pool is where we witnessed an Atlantic salmon river, surfacing from an underground cave. Thousands of years of physical weathering and erosion to the limestone has formed an underground river and the continuous water flow has widened the river channel which has become a resting stop for the Salmon. It is the only known place in the world where Atlantic Salmon swim through underground river caves to get to their spawning grounds. I was having vivid thoughts of diving in and catching one with my bare hands. I even went as far as to wonder where I could find some soy sauce, ginger and wasabe. It's a good thing I had eaten all that crab earlier, otherwise, I'm not sure that I would have been able to control my urge. That could've been the best sashimi in my lifetime.

Our ride back south was windy, extremely windy. There were many moments that I thought we were going to blow over. It was early afternoon and as we were riding past Grose Mourne National Park for the last time, we pulled over so that we could hike one of the trails. It took us approximately 3 km there and back to complete and the last 10 minutes threatened rain. Luckily, we only felt a light mist as we rode south, away from the storm. After an expensive meal the day before, Rocky punished me with Subway. As we were eating, we were approached by a guy that politely asked to talk about our motorcycle. Troy was a true motorcycle enthusiast. When he spoke of the hundreds of bikes he had owned, he reminded me of John, our motorcycle guru, we had previously met in Calgary, Alberta. Troy was a really nice guy who shared many stories and was very interested in hearing ours as well. Just before leaving, Troy told us of a cottage he was building for his family. He said it was under construction but it had the most incredible view of a lake. We were given the address and were told where he kept the key hidden. He wasn't kidding, it definitely had the most incredible view of the lake. It was a beautiful place to spend the night.

On our way back south, Rocky pulled over to take the tire off once again. The surging and wobble still existed. This time, we decided to remove the rim strip. When we put the new tire on in Halifax, Nova Scotia, we applied rim tape to the tire because the rubber rim strip kept sliding to the side. After applying the tape, we kept the rubber stip over top of it because we thought if anything it would be added protection. Maybe the surging was caused by having them both on? We removed the rubber, left the tape and crossed our fingers. Nope, but at least the wobble in the wheel was gone!

We were sad at the thought of leaving Newfoundland. We made one last stop in Corner Brook to shower at the YMCA before riding to Port Aux Basque to catch the late night ferry. Newfoundland is such an incredible place. It is breathtaking at every corner, an absolutely stunning place to visit. When Rocky and I imagined this trip, we always talked about the beautiful landscapes we would see. But, throughout our adventure we are also constantly amazed by the beautiful characters we meet. Newfoundland is one of the friendliest places we have visited. We were greeted by everyone, if not with words or acts of kindness, we were greeted with big smiles. Everyday we were greeted by strangers. I have never met kinder, more caring people who are genuinely interested in at least saying hello. It was a very sad moment as we left The Rock.

 

[Rockwell]

There are two ferry routes from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland - a short crossing that arrives in Port aux Basques and a much longer route that ports in the western part of Newfoundland in Argentia. We boarded the ferry, operated by Marine Atlantic, from North Sydney, Nova Scotia to Port Aux Basque, Newfoundland on July 6th. The crossing took roughly 6 hours and, for a motorcycle and two passengers with reserved seating (recommended), the cost was CA$165.22.

After getting off the ferry in Newfoundland, I found a gravel road on my GPS just outside Port Aux Basque. I set it as our destination and this is where it lead us.

We watched the sunset in awe and snapped photos. We were definitely thankful that we made the choice to visit Newfoundland.

Our camping spot was a wooden deck just off the trail that was likely used by locals to gaze at the scenery as we did the night before.

We packed up in the morning and continued down the gravel trail that, according to the GPS, looped around back to the main highway. Being near the ocean, the gravel path suddenly turned to patches on sand, and the bike went down. Paula and I picked her back up and continued along to the next, much bigger patch of sand that we got stuck in. A couple of locals passing by helped us dig the bike out of the sand, and we were able to make our way back to the main highway.

Our next stop was the town of Corner Brook. After arriving, we met a local resident, named Delano, who rode a Kawasaki KLR and took us up to a hill that overlooked the entire town. With the skies darkening, we thought that the hill, called Captain Cook's Lookout, was a great spot to set up the tent and camp for the night, despite being a bit of a tourist attraction.

Down a small walking path, we found a seating area made from slabs of rock. It seemed like a perfect spot to set the tent up. We woke the next morning and descended the hill into the town of Corner Brook.

After our morning coffe at Tim Hortons, Paula and I visited the local YMCA and asked to use the shower since we were both in desperate need of one. After washing up and feeling refreshed, we spent the day at the park, relaxing in the warm sun.

The view from Captain Cook's Lookout

We liked our camping spot so much that we decided to spend another night there. The following morning, we met a local who passed by our tent on his morning walk. Dennis was his name, and, after a short conversation, he asked us if we wanted to go back to his place for breakfast and to get a shower. We were starting to get a good idea about the kindness and hospitality we were told to expect from the people of Newfoundland.

Paula, Bob, Jeanette and Peanut - We met this couple at a rest stop while traveling through Gros Morne National Park. They were from Québec, and were traveling in their caravan with their dog, Peanut.

While visiting Gros Morne National Park, we decided to stop at a paid camp site, which we rarely do. We just can't justify spending $25-$30 per night to sleep outside, especially since we usually find much more beautiful spots to camp out for free. Nevertheless, paying for a spot to camp allowed us to leave our gear and enjoy the surrounding areas. The day after arriving, Paula and I decided to go for a hike. I like to make my own path, so I took Paula on a hike up a mountain that most people don't climb. Paula rarely likes to get off the beaten path, so she followed me kicking and screaming the entire way up the hill. We reached the top of the mountain to discover a beautiful pond. Though she won't admit it, she then realized it was worth the climb.

While camping in trout river, we met Martin and Cynthia. As we waited for our electronics to charge, we shared a bottle of wine and were later invited back to their camp site for a smoke. They definitely were not the snobby-types that you'd expect BMW GS riders to be.

We left Trout River on July 11th, and headed north along the Viking Trail towards St. Anthony.

Leaving Trout River, I stopped to snap a few photos of the awesome scenery. Paula wasn't feeling too well. She is very susceptible to bug bites, and she thought that she was suffering from a case of Black Fly Fever.

The next day, we arrived at Fishing Point in St. Anthony.

There is a traditional Viking Hut at Fishing Point in St. Anthony. It is a theme restaurant where viking reenactments are performed.

Without a place to stay, we thought that, though it was a bit of a tourist location, we would camp out at Fishing Point and stay hidden behind the lighthouse. In the morning, it seemed that it was a spot where the locals came to drink their coffee and watch the sunrise.

We had been experiencing problems with the motorcycle for a while. There was a jerkiness at certain range of RPMs, and I was experiencing head-shake (wobble in the handlebars). While starting to work on the bike ay Fishing Point in St. Anthony, a stranger, named Richard, offered us a place in his garage to work on the bike. Seeing that I was tired and hungry after many hours of work on the bike to fix an oil leak that we had discovered after tearing the bike down, Richard made us dinner and gave us a place to sleep for the night.

While I worked on the motorcycle, Richard took Paula up to a hill that overlooked the town of St. Anthony.

We camped out that evening in Richard's garage.

We left the next morning and said goodbye to Richard.

After saying goodbye to Richard, Paula and I left for L'Anse aux Meadows, on the northernmost tip of Newfoundland. "Discovered in 1960, it is the most famous site of a Norse or Viking settlement in North America outside of Greenland." -- Wikipedia

 

[Rockwell]

Paula at L'Anse aux Meadows

Burnt Cape Park Reserve

The winds along the coast of Newfoundland are very strong. Stiff crosswinds prevented us from riding upright and forced us to lean into the wind.

The Coast of Newfoundland

Since before arriving in Newfoundland and all through Newfoundland we were told to be careful of all the moose. This was the only moose I had seen the entire time in Newfoundland.

On our way back south, we decided to make the trek out to Western Brook.

We met Troy on our last night spent in Newfoundland. We were eating at a Subway sandwich shop and he asked us if we'd be upset if he asked us about our motorcycle. Troy was a motorcycle lover who had owned over 200 different motorcycles in his life (according to him), and crashed many of them. As we were leaving, Troy offered us a place to stay for the night in his cottage, which was only 30 minutes away. He gave us the address and told us that the key was hidden under the stairs if we were interested in spending the night there. We were, and we did. The view of the lake and the sunset from his cottage were spectacular.

Southern Newfoundland

Leaving Newfoundland

The ferry back to the mainland of Canada was booked, and we left Newfoundland on July 16th. Paula and I were both sad to be leaving this beautiful place.

This time, we took the overnight ferry, which had been recommended by several people. After crossing through the night, neither Paula nor I would recommend it. It is very difficult to sleep on the ferry and having to ride in the morning after only a few hours of sleep wasn't too pleasant.

 

[chilliwak]

Wow, :Wow1:I just checked out your thread for the first time. I love your descriptive narative and the cool pics. Looks like you 2 are having the time of your life. Thanks for posting up and I am looking forward to seeing updates from your trip. Cheers, Chilli...

 

[Rockwell]

Wow, :Wow1:I just checked out your thread for the first time. I love your descriptive narative and the cool pics. Looks like you 2 are having the time of your life. Thanks for posting up and I am looking forward to seeing updates from your trip. Cheers, Chilli...

Thanks!

 

[Rockwell]

Leaving Canada

July 16, 2013 - July 24, 2013

The freezing cold, uncomfortable ferry ride back to mainland Canada was very depressing. We were wrong to assume that the night ride would provide us with any rest. We got off the ferry exhausted and thought it was best to pitch our tent under a few trees to the side of the road. After a few good hours of sleep, we rode to New Glasgow, Nova Scotia and spent the night by the East River of Pictou. We got up early the next morning and took a free ferry across to Prince Edward Island. It was a small, pretty province where every lawn and garden was perfectly manicured. Mostly farmland, Prince Edward Island is known for growing high quality potatoes. Over 88,000 acres of potatoes are grown each year, making it the largest potato-producing province in Canada. We immediately noticed that finding a place to camp for the night would be difficult because all of the land seemed owned. It was getting late and the sun was quickly dropping below the horizon, I began to doubt that we would find a place to camp. Just as I was beginning to really miss Newfoundland, we came across a picnic area. Confederation Trail is Prince Edward Islands abandoned railway line, it has been developed into a tip-to-tip trail. It was a great place to set up the tent. When we packed up our bags the next morning, we exited the island on a long bridge spanning the Abegweit Passage of the Northumberland Strait, linking Prince Edward Island with mainland New Brunswick. The 12.9 kilometer (8 mile) long bridge takes about 15 minutes to cross and it cost us $17.75. It was kind of scary riding on a two lane highway surrounded by water. It was so windy that I feared we would hit oncoming traffic or end up drowning! Rocky said he was constantly fighting the wind as it kept pushing us towards the oncoming traffic. I was glad to make it back into New Brunswick safely.

The last time we were in Moncton, New Brunswick, we had ordered a few parts. They had arrived at the shop and were waiting for us to pick them up. Toys for Big Boys is a large nice shop every man would love to spend some time and money in. Since Rocky continued to feel that something was still wrong with how the motorcycle was riding, he decided to get the front tire balanced to see if that was causing the problem. The process of elimination was annoying but at least it was fixing a bunch of little problems. To save a few dollars, Rocky removed the tire himself. Craig, an employee of Toys for Big Boys, kindly refused to charge us any money for balancing the tire. When the KTM mechanic approached us to make sure we didn't need anything else before he headed out for the day, Rocky told him about the surging and the mechanic tugged on the chain. He told us that a new one was needed, and that reminded Rocky of the time the bike stalled when we were in Campbellton, New Brunswick. The chain was fairly new but the bike was fully loaded when it stalled going down a hill. That may have put a lot of tension on the links, causing them to stretch. At least we finally knew what the problem might be.

We packed up to leave but continued chatting with Craig. He was a mean looking guy that enjoyed riding a Harley Davidson. A customer and friend of his showed up and joined the conversation. Jason, along with his son Braydon, offered us a place to set up the tent on their property. Craig then suggested that we might as well stay at his camp, where we could spend the night on a bed in the spare room. We would have been happy at either place. We all met at Jason's, a beautiful house located in Hillsborough, New Brunswick, where we were introduced to his wife Lisa and his daughter Bridgette. We also met Craig's other half, Betty. Jason grilled some steak and poured us some beer as we all got to know each other. After eating, he offered to ride us around his property. Jason is the Quarry Operations Manager for the company, Brunswick Limestone. With the Limestone Quarry located on his property, he offered to give us a tour on a crazy looking Dune Buggy that had adrenalin written all over it. Rocky and I strapped in and held on to the 'holy **** bars' as we sped though the dirt and gravel paths. After racing around and doing a few 360's and 180's, I was chewing on dirt and picking mud out of my hair. It was the most fun that I have had in a long time.

As it became late in the day, Craig and Betty drove Rocky and I to the camp. Betty's camp was a log home situated deep in the back roads of Hillsborough. Resting on the top of a hill, it offered a fantastic view. Craig’s friend Aaron joined us there, and, after a few drinks, Rocky told them he was a bit disappointed to have not seen any moose in Newfoundland. Craig said he had been spotted one a few days back and suggested we go back to the same spot to see if it was still hanging around there. It was a great drunken idea but I highly doubted our mission to meet moose would pan out. We tip toed with excitement hoping to get a peek. Just as we reached the end of a driveway at a different camp, we immediately saw a mother moose with her baby at the salt licks. A salt lick is a deposit of mineral salts that animals use to supplement their nutrition, ensuring that they get enough minerals in their diets. Hunters sometimes use artificial salt licks, either blocked or bagged, to attract wildlife such as moose, to encourage potential prey to frequent an area. With Craig being a hunter, I think he got more excited than we did. It was pretty awesome.

We got back to camp and had a few more drinks before two more of Craig’s friends showed up. We were introduced to Animal and Jamie and quickly found out why his friend had been nicknamed Animal. He was absolutely hilarious. As I sat back to take a good look at these guys, I watched them exude toughness but I had to laugh when Craig said that he doesn't go to work to make friends. I had to remind him that his new friends he met at his work didn’t believe that for a second. Craig and his friends were sweethearts, whether they would admit it or not.

After a very late night, we woke up early to Betty cooking breakfast. Craig had to work early and I felt bad for his hangover. All of our belongings were at Jason's, so she dropped us off there before driving Craig to work. When we got to Jason's, I was still exhausted. Rocky borrowed Jason's dirt bike and followed Braydon to the back roads to learn how to dirt bike. Braydon is barely a teenager but his ability to ride was impressive. Even his little sister Bridgette had her own dirt bike and rode with the best of them. While they were having fun I was hoping that a shower would wake me up. But, three hours of sleep after a night of drinking wasn't enough. After Rocky had returned and showered, Jason offered us a bed to nap on and that did the trick.

Aaron, who we had met the night before, invited us out for a ride. He had a custom made Harley Davidson that made him look pretty ************, but I knew he was more of the polite, calm and collected type. We toured around the area and he took us to a few really pretty places. We then went back to his house to meet his beautiful girlfriend Tara, who invited us to a delicious dinner. Tara is a veterinarian with a big loving heart. Her and Aaron live together with their cat Alexis, a toy poodle named Bella, a boxer named T-bone and two Pitbulls named Gino and Compton. She explained how they just recently began experiencing some problems with the animals getting along. Gino, the Pitbull, was getting old and potentially getting dementia. He had been picking fights with Compton, the other Pitbull, for no apparent reason. It was difficult to understand what she was saying as Compton and Gino cuddled together on a mat, as best friends would. It wasn't until Tara showed us the fresh wound marks to Compton’s neck that we began to realize the severity.

Tara shared with us how 5 years earlier she met Gino, the beautiful Red Pitbull. She was in search of a dog and had located one on the Internet. When she had arrived at the house to meet him, the owner told her that the dog would cost $2000 because he was an all time winning fight dog. As a veterinarian and animal lover, Tara was devastated to hear that. She expressed her disinterest and proceeded to walk away. As the owner entered his house and was out of site, she saw Gino in a small caged area in the back yard. Without any other thoughts, Tara said that one of two things was about to happen, either Gino was going to eat her or he was going to run with her. When Tara opened the gate, her and Gino raced together into her vehicle. From that moment forth, Tara poured her heart and soul into her new buddy. Gino repaid her efforts by becoming a loving, loyal friend. Despite his traumatic and abused past, he became an incredibly wonderful family pet. It took many years, but as Gino aged, controlling his mind and abilities became much harder for him and his past began to slowly haunt him. It was very difficult to hear Tara express Gino's story. Gino seemed like such a sweet gentle soul and I could tell the amount of time, love and care that Tara had put into rehabilitating him.

After dinner, we all drove together back to the camp. Betty and Craig were already there ready to introduce us to Wyatt, Craig’s son. Wyatt is a smart, artistic, polite kid. It was really nice to meet him. After the craziness we had the night before, a relaxed night was a mutual decision. Once again, we woke up to the smell of bacon. Betty was great at spoiling us. When she joked about adopting us, we seriously considered. Spending time with them and at the camp had been so much fun. It felt great to be a Redneck, as they called it. We were sad to be leaving but happy to have met such great friends. As we all got into Betty's Jeep we took one last tour of the backwoods to glance at the lake and surrounding area once again.

We were dropped off at Aaron's to pick up our things and reacquaint ourselves with our motorcycle. We were never able to bring the bike to camp because the steep dirt roads were slippery mud after all the rain we've had this summer. When we got to Aaron's, Rocky realized that he had forgotten his keys back at camp. Aaron knew where the spare camp key was kept and offered to drive Rocky to get the key for the motorcycle. As they were pulling out of the driveway, I was grabbing some belongings from inside the house and began organizing a few things to bring them outside. Out of nowhere I heard a growl as the dogs rushed to the screen door. Suddenly, Gino grabbed a hold of Compton's cheek and locked his jaw on Compton's flesh. I stood there in shock. All I could do was scream for help.

Tara immediately tried stepping in between them but the moment I tried helping her, T-bone, the boxer was gently nipping me away. Tara asked that I try shutting the screen door on Gino's face but my attempts were pathetic. I rushed for a jug of water to try and drown him from biting but that didn't work either. It just diluted the blood into making the kitchen look like a murder scene. Aaron and Rocky must of heard me scream for help because they came rushing inside. Exhausting all efforts, everyone attempted to separate Gino's grip from Compton's face. I had to take T-bone, the boxer, into the bathroom with me and try to console him. He was confused by the commotion and also trying to get between his friends. After a moment, I heard silence. I rushed out the bathroom as soon as I felt it was safe. There was blood everywhere. With Gino outside in a cage, Tara ran to care for Compton who was hiding in the basement. She said that a little TLC and antibiotics would heal his wounds. All Rocky and I could do was try to clean away the thick smell of blood.

I'm not going to lie, it was a traumatic experience for me and it evoked many emotions. But, I have shared this story because it was a part of our experience and also because I want to take the chance to honor Gino's life. Sadly, Gino was put to rest that day. And although Tara and Aaron feel that their efforts had somehow failed Gino, I believe that isn't at all true. They had done their best to provide a gentle soul with the life he deserved and should have been given since birth. Gino was raised by an animal to become a monster. It wasn't Gino that should have been punished but the ******* who thought it was entertaining to train a dog to constantly fight for its life. Who encouraged it to be violent and raised it to believe that it was necessary and normal to distrust and kill. I seriously wish that it wasn't Compton who got attacked, or Gino who got euthanized, but that it had instead been the piece of **** who bragged that his dog was worth $2000 for never having lost a fight. May You Rest In Peace, Gino.

Our hearts felt heavy as we continued our journey. With a long day ahead of us, we rode to Hopewell Rocks and attempted to distract our minds. Hopewell Rocks are located on the shores of the Bay of Fundy. They are rock formations that stand between 40-70 feet tall caused by tidal erosion. Due to the extreme tidal range of the Bay of Fundy, advancing and retreating tides, along with waves, have eroded the base of the rocks at a faster rate than the tops, resulting in their unusual shapes. The tides vary from day to day but the high tide can be as high as 16 meters (52 ft.) giving The Hopewell Rocks one of the highest tides in the world. Twice a day the base of the formations are covered in water, we visited during low tide so that we were able to walk around.

I had contacted a guy from couchsurfing.org and we arranged to stay with him at his place in Saint John, New Brunswick. On our way to his house, we had stopped for dinner in a town called Alma. Known for its delicious seafood, I was excited for dinner. With only a limited time left in the East Coast, we were yet to have a lobster dinner. During lobster season in the East Coast, chicken is more expensive to purchase. We walked into a tiny restaurant that also served as a convenience store. In this very casual atmosphere, we were served an incredible lobster dinner.

When we arrived at Ross's house, it was almost dark. Ross met us outside and told us we were going to have a bonfire in the yard. Rocky loves to build fires and I love to sit by their warmth, it was a great plan. While Rocky started the fire, I ran inside to use the washroom and bring some things inside.

It sucks to say this, but it's what happened. As soon as I walked in, I was slapped in the face with the smell of cat litter. Ross asked me not to mind the mess but it was an uncomfortable dirty. When he showed me the bedroom, where Rocky and I would be spending the night, I didn't know how to react. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but he put me in an uncomfortable situation. The floor was sticky and I was afraid to set my bags down. The pillows on the bed had no cases and were covered instead with a rainbow of stains. I would never dare to check between the sheets. I walked into the bathroom and immediately noticed that the floor was carpeted with a thick layer of dust and black curly hairs. There was no toilet paper, good thing I have an emergency stash.

It was such an awkward predicament to be in. I wasn't comfortable staying there. I was grateful for his kind intentions. He was a really sweet guy and it was fun to sit by the bonfire with him and his friends but I would never put a turd on a platter and invite you for dinner. Rocky and I slept on our own blanket and left early the next morning.

I wondered if we would see Marty again, the Australian we had met on the ferry to Manitoulin Island in Ontario. He had contacted us on Facebook and said he would be traveling near us. We were excited and agreed to meet. After grabbing a coffee and a few things at the grocery store, Martin, Rocky and I had a great place to camp. Tucker Park Beach was more than perfect. After our tents were pitched, Marty and I jumped in the water for a refreshing swim. It was nice to hang out with Martin and hear all of his experiences on the road. It was also exciting to share all of the memorable locations that he must not miss on his way through Newfoundland. He planned on traveling further east in the morning but Rocky and I decided to stay at Tucker Park Beach to do an oil change on the motorcycle. Half way through, it began to rain. The rain continued for the next 24 hours. We got out of the tent to finish the oil change every time we thought that the rain had stopped, but minutes later it would begin to pour down again.

The rain eventually stopped the next day and we were able to get back on the road. We planned on traveling to the Canadian/American border but weren't sure which side we would end up sleeping on. Once we arrived to St. Stephen, New Brunswick, we stopped at Tim Hortons for a cup of coffee and to dry out our camping gear. While we were there, we were approached by a local named Bernard, he was also on a motorcycle. With black clouds quickly covering the sky, he invited us to spend the night at his house, and just as we arrived there the rain began to pour down.

Bernard lived with his wife Diane in a pretty house by the train tracks. Diane and I immediately got along as we sat at the kitchen table exchanging tales. She gave me a little bit of history of St. Stephen, Canada's Chocolate Town. I didn't know why it was called that so she asked that Rocky and I take a trip over to the grocery store. We went with her and she insisted on buying us some Ganong chocolates! nom nom nom mmm chocolate. Ganong Chocolate Company was established in 1873 making it Canada's oldest candy company and one of St. Stephen's main employers. After a quick drive past the factory and around the entire tiny town, we returned to her house for a few more laughs and a cozy bed to sleep on. It was one last reminder of the kindness we received from all the friendly strangers in the East Coast.

Visiting Eastern Canada was a humbling experience. The landscape was ridiculously pretty and it amazed me that such a large population of incredibly kind, generous, friendly people, all live there. Leaving Canada is always difficult because we leave our comfort zone, but this time it feels a bit tougher.

On July 18th, we took the ferry to Prince Edward Island that leaves from Pictou, Nova Scotia. The crossing was free and took roughly one hour.

We spent the day riding around P.E.I. Nearing sundown, Paula and I began to look for a place to camp. I found a park on my GPS and set it as our destination. We arrived at Green Park Provincial park just before sunset, only to find out that there was pay-camping nearby and sings were posted that prohibited camping in the park. With the sun down and the skies darkening, we eventually settled for a grassy patch next to the highway.

Green Park Provincial Park

The following day, we made out way back to the mainland, cross from P.E.I. along an almost 20km-long bridge. I battled strong cross winds until we finally reached land in New Brunswick. Stopping back in Moncton to pick up parts from the local KTM dealership, Toys For Big Boys, we met Craig, who works in the service department. He balanced my front tire for free, and offered us a place to stay for the weekend at his camp (cottage).

Craig's friend, Jason, who was at Toys for Big Boys picking up his dirt bikes with his son, Braydon, invited us all back to his place for beer and steaks. Afterwards, he took us for a spin in his dune buggy around his large property in Hillsborough, New Brunswick.

We spent that evening at Craig's camp. It was truly a red-neck haven, complete with shotgun-shell Christmas lights and an amazing view of the surrounding area.

There was another cabin at the camp that was no longer used. It had a lot of character.

We met Aaron while that evening at Craig's camp. Aaron rides a custom Harley and looks pretty bad-***, but he's a super nice guy. He took Paula and I on a ride around the coastal region of the Bay of Fundy and invited us to his place for dinner with his girlfriend, Tara.

Aaron At The Camp

After two nights, it was time for Paula and I to head towards the U.S. border. We spent the morning with Craig, his girlfriend, Betty, and Craig's son, Wyatt.

Paula, Betty, Wyatt & Craig

Paula & Wyatt

Craig dropped us off at Aaron's house, where we had parked our motorcycle, and we said our good-byes to Craig, Wyatt and Betty. Aaron and Tara owned several pets, including two Pit Bulls and a Boxer. The elder Pit Bull, Gino, who was a fight dog that Tara had rescued five years earlier (read her story above), had recently been attacking the other Pit Bull, Compton. While we were there, Gino suddenly attacked Compton, latching onto his face with a vice-like grip. There was a struggle to pry Gino's jaws open that ended in a room covered in Compton's blood. Compton was OK and required only minor medical attention. The difficult decision was made that day to have Gino put to rest.

We didn't get to say a proper good-bye to Tara and Aaron. Shaken from what had transpired, Paula and I packed up the motorcycle and made our way down the coast of The Bay of Fundy to Hopewell Rocks.

The Hopewell Rocks, also called the Flowerpot Rocks or simply The Rocks, are rock formations caused by tidal erosion in The Hopewell Rocks Ocean Tidal Exploration Site in New Brunswick. They stand between 40-70 feet tall. — Wikipedia

 

[Rockwell]

They are located on the shores of the upper reaches of the Bay of Fundy at Hopewell Cape near Moncton, New Brunswick. Due to the extreme tidal range of the Bay of Fundy, the base of the formations are covered in water twice a day. -- Wikipedia

We arrived at low tide, which allowed us to walk along the floor.

The following day, we got a message from Marty, whom we had met on our second day of the trip on the ferry crossing to Manitoulin Islands. He was in the same area and we made plans to meet up in St. John, New Brunswick.

After having a bite to eat and catching up on our travel stories, we rode around and search for a place to camp. With the sun nearing the horizon, we came across a perfect spot along the bank of the St. John River at Tucker Beach Park.

Paula and Marty took a dip in the water, while I sat on the rocks and snapped photos.

Marty

That evening, we sat on the rocks, had dinner and talked into the night. The following morning, Marty packed up and we said so-long as he set out to catch the ferry to Nova Scotia.

After two more days at Tucker Beach Park trying to do an oil change in between rains, Paula and I set out towards the U.S. border. We stopped in the border town of Saint Stephen to have our last Tim Horton's coffee. While sitting there, a local, named Bernard, started up a conversation. We all noticed the ominous storm clouds arriving from the west, and Bernard offered us a place to stay at his house just down the street and around the corner. We followed Bernard back to his place and met his wife, Diane. Bernard worked the night shift, so we spent that evening with Diane, chatting and driving around town. Paula and I left the following morning and crossed into the United States.

Anxiously, I dialed the seven digits found at the bottom of a local web add. I was finally going to add yet another beautiful addition to our quickly growing harmonious family unit. A voice at the other end of the phone answers and politely hands the call over to her husband who had placed the add. I explained to him how interested I was in providing a loving home for his gorgeous female red nose pit bull. With a touch of empathy in his harsh voice he informed me that unfortunately she was no longer available, that she had been picked up earlier that day by a young couple whom where an excellent fit.

“However”, the voice on the bellowed out, “ my step-father has the brother to my female. He ‘s been neglected and my step-father just wants to get rid of him before he becomes a liability”. I quickly wrote down the address and phone number. One more call.

Following the directions dictated, I arrived at my destination. Two and a half excited hours of driving brought me to a gated entrance; Big Cove First Nations. I pulled into the dooryard. On the property stood a new bungalow home, tons of quads, skidoos, and other assorted unkempt toys.

As I walked cautiously towards the back door, something caught the corner of my eye. It was a large fenced in pen containing chickens and geese and…. The door opened. I was greeted by a heavyset longhaired man. He led me into the kitchen where five of his buddies sat. He began to tell me about the dog that I had been so excited to receive.

Apparently “ Gose “ was a champion. Not just any champion, a rugged never-back-down champ who won ribbon upon ribbon and shamed any dog compared to his strength. My host informed me that the “champ” was going to run me around two thousand. Walking down to where the ”pit-ring” I tactfully told my host that I wasn’t really apart of that scene and that and uninterested in the dog.

Exiting out the same door I enter I was stopped dead in my tracts. A pair of amber eyes stared at me through a fluey of white and brown feathers. That was it. Running over without hesitation, I unlatched the chain-link gate, unclipped the lead and ran like hell back to the borrowed mini van. “If he follows me he’s mine, if not then I'm still getting the **** outta here” I said to myself.

Both of us leaping into the van, we pealed out of there. The entire drive home this dingy, repulsive dog laid his greasy head on my knee. I swear that dog never even blinked that trip back home.

We arrived home, where we were greeted by my other dog. She was a beautiful pit bull boxer mix with the nicest demeanor, Harley. Harly and the champ instantly hit it off. Now I could give this dog a good going over. His hair was a greasy tattered mess peppered with oozing scabs and crusted scars. His ears reeked with brown debris caked in so bad it’s a wonder he heard anything at all.

I washed him till the water ran clear off his back and the tips remerged from his ears white. He was stunning. A specimen of perfect pit-bull confirmation. That dog never left my side, and didn’t allow anyone to get too close to me either. I was his person and he was my dog. He was so protective of me a friend once unwittingly attempted to make a joke of throwing a water bottle at me. Lets just say it was intercepted before the bottle had a chance to leave his hands.

This dog was a bevy of social behavioural and territorial issues. We spent hours biking until he could hardly walk to calm him enough to appropriately introduce novel ideas, such as walking past a dog or person without trying to eat them. It was long, hard work but I knew with his trust and respect in me and my love and understand in him I could make him an excellent pet.

Day by day went by and he showed his undying gratitude to me every chance he got. We knew one could not live without the other. One could not be complete without the other. We were meant to be one another’s saviour, protector and soul mate.

In the days to follow the champ received his new title, Gino. His name was an ode to his attractive muscular physique and suave demeanour. Gino was a fast learner and quick to impress. We biked in through town together with him attentively by my side, no leash required. We hiked in the winters and ran in the summers. We were inseparable.

My long-term relationship with my high school sweetheart had taken a sudden turn for the worse and Gino insured so long as he was in the room I was not touched. But when Gino was outside he couldn’t protect me. After a few months of this cycle my relationship ended and he left taking Harley and leaving the house in shambles, everything I owned broken.

I fell to my knees in tears of relief and fear, my face burred in Gino`s strong chest. In the weeks to follow I never admitted how scarred I was to anyone, but Gino knew. He cuddled in bed with me and in the most reassuring way, he laid his strong head on hip.

We got each other through the toughest times. When I couldn’t afford to buy dog food and my own groceries I always opted to get a bag of Gino`s favourite over my own needs. He would politely pretend to be disinterested and not eat out of his consideration of my own self-neglect.

Incredibly, I was able to graduate college and afford the type of life Gino and I deserved. He had the best of the best and he knew it. Brand new leather studded collars, and fancy weight training bags all that was missing was a little friend for Gino to chum around with while I was at work.

Compton was an eight-week-old blue brindle bull-style pit bull. I purchased him from a reputable breeder stationed in Halifax. The boys met one another and it was magic. Gino had previously helped foster kittens from the SPCA and his patients as a parent where unmatched until now. Compton was full of piss and vinegar, pulling at Gino`s ears and lips trying to entice him to play. Gino never curled a lip of utter a growl. He put up with all the playful abuse and they were best buddies.

Months went by and the feisty puppy matured into a lovely adult. I had the two best-looking and behaved pits around- a proud mom I was indeed.

On a side note, I ended up meeting a man while spending some time at a local pub. We hit it off. Aaron and I moved in together in during the Christmas holiday in December of 2011. Aaron had a white stubborn old boxer, T-bone. T-bone was a touch hesitant to share his bed but eventually he came around to the idea of brothers.

Time pasted and the three became inseparable to much of Aaron and mine`s delight. Are family was complete and we were happy.

Bella was a wide-eyed nervous miniature poodle that had a few too many unfortunate encounters with her housemate. Her housemate was an aggressive pit bull whom had a particular taste for poodle. One day Bella’s housemate decided that she no longer wanted to share the house with the little poodle and tore her throat out. The owners abandon her and the animal hospital I worked at and never looked back.

Guess whom I called and bribed into letting me take her home. Upon arrival Bella charmed her sweet little way into Aaron’s heart and what was agreed to be a temporary stay turned into a permeate one. All four dogs slept together, ate together and occasionally ran off together. It was picture perfect.

Compton and Gino occasionally would get into a brotherly scrap over toys or treats- nothing serious. But a change in atmosphere was in the air. Once a happy pack was now an anxious one. Everyone seemed to be on edge and a once docile genital Gino was now becoming moody. The spats between the brothers became more frequent and increasingly more violent.

How does a mother choose between her children? How can you explain to your soul mate that their company, love and understanding are no longer required? And lastly, how do you play god and choose when the life of your fellow creature, rock, and best friend is to be terminated?

On one beautiful Sunday afternoon, I had to make the difficult decisions and answer these very questions. I detest the answer.

Gino in his senility attacked Compton in efforts to end his existence. I’ve never seen that look in my loving, sweet dog’s eyes before and it cut through me like a jagged shard of rusted metal.

Gino was euthanized that day with his loving family by his side. I buried my best friend with as much love and companion as I had bestowed upon he in his living form. A flower garden forms a warm embrace around him, where he lays atop a hill to keep his ever-watchful eyes on me.

Some people go their entire lives without ever meeting their soul mate or experiencing unconditional love. I am so damn lucky I was able to have five beautiful years of it.

Compton made a full recovery from his wounds. Bella and him are best friends and frequently frolic about with T-bone not far behind.

 

[rag1998]

Its hard to make this note with teared eyes, that was heart wrenching, so sorry to hear about Gino & Tara, RIP Gino..