Day 2: We left the campground after brekkie at 09:00hrs and headed for Nova Scotia. The trip through New Brunswick was uneventful but BORING! There wasn't much to look at except trees and hills with more trees and lots of cars/minivans with Ontario plates, so after awhile it got kind of mind numbing. By chance we happened to pull off the Trans-Canada into the town of Hartland for a gas/rest stop and found out they had the longest covered bridge in the world. So we took a couple of pics and headed through it before returning to the highway. It was back to boring scenery for what seemed like ages, the only thing to look at other than all the trees were all the Ontario plates whipping past us. The speed limit was 110kph, but most were travelling well in excess of that. I cringed every time an overloaded minivan went careening by with its camper trailer tenaciously hanging on to the rear bumper. It was somewhere between Woodstock and Nackawic that Angie had her first close call of the trip, courtesy of some twit from Ontario. We were near the end of a passing lane coming up a large hill and as usual I glanced in the mirror and shoulder checked before moving back into the main lane. I saw a vehicle still in the passing lane behind us but it looked like Angie, who was still in the slow lane behind me, had enough time to follow my move. I looked ahead and missed what happened next. There's a long, solid white line along the last 100m of every passing lane on all highways in NB and any moron shouldn't have any trouble figuring out its purpose. It's there to let people know that the slow lane is about to merge because their lane is ending real soon. Angie reached that line and shoulder checked, only to find this SUV almost beside her. They had gunned it and were hell bent to pass her before she blocked their way. By now Angie was at the end of the slow lane and had no choice but to merge or she'd be off the road, so she held out her hand in a "hold back" gesture as she merged. Damned if the SUV didn't gun it again and pass her - literally forcing her over to the edge of the road. At this point I happened to look in the mirror and saw nothing but a Chevy emblem and a grill - he was that close and was in the process of hammering the brakes. I knew he had cut between Angie and I but at that point I hadn't realised just how close it was. So I moved over and gave him an angry " go on, pass" gesture and he rocketed off into the distance. It wasn't until the next gas stop that Angie told me what had happened - and she was still mad. In fact, I've never seen her that mad in the 2 1/2 years we've been riding together. After she told me what happened, well... let's just say it's a good thing I didn't see the whole incident, otherwise it would have had a very different ending. (NOTE: If anyone ever sees a late model, royal blue, 2-door Chev Blazer with Ontario plate "KT AL", please do us both a favour and slap the occupants upside their thick heads for us, will you?) Back to more boring scenery. Angie got a little concerned when we neared the big army base at Gagetown - there was a huge yellow warning sign that advised "Military Training Area - DO NOT LEAVE THE HIGHWAY" and she wasn't quite sure what to think about that. Being an ex-soldier myself I wasn't worried, I knew it was there just to prevent tourists from wandering into the training area looking for berries and getting flattened by a tank. By the time we reached Moncton we were desperate for a change of scenery so we decided to break from the Trans-Canada and look for a motel along the shoreline in Shediac. But once again everything was booked. Apparently the beaches there are very popular with tourists and of course we arrived right at the height of the season. We backtracked out of the town onto the highway again and pulled off at the next interchange to see if things were any better further down along the shoreline. We eventually found a room at the Alouette Motel in Grand-Barachois; it was right on the water and we were treated to our first up-close ocean view of the trip. We also had our first seafood supper at a restaurant in the next town and we enjoyed a feast of fresh mussels in the shell, along with cod, shrimp and scallops. Yeah, baby!

Day 3: Another early start with the plan to make Louisbourg on the Cape Breton Island by 3pm. Angie had reserved a room at a B&B there the week before we left Gananoque and it proved to be a wise move, as everything in the town was booked. We were starting to realise that all the media hype about low tourism numbers on the east coast just wasn't true, but it took a couple more days until we wised up about it. As we neared the Nova Scotia border we encountered some drizzly weather but nothing serious enough to warrant putting on our rain suits. We stopped at the Tourist Info Center at the NS border to get the latest maps and such and were treated to a display of highland music and dancing courtesy of a couple of young kids. The girl was about 12 and was dressed in the traditional Scots outfit and she danced to the music of a piper clad in full Scottish regalia - kilt and all. They were playing for money and were well worth the $7 Angie and I tossed into their hat. I had my picture taken with them, too. We carried on through some nice scenery until we got to the Cobiquid Pass; it was even more boring than NB and to make matters worse it was now starting to drizzle. As we got higher, the drizzle got heavier until we reached the top - and the tollbooth - at the halfway mark. Interesting that none of the maps show that part of the Trans-Canada as a toll road, but at least it was only $3 each. As we descended from the mountain the weather improved slightly and we made it to Louisbourg at 5 pm. I have to note here that the roads in Nova Scotia are pathetic and downright dangerous to the unwary motorcyclist. There are many potholes littering the highway and it is impossible to gauge the depth and width of them until it is almost too late. Some of them were huge - I narrowly avoided one that could easily have swallowed the entire front wheel! For the rest of our tour around the province our bikes were subjected to terrible abuse - I can't help but wonder how many riders have had unfortunate incidents because of the road conditions. Anyways, as we unloaded the bikes at the Cranberry Cove B&B Angie discovered that the right side saddlebag on her bike had shifted over and contacted the exhaust pipe; the result was a large hole burnt right through the bottom of the bag. Fortunately her Joe Rocket gloves had bravely put themselves in harm's way to shield the rest of the saddlebag contents, but were melted into a big lump of ballistic goop in the process. After unpacking we wandered about the town for a bit and then had a lobster supper at The Lobster Kettle by the ocean. It was good, but the presentation was a little odd... they broke off the tail section and then stood the lobster up and wrapped its claws around a wine glass full of melted garlic butter. They placed one in front of each of us with the lobster looking straight at us with their little black accusing eyes. I felt a little bad about it, but the sucker sure did taste good! Afterwards, we strolled along the boardwalk downtown and took in the local sights. We were a little put off by the apparent lack of cleanliness in the town - we kept having to step around empty crab shells that were scattered all over the ground along with plates, napkins and other garbage. But there was a good reason for the mess - they had a massive crabfest the night before with close to 1,000 people in attendance and the cleanup crews were still trying to cope with all the aftermath.

Day 4: It started with drizzle and fog and didn't improve as the day wore on. We had a great tour of the French Fortress Of Louisbourg (second pic) though, and I have to admit that it was way more interesting than our own Fort Henry in Kingston. The provincial government in NS seems to take a much more active part in historic sites than their counterparts in Ontario, as this was one megabuck and well run operation. Most of the original fort has been painstakingly reconstructed and it is staffed by many people in period costume, including quite a few soldiers - one of whom advised us upon crossing the drawbridge that we had to vacate the fort by 6pm or we would spend the night in jail. I offered to leave Angie in their care in exchange for guaranteed safe passage for me but they just chuckled. Angie was not amused. We left the fort and headed for the Cape Breton Trail with the intent to camp out late that afternoon at Meat Cove on the northern tip, but the weather had other plans. We got lost in Sydney as I had taken the wrong direction on the Trans-Canada and it dumped us off into the eastern end of the city. We wandered aimlessly about and after several loops and exploratory runs down various side streets we found the exit to the highway and then carried on in the proper direction. We rode through some heavy rain and fog the whole day and it was apparent that it wasn't going to let up, so after consulting the map we decided to try for a motel room in Dingwall, just south of Meat Cove. Along the way we stopped for lunch at a Tim Hortons in Sydney Mines to dry off and get some hot soup. We experienced some legendary eastern hospitality as everyone in there stopped to talk and ask about our trip, obviously impressed that we were on bikes. One gentleman even gave us two tickets for the Englishtown ferry just down the road and wouldn't accept even a coffee in return - even though the tickets were worth $10! We carried on into the rain and fog and lined up for the Englishtown ferry. Ah, the ferry... what a joke this one was! There's a man-made causeway that crosses over 3/4 of St Ann's Bay and stops about 50m short of the east side where we were waiting. The "ferry" itself was nothing more than a diesel powered barge that took 10 cars at a time and trundled across in under 3 minutes! Still, it saved about 35 minutes of riding time and on a wet day like this it was a blessing. Once we got to the other side we were officially on the eastern run of the Cabot Trail and we headed north for Meat Cove. We stopped at a roadside leather shop near Indian Brook where Angie bought a large, thick piece of scrap leather to line the bottom of the burnt saddlebag with. It worked like a charm for the rest of the trip. By now we were soaked despite all our rain gear and decided to stop at the next motel. However, they were few and far between and every one of them was fully booked - even the B&B's all had "no vacancy" signs hanging. I was starting to get annoyed... especially when we got to Ingonish and the entrance to the Cape Breton Highlands national park, where the nice girl at the tourist info counter told us the nearest motel was another hour's drive ahead and it was already booked. In fact, EVERYTHING was booked and there were a few tourists milling about (including a nice couple on a BMW K-bike from Maine) who were in the same predicament as us. So Angie, sweetie that she is, took the bull by the horns and with our "Nova Scotia Doers And Dreamers" guidebook in hand began calling all the motels along our route. By a stroke of pure luck she found a sympathetic motel owner less than 2 minutes away who had one "non-housekeeping" cabin available. We booked it on the spot and headed back into the town. It was rustic, but it was dry and warm and we gratefully unloaded the bikes and changed into dry clothes. The motel owner had recommended The Main Street Restaurant & Bakery (Ingonish Beach, 902 285-2225) for supper, so we walked over and ordered an evening meal. They had the best seafood chowder and seafood linguini I have ever tasted! As we paid the bill I cornered the cook and told him to have his bags packed at 7am the next morning because we were hauling his ass back to Ontario to set up a restaurant in Gananoque. He laughed, but you could tell he wasn't quite sure if I was serious or not. But we definitely made his day with our ravings about his cooking. Angie bought a piece of chocolate cheesecake to take back to the cabin for dessert; wisely she also bought a pack of freshly made oatmeal cookies to keep me distracted while she savoured it. Afterwards, we took a stroll along the oceanfront near the cabin while we discussed our trip plans. We made the decision to phone ahead each morning to book a room as close as possible to our intended destination; this turned out to be a smart idea and it ensured we didn't spend any nights sleeping huddled in a ditch. 

Day 6: It looked like it was going to be another rainy day, but the sun broke through the fog and it turned out to be quite nice. We toured the Alexander Graham Bell Museum and were astounded by the scope and depth of this man's life. I had no idea he had invented so many things besides the telephone. His lifelong commitment to helping the deaf was truly amazing, but what did it for me was his hydroplane - they had a full size craft on display that was built using his original drawings. I spent the better part of 30 minutes just standing there staring at it... I'm not into boats or planes but this thing had really grabbed my attention. We finally left the museum and headed for the west side of the Cabot Trail. Angie had booked us on a whale watching tour in Pleasant Bay and we were both eager to get up there. Along the way we saw some fantastic scenery from the road. It's really hard to describe the beauty of it all and I won't even attempt to try... suffice it to say that all I could think was "wow!" the whole time. Had a big grin on my face, too, because the road was oh so twisty and hilly and sweet. More than a few times I got carried away swooping around the curves, only to smarten up and slow down a bit when I realised that Angie had disappeared from my mirrors. She was taking a much more cautious and sensible approach. We got to the boat tour in plenty of time and I stood on the dock waiting and watching the operations of the local fisherman while Angie chatted with the girl from our tour company, Fiddlin' Whale Tours. The boat finally arrived and after it discharged the passengers from the previous tour, Angie and I boarded with the 16 other people in our group. As we left the shoreline we chatted with everyone and found out that 12 of the 16 people were from Ontario! About an hour into the trip we spotted a Zodiac from another tour company that was zipping around some black specks in the water. Whales ho! We raced over and were treated to the sight of nine Pilot Whales frollicking about off the coastline near Meat Cove. We followed them for quite some time and Angie shot two rolls of film as she tried for the perfect photo. At one point they came within 20 ft of the boat and as they went by we saw a baby whale swimming alongside his mom. That one moment with the whales made up for all the crappy weather and close calls we had endured on our trip! When we finally returned to harbour over 2 hours later we were in a much better mood and frame of mind and we had a nice, relaxing cruise back to Baddeck. We had supper at Baddeck Lobster Suppers, very worthy of note because of their unique setup. You paid at the door when you first entered, after selecting from the overhead board menu. Then you sat down and they delivered your main course along with the all-you-can-eat seafood chowder, fresh steamed mussels and salad bar! You didn't have to get up for refills, you just flagged down a waitress and they'd return with another bowl of chowder and pail of mussels. I had three pails of the mussels and was in heaven the whole time - although I paid for it later that evening with severe heartburn.

Day 8: After a luxurious and refreshing night's sleep at the Delta Hotel in Halifax we enjoyed our late breakfast in bed the next morning. Luxury! It was to be a short riding day, as Angie had a room booked less than an hour's ride away at a B&B in Mahone Bay so we could browse all the art galleries and boutiques that the area is famous for. We lounged about in the room before finally packing the bikes and leaving. We set out for the local Kawasaki dealer at the edge of town (we wanted some chain lube and new Joe Rocket gloves for Angie) but by the time we got there at 1:30pm they were already closed... we forgot that it was a Saturday (9 Aug). So, we left the empty parking lot and wandered along the coastline on HWY 333. The roads were pretty choppy but the scenery was amazing, especially as we neared Peggy's Cove. If you've never been there, this is a must see. The Ice Age had scraped the ground clean eons ago leaving nothing but masses of rock formations with little vegetation behind. What was really weird were all the huge boulders lying about - as the glaciers melted they dropped them all over the place, dotting the landscape for miles. It looked like some kind of giant alien board game, with the pieces strewn about the horizon. We stopped at Tea & Treasures for a light lunch and by the time we were finished the fog and drizzle had finally let up and we continued under fair skies. This was only the second good day of riding so far, so we were a little hesitant to really enjoy it because we were never sure when/where the next raindrops would appear. We stopped at Peggy's Cove and took a few photos before perusing the gift shop. There were warning signs all over the place about the dangers of going too close to the water and we stayed well back of the shoreline. We'd been told beforehand about the numbers of tourists who had been swept off the rocks by freak waves, never to be seen again. Needless to say, we heeded all the warnings despite the calm seas that day. However, there were many tourists exploring the shoreline in defiance of all the signs - including several children climbing about the wet rocks. We carried on along HWY 3, 329 and 3 again into Mahone Bay and our room at the Amber Rose Inn. It was a beautiful B&B with very interesting and friendly owners and we enjoyed our stay there. They were even nice enough to park their bigass Cadillac behind our bikes in the driveway at night to shield them from view. We strolled downtown after unpacking but most of the shops were already closed so we returned to grab our bikes and ride out to The Inlet Café on the outskirts of town. A couple of Angie's friends had raved about the food here and had made her promise we would eat there, so we did. The food was good and it's definitely worth it if you're ever in the area and feeling hungry.

Day 9: It was an extremely foggy and humid morning and by the time we had finished brekkie downstairs and loaded the bikes my t-shirt was soaked with sweat and I wasn't in the best of moods. We left for Lunenburg with the intent to browse the galleries and such but Angie wasn't feeling too good herself, so we decided to head up to Wolfville where she had pre-booked another cabin for that night. The weather had been so depressing that we had made the decision to shorten our route and eliminated Yarmouth, Digby and Cornwallis (the now defunct military base where I took my Basic Training - aka Boot Camp - so many years ago) from the list. We then followed HWY3 to Bridgewater where we made an unscheduled stop. As we neared the town I spotted a large and deadly looking ship moored along the river near the highway. I wheeled down into the dock area and came face to face with the HMCS Fraser, a Canadian Navy sub chaser that was decommissioned in the late 90's. There were fences blocking access to the boarding ladder at midship but I could walk right up next to the bow and take a good long look at her. There was a plaque mounted outside the fence that gave a short history of the ship but there was nobody around to answer any questions as the whole place was deserted. The ship is now a floating museum and although my photos (pic 1, pic 2) don't show it she is in rough shape and in need of some TLC. It was weird standing next to her in the quiet of the early afternoon; there was hardly any noise from the highway and the dock was shrouded by a heavy treeline on both sides of the river, giving the whole scene an eerie effect and feeling. Her guns were pointed skyward at the ready and one of the doors on the deck had been left open and I couldn't help but think that at any moment the ship would spring to life as sailors appeared and started madly scurrying about in preparation for their next mission. We continued into the town where we turned onto HWY 10 and headed north towards the top of the province. This highway was one of the nicest roads we rode on for the whole trip. Very few potholes, barely any traffic and lots of scenery to keep us interested. We stopped for a bite to eat in Middleton at The Capitol Lounge And Grill. After lunch we took one look at the dark clouds gathering above us and skipped HWY 1 in favour of the newer HWY 101 with its higher speed limit. We hauled butt all the way to Wolfville and checked into our cabin at the Old Orchard Inn. Just as we finished unloading the rain started - talk about good timing! But it didn't last long and there was still enough time left in the day for a tour of the Habitant Vineyards winery north of Wolfville and just outside the small hamlet of Canning. We each selected a small bottle for a nightcap and headed back to the Inn. We walked down the hill from our "rustic" cabin to the Hotel's dining lounge for supper and were met by a charming older gentleman with full white beard and Nova Scotia-tartan vest who ushered us to a comfy table near the huge pioneer style fireplace. We had an excellent meal of pan-fried seafood goodies served in the same cast iron pan they were cooked in and we marveled at the view of the Annapolis valley through the large windows overlooking the Inn's trademark apple orchard while we ate. Afterwards we returned to the splendour of our A-framed cabin - complete with bat droppings peppering the steps under the front door and spiders lurking in the shadows inside - and planned our next day while sipping wine and watching the weather forecast on the cable (woo-hoo!) tv. I had a bit of trouble in the bathroom later on when I went for a whiz due to the odd construction of the cabin. The genius architect that designed the place had parked the toilet right against one of the side walls which slanted sharply inward and upwards from the toilet tank to the roof peak high overhead, making it impossible to approach the bowl standing straight up. There were only two options available to me - sit like a girlie or stand like a man, bend backwards and take the pain. So I stood with my body arched wayyy back and my nose firmly planted in a crack between the wallboards and let 'er rip. I'm pretty sure I hit the target, but halfway through my back spasmed and, well... oh, never mind.

Day 10: The weather forecast was favourable and Angie had phoned ahead and reserved a camping spot on the northern edge of PEI, so we headed out towards Caribou and the ferry that would take us to the island. We arrived at the dock with 1/2 hour to spare and the attendant directed us to the front of one of the lines where a group of bikes were already parked. We chatted with the other riders and met a nice couple on a Harley who were heading home to Charlottetown after a week of touring NS. We asked them where we could find a bike shop so Angie could get some by now desperately needed chain lube and gloves. They assumed we would want a Kawasaki dealer and offered to personally lead us all the way to it, an offer that we gratefully accepted. By then the ferry had arrived and we mounted the bikes and waited for the traffic to unload before we boarded. We watched while several cars, semi trailers and motorhomes emerged and trundled down the ramp. Then we witnessed one of the most ostentatious displays of wealth I have ever seen. The entire opening blacked out and a few seconds later one massive land yacht of a motorhome slowly emerged. This thing was HUGE! Picture the largest tour bus you've ever seen. Now add two feet to the overall height and 10 feet to the overall length and you'll get a rough idea of the bulk of this thing. As the bow sailed past I looked up (wayyyy up) and saw the driver lounging in the captain's chair. He looked to be about my height but was dwarfed by the sheer mass of the vehicle and the large, billboard sized windshield. His wife was somewhere in the passenger seat but I couldn't tell what she looked like as all I could see was the top of her hairdo. After what seemed like an eternity the stern eventually floated by with it's encased diesel powerplant bellowing out a mighty tune and we were then treated to the sight of their "runabout" vehicle placidly following behind on it's steel leash... a brand new full size Range Rover! The whole ensemble was easily worth $400k and we were left totally in awe as it majestically rumbled away. Hang the rich! Anyways, once the ferry was empty the deckhands let the bikes on first and after parking we headed to the upper deck. The trip took about 45 minutes and it was a smooth ride the whole way. We bought an ice cream from the onboard snack bar and then leaned against the railing while we watched Nova Scotia disappear from the horizon. Once we disembarked on the PEI side we were treated to a high speed run into Charlottetown, courtesy of the nice group of riders we had just met. We were behind the Harley and I almost went deaf from the noise of its pipes and inhaled lungfulls of black smoke every time he gunned it from a stoplight. Nice people, really, but jee-ZUS! They led us right into the Kawi dealer's parking lot and, after giving us directions to the town of Cavendish where we were to camp that evening, they said goodbye and vanished in a cloud of smoke and barrage of sound waves. Angie got her new gloves and bottle of chain goop and the guys were even nice enough to let me borrow a can of penetrating spray oil to loosen up the various rusty lever and pedal pivot points on our bikes. 10 days of rain and salt spray do take their toll, y'know. We then took HWY's 7 and 6 up into Cavendish and the KOA campground. This was only our second time camping the entire trip because of all the crappy weather and I was eager to employ all the camping stuff I'd been lugging around for so long. The weather was perfect - warm and sunny without a cloud in the sky and we were told by a few of the other campers that the forecast was nothing but sunny days ahead. That was fine by me, especially after almost sinking the Drifter up to her axles in red mud while taking a shortcut to our site. The rain had ended only that morning and the ground was still pure mush in the lower spots; I didn't want to contemplate what the bike would look like after a day of rainy riding on an island famous for its brightly coloured soil. We rode into the town after stopping for supper at Chez Yvonne's and took in all the tourist trap shops along the Boardwalk. It was a nice setup, actually, with many unique stores and tons of parking. We returned to the campsite to grab our laundry for a session at the campground's laundromat. As we walked along we came across an older Suzuki Cavalcade parked next to a large camping trailer that it had obviously towed there. Its owners were sitting at the picnic table having supper and, as they had already seen us pull in on our bikes, were happy to talk to us. I remarked that they had Ontario plates, mentioned we were from Gananoque and it was right then and there in the middle of a campground on an island off the east coast of Canada over 2,000km from home that we found out they were from Kingston - a scant 22km from our town! Talk about a small world. Angie was absolutely enthralled with their camper trailer and asked many questions about it, even walking over to peer inside and make cooing noises of delight at the queen sized bed within. Then she turned to me with sparkling brown eyes and deployed her "sugar" voice in a brief, but intense, bargaining session. To make a long story short, I reluctantly agreed to get a trailer hitch for my bike and rent one of these trailers "just to see what they're like" once we got home. (I have since been in contact with the company that makes them, but they have scaled down operations and now only do repairs to existing trailers they have already sold. Upon informing Angie of this I was promptly told that we would be attending the next motorcycle show in Toronto to "look at some other bike trailers".) I finally pried her loose and we continued on to do our laundry. Afterwards, we sat at the picnic table near our tents and watched the sun go down while listening to our little battery powered radio while sipping beer (me) and wine coolers (her) that we had snagged from the local liquor store earlier in the day. It was a bit of a downer that night as we had suddenly realised we were near the end of our vacation - tomorrow was the start of our return journey.

Day 11: It was a warm and beautiful dawn as we headed out for breakfast. Angie wanted to visit Avonlea (home of the famed Anne of Green Gables) before we left, so after brekkie we parted ways and I headed back to the campsite to pack up while she did the tourist thing. She rolled in not too long after I'd finished and after strapping the luggage to the bikes we headed south on HWY 13 towards the Confederation Bridge that would lead us back to New Brunswick. We finally had some decent riding weather and thoroughly enjoyed the trip on nice, traffic-free roads. When we got to the toll both at the bridge I paid for both bikes and chuckled to myself as I realised that it was true what several people had told us - you don't pay until you LEAVE the island! The strange thing is that had we arrived via the bridge and left on the ferry we would have paid the ferry rates of $33 each. But because we arrived by ferry and were leaving by the bridge we only had to pay the bridge rate of $15 each. Go figure... 'cause it sure didn't make sense to me. Before we left the tollbooth I asked the cutie at the window how long the bridge was and, although I'm sure she gets asked that same question a zillion times each day, she smiled sweetly and informed me that it spanned 12.9km. And what an experience it was to cross! There are concrete barriers (identical to the ones lining HWY401) on both sides that run the entire length, so people in cars don't really get much of a view because of the barrier height. But on our bikes we were able to see over the top and get a good look at all the fishing boats and cargo ships down below as we crossed. We didn't experience any crosswinds and I don't recall seeing any warning signs posted about wind hazards, so I would expect the bridge to be safe for crossing by bike in almost any weather condition. We followed HWY16 and merged with the Trans-Canada once again and headed north. The trip back up through NB was just as boring as the trip down; I'm sure there are lots of beautiful sights in that province we didn't see any from HWY2, so we'll have to return there some day for a more detailed tour. Because the weather was so nice we hadn't bothered to pre-book a room anywhere for the night as we knew there were many campgrounds and motels along the route - and we didn't have to worry about another event in Edmunston scooping up all available accommodations this time. We pulled of at St Leonard and got a nice cottage at Daigle's Motel. It was the nicest cabin we stayed in the whole trip and it was the only one that had air conditioning, a tv AND a phone! There was a heated pool out front that Angie took advantage of after our supper at the motel's restaurant. She left me randomly flipping through the tv channels and nursing a beer left over from our stop in PEI, only to return a short while later with blue skin and chattering teeth. Apparently the pool water was only heated to just above the freezing point, so she was headed for the warmer water of the cabin's bathroom shower. Which turned out to be more of a fire hydrant than a shower, as Angie found out when she turned it on and promptly sprayed the entire bathroom with its high powered jet. The water pressure was incredible, but when adjusted to the "Melt Skin" temperature setting it made for a very decent water massage that loosened up aching back and leg muscles in no time. The bed was one of the most comfy we'd ever slept in, a point proven when I got up for a pee in the early hours of the morning and returned to find my sweetie sprawled all over the surface with a soft smile on her sleeping face. Had to do a few minutes of gentle negotiating before I was finally allocated a small spot for my bulk... and she was none too gracious about it, either.

Day 12: Another sunny and warm dawn for our last day of the trip. We awoke eager to get on the road and quickly packed the bikes one last time and hit the highway. We stopped just inside the Quebec border in the town of Degelis for an excellent brunch at La Bonne Affaire. The waitress was quite pleasant but didn't speak much English, so Angie got to try out some of the French she had learned from her recent night course. We carried on up to Riviere Du Loupe and headed west towards Montreal on HWY20. It was an uneventful trip up to that point and it had the unfortunate effect of dulling our senses, which almost resulted in tragedy as we neared the city. HWY20 makes several twists and turns through Montreal and the first one happened to be courtesy of a massive, high speed traffic circle just before the La Fontaine Tunnel. As we entered the circle I scanned the traffic, judged the speed and distances and pulled out in front of a typical speeding minivan. Angie, who was "on my ass" like I had warned her to be when we approached the city, shoulder checked and hesitated just a fraction of a second too long before trying to merge in behind me. By now I was looking ahead towards our exit on the opposite side of the circle and a few seconds later when I had checked my mirrors again Angie was nowhere to be seen. I slowed at the off-ramp and frantically scanned the mirrors and finally caught sight of her way behind me, riding dangerously close to the retaining wall on the shoulder of the road. Again, I had missed what had transpired and later on at one of the traffic stalls she filled me in on what had happened. She had tried to merge in front of that minivan when the asshole looked right at her and sped up to block her from moving over. He was intent on taking the first exit and didn't care that he forced Angie out of her lane and almost into the wall to do so. She nailed the brakes and barely missed the back of the van, then had to cut blindly across the off ramp to get back into the proper lane, coming close to the retaining wall as she did so. She had no sooner recovered from that incident and was following me down the off ramp when she had to squeeze in front of a car before the lane ended in another wall in front of her. She finally pulled in behind me, obviously shaken by the whole ordeal. The jackass in the rusted, clapped out, smoke belching Buick who cut in between us at the next off ramp didn't help matters any. I waved him past and took the opportunity to yell "YOU ASSHOLE!" through the open passenger window as he went by. I could tell by the look on his face that he didn't seem to know what my anger was about but he shot ahead out of sight after taking one look at me. After that incident Angie was glued to right rear edge of my bike and we survived the trip through the rest of Montreal without any further trouble. At one point Angie even got a bit of revenge when I tried to merge into the traffic heading across the Champlain Bridge. A car had decided to block me from merging by matching my speed so Angie immediately whacked the throttle, cleared the Drifter's front end, shoulder checked and dove into the small spot in front of the car to reserve a place for me. The car driver wisely backed off. We had the rest of the trip to calm down after that and fortunately all the idiots left us alone. I was some thankful when we finally crossed into Ontario and after one last gas stop we pushed ahead for home, riding into the late afternoon sun with smiles on our faces. A little after 6pm on Wednesday, 13 Aug, we pulled up in front of our garage - after 5,000km and a trip spanning five provinces over 12 days we were finally HOME!!! Although we were elated and relieved we still had one last scary moment in store for us as we walked to the front of our house. A good friend of ours had taken care of the cats while we were gone and even went so far as to mow the lawn twice due to the excessive growth caused by all the humid weather. But quite understandably, he didn't touch the flower garden out front and I don't blame him one bit - especially once all the weeds had grown into this mess. Angie was horrified! But at least we were home safe and sound.

(rides) (home)