Canada 2011
  
 

Day 07

July 31

  
     
   
  The route for today is pretty simple - we'll be running along the Saint Lawrence as it opens up out to the North Atlantic pretty much the whole way to Gaspe. Mac had mentioned that he would like to ride with us to NovaScotiaStoc and that is great. I've known Mac for years and he's a real joy to be around. I couldn't catch him last night to let him know our blast-off time, but I know Mac and he will be up pretty early like me. I actually sleep 15 minutes past my intended get-up, so I do a real quick pack in the foggy morning air.  
   
  It is Sunday morning and it is unusual for me not to be in church. But I've loaded in some great music and 3 sermons from one of my favorite preachers to listen to as we make our way along. Mac is up early and rarin' to go as I figured, so we make our way through the early morning fog and dampness to Normadins for breakfast. Alain, who is not a big eater, will be along shortly.  
   
 

George from Canada catches up with us and then Buzz arrives. Buzz had mentioned riding with us also, but we never connected last night. So over a wonderful omelet, he and Mac and I talk about the plans for the day. Before long, Alain shows up to finish out the foursome. About the time we are ready to go, Ray, Brian and Miss Patti show up. I stand up and tell the fellers -

"Well, the motorcycle trash just showed up. I reckon we'd better be leavin' now."

We all hug and have a good laugh. Since we are leaving, George moves over to their table, and I tell him -

"Ah, just sponging anywhere you can I see."

With our goodbyes done, we hit the road as an unlikely foursome -

A Ohio Former Submariner, a Quebecan, a Newfie, and a Tennessee Hillbilly - the three Musketeers and D'Artagnan!

  
   
  We fall into an easy pattern as folks that have ridden a lot of miles generally do. Alain takes the lead, Mac is pulling his trailer, so he takes the tailgunner spot, and Buzz and I swap off positions in the middle.  
   
  Traffic is a little heavier but punctuated by the ever present construction zones ...  
   
  and every now and then with a big piece of farm equipment.  
   
  It's just a nice day to be out with friends and enjoying the day and the lovely scenery.  
   
  A ways down the road, we take a hydraulic break for the humans at a Tim Hortons. To me, they're the Kripsy Kreme shops of Canada.  
   
  In the parking lot is a really nice Spyder with a sharp trailer attached. I just don't know how I would adjust to their two wheels in front, but it will be an option if I ever get where I can't ride a two-wheeler safely.  
   
  As we roll along, the river is our ever-present companion to the left. The enormity of the Saint Lawrence still gets my attention everytime I see it.  
   
 

When we pass this field, Alain radios me -

"This field is harvested to make canola oil".

I'd always wonder what the crop was used for, so that settles it nicely in my head. Sort of like liquid gold, especially when you go to buy it in the grocery store.

 
   
 

I need to make a 'Wal-Mart' stop and Alain thinks he remembers where one is in the next town. But they must have closed or moved, as the familiar sign is no where to be seen. But when I see the Canadian Tire sign, I tell him -

"Canadian Tire will probably have what I need."

We wheel into the parking lot and I do a quick shopping expedition. I need some more clothes detergent and want to replace my little traveling fan that just died. And sure nuff, they have exactly what I need so it's not a wasted stop. With my goods procured, I pack 'em onto my mule and we're off again.

  
   
  I enjoy the architecture of the various towns we pass through. This particular clock tower really catches my eye.  
   
  And again we pass another church with a lofty spire and a full parking lot - and so it should be on a Sunday Morning.  
   
  Before long, I am rattled from my reverie as we bump through yet another construction zone.  
   
  But soon we are back out in the farm country which suits me much better.  
   
  To my left, I see another field blossoming with 'liquid gold'.  
   
  Occasionally I do a rear check to make sure Mac and his trailer are still doing fine. I am amazed how well he can handle the big Goldwing and the sizeable trailer or 'bunkhouse' (as he calls it). It sure don't slow him down much at all!  
   
  The river is our constant companion today as we and it make our way out to the sea.  
   
  And as it should be, I see another village that has a church for it's center, up on a rise for all to see.  
   
  The smart thing to do is to take rest breaks and we do during the day. You tend to let your mind wander on long rides if you don't, and that can prove to be terminal.  
   
  As we move along, there's a little blue car uphead in the left lane of the four lane, just tootling along. As Alain starts to pass her, she decides to move over and almost takes him out before she wakes up. I hold back trying to figure out just what she is going to do next. Very aware of her attention deficit, I finally decide to pass her and she does the same thing again to me. I had already checked out that the right apron was plenty wide in case she did it, so I just swing over and get by. I guess when she was awakened from her driving slumber by a motorcycle, she figured out that she should be in the right lane instead of the left. It was just that her timing was a wee bit late in two cases. But such is the vulgarity of the road - you either prepare for it or it can take you out. At last she is far behind us and we can turn our attention to the stunning views in front of us.  
   
  The closer we get to the ocean, the more of these tidal marshes we see along the shore. And the more the river looks like a great and vast sea extending out to the horizon.  
   
  Soon we arrive at the 'official' entrance to the Gaspe Pennisula, but still a good bit away from Gaspe the town where we will be spending the night.  
   
  It's time for another rest stop, so Alain guides us into a nice roadside area.  
   
  The blues of the water and the blues of the sky play point and counterpoint in my head.  
   
  It's getting close to lunch time and Alain has promised that he will not starve me to death today. Of course, I could live off the 'fat of the land' for quite a few days, but I still appreciate the promise.  
   
  He pulls us into the 'Le Matelot Restaurant' in Baie-des-Sables to see if we can find something to eat. In English, it would be called 'The Sailor Restaurant'.  
   
  We are escorted to a lovely table where we enjoy a beautiful view of the water over some might scrumptous vittles. I order filet of cod, veggie soup and salad and it does not disappoint. There is nothing like fresh seafood when it is really fresh and this is the place you can get it.  
   
 

Somehow my pllate full of delicious food disappears rather quickly. I suspect my travling companions may have snitched it while I am not looking, but I will give them the benefit of the doubt. Then our server has some terribly bad news -

"We are completely out of our normal dessert that comes with the meal. Would ice cream sundaes be okay in place of it?"

Greatly disappointed like a cow that just found a full corn crib, we managed to each pick our favorite flavor and manfully soldier on through the sundaes.

 
   
  With the ice cream dispatched and the toll paid, we waddle back out to our bikes and are at the mile slaying again. I notice off to the right are some of those power generating windmills. I certainly like the idea of them, but they sure are kind of ugly on the landscape.  
   
  With the lovely water to my left and a very full stomach down below, I have to really concentrate on the task at hand of keeping my steed between the lines.  
   
  The scenery is just beautiful, mile after mile and reminds me a lot of parts of the California coast.  
   
  But all I have to do is keep Alain's taillights in sight and keep myself and SweetTreat upright and life will be good.  
   
  Up ahead, I see more of the windmills perched on a ridge and generating power as the ample breeze blows.  
   
  Soon it's time to dispose of some of our lovely lunch and feed our hungry iron steeds.  
   
  And once again, time to wade through another gravel construction zone. But at least this one has some lovely scenery to go with it.  
   
  I notice a small lighthouse perched up ahead on the ridge as we move along.  
   
  This also reminds me a lot of some of the roads that run the coast of Scotland. The water is so blue that the sky seems almost white in comparison.  
   
  The closer we get to the ocean, the more it seems that the hills rise up to greet us.  
   
  And on one of them stands a lone cross that reminds me of another Cross on a hill far away where the Greatest Sacrifice for mankind was made.  
   
  We come to a decision point in our travels - if we continue straight on 132, we will proceed along the coastline until we come to Gaspe. If we turn right on 198, we will take a more mountainous and twisty route through the interior. Buzz is for the twisty route, so we defer to his wishes and off we go.  
   
  It's a lovely road that once again reminds me of my trips to Scotland when I rode along the Lochs.  
   
  The riding is a bit more spirited as Buzz takes off and I follow. Then I pass him and he comes after me in hot pursuit.  
   
  Pretty soon I am out by my lonesome as I run along through the heavily forested areas.  
   
  I pass these unusual stone cairns, figuring they must be significant to someone somewhere.  
   
  I back off the throttle as we near the end and Alain comes sweeping by me.  
   
  The sun is slowly sinking behind the hilltops as we near our destination.  
   
  And then we are there at the 'Ville de Gaspe'.  
   
  Buzz and Mac decide to get supper near the campground and head in that direction. Alain and I check into our hotel and opt for the restaurant next door. I prefer to have food within walking distance of where I am staying if at all possible. Once I 'de-gear', I hate to get all suited up just to get something to eat. Once we've had time to clean off the road grim and rest a bit, we wander next door. I love scallops so that is what I order. And they are excellent, some of the best I've ever had. Alain and I talk about the plans for tomorrow as we are heading some distance to Prince Edward Island, the next stop on the ride.  
   
  With supper decimated like what hungry locusts do to a wheat field, I feel the skin over my stomach stretching which naturally pulls down the skin above my eyes. After all, the extra skin has to come from somewhere, doesn't it? We wander back to the room, where I quickly succumb to the rack monster.