Try as I may I am unable to get going before 9:30am no matter what time I get up. Today was no different although I was up and wandering around in my usual fog by 6:30am. My creaky old bones craved food, lots of it, and I recalled seeing cereal dispensers in the motel’s dining area so off I went. The selection was adequate; I polished off the remainder of their mini-shredded wheat things and came back hard for a bowl of mystery cereal, something I vaguely remember my kids eating in the last century. Odd tasting stuff, sort of cardboard-like in texture with a cinnamon twang to it. Probably has a half-life of 50 years or so. They also had individually wrapped donuts available so I took one back to my room where it lay on the desk for half an hour. Then realizing the heartburn that would follow if I ate it I snuck it back into the communal box and slunk back to my room.
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Finally I was ready to load the bike around 9:00am and during one of the trips down the hallway I overheard what I first thought to be kids jumping on the bed out of control. Lots of loud thumping at a very high rate accompanied by a loud shrieking noise that was increasing in amplitude and timbre on a non-linear scale. OMG, the newlyweds were camped next door! Realizing what I was hearing I entertained the notion of loud applause with a few hearty “Bravo, Bravo’s” thrown in but my mama didn’t raise no fool which is why I’ve survived all these years. Eh? Damned entertaining though.
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Once on the road I promised myself I wouldn’t spend the entire day doing the freeway thing so I dropped off the slab whenever something of interest caught my eye. Today being Sunday meant there would likely be more leisurely travelers out there and a slower pace could be expected. The first place I opted for was way off the beaten path, a small town with its own little Notre Dame tucked away on a hilltop like so many villages in France. I wish I could tell you the name of the place but I didn’t record it nor did I snap a picture of the road sign leading into the village. I’d intended to do that at each place I visited so I’d know where I’d been but you really need to take the pictures and not just think about it. I spent the next hour or so meandering through little back roads, stopping again to visit a small cemetery – one of my strange interests – and then pausing to watch a huge pine log mill in action. Watching a chipper operation is nearly as exciting as old Soviet propaganda films on annual cabbage crop yields so I moved on.
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Finding the freeway again, I continued to head in a south – southeast direction of travel. Just as boredom began to set in I noted a small sign expounding the wonders of the “Longest Covered Bridge in the World” located in glorious Hartland, next exit please. I’m a sucker for things like that so off I went. It was easy to find and just as they said, it’s one long honking covered bridge. I parked by the entrance on the uphill side and watched to see how the traffic moved. There is evidently an unwritten set of rules as to who goes when and how many go. Generally you roll up to the entrance and stop, then wait until the oncoming group has cleared the bridge, and then in you go moving right along at a brisk pace. When the last vehicle in your group has cleared the bridge the next bunch goes. It’s all very well managed and not once did I see anyone having issues. I really liked the bridge, it’s the coolest thing I’ve seen since discovering the Jesus Wants Your Soul shoe tree on Vancouver Island last year.
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The next town up the road laid claim to possessing the “World’s Biggest Axe”. Strangely I was able to resist that one and continuing with my meandering I soon found myself in another small village where there were some really great older houses. The entire community was tidy and nearly all the little cottages were painted and trim. I’ve noticed the Canadians in this part of the country seem to be highly dedicated to keeping their lawns, no, make that their fields neatly manicured. Everywhere I went it seemed there was always someone on a riding mower going at it full speed ahead. I wish the folks back home were as motivated. Maybe it’s the rain.
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After one final photo I resigned myself to accruing some decent mileage and got back on the slab. I stopped for a late lunch at one of the many combination gas bar and restaurants where I had a super breakfast of eggs, baked beans, home fries & onions accompanied by a really terrible streak. Yes, I know I had breakfast once but that was hours ago and this counted as lunch, OK? Anyway it was supposed to be a breakfast steak but in truth was more suited for use as material for logging boots soles. Noting my obvious difficulty in sawing through the not-quite-dead bovine the manager lady stopped at my table to see how things were going. “I liked everything except the steak and it’s the worst one I’ve ever had in a restaurant.” I told her. “Why don’t you take it back to the kitchen and have a go at cutting it yourself and see if you agree?” She was a nice lady and since I’d complimented the rest of the meal she disappeared with the evidence. A couple of minutes later she was back with my check and apologized, saying she’d given me a discount on the meal. Fair enough, I paid up and headed out the exit.
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Outside there were a couple of guys eyeballing the bike and they seemed duly impressed that I was so far from home. Soon a few more people ambled over, mostly curious bikers and for awhile it turned into a great story swapping session about riding and retirement, yadda yadda. I finally got mounted up and rode off into the sunset….right….praying once again I wouldn’t fall on my ass getting out of the parking lot. But I didn’t and my destination town Moncton soon appeared on the horizon. Well sort of, you can’t actually see it until you’re there but you get the idea. Anyway I checked into the local Comfort Inn for the evening and as soon as I was unloaded I hit the nearby Burger King for dinner. Yum.
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So that’s it, another glorious day on the road to Nova Scotia has ended. Tomorrow is the day; I’m just a few clicks away from crossing over into the big NS and should be there early. One of the couples at the restaurant this afternoon told me that since I’d come so far I should continue on to Newfoundland, ride the ferry, meet the folks, hang out, etc. Hmm….there’s a thought, eh?
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I wonder if they sell tonic water in Newfoundland?
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