Life on the road is exciting, each day is new and the time passes quick.  The past 10 months have been a whirlwind of great experiences, fantastic people and exceptional riding but today I was as tired as I been in some time.  After a short ride and a memorable reunion with my dog Jack I settled down with family content and satisfied about the journey… and thinking about when the next one might happen.

My head was heavy when I woke and I dreaded the drive I had for just that reason.  If it wasn’t for family waiting I might have stayed in bed and passed another day in the city but I got up, cursed Ryan for all the beer he forced me to drink and grabbed a shower.  I left well after nine and rode northeast towards my parents home in Antigonish where my best friend Jack was waiting for me.

I stopped in Truro along the way for a coffee and more McDonald’s WiFi.  The cookie cutter appearance and smells of the fast food chain was identical to all of the other countries I had visited with the exception of the seasonal special served inside.

McLobster!  Only in Atlantic Canada.

It would be another hour riding from there and when I got close to town I made a quick call to my father about where I was.  He asked me to hold back a bit so he could be at the house to meet me.  He wanted to see the dogs reaction and after he got to the house I pulled in.

313 days had past since I last saw my parents home and they took my most precious possession into there care and looked out for him.  It was this type of generosity and interest that my entire family gave me and made the trip possible.  With out them and the help of many friends it just wouldn’t have happened.

As usual some nieces and nephews trickled over from next door and and clambered up on the bike and peppered me with questions about the trip.   My parents welcomed me back with a big meal and a told me a few stories about their year and the antics of the dog.

Cyra having the last ride of the day

After a big meal things started to calm down and my niece Elyssa and I crawled down on the mat for some quality time with Jack.

Hanging out with Jack and Elyssa

The evening shot by after everyone found there way home and things at the house got quiet.  It was then I started to realize what the next few weeks have in store.

The coming days will wear away catching up, preparing to go back to work and sorting out life’s daily grind but tonight I put that on hold and fell back into a days end habit I had developed over my time on the road…

I dreamt about where the next ride would be.

I knew every mile, each corner and sign that approached on the road I travelled countless times before but still it felt odd.  I struggled all morning with the feeling and it was not until I approached the coast near Halifax that the reason for my apprehension became clear.  Months of unplanned events, the constant feeling of anticipation and never ending surprise was being replaced with the unfamiliarity of familiar.

Riding across Moncton just before 9AM on the crisp June morning I marvelled at what I once classified as rush hour traffic.  The short run from the hotel on the west side of the city to Beemer dealership took less time then I thought and I was inside looking over all the goodies just after the key opened the door.

Quick stop at Atlantic Motoplex BMW Motorrad in Moncton, NB

The staff was quick and helpful listing off the prices of the list I had made in the hotel room earlier that morning.  I decided before I arrived that I would continue on regardless of what I found out and that the spring in the rear would take me home if I took my time.

I continued on through the final border of the journey crossing the Tantramar Marsh to Nova Scotia in the late morning on my way to Halifax.

One last border

Once there I stopped by the office for a quick hello to let my employer know that I was still alive and coming back to work.  Afterwards I milled around the city for a while and got the notion to ride over to the KTM shop and have a look around.

Shhhh!  Don’t tell Nelly.

Time went fast in the candy store and when I looked down at my phone I noticed that it was nearing 4PM.  I rode back across town to meet up with a good friend that has helped out and offered tons of advice and encouragement over my entire trip.

Ryan and his bike

We decided to go out to Peggy’s Cove to take a look around and I puttered along to the serenade of Ryan’s exhaust as he darted around in traffic.  We got out to the coast just as the fog was approaching and managed a couple of photos before the little village perched on the smooth granite rocks got socked in.

The bikes at Peggy’s Cove, NS

Riding with Ryan at Peggy’s Cove, NS

Riding with Ryan at Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia

We found our way back to the city and headed to Ryan’s place where we sat down for a couple of drinks of rum.  As each glass emptied the stories tales got taller.  After a few we decided to take a cab over to the pub with the best wings on the east coast and fill up.

Wing time in Dartmouth

One pitcher turned in to… well who knows and the wings were just how I remembered them.  I got caught up on what I had missed over the past few months and I got a chance to talk bikes and riding with a great friend and long time rider.  A few plans for rides in the coming weeks were hatched some ideas on bikes floated before we made our way back to Ryan’s place.  In typical style Ryan and his wife Denise had a great spot for me to lay my head and treated me like gold on my return to the province.

The journey was supposed finish after exploring Northern Maine and New Brunswick’s remote wilderness.  I figured a quick run up Mt Washington in the morning before heading into the bush was a great way to pass the day… but the bike had other ideas.  The ‘Ol Girl protested the plan with big tears of hydraulic fluid from the rear shock and after one final climb we limped our way back to familiar territory.

I leisurely packed and rode over to the other side of the hotel complex to say goodbye to Andy and Amber.  I also wanted to meet up with a couple of guys who rode with Andy’s group from Nova Scotia and ride with them to Mt Washington.  When I found Jaime and Gary they were packed and ready to roll.  We were off well before nine and found ourselves at the top of Mt Washington well before noon.

After the leisurely, scenic ride up the mountain we went for a look around the site that had some interesting records and stories to tell.

Strong winds at Mt Washington, NH

The cloud cover would occasionally break for some nice views of the Appalachian Mountains to entertain us while we waited for other tourist to take their photo on the summit.  When things thinned out a bit on top I scrambled up on the rocks to get my own photo as well.

The summit of Mt Washington, NH

Photo from the summit of Mt Washington, NH

The trip up with Jaime and Gary was a great and they were a lot of fun but there was something on my mind the entire time.  Shortly after we had left Laconia I had noticed a problem with the bike and confirmed it after a quick stop at a fuel station.

Leaky rear shock

The rear shock had finally quit and my plans of exploring Northern Maine’s back country had gone away along with any fluid that was in the shock earlier that day.  I took my time from that point on and after a cup of coffee on the summit with the guys I crept back down the hill to work out a route that would take me back to Canada right away.

…and the goof on the seat is taking all the credit.

I said my goodbyes to Jaime and Gary set a course for Calais, Maine and hit the road.  I knew it would be a long slow ride but I figured it was better to start making my way home.  I crossed into Maine a short time later bypassing the opportunity to load up on cheap liquor and fireworks and instead choosing to keep things light on the suspension.

Five hours later I was crossing the border into Canada at St Stephen New Brunswick and after a quick burger pushed on in the dark to Moncton, NB.

View Larger Map

I pulled into Moncton, NB shortly after 11PM and pried my frozen hands from the grips and found a room near the local BMW Motorrad dealership.  In the morning I will drop in and check out my options on the rear shock before riding to Halifax to touch base with my employer and meet with some friends.

When someone mentions a motorcycle rally and specifically Motorcycle Week in Laconia, New Hampshire I envision thousands of bikes, big crowds and a great party.  As imagined, all of these things were happening when I arrived in the small New England town but the realities of living from a small dry bag put the bash on the backburner till the chores were done.I woke up to the warm sun on the rain fly of the tent and packed up quick hoping to get into my hotel room a bit early.  I decided to go south and back over the Sandwich Notch Road towards Laconia.  I figured that after having a good look at it the day before I knew what to expect and rode quick stretching out the suspension as I passed over the rollercoaster like terrain.  I arrived in town well before noon and after doing some blog updates at the usual haunt I went across town to work on the laundry.

Getting aquainted with the washing machine in Laconia, NH

Untold story of life on the road (laundry in Laconia, NH)

I managed to get a bit more work done offline while I waited and when everything was dry I went to the hotel.  The staff helped me out and got me into my room early which in turn got me down to Weirs Beach in the mid afternoon.

Monday afternoon in Weirs Beach at Laconia, NH

Bike parked on the strip at Laconia, NH

As advertised there were plenty of bikes around and Harley’s were certainly the dominant brand.  That said there were other types of motorcycles in the mix including dual sports, racers and everything in between. Club Med All inclusive vacations

Paint and chrome in Laconia, NH

Boston bagger in Laconia, NH

Antique BMW with side rig at Laconia, NH

Monday evening of Motorcycle Week 2012 in Laconia, NH

I took a walk around the tents taking a look some of the projects by the some well known builders…

Arlen Ness creation in Laconia, NH

East Coast Irish creation in Laconia, NH

Arlen Ness creation in Laconia, New Hampshire

White Knuckle Kustoms work in progress at Laconia, NH

…and moved back to the strip to view some of the modifications done by some of the less talented owners.

Stars and stripes trike in Laconia, NH

Yeah, that’s right.  Harley farkles.

Just before leaving the beach for the day I got chatting with a couple of other riders.  Brazil’s Eduardo came in from Boston where he was now living and New Hampshire’s Terry C had ridden up on his Street Glide.  Terry got asking a lot of questions about the trip but they weren’t the usual questions.  He seemed to be asking about logistics and budget and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a ride report or blog involving his travels in the near future.

Brazil’s Eduardo and New Hampshire’s Terry C in Laconia, NH

Afterwards I found my way back to the hotel to find the two friends I had come to town to see.

Andy and Amber in Laconia, NH

They had ridden up the day before on Andy’s Road Glide and when I found them they were enjoying a few beers with the rest of the crew that had ridden with them.  We pulled up a bunch of chairs on the lawn in the back of the hotel and talked bikes as they tried to bring me over to the Harley side.

Riders from Nova Scotia’s Fundy shore in Laconia, New Hampshire

In the end I staved off the draw of the chrome and decided to run the remainder of my trip with the ‘Ol Girl.  Andy, Amber and the rest of the crew decided they would do a ride around the lake the next day but when I told them I had to go up to Mt Washington Andy set it up for me to ride with a couple of the guys in his group that were going that way as well.

Tony had joked the day before about his wife’s reaction when I arrived.  She called him after the ugly, smelly guy with the funny Canadian accent landed in her yard and told him to get back right away.  Meg was tough and helped me feel welcome the entire time while Tony said he had no worries about inviting the drifter to stay.  Just more remarkable hospitality from strangers helping me out along the way.It had to have been one of the most secure, easy places to camp on the entire journey.  The yard was pool table flat and covered in thick lush grass, I had access to a  port-a-potie on the edge of the property and a WiFi signal to boot.  That said it was a devastatingly long night waiting for daylight to come as the unmistakable smell of a skunk poking around outside the tent was wafting in the air.   I slapped the wall of the rainfly a couple of times but the smell would only get stronger so I adjusted my  strategy and battled the urge from the three beer I drank earlier that night.

Morning came and with it the generosity of Tony and his family.  He and his brother asked me to stick around for breakfast, do a bit of tubing on the river and leave the next day.

Breakfast time at Meg and Tony’s in Luzerne, NY

I would have taken them up on the offer but I had decided the day before to make my way back to the White Mountains near Laconia to try a couple of back roads.  So after chatting a bit and getting packed up I said goodbye and thanks to my hosts from Saratoga, NY.  From Luzerne I took a direct route to Laconia but traffic was heavy and I struggled to be back at a decent hour.  When I arrived I grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed northeast to the countryside near Sandwich, NH.

Old barn near Sandwich, NH

I made my way over to the Sandwich Notch Road that was recommended as a good ride but found it to be a well groomed gravel lane with little in the way of excitement.  With no thrills and few views I stopped in at a farm and chatted with a Donald Sutherland look a like named John.  We talked for a half hour about his travels in Europe and his daughter’s travels in Nicaragua before he told me a great place to camp where I would be out of sight and out of mind.

I went to check out the spot and as promised it was just what I needed.  A quiet spot where the bike would be close and it even had a brook nearby to get cleaned up.

Camped on a trail near Smarts Brook, NH

I got camp all set up early in the evening and cooked up my best creation of the journey which sent me into reeling towards the tent for a short nap that would  last the night.

As the day draws closer to when the journey will end there are thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head.  At times I will lose track of where I am and I find it necessary to pull over and think things out in an area where less attention to the road is required.  So the ride to Lake George was perfect as it snaked along rivers and by lakes through the Adirondacks and a long running bike rally.

I had met Saratoga’s Tony in the hotel lobby on the night I lost my wallet.  He overheard my story as I explained it to the manager and he jumped into the conversation to help me get a room.  The next morning we had a good chat over breakfast before I headed off into the rain.  During that conversation he invited me up to his summer place near Lake George and had been following my progress in the northeast.  He knew I was in the area and again offered up a place to throw the tent so I took him up on the offer and rode to Lake George.

Afternoon break in the Adirondack’s

I could see the appeal of the big Harley’s as they effortlessly thundered through the long sweeping turns with their riders enjoying the sun and cool breeze.  I on the other had was geared up as usual and had to take the time on the pullouts to enjoy the great weather.

I got lost for a few hours exploring back roads that showed promise of some off road riding but it never materialized.  It would be late afternoon when I pulled into Lake George to take in the sights of Americade and the puzzled stares of onlookers more accustomed to chrome and a paint.

Dirty girl parked with the shiny iron in Lake George, NY

I didn’t hang around for much more then a few hours.  Things at the rally seemed very tame and I would later find out from a person familiar with the rally’s history that in an effort to make things safe police may have suffocated the fun on the event.

I had received another email from Tony earlier that day confirming I was coming to town and he gave me directions to his summer place and said he would arrive later on.  When I got there Tony had yet to arrive but his wife and nieces were around and they showed me around their spot on the Hudson River.

Tony’s spot by the Hudson River in Luzerne, NY

Tony arrived later on, as did his brother.  They are motocross guys and each ride dirt bikes on the single track trails all over the area.  We talked bikes and the journey over beers and I waved off countless offers for food until it was time to do the night time set up of the tent.

I was meeting a friend in Laconia in several days and a quick check of the hotel situation online had me worried.  I new it would be a long ride today so I could take a first hand look at the area and find myself a place for the coming week.  If I got an early start, ate lunch on the road and kept a careful eye for speed traps I would get there with time to spare. 

It was another one of the camera in the pocket type of days.  The backroads were as wide as major highways in Chile and the sharp corners were replaced by long sweeping corners.  The only thing that kept me from falling asleep on the run from northern Vermont to southeastern New Hampshire was the unpredictable traffic.

Motorcycles were all around as at least two major rally’s were taking place in the area.  That meant all of the small diners were full and a meal would take more time then I had.  I pulled into a small vegetable stand, picked up a few things and rode a couple miles before finding a pullout to make a pot of soup.

Lunch on the road near Lebanon, NH

I got into Laconia in the late afternoon and rode around a bit to scope out the area.  The looks I got pulling in to the rally on a dirty Beemer were second only to those which I received by the same bikers while making lunch on the side of the road.   I thought I saw them to start passing the hat to get me a bike wash but I think they were taking a collection to get me a place to shower.

I looked at a few motels in Weirs Beach were the epicenter of the rally is but all the places were full.  There were a few spots open on the way to Laconia but I managed to get the last room where my buddy and his better half would be staying.

From there I picked up a few things for camp and headed to a State Park nearby.  When I arrived shortly before dark I learned it was an RV only site and my big beast didn’t qualify for a spot.  I roamed around a while and found Gunstock Ski Hill.  The lady at the desk first turned me down saying it was a three day minimum at $170 to stay during the rally.  She put me on the phone with a campground in nearby Meredith but they didn’t allow motorcycles.  She must have felt bad about sending me out in the dark because she changed her mind and offered me a site at the typical day rate with the agreement I would be gone before nine.

Camp at Gunstock Ski resort, Laconia, New Hampshire

The tent was up quick and I rushed to get through supper in the dark as the thunder crashed in the distance.  I was five minutes tucked into my tent when the skies opened up and the light show started.  The rain lasted most of the night and I drifted off thinking how good my timing had been.

I had gone to Montreal to see cars.  Fast, seductive, over the top F1 makes like Ferraris and McLarens.  Hearing one of those eight cylinder engines scream scream at 18,000 rpms would be a nice change from the rattle and hum of the boxer that carried me so far.  But in the end I settled for a sandwich… a great sandwich but one more akin to my mode of transportation then the sleek million dollar cars in town.The late night getting settled pushed my start back and I rode the short 45 minutes to Montreal from Granby in lunch hour traffic with my fingers crossed.  I had heard in the days before my arrival that the open house at the F1 event would be cancelled due to protests but thought organizers may have reconsidered and went ahead with the highly popular open house.  I was wrong and getting anywhere near the track before the weekend was going to be tough.  I could have waited a day or two but tickets to see the event were sold out so I had to settle for a self guided tour of Vieux Montreal and a smoked meat sandwich at Schwartz’s Deli.

Vieux-Montreal, Quebec

Outside Schwartz’s in Montreal, Quebec

The old city was charming, well kept and easy to get around but I had my fill of cobblestone streets and old churches months earlier.  When I got up to the deli it was well after lunchtime and I was surprised to see the line up was still half way down the block.

1PM and still lined up at Schwartz’s in Montreal, QC

I settled into the take out line for twenty minutes before getting a look inside and ordering up what has made the tiny deli so famous.

Inside Schwartz’s in Montreal, Quebec

Smoked meat sandwich from Schwartz deli in Montreal, QC

The sandwich lived up to its reputation and at seven bucks was a bargain compared to the nine and a half dollar cheese steak in Philly.

Stomach laden with a pound of tasty smoked meat I rode back over the Jacques Cartier Bridge for my only view of the F1 track on the island below.   I surrendered to a case of the meat sweats and pulled over on the highway just south of Montreal to make a plan for the evening.  I decided to cross the border to Vermont and find a place to camp along the shores of Lake Champlain.  Lesson learned from a night earlier I found a state park in Grand Isle and sprung for a lean to on the lake.

View from my lean to in Grand Isle, VT

The Park Ranger in charge of the park saw my Nova Scotia plate and came over to say hello.  It turned out he had married a girl named Karen from Nova Scotia a week earlier and they were living in the house at the park.  He and Karen came back to chat and let me know where I could pick up a few things for camp that night.  I rode out to get some supplies and came back to the lakeside site to set up camp and sip bourbon by a small camp fire.

Small fire in camp at Grand Isle, VT

The mosquitos harassed me as I fiddled with my chin strap in the camp site at Lac Fraser.  It was 9PM, the sun had gone down an hour earlier and now I sat on the bike waiting for it to warm up.  Two hours earlier when I was setting up camp it was still hot but after the park warden told me to vacate the closed Provincial Park I sparked her up for an encore.

It was a cold night in the tent as temperatures in the White Mountains dipped to single digits.  I was tucked into my down sleeping bag with my toque on and making out fine but a morning shower showed the flaw in yet another tent.

Morning showers in Bretton Woods, NH

It was a short half hour rain and I suspected that the small amount of water may have been due to condensation but after a quick inspection I found out  it was a leak.  For the most part the rain fly was dry but water streamed in from the peak and my second tent since entering the US would have to be returned.

I packed up fairly quick and headed north to the border.  It had been close to seven months since I was last in Canada and the sign at the small border crossing in Norton, VT was a welcomed sight.

Back to Canada

The plan was to burn up a little time while waiting for friends to arrive in Laconia, NH and I figured a trip to Montreal to see the Formula 1 cars would be a nice way to do it.  I had heard that protests in the city may disrupt the event but regardless a ride to Quebec would be a great way to spend a couple of days.

Border formalities were quick and routine.  I answered a few questions about where I had been and what I was carrying and was back home in Canada.  The border official even took time to leave the office to take a photo for me.

Back in Canada!

I cruised from the border into Lennoxville to take care of a few things and get my phone up and running but afterwards looked down at the clock to see that the day was slipping by.  I started west to Sherbrooke stopping to pick up a few things at the grocery store, leaving with a bag of vegetables and a pocket full of the dreaded oversized Canadian coins.

Canadian bar shrapnel

It was there in the parking lot that got speaking a local named Bruno.  We talked bikes, riding and camping options before I left on the hunt for a place to sleep.  I rode to the south entrance of Lac Fraser but was told campsites were $37!  I was amazed at how expensive it was and after a quick review of the map I decided to try my luck along the road north of the park for a “less formal” option.  This option never appeared but what did was the gated off entrance to Lac Fraser park.  It was nearing dark, I had just had a close call with a moose and decided to take the chance.  I rode around the gate, found a good spot to camp by the lake and set up.  The tent was up and my dinner bubbling away when the park warden made an appearance on scene.

7PM camp at Lac Fraser, QC

He was really good about the situation and was apologetic when he told me I had to leave which made me think he had got a call about me being there.  He told me to finish up my meal before packing and he left.  I knew it would be a lousy ride in moose country to get to the nearby town of Granby so I packed up quick and hit the road.

9PM camp at Lac Fraser, QC

I got into Granby after 10PM and quickly found a spot to stay to was twice as much as the fee it would have been to camp earlier.

During the Second World War a very important meeting took place in Bretton Woods… at least that’s what the sign told me.  When I saw the grand hotel it stood out impressively from the deep green background of the Appalachians and I knew I wanted to camp nearby.  An hour later I was set up having my own conference with a moose and about forty thousand mosquitos.  But we weren’t talking money.

I got away early but before heading to northern New Hampshire I rode over to the BMW dealership in Portsmouth to try and get my GPS kickstarted.  I had spoken to GPS Central in Calgary the day before and they agreed to help me out with the GPS but for now I was stuck without.  I had received some tips about how to get it going from other riders following along online and one idea was to try it in another cradle.  Unfortunately that didn’t work out so I continued riding and swung north towards Conway and made my way into the White Mountain National Forest.

Covered bridge in Jackson, NH

My goal for the day was to ride the auto road up the east slope of Mt Washington, take a few photos and find a campsite somewhere nearby.  Unfortunately heavy rain and snow over the past week had caused the National Forest Service to close the gravel section of the road near the top.

No go Mt Washington

I spoke with the guys working the the road about letting me go up but they wouldn’t budge.  They explained that the mud was over six inches deep all the way up from the paved section.  I told them that was great.  They countered saying there was snow at the top as well.  Even better was my reply but they werent’ impressed.  Rick, the guy watching the closure at the top immediately declined a bribe I offered, told me that a few days of wind and sun would clean it up and welcomed me back later in the week.

Disappointed I turned back with the idea to return later in the week.  I headed back down the deserted road taking photos on the way.

Dark clouds on Mt Washington

Warning signs on Mt Washington

Radiator water reservoir on Mt Washington

I decided to head back down to the town of Glen before swinging north up the Pinkham Notch Road to look for a campsite.  I passed by the Appalachian Trails approach to Mt Washington and continued north to where my eye was taken by an impressive site.

Appalachian Trail north of Glen, Hew Hampshire

Mount Washington Hotel at Bretton Woods, New Hampshire

I went for a ride up to take a look around and was surprised the gates were open to ride up.  There appeared to be a few guest staying there but it was obvious it was not frequented like it had been in the past.  It was also evident that the grand old hotel was in need of some care and showed signs of aging.

Mount Washington Hotel sign

I guessed that the rooms were probably out of my budget but made up my mind to find a campsite with a similar view.  I managed to find some ATV trails along a river adjacent to the property and went exploring.  There was a steep grassy hill not far away from the trail head with a view of the mountains, small stream below and a glimpse of the roof top of the hotel.

Camp near Bretton Woods, New Hampshire

The mosquitos arrived on scene as I set up camp and made something to eat.  In an attempt to get a some relief from the onslaught of the state bird I went out for a little walk and found signs that not only the ATV’s were using the trails below.  I figured that not only moose walking would be in the area and returned to camp to tidy up my sight.

Moose tracks near camp in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire

As dark rain clouds rolled over the hills I collected my food and garbage tying it high in a tree before tucking in for the night.