In the Saddle is an eNewsletter for motorcycle enthusiasts that is produced several times a year.
Best Rides
Heading Out from Barrie, Ontario
By Perry Bimm, Barrie, Ontario
Well, I would have to say the best ride so far was last Sunday when three of us left Barrie, Ontario at 9 a.m. and went north through Orillia and over to Minden. From there we went up Highway 35 to Canarvin. Took Highway 118 over to Bracebridge. The trees were in full colour, the sun was bright, and the temperature was a cool 17 degrees Celsius. From Bracebridge we went into Port Carling for lunch. From there we went south east back over to the little town of Bala. We then cut across to Highway 400 and went south to Big Chute Road. This wound us south past the Marine Railway Lift Lock to the town of Coldwater. Did I mention this was our third fuel stop? From there we went into Elmvale for coffee at our favourite Tim Horton's. That is where we split up and headed home. Two of us back to Barrie and one to Wasaga Beach. At the end of the day we had clocked just over 500km on one of the nicest rides this year. Hope to get another in this Sunday.
back to topThrough the Niagara Area
By Ron Duncan, Kincardine, Ontario, in the heart of Bruce County
Best Ride? I can look at a great ride through the Niagara area with friends, or a great ride down through Southwest Ontario, but in reality the best rides this year had to be the short rides into work in the spring and early summer when all my senses were being overloaded: the beauty of the seasons, the early green foliage and the scent of growth as the plants start their lives anew...
As I rode into work, it was such a great feeling as I could feel and hear the bike riding along the smooth roads which a few months earlier were closed due to snow storms. The first rides are always the best as it feels like stretching muscles which have stagnated from lack of riding the bike, readying them for the upcoming year. Hearing the rumbling of the engine beneath me once again and feeling the vibrations remembered from last fall.
The world is alive with the freshness of spring. As you look about you see the green sprouts in the fields and inhale the scent of the first cutting of new grass and later the first cut of hay. Not things you notice when driving your car, but on the bike everything seems larger than life.
Each year we all have memorable rides, but I always return to these short trips when every mile seems to fill you with joy of being alive.
The Eastern Grand Canyon: a Perfect Destination
By Kit & Wayne Wilton
Most people don't know there's another Grand Canyon. Letchworth Park, New York, claims the title of the Grand Canyon of the East, which makes it a perfect destination for Ontario motorcyclists. Only 45 miles south of Rochester, NY, it is an easy ride for a weekend away.
At the entrance to the park, the scenery turns dramatic. The road snakes through the canyon endlessly. On the day we traveled, the motorcycles outnumbered the cars. The park stretches for 17 miles from north to south and has a series of three stunning waterfalls at the southern end. The highest waterfall tumbles more than 30 metres (about 100 feet) into the gorge. Gray-green canyon walls stretch upwards more than 180 metres (close to 600 feet.) What I saw from the rim was majestic. If I could have overcome my fear of heights the hot air balloon rides would have been an amazing diversion.
Park literature claims the location draws a million visitors annually for hiking, picnicking, camping and sightseeing. There are 247 sites available for camping enthusiasts, and for the less-adventurous, the Glen Iris Inn offers overnight accommodation.
But the destination is only part of the trip. Coming from Kitchener, Ontario, you need to pass through Hamilton before heading toward the Canada-U.S. border crossing at Fort Erie. For autumn and spring riding, I recommend a balaclava. It keeps your face warm and you have the opportunity to look tough.
Leaving early in the morning, around 7:30, will allow you to travel down the 401 toward Buffalo and arrive at the destination by late afternoon. From your starting point, it's not far until you reach a justifiable stop: the Harley Davidson dealer at Warsaw, where you can buy "the t- shirt." (Buying t-shirts representative of locations visited is a must. How else would we remember where we have been?)
A great lunch stop along the route is in Perry, at John and Sarah's Family Restaurant. Perry is known for Silver Lake and the serpent that inhabits this body of water, or so our waitress bragged. We chowed down on Buffalo burgers, great fries, turkey wraps and, upon recommendation of the wait staff, "the best Peanut Butter Cup Pie ever made"! (I have since googled Peanut Butter Cup Pie recipes. She was absolutely correct. It was the best thing I have ever eaten! Since taking the trip, I have made a large number of Peanut Butter Cup Pies and so far have been unable to duplicate the recipe. Next step, write the restaurant and beg! (Note: The restaurant supplied me with their recipe on a subsequent trip.)
By the time you leave the park, most visitors will be getting anxious for a shower and a change of clothes. In our case, we arrived in nearby Ellicottville at about 4:30 in the afternoon and, after registering at the hotel, the guys quickly rode to the local liquor store. The girls relaxed with a warm shower and met out on the wrap-around balcony to gab about the day and the peanut butter cup pie. Soon the men returned with coolers, beer, and rum.
Meanwhile, the owners of the lodge came up to speak to us at 6:30 reminding us that quiet time is 11:00 pm. " Should we tell him that none of us will be awake at 11?" one of the fellows laughed. That wouldn't have looked very tough. After assuring him that this was not going to be a problem, he left us to unwind.
Note to other motorcyclists: When booking rooms, we never mention that we will be on bikes. The stereotypical notion that we are going to tear the place apart is always present in people's minds. "Those darn gray hairs! I mean bikers."
Our Ellicottville evening started with dinner at The Brew Pub, which is walking distance from the Edelweiss hotel. After our meal, we walked down the street only to see that one of our crew had gone into a local club and was dancing up a storm. Joy and her husband had a seventeen-month-old baby and had not been away since the birth. For many of us, this was our first ride with them. We watched Joy through the window, dancing up a storm, motioning for us to join her. Her husband exclaimed "That's my girl!" Once we composed ourselves we joined her on the dance floor. Chris performed a mean air guitar routine. After midnight, we limped back to the rooms and crashed. Sure enough, every other room housed a snoring husband and all the women suffered for it. All the women, since we could hear them through the walls!
Sunday morning, while we were packing up the bikes, an elderly woman (more elderly than us) stopped us in the parking lot. She said that when she arrived the night before, and had seen all the bikes in the parking lot, she feared she would not get any sleep! Noisy bikers and all. But to her surprise she heard nothing. She continued to say that when she spotted all of us, and saw we were couples, she had to come and speak to us. "You look so cute, I feel kinda silly now.” Yeah, we are tough! A group of police officers and a bunch of middle-aged businessmen all with their wives. I guess she didn't hear the snoring.
The past couple of years we have been assisting the local constabulary with their “Motorcycle Ride for Dad" fundraising program for prostate cancer. In doing so we have met and started riding with a group of police officers and their significant others. Last year in the spring, my husband, Wayne, and twelve fellow riders rode through New York State and Pennsylvania for a week. They got to know each other and the annual Bubba and Sweet Pea ride was born.
This year on their ride, the boys decided perhaps "the girls" would also enjoy a weekend away in the fall. This sets up approval for them to do Bubba and Sweet Pea again next spring. (What did they think: we were born yesterday?) Anyway the women loved the idea. That's the history behind the Letchworth Park ride.
The next day, returning to Canada was quick. We decided that the day should not be wasted. Once across the border, we chose scenic Highway 3 as our route home. The road meanders along the Grand River towards Cambridge and further to Kitchener.
Queen’s Bush Poker Rally
By Jamie Caldwell
In late September, we had the distinct pleasure of participating in a poker rally out of Hanover, Ontario, with the proceeds going to Autism. It was a ride in itself just to get to Hanover as we are located 100 km south of there.
The ride left Hanover and went toward the north east and into Grey County. County Rd. took us into Markdale and from there north east to County Rd. 30 and Hutchinson’s Corners. At Bowles Bluff we made a rather large descent down to County Rd. 13 and into Beaver Valley. The fall colours were just starting and the colours up the hillsides on either side of the road were breathtaking. County Rd. 13 leads northward through the valley towards Thornbury, which was one of our stops. The view of Nottawasaga Bay and its deep blue color was spectacular as we approached from above. Highway 26 took us eastward to Meaford and on to County Rd. 112. A right turn here took us up the hill towards the Meaford tank range and the next check point of Ted’s Range Road Grill. Then 112 south turns into County Rd. 12 and continues south to County Rd. 40. County Rd 40 goes east towards the little town of Chatsworth and after a few twists and turns we arrive at our next stop, Desboro. From here it’s straight south back to Hanover and the Queen’s Bush Pub. This was their first annual run and rumour has it 75 bikes participated in the rally.
Heading to Springfield, Illinois
By Barry Lloyd
My friend Bruce and I decided to head down to Springfield, Illinois, to see an old friend we had met in Jamaica a few years back. We crossed the Ambassador Bridge into Detroit, Michigan, in the afternoon of August 22, as a thunderstorm rolled in from Chicago. As it sprinkled, we headed down I-75 for a while and an accident up ahead prompted us to detour onto Dix, I believe it was, which we took to Toledo. We had thwarted the rain. The sun came out and the rest of the ride to Anderson, Indiana, where we spent the night, was fantastic.
In the morning we headed toward Springfield through winding, tree-shaded country back roads. It was getting very warm when we passed a small inlet which opened up onto a big lake where water skiers were doing their thing. My buddy Bruce gave me the turnaround sign and, not unlike the movie Wild Hogs, we returned to the bay and stripped down for a quick dip. Refreshed we went on. We stopped for lunch at our usual type of stop, small town local bar, where the food is almost always good and the ambiance to match. Rolling into Springfield we were thirsty and stopped at a quaint little bar to enquire about the Route 66 Hotel where we would be staying. "Just across the street," the bartender told us.
Checking in at the hotel, we gave our friend a call and he came by within the hour. We learned that there was a Classic Car Show going on as well as a rib cook-off and blues fest. WHAT GREAT TIMING. My three faves. We stayed three nights and enjoyed visiting the Lincoln Presidential Library, the Lincoln Memorial, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house, the Vietnam and Korean Memorials, as well as a few of the beautiful parks, one of which has a carillon which is played by people from all over the world. We met up with 25 Norwegian airline pilots and controllers who were flown into California where they rented Harleys to do the Historic Route 66 to Chicago. They were staying at our hotel and they invited us to party with them at the Curve In bar, the same one we hit on arriving in Springfield. Our friend Johnnie showed us a good time and introduced us to Springfield's signature dish, the Horse Shoe, which was invented right here. We thought that Springfield, Illinois, was one of the cleanest cities we had ever been to. We left on Sunday morning and had a nice 11-hour ride home to Windsor, Ontario.
Rediscovering Riding after 35 Years
By Bryson Guptill
Sure thing! Here's a story about my summer experience buying, and then riding, a big cruiser bike 5,000km after having not been on a bike for 35 years. Hope you like it!
What is it about motorcycles? Like many aging baby boomers, I have fond memories of riding a motorcycle when I was younger. In my case, it was a 250cc Suzuki X6 Hustler – a hybrid that looked like a cross between a dirt bike and a road racer. It was tall and thin, like I wished I was, with an exhaust that ran high up one side, so you could lean hard into corners without scraping the foot pegs – far riskier than what I would be doing on the cruiser I’ve been considering as I approach my 60th birthday.
The object of my desire was a sweet, low-rise touring model, a Yamaha 1100 V-Star Silverado. A wine-coloured beauty with a perfectly sculpted teardrop fuel tank, massive chrome pipes running from a throbbing V-twin motor — masculine, and powerful. What could be more perfect for a baby boomer dealing with retirement?
I made the purchase in early May – a little optimistic, given that spring traditionally comes very late in this part of the country. The error in my ways was illustrated the day of my driving test – wet snow, mixed with rain showers. Not motorcycle riding weather.
My first realization that motorcycle ownership was not going to be as carefree as I had imagined started with a visit to my insurance broker: $2,600 per year (for three months, in effect, since this is really the useful riding time for a motorcycle in most parts of Canada). I told him I wanted to insure the beast, not buy it! I opted for self-insurance and $1 million in public liability.
My second shock came with riding it home. To get a beginner's license in my province, all you need is $30 and lots of confidence. The former wasn't a problem, the latter was. It was with a mix of timid excitement and gut-wrenching fear that I mounted my machine and rode onto the Trans Canada highway – at 5:00pm on a Friday afternoon.
After lurching through a dozen traffic lights, and stalling at at least three of them, I managed to turn onto my street and into my driveway. That's when I discovered how difficult it is to balance and turn around a 650lb motorcycle in a space designed to accommodate a subcompact. It was clear I had found a new way to work out my aging six pack – pushing and pulling the bike with my feet, while straddling the low-slung saddle made me feel like I'd been doing sit-ups for hours. I managed to hold the bike upright, but just. In the next few weeks, I managed to drop it three times – without scratching the bike or its rider. A major accomplishment in my mind. A month and a thousand kilometers later, I was ready for my fantasy adventure — riding from Canada's east coast to Ontario (via the Gaspé) to visit my grandkids and show off my newfound freedom.
It wasn't until then that I fully appreciated that riding a motorcycle – even a big one – is not the least bit like riding a car. I had become used to riding the bike at 60 km/h around my neighborhood, and even getting up to 80 km/h on the highway from time to time. 100 km/h was outside my comfort zone – kind of like hurtling down a hill on your three speed, head down, legs tight to the frame. It seemed too fast for what the machine was designed for. Yet, I knew that I'd been passed by many a motorcycle rider at speeds greatly in excess of this modest triple-digit. What did they know that I didn't?
In essence, a motorcycle rider has to get used to several things that car drivers have long ago forgotten. First, the wind at 100 km/h and faster buffets the machine from side to side like a canoe on a windy lake. This unnerving random motion increases when crossing bridges, open fields, and especially when meeting 18-wheeled logging trucks carrying enough timber to crush a bus load of motorcycle riders. Think of a fire hose turned on full blast and you partially get the picture. June bugs shot through a rifle complete the image.
Second, motorcycle riders have to be very aware of the changing road surfaces. It turns out that most roads in Canada (and the eastern U.S.A., from my experience) have a nasty exposed seam that runs parallel to the yellow line, but is located about 18 inches to the right. This seam, which highway departments often patch with slick tar, is in the very same spot where motorcycle driving schools tell bikers they should ride for maximum visibility and safety. Hitting or crossing this seam at speeds over 100 km/h feels like crossing the wake of a speedboat when water skiing – exciting, in a heart-stopping kind of way.
Then there are challenges that are especially important for the mature rider. To understand one of these, you need to appreciate that a smooth ride on a motorcycle is not really smooth. Compared to a car, there is a constant vibration or throb which is not unpleasant, but it is omnipresent. At speeds in excess of 100 km/h, the throb begins to feel like it's on steroids. It moves into the head of the rider, and if the rider is wearing glasses (or in my case, progressive lenses), the glasses tend to jump around like kernels of corn on a hot cast-iron skillet.
My progressive lenses have a sweet spot that's not much bigger than a pea. With my glasses buzzing and bouncing from side to side, I was unable to focus on road signs, oncoming traffic, or hazards like potholes or cracks in the pavement. This blurred vision, coupled with watering eyes, gave me new appreciation of the importance of passing the vision test when getting one's beginner's license.
I experienced my first rain shower when I was riding along Highway 132 in Quebec. I had an early start that day, and was on my way to the Montreal Jazz Festival. It was going to be a long ride – possibly 10 to 12 hours, with breaks every 200km for gas (most motorcycles don't have gas gauges, so riders determine how far they can go on a tank, and then stop before the tank runs dry). I was cruising along the Matapedia River, wearing every stitch of clothing I had (who knew it would be only 12 degrees on the first of July?).
The clouds overhead were threatening showers. I hadn't given it much thought – I had to be in Montreal that night. The rain started lightly, and I noticed the road surface immediately become slick and treacherous. I slowed to 90 km/h and pressed on. Then, before I had the chance to change into my rain gear, it started to pour. That's when it dawned on me – motorcycles don't have windshield wipers!
Seeing in the pouring rain without wipers is just about what car drivers imagine it would be – very challenging. Added to that, at speeds above 50 km/h, gentle raindrops turn into little hornets, stinging legs and arms indiscriminately. I parked at MacDonald's in Amqui and ate french fries until the blood started to flow in my arms and legs again.
Many more insights were to come my way over the next 5,000 km, such as the joys of jockeying for space on Montreal's Autoroute 40 with trucks (and cars) weaving in and out all around you and the excitement of eating dust and driving on loose gravel through a 16 kilometer construction zone on Ontario's Highway 60 near Algonquin Park.
These experiences convinced me that motorcycles don't pose any immediate threat to cars when it comes to dominating our nation's highways. Nevertheless, as I cruised alone through morning mist on the undulating Route 16 through the northern woods of Maine, I began to realize something that hadn't occurred to me before – motorcycle riding is all about the trip, and not the destination. With only the rabbits and deer as an audience, I found myself singing “Born to be Wild” — at the top of my lungs!
In the Saddle around Lake Superior
By Colin Wilson
Hughie, Al, and myself, each arriving from different locations in the Durham Region of Ontario, met at the Donut Shop just north of Whitby.
It was a beautiful bright, sunny morning about 24C with a forecast to be the same for the whole trip around Lake Superior.
Al was riding a Triumph Speedtriple, Hughie a Honda VFR, and me on my trusted 03 Suzuki Bandit 1200S with over 50K on the clock. All with fresh oil and pre-inspection, we set off at about 09.39 for our first intended stopover in Sault Ste. Marie.
North of Parry Sound on the Trans-Canada Highway 69 there seemed to be a few more clouds than forecast but we made it up through Sudbury without getting wet. I had never been to Sudbury before and can now understand why the astronauts did some of their moon landing training there.
Fuelled up and westbound on Highway 17, those clouds seemed to be getting a little darker by the hour. All optimists, we decided rain suits were not likely to be needed and we pressed on to the “Soo.” As it happened, the showers were very isolated and every time we seemed to be heading straight into the shaft of rain, the road turned away and we skirted in front or behind the downpours, just getting a little damp from the road spray. A nice little motel just north of Sault Ste. Marie and an Italian restaurant opposite made for a welcome stopover on our first full day.
Up bright but not too early we were off to Thunder Bay. It was sunny and clear but hardly the 24C temperature Environment Canada had promised. The frequent sights of Lake Superior all the way to Wawa were a treat to behold.
All three of us are private pilots and couldn't resist exploring Wawa Airport knowing the bush plane history associated with this area. Near the highway, Wawa boasts a Tim Horton’s with line-ups out the door but this presents a good opportunity to chat with all the other motorcyclists going up or down the “TransCan.” One guy told us "Thunder Bay was forecasting frost." We thought he must be hallucinating. We figured we could get back on the highway by going through the Wawa downtown area. Turned out, we had to turn around and come back. Good job this detour only took about five minutes.
Fabulous rugged scenery all the way to Thunder Bay. I must admit to being a bit concerned about the large patches of fresh blood we saw on the road a couple of times. Obviously an encounter with a vehicle and a large animal. Scary to think of the outcome of meeting an animal that size while riding a motorbike. Brrrr. This is why we all vowed not to ride after dark.
Highway 17 joins up with Hwy 11 at Nipigon. The Terry Fox Memorial is at a beautiful scenic location looking out toward the Sleeping Giant. This is a pilgrimage for a lot of people which makes one wonder how this young man managed to touch so many lives, not just in Canada but in so many other places around the world. Shortly we were in downtown Thunder Bay staying at the Hotel 8.
Up bright and early on Saturday morning, August 18th. Looked great out the window but Thunder Bay greeted us with an outside temperature of 1 degree Celsius.
Because of the forecast, I only had on my mesh jacket and pants, but without a cloud in the sky we all had our rain suits on in a flash.
We take Highway 61 heading southwest, crossing into Minnesota mid-morning. There appeared to be lots of places along the lakeshore on the map where we could re-fuel but we wished we had filled up at the border crossing because there is no fuel for the longest way. This is a very picturesque route but it took the shine off because Al's Speedtriple was sucking fumes by the time we got into Two Harbours.
Southwest to Duluth, with not much to speak of for what we saw from the highway. Then, turning back east along the south side of the lake, we pass from Minnesota through Wisconsin and into Michigan. Lots of lonely places along this route that don’t slow us down, and we made good time to Marquette.
Coming along the southern route the lake is some distance away, although it had warmed up to a balmy 17C. We decided to leave our windbreakers on until we got to our destination.
As we had suffered so much, we decided to splurge and checked into the Marquette Holiday Inn. This is a nice place for a stopover and great that you can have adjoining rooms and breakfast in the same place. If you are a Holiday Inns Priority Club member you get a free breakfast.
Sunday morning was nice and clear and back to 20C. We continued on Highway 28 until it joins up with Highway 75 leading us back to Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. Crossing over into the Canadian Soo, the view from the toll bridge into Ontario is fantastic and should not be hurried. You can get a great perspective on the importance of this place to both countries where this joins Lake Superior to Lake Huron and controlled all the trade that had gone on long before there were roads or airplanes.
Back into beautiful Ontario and backtracking Highway 17 to Espanola. We took Highway 6 onto Manatoulin Island down through Little Current and Manitowaning to our last stopover at the ferry town of South Baymouth. We all agreed, this run on Manatoulin Island had some of the best scenery we had seen on this trip.
South Baymouth is a pleasant little place and we found a very comfortable two-bedroom suite in a motel/lodge right at the ferry terminal. There are quite a few restaurants in town where we settled for some whitefish and chips. This location is great to get on the Chichimun Ferry first thing and to be in Tobermory by lunchtime.
Off the ferry at Tobermory, following Highway 6 down the Bruce Peninsular, through Owen Sound along Highway 26 and around the north end of Lake Simcoe at Orillia to join up with Highway 12 and home to Whitby. We pulled into the same Donut Shop that we left four days ago at about 3 p.m. and checked our trip meters at 3,104 kms (1,928 miles).
We all agreed that, apart from the freeze/thaw period, this was a great trip and would recommend it to anyone, particularly to other motorcyclists. Sightseeing was mostly done on the fly during these four days, but if one extra day was scheduled there would have been more time to have explored some of the different areas and ride at a more leisurely pace.
Next year. Cabot Trail, Cape Breton. Nova Scotia once again. With a trip like that, one time could never be enough.
Happy and safe riding. Give us a wave.
Riding along the East Coast
By Madeleine Marques
I had the most incredible riding summer this year. What started as a pipe dream quickly turned into reality and into amazing memories that will provide precious photos and stories for old age! A girlfriend of mine, Isabelle, called me up one day and told me about Claude, an acquaintance she had made through work who also rode. While at a business dinner one evening Claude said to Isabelle that if she was a serious rider she must ride the East Coast as the roads out there are breathtaking. He lives in Halifax, she in Toronto. She gladly agreed, but mentioned that she didn't have enough vacation time left to be able to ride out to the East Coast and back. To which he quickly and easily replied, "Well then, you should ship your bike out," and offered to do this for her. After a number of excited phone calls to me and our back and forth discussions about the logistics of such a trip, we decided we could not pass it up. Lo and behold, we found ourselves meeting at a truck depot somewhere in the north end of Mississauga and planting kisses on our beloved iron horses as we bid them a fond farewell and wished them a safe and pleasant journey on the back of a transport truck headed to Halifax. A week later we flew into the Halifax Airport where we were greeted by Claude and a gorgeous lobster dinner at his place. This begins the adventure of a lifetime for Isabelle and me.
The next morning, Isabelle, Claude, Christie (Claude's friend) and I pack up our iron steeds which are anxiously awaiting our arrival in Dartmouth and head out on the open East Coast roads towards the Cabot Trail. For so many years I have heard stories from bike riders and car drivers alike about the Cabot Trail and how breathtaking the scenery is. Isabelle and I are EXCITED to say the least. During the planning of our trip and our hundreds of emails back and forth to each other, we sign off each mail with EXCITED = ME. So, yes, we are revved up for this! We depart under cloudy East Coast skies and make the couple of hour trek to cross onto Cape Breton Island to begin our riding and exploration of the Cabot Trail. The skies clear up as we head farther east and smell fresh ocean breezes and see glorious green mountains. We ride, we ride, we ride. For two days we negotiate the amazing twisties of the Cabot Trail while viewing the incredible Atlantic Ocean and smelling a combination of green forests and salty sea air. Truly one of the most amazing motorcycling roads that have ever been created. How does one describe the thrill of riding through lush greenery sided by blue ocean water? Although photographs capture some of the incredible beauty and brilliance imprinted on the mind, it is hard to describe the sense of peace and the thrill that the mountains, the ocean, the roads, the scenery and the company imprint on your soul.
Just one of the many virtues of the Cabot Trail is the fact that is LONG. Like, this road goes on forever... not one of those sissy little twisties that lasts for a few kilometres. I'm talking two days of blissful riding. Sudden gear downs and throttle revs to climb the iron beast up to the top of a mountain, followed by nicely heated up brakes to get ourselves back down. Curves that are wide and sweeping in which we could lay back and enjoy the mild push steer and actually take in the breathtaking scenery... followed shortly thereafter by decreasing radius curves where all systems are go on concentrating on nothing but pushing that iron horse down into the curve to negotiate our way around it and at times even scraping the floor boards. What an absolute thrill! Curve after glorious curve. Just as we would right our bikes from the last extreme lean we were back at it leaning in the opposite direction to make it around another Cabot Trail curve. Oh and then there were the straight-aways where we could thoroughly enjoy the view of the forests and the various types of trees and the greenery growing along the side of the road while the ocean breezes caressed our cheeks and we sat back in our saddles thanking the maker for this incredible beauty and for putting us smack dab in the middle of it. Wooooo Hoooooo! Life is good. The Cabot Trail was absolutely spectacular. The road company was truly the best that a rider could ever hope to have. The bikes performed like purring kittens happy to have twisty roads on which to play. Does it get any better than this I ask you? Well, perhaps next year, if that is possible, as Isabelle and I have already booked our two week "motorcycle cruise." Yes, that's right, you read correctly, motorcycle cruise. After discussing that we had just completed the trip of a lifetime by riding the Cabot Trail together, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York State and finally home, we arrive home to information about a motorcycle cruise where you ride your bike onto a Royal Caribbean ship for a nine-day cruise of the Caribbean Islands. We are booked in a cabin for two and our bikes will be shipmates. We will disembark at each port on our own beloved iron horses and ride the roads of each of the Caribbean Islands we visit. If there is any chance that a trip could surpass the amazing East Coast adventure that Isabelle and I shared — this could just be it. Stay tuned... will write again next year and let you know!
Touring the West Fundy Isles
By Pat Peterson
This is in response to your request to relate my favourite ride this summer. My business associate and I, both seniors, decided to take a couple of days in mid-August and tour the West Fundy Isles in New Brunswick, including the Deer and Campobello Islands, enter into the State of Maine and return to New Brunswick along the scenic U.S. Coast.
We departed Fredericton at about 10:30 a.m., proceeded south on Route # 7 to Saint John, then west on Route # 1 to the Town of St. George, then by ferry from the Village of Letite to Deer Island. Deer Island is probably the least visited of the Fundy West Isles, but in my opinion, the most scenic. We spent a couple of hours looking at the beautiful vistas and then took a ferry from the opposite end of the island from where we entered to Campobello Island, the one-time summer home of former U.S. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The small ferry passes through Head Harbour Passage, a narrow body of water in the Bay of Fundy that contains a whirlpool called "Old Sow," the largest such whirlpool in the Western Hemisphere. Campobello is a more populated island than Deer, and is noted for the former presidential summer home and for Campobello Provincial Park, with its excellent nine-hole golf course, and also, quite notably, for Head Harbour Lighthouse. While visiting the lighthouse we watched several whales frolicking within just a few meters of our vantage point.
After a few hours of sight-seeing and visiting old acquaintances, we crossed into the State of Maine via an international bridge to Lubec, one of the most easterly points in the US. We travelled west on US # 1 for about forty-five minutes, staying overnight at the Machias Motor Inn. This motel is adjacent to Helen's Restaurant, one of the finest seafood spots on the East Coast. We truly enjoyed the seafood platters.
Helen's has been in operation for at least five generations of my family. I recall my parents singing its praises when dining there in the 1930's.
We toured along US # 1 to Ellesworth, a town just south of Bangor, and visited one of the premier motorcycle shops in the state, called Friend & Friend Motorcycles. After drooling over the new models, we then headed for home. On route we stopped at Beals, a small island off the coast where my grandfather, a preacher for over fifty years, had served for many years in the 1930's and 40's. We visited the old church and parsonage and recollected many mutual friends of his and my parents with the current parson and his wife.
Following Route U.S. # 1, we rode east along the coast to the village of Pembrook, where we left U.S. # 1 and travelled to Charlotte on Route 214, then hanging a right, we travelled a short cut route to Calais, Maine through Moosehorn Conservation Area, a very scenic ride with lots of tight curves for motorcycling.
Crossing the border into Canada at Milltown, just north of Calais, we picked up New Brunswick Highway # 3 to Fredericton. Not a bad two-day stint for a couple of septuagenarians. My friend John rides a Suzuki GSXR 1000 (a real crotch rocket). I ride the tamer cruiser, a Suzuki Volusia 800 twin.
Riding through West Kootenay, B.C.
By Kathryn Seymour
I've been fortunate to have travelled to many wonderful places on my various motorcycles through the years. Getting my 'knees in the breeze' when the first warm days of spring arrive has never ceased to regenerate those youthful feelings of excitement at being on the road again. "You don't stop riding because you get old… you get old because you stop riding" to quote a favorite t-shirt design.
While I've enjoyed my tours throughout the U.S and coast to coast in Canada, my favorite place to ride — and I return again and again every summer — is in the West Kootenay region of British Columbia. The roads were made for motorcyclists; the spectacular scenery coupled with the hospitality and motorcycle-friendly small town businesses and residents make this my #1 destination.
Whether I approach this area headed south from Revelstoke, north from Creston or east from Vernon, there is much to delight each of the senses.
Highway 23 S. from Revelstoke gives me glimpses of Upper Arrow Lake on the two-laner cut through the forest to Shelter Bay. There I board a free ferry to cross over to Galena Bay and the view en route is spectacular. One ferry traveler remarked, "the people in B.C are so lucky to have this on their doorstep – it reminds me so much of my home in Wales."
If you've been lucky enough to land on board the ferry in the front row you'll have the road to yourself all the way to Nakusp where the patio at the 1890's era Leland Hotel offers a breathtaking view of the lake and a great lunch. Music to my ears is not my iPod but the motor revving smoothly through the gears as I bend the bars and grin my way through the sweepers along Highway 6 W. from Nakusp to Vernon. It's so much fun I want to turn around and do it again.
If I choose to leave Nakusp via Highway 6 S., there is a bounty of curves all the way to the cutoff for Highway 31A, which leads to Kaslo, beautifully situated alongside Kootenay Lake. I instantly wanted to make Kaslo my hometown on my first trip there. A quick strip-down to the bicycle shorts and t-shirt I wear under all that riding gear leads to a dip in the lake and is the perfect way to cool off in the summer heat. Or, if I'm looking to soak tight shoulder muscles after a long day's ride, then Ainsworth Hot Springs is just up the road. Continuing S. on 3A to the City of Nelson, which is a holiday destination in itself, provides a couple of hours of browsing through the shops or having coffee, relaxing and watching all the motorcycles go by.
For me a holiday spent in the West Kootenays means riding all the roads in the area— sometimes twice! — then heading back in the evening to my favorite motorcycle-only campground. The perfect ending to a perfect day is sitting under a canopy of stars with the campfire illuminating the faces of other motorcycle travelers, exchanging trip tales and enjoying the camaraderie of like-minded people.
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