Oil Changes, Having a Gander, and Run, Dildo Run...

I awoke to the smell of coffee and Dave saying "I make it but I don't serve it. Find a mug, pour a coffee, breakfast will be ready shortly"

I enjoyed touton for the first time (delicious) and after breakfast we began to get our gear organized for the next stage of the adventure.

In typical Murph fashion Dave asked if there was any maintenance needed on any of our 3 bikes. Knowing that I was due for an oil change, I mentioned as much, and a few minutes later found myself riding to the local Suzuki dealership about 10 minutes away. A light rain began to fall as I walked into the motorcycle shop, and it quickly turned into what looked to be an all day kind of downpour.

I tossed 6 litres of oil and 2 filters into my SHAD waterproof luggage and returned to Murph's so that Mike and I could each complete an oil change on our V Stroms.

We left Murph's at around 11:00 am after completing the two oil changes.Again, I consider this to be  a testament to Murph and the openness and willingness to help that is just a part of the way of life on the island.

As was pointed out several times, 'it can be rough life and we looks after our own.' 

As someone from away I get the feeling that once welcomed on the island, you become 'one of our own' for the duration of your stay.

The overcast skies began to drop some rain on us as soon as we got on the highway, and threatened more the further we traveled. In short time we stopped for lunch at a highway gas station / restaurant where we met another adventure rider seeking solace from the elements.

Max was 110 days into a 'round-the-world adventure (RTW) He had ridden his Suzuki DR650 from Atlanta to California to Alaska to the Yukon, across Canada to the Trans-Lab highway to Labrador to Western Newfoundland to Saint John's and was now heading to Nova Scotia.

Max intended to head south from there, to home in Atlanta for a week or a month before continuing on, either to south-east Asia or South America - at that point he had not yet made up his mind.

If you would like to read more of Max and his adventures, you can follow him here on ADV Rider

We had a great meal and conversation with one another and then carried on, heading toward Gander.

We got underway in heavy overcast skies and before even hitting the Trans Canada Highway the rain began to fall, and boy oh boy did it fall. We rode in a veritable deluge for 2 hours plus, and once it stopped we found ourselves in some of the densest fog I have seen since my childhood, sailing through the north Atlantic on a schooner.

We quickly lost sight of each other - visibility was 20 to 30 feet at best.

This lasted another 45 minutes or so and then, glory be upon us, the sun broke through!

We rode in glorious sunshine for the duration of the afternoon, eventually arriving at the aviation museum in Gander where we stopped to snap a few photos.

                                     
After a short break we headed north on highway 330 to 331 and then on to highway 340 towards the Twillingate area. We decided to stop for the night at Dildo Run Provincial Park which is actually a great little spot with showers, beautiful, well groomed campsites and wonder-of-wonders, WIFI,  all for $18.00 a night.

                                         

Interestingly, Dildo Run Provincial Park is located in the small community of Virgin Arm.

Go ahead and try to tell me that there is not a story behind that!

All in all, it was a really full, and long day. I found myself setting up my tent, spreading my sleeping bag out, thinking 'man, touton sure would go well in the morning'


Up next - Lloyd Colbourne, Splitting up and Topsail

Living with a Local...

I got up early Sunday morning, had a wonderfully hot shower and some breakfast, and then sent a text to Jeff to let him know that I was on my way over to Murph's house (or damurph, as he is known on ADV Rider)

Upon arriving I found myself thinking "I shoulda just stayed last night..." damurph is one of those  characters that you immediately feel that you have known for years.

His first words to me - before we had even properly met - as I knocked on his door were "we don't knock ona doors 'round here. Only bill collectors are knockin' ona doors, an' we don't wanna talk to 'em, so don't knock ona door - just come on in bye"

I liked this guy right from the get-go!

Dave, as I came to find out, is a bit of a local personality and somewhat of an ambassador to motorcycle adventure travelers.

He opens his house, and his province to motorcycle riders who have made St. John's, Newfoundland, one of the stops on their adventure.

Dave likely knows more about Newfoundland and it's history than any other islander. I can only hope that the teachers in Newfoundlands public school system know a portion of what Dave knows. It is a province full to overflowing with incredible history and lore, pain and hardship, joy and life, and I would like to think that the stories that we heard will continue to be told for many generations yet to come...

Dave has an ability to tell you a tale that is packed with information and engagingly humorous enough to keep you wanting to hear more.

From the resettlement of dozens of communities during the 1950's and 1960's, such as Long Beach, La Manche, Spout Cove and Deep Harbor, where entire fishing villages were either moved or abandoned when the government decided that services would no longer be provided to these 'outposts' - to the idea of community and togetherness that is so prevalent here (and so often lacking elsewhere in Canada, now that I have seen firsthand what community really means) - Dave filled us with the history of the province that he so clearly loves.

He also took us on a tour of the Avalon Peninsula, giving us a true taste of east coast life, and livelihood that we would likely never have experienced on our own.

                                                             The lighthouse at Fort Amherst

                                                                   Battery at Signal Hill

                                                             St. John's harbor from Signal Hill

                                                                              Iceberg!

                                                                                             A rugged coastline

                                                             damurph with Jeff and Michael on the East Coast Trail

                                                                                      Yours truly at Cape Spear

                                                                                             Petty Harbor

Each stop at a cove or a harbor or a bight found us learning about the history of a particular community - and believe  me, there is a history to each of them.

Dave's knowledge of local lore may be exceeded only by his kind heart, but this subject has been covered by many an adventure rider before me. Damurph has been opening his home up to travelers for years and years, so I will not go on and on - but I will say this:

It is people like Dave that keep people like me and my riding companions seeking out new adventures. Our tour today brought an awareness - and will provide memories - that I will cherish for the rest of my days.

Maybe, if I am lucky I will be able to fashion some of what I learned into my own life, and way of living. That would be a wonderful thing, in my opinion.

Thank you Dave. I will be back, my good man.

Up next - Oil changes, Gander and Dildo Run

Off the Beaten Path...

Stephenville was an interesting stop along our journey - due to both the physical landscape of the area as well as our first real clash of personalities.

Michael and I had a minor row, pissed each other off, and that was pretty much that.

In the morning, we quickly touched back on the subject, agreed to try not to actively push each others buttons, and packed up our gear with a hand shake and a pat on the back.

For our first night camping, I have to say that it was somewhat less than ideal. I mean, we were camping in a parking lot, with no camp fire, and little to shield us from the 30-40 kmh winds blowing in off of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

                                                      Parking lot camping in Stephenville

The morning's ride would bring smiles to all of our faces.

We left Stephenville and rode highway 480 - the Caribou Trail -  east for about 49 kilometers before leaving the asphalt for a gravel forest road.

 This was the kind of riding that we had come to the island to do, and Big Ethel was just raring to go. I stayed with Mike and Jeff for about the first 15 kilometers, but the 45 kmh pace that they were setting just wasn't doing it for me, so I gave my right grip a twist and flew off down the trail, stopping whenever I lost sight of them in order to let them make up some ground. Big Ethel actually becomes more manageable in the bumpy, loose stuff when she is moving at speed - many riding companions have repeatedly drilled it into me that inertia is my friend in many off road situations, and this basically straight gravel and dirt forest trail was one of them.

Another benefit to my picking up the pace and racing ahead was that it allowed me the opportunity to get some candid shots of the lads.

I had an absolutely great time blasting down the trail, and by the time that we came to the end of the road, just past Red Indian Lake, we were getting ready to find something to eat. We followed Buchan's highway to Badger and stopped at a small mom and pop diner known as Helen's Restaurant and Motel. It was here that Mike decided to really become adventurous as he ordered the deep fried cod tongues for lunch.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Apparently no part of the fish is wasted here in Newfoundland, lol. They cut  the rather large tongue right out of the cod fish and serve it up, pan fried, deep fried, broiled, baked...you name it, they have a way to serve it.

                                                        Michael enjoying deep fried cod tongue

After lunch we headed back out on the TCH heading for St. John's.

It only got gloomier and colder the further east that we rode, and by the time that we were at Terra Nova we pulled over to put on another layer of gear.

I took this opportunity to put on my BMW Motorrad 1 piece rain gear for the first time...

...and discovered that it provides a wonderfully warm layer to my riding gear. I have not yet tested this banana suit out in the rain - that will likely come on Wednesday as the forecast is calling for rain right across the island.

After a long 455 kilometers of riding the slab, we finally arrived in St. John's at about 7:30 in the evening on Saturday night. Cold to the bone and every joint stiff, I was not feeling 100% up to par, and although we had lodgings provided to us by another ADV Rider member known as damurph (Dave) - I was not prepared to spent yet another night around a bunch of alcohol  - I needed a break from having it right in front of me every night - I opted to grab a hotel room downtown.

A night at the Delta Hotel, with a hot tub, a sauna and a swimming pool was exactly what I needed to get back in the groove.
I took a stroll down by the harbor, looking at all of the fishing vessels and enjoying the smells of the sea, as well as some of the liveliness of Water Street, before returning to the hotel and getting a wonderfully good night's sleep.

It felt good to be in St. John's - and I was really looking forward to tomorrow...

Up next - Living with a Local...

Coming Home for the First Time

                                                                                                                              Friday, July 10 - Day 7

Even at 48 years of age I get a childish sense of glee from my equally childish sense of humor.

I cannot say the word "swewfie" without smiling.

Ok, so, maybe it's not really a word. I may have made it up.

It stands for my cultural background.

My father's parents emigrated to Canada from Sweden in the early 1900's.
My mom was born and raised in Newfoundland.

I am, therefore, a Swedish Newfie. Or a Swewfie.

Makes sense now, huh? See, there is always a logic - twisted and convoluted though it may be...

A big part of this whole adventure, for me, has been the idea of visiting the area of Cornerbrook that my mom was from. A sort of searching out of my roots.

A homecoming. For the first time.

We pulled into the dock at Port aux Basques early Friday morning - I wanna say around 0700 - and we were all quite bagged.

A lousy 4 hour sleep and a coffee do not necessarily add up to 'bye I am so excited to ride today. And 7 degrees, whoo hoo, couldn't ask for better 'n that, bye' - however, as is most always the case, once we were rolling we were happy to be rolling.

We had been told that once off the ferry, if the big trucks got off first just avoid the highway altogether as it will be nothing but slow moving, backed-up traffic for the next couple of hours. Likewise, if the Tim Horton's parking lot and surrounding lots are full of trucks, avoid the highway. That means that the winds at Wreckhouse are up and the big rig operators are waiting for them to die down. And when I say up, the winds at Wreckhouse have been known to hit over 200 kmh - them's hurricane winds, bye.

Wreckhouse Winds

So, rather than add the frustration of traffic to our already less than jovial mindsets, we opted to ride highway 470 - an older highway that hugs the coast eastward from Port aux Basques to Rose Blanche - as a distraction for an hour or two.

And what a distraction it was.

Newfoundlands landscape is at once barren and rocky and lush and full and wild and foreboding and welcoming and all things in between. The moment that you have formed a concise thought about how to describe what you see before you, a new and different scene unveils itself.

Riding from the harbor we saw what we expected; coastline, bushes and evergreen trees.

 Before too long though, the trees were shrinking, and then all but disappearing, leaving a rolling green landscape of tundra and lichen-covered granite. This scene has an austere beauty about it that is almost unnerving as you ride through it for the first time.
I had a myriad of thoughts flowing through my still sleep-deprived mind about Hobbit-holes, Greenland and early explorers, also pondering why more movies are not filmed here. The natural set is perfect for everything from Vikings to Rings to Thrones to Potters to everything in between...

                                                       The lookout near Rose Blanche Harbor

A very short distance along our foray into Newfoundland we came across a scene that, for me, completely and succinctly set the tone, and understanding, of where we were.

We rolled up on a hillside Anglican Cemetery, a very common site along the east coast and one that would not normally cause my heart to skip for a second, nor a lump to rise immediately in my throat nor tears to well in my eyes.
But what I saw here completely took me aback. I felt a sense of love and caring and compassion and longing that no single moment or scene has ever instilled in me before, and while it may not come across in my photos, I can assure you that I was moved by what I saw in a way that will be with me for the rest of my life.

This cemetery is not out of the ordinary, here in Newfoundland. It is actually of the norm. The locals do not see what I - a person from away - see when I gaze upon it even now, here at home on my monitor.

I see a testament to the love of family; I see dearly departed who are consciously missed daily; I see cherished memories revisited regularly; I see the connection need not be lost in death. To coin a phrase, I see love, actually.

The locals see that this is exactly as it should be.

 "Gettin' an idea for where yer at, bye?"

They don't understand us mainlanders. Quite honestly, neither do I.

Virtually every grave is visited regularly. Evidenced by the fact that nearly every grave is adorned with flowers. Fresh, brilliant, beautiful flowers.

                                        St. James Anglican Cemetery, Barachois Hill, Port Aux Basques

After coming out of my reverie I rode to catch up to the guys, and continued to be awestruck bythe beauty that I was travelling through.
Almost forgotten towns with names like Ilse Aux Morts, Burnt Islands, Diamond Cove and Rose Blanche.

We stopped for a break at Rose Blanche, site of one of the most unique lighthouses that I have ever seen. It actually resembles a house, rather than the tall red and white structures that we are so used to seeing. There is a pay-to-enter walking tour that leads you out on the 25 minute walk to the lighthouse, but we opted to freshen up in the washroom and have a light snack instead.

                                                          The lighthouse at Rose Blanche

                                                           Rose Blanche-Harbor Le Cou

                                         My riding partners discussing the merits of a good nights sleep

Feeling somewhat refreshed, we headed back to Port Aux Basques in order to get on the Trans Canada Highway and make our way towards our next destination, Stephenville.

On the way my low-beam burned out, so the Canadian Tire in Port Aux Basques became an impromptu waypoint.

                                               We also passed this pretty waterfall along the way

 It was in the parking lot, changing my bulb that I realized that one of the design engineers who worked on the Kawasaki KLR must have moved over to Suzuki to work on the design of the new V Strom 1000.

One should not have to remove the entire dash to change a light bulb....

An hour later, job done and Tim Horton's coffee down the hatch, we headed out, riding through Wreckhouse - where it was certainly very windy, but not hurricane force, thank goodness - and Twin Hills and eventually arriving at our destination where we had a bite at McDonalds and discovered that wifi on the island was going to be spotty at best.

We made our way to a local rough-camping spot between the airport and the beach and set ourselves up for the night, tents pitched on tarmac.

Stephenville was at one time a US airbase - now long closed - and has some pretty interesting and unique features.
If you are ever on the island, Stephenville should be on your list of places to stop over, and the Port au Port tour (which we did not do) is apparently well worth the time.

Our first day on the island was one of many new sights, and a myriad of emotions.

It was most definitely good to be home, for the first time.

Up next - Off the Beaten Path...

From Cheticamp to The Rock (Day 6)

 

I got up a little later this morning – around 0700 – and took it slow and easy.

Several riders from the CMC 011 joined us at the motel on Tuesday night – Brian, Joe, Mike and Dave – and we all went to Restaurant Evangeline for breakfast and we then said our goodbyes as they were off in one direction, while we would be off to ride the Cabot Trail and then carry on towards North Sydney to catch the ferry to Port aux Basques.

We eventually had our gear packed, our bikes loaded and said our goodbyes to Greg and Cathy around 11:00 and headed directly for an off road trail that Greg’s handyman, Paul, told us about.

A 2 meter wide double track of crushed rock and pit run, this was just as technical as the Meat Cove Trail that I went up the day before, only this time it was Big Ethel’s turn to take a nap.

I think she was startled by the young cow moose that was startled along the way only moments before.

 

Likely a yearling foaled last year, she was quite panicked by our 3 large bikes, and although we tried to give her lots of room she remained about 100 meters ahead of us all the way back to the highway. Thankfully she did not run onto the road.

Such an amazing creature, she stood close to 5 feet tall at the haunches – imposing, to say the least.

We made our way back onto the road and retraced out track from the day before, riding the Cabot Trail from Cheticamp to Meat Cove for a second time and continuing on to Ingonish where we took a break at a beach and I walked knee-deep into the icy water. It felt great on the ankles, I have to admit.

After our short break we headed back out on the road with North Sydney in our sights.

Some of the scenes along the way:

Harley taking a nap in a gorgeous setting;

A helping hand;

Our fearless leader;

The road, and the scenery, continued to take my breath away. I could not possibly describe the pristine beauty that is the east coast of Canada and hope to convey it to you in any accurate measure,

but as an example:

at one point while descending on a very curvy, very steep stretch of the Cabot Trail we came around a super-tight hairpin, our bikes revving 4500rpm in 3rd gear, engine braking and foot pegs scraping, and then crested a small hill.

Before me was an image of such raw beauty that I found myself thanking God as my eyes filled with tears.

The beauty that was laid out before me simply overwhelmed me and my heart, and my soul just filled with joy, and with love and gratitude.

This little slice of heaven is called Neil’s Harbour, and it is just outside of New Haven.

It will take your breath away.

Neil’s Harbour

After an ice cream stop and a quick rest – and a chat with an adventure couple from Fort McMurray on a pair of BMW’s who were basically doing the same trip as we are – (without the Trans-Labrador Highway portion) – we got back underway to the previously mentioned beach at Ingonish.

We arrived in N. Sydney around 7:00pm – picked up some supplies at Walmart – had a bite to eat at McDonalds - and headed to the ferry.

We boarded as soon as we arrived at 9:30pm and once again ran into the couple from Fort McMurray.

Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easy. The ferry sailed at 11:30pm and we were seated in what amounted to movie theatre seats – great for a 2 hour flick, not so great for a 7 hour sea ferry ride.

2 cups of coffee and a quick bacon-and-egg breakfast got us enough energy to hop astride our steeds and disembark the ferry, but none of us was feeling what you would call fresh…

The view as we pulled into Port aux Basques dock on the ferry

Up next – Coming home for the first time

Riding the Cabot Trail

Our first full day of riding on the Cabot Trail was nothing short of spectacular. I am not really going to be able to do the experience any justice by trying to describe it, so I will let some pictures do that job.

Suffice to say that this is probably the most incredible motorcycle riding – as far as being picturesque, technical, and jaw-dropping that I have ever done.

Don’t get me wrong – I loved the Rockies and Canada’s west coast – I plan on returning there next season – but this is a whole other level of incredible. The vistas, the twisties, the whoops and hills and sweepers – and the people – all combine to make Cape Breton a motorcycle nirvana.

We rode the Cabot Trail clockwise as far as Meat Cove – a must see location for motorcyclists and adventurists alike – and even attempted a really gnarly atv trail that leads all the way up to the top where an old light house used to stand.

Well, one bike went down, and the lighthouse is no longer there, so after riding part way up on Big Ethel simply as a point of ‘it’s there, I gotta’, I turned around and we headed back to the Trail to continue with our day. We ended up turning back towards the Cornerstone Motel as the skies were getting pretty dark and ominous looking, and twisted the throttles a little wider for the return trip to the motel.

Some pics from the day below:

Mike’s bike, Harley, taking a nap on the Meat Cove Trail

The view at Meat Cove

Sunset in Cheticamp

Mike and Jeff on the Cabot Trail

The Cabot Trail

 

Up next…From Cheticamp to the Rock

Hello, are we reaching?…

Have I mentioned that wifi is spotty? That in general, the internet service east of Quebec kinda sucks?

Ya, well…it does.

So I have been keeping a hand written journal. And I am now almost 60 pages in…

So, let’s catch up a little, shall we?

When last we spoke, I had just arrived in Cheticamp at The Cornerstone Motel owned by my friends Greg and Cathy. I will continue from there - adjusting the post dates to reflect when these should have gone up...

Greg and Cathy bought the property in Cheticamp 2 years ago after basically selling everything they owned and leaving Ottawa in a leap of faith to pursue their dream.

The motel, and the home that also sits  on the property, were run down and in disrepair. Both were in need of some love and attention.

And from what I saw over the 2 days while I was there, Tripper ‘n Tomboy are exactly the right couple for the job.

Part of the Canadian Motorcycle Cruisers, or CMC, riding family, Greg (Tripper) and Cathy (Tomboy) had a dream of opening a motorcycle-friendly motel somewhere scenic and where the niche existed to be filled.
They looked throughout Ontario and found nothing that made them feel home, or that did not require a minimum half-million dollar investment.

So they thought outside the box.Or at least, outside of Ontario...

If you want to own and operate a niche-market enterprise like a motorcycle-friendly motel, why not look to motorcycle-traveller hotspots?

The Cabot Trail is as hot a motorcycle-traveller location as you are likely to find in Canada, and the Cornerstone Motel was just sitting there, waiting to be found.

The new owners of this beautiful little piece of Cape Breton Island are bikers. Both share a passion for experiencing the open road on 2 wheels, and they will, therefor, no doubt be successful in their endeavour.

 As a matter of fact, though not yet ready to operate at the full capacity of 17 rooms, the 11 rooms that are ready were all sold out both Thursday and Friday nights.

Greg and Cathy both had a smile, and I am sure they shared a moment in private – the realization of a dream – as they hung the No Vacancy sign.

Well done my friends. You deserve the best, and your hard work is bringing it to you.


I encourage you, my few faithful readers, to please stop in at the Cornerstone Motel in Cheticamp should you ever find yourself there. And if you know anyone who is planning on riding the Cabot Trail, there is no better staging location. The motel sits literally 500 meters from the entrance to the park.


And two of the view just as you enter the park, less than 3 minutes from the motel…

Next up…riding the Cabot Trail…

Nice trail you made there, John Cabot…

Well, we arrived in Cheticamp last evening and my motorcycle tires have rolled over the first few kilometers of the Cabot Trail. I have seen only the beginning, yet I already find myself stunned by the beauty of Cape Breton.

We took an early morning ferry from PEI – the Wood Islands / Caribou crossing to Pictou, Nova Scotia. And as it happens, so did 4 other riding buddies from Ottawa. Brian, Joe, Mike and Dave, all members of the CMC 011, are on an East Coast Adventure of their own and like us are headed to the Cornerstone Motel in Cheticamp. These 4 cruiser-riders opted not to follow us from the ferry for some reason though…which is probably a good thing, since we rode about 40 kilometers of off-road trail to get here

Our first dirt of the adventure – yee hawww!!!

I don’t think that I have mentioned this yet, but there appears to be more off-road – atv  type trail on the east coast than there is asphalt. It’s absolutely a dual-sport dream! Every highway seems to have a twin-track running parallel to it, veering off through the forests and splashing through water crossings – just awesome. If I needed any excuse to come beck east, riding this network of trails would do it.

The Cornerstone is a motel that was purchased and reopened by an amazing couple – also CMC 011 members – 2 years ago.

Greg and Cathy took a real leap of faith and sold everything that they owned and left Ottawa to realize their dream. Now, 2 years later, Greg sounds like he has been born and raised on the east coast and the motel is turning out as they hoped. A wonderful, motorcycle-friendly spot right on the Cabot Trail, I highly recommend that you use this as a staging area should you ever decide on an East Coast Adventure of your own.

Well, I just woke up from yet another great night’s sleep – Big Ethel has been stripped of all her gear and is ready to sashay through some sweet little dance steps – so I think it’s time to turn this up a notch and see just how far my jaw can drop.

Here is one shot to give you a taste, this of last evenings sunset

John Cabot – thanks dude.

Today is the only day that really matters. Here’s hoping that yours is beautiful.

Joe

Playing in the mud, and finding serenity…

We awoke to a gorgeous morning, the sun burning off the haze and the air already warming at 0700.
After a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs we hit the road towards our first destination of the day – Hopewell Rocks at the Bay of Fundy.
Having never been there before, I was eager to see this natural wonder, and I can assure you that I was not disappointed.
We walked down to sea level and spent some time gazing at the rock formations before I went right down to the water and stood in 6” of Fundy mud. I just can’t seem to stay out of the stuff…if I see mud, I gotta get in it, lol.
Being as small a world as it is, it was not overly surprising that we should run into some friends from Ottawa.
It seems that the 75th anniversary Motor Maids Convention is happening in Moncton this week, and a couple of ladies from the CMC 011 were also traipsing through the mud at Hopewell Rocks. As it turns out, there were probably in the neighbourhood of 50 Meter Maids there, which was actually really cool to see.
We eventually left Hopewell and headed towards Port Elgin where we got on a little 2 lane following the shoreline, shortly arriving at the base of the Confederation Bridge where we turned on our action cams and filmed the crossing.
It is a really long, and fairly high bridge, and it is interesting to cross, but as I said to the guys it would be more interesting if it had a steel-grid deck, lol.
Arriving on PEI, Michael had a plan in mind and opted to take the lead. A short, but beautiful ride later saw us in the small seaside village of North Rustico, and Michael led us to his destination – some seaside rental cabins complete with 3 beds, a deck and a BBQ.
It took all of 3 minutes for us to decide to head into town in search of a grocery store, and in very short order the grill was sizzling and smoking with the wonderful smells of barbequed steak.
We all ate well, and now, at 2100, find ourselves in our own, individual places of contentment and serenity.
I can tell you, finding yourself in a seaside fishing / tourist town on Prince Edward Island means serenity is at your doorstep. I am very, very happy at this moment…
Some pics from today:
Hopewell Rocks

Playing in the mud…

North Rustico

Tomorrow we head to Cape Breton Island along the coastal route of Nova Scotia.
Ok, my belly is full,…it’s time for a walk.
Hope you are enjoying the journey so far…

Joe