Showing posts with label CMC 011. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CMC 011. Show all posts

Thursday, July 9, 2015

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:

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

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The view at Meat Cove

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Sunset in Cheticamp

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Mike and Jeff on the Cabot Trail

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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.
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And two of the view just as you enter the park, less than 3 minutes from the motel…
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Next up…riding the Cabot Trail…
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Monday, July 6, 2015

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
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Playing in the mud…
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North Rustico
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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

Saturday, June 7, 2014

It’s kind of like ‘Misery’, without the sledgehammer……

 

Those are the words that my sister wrote on the cast on my right leg.

Yes. I have been hobbled. And thankfully, that is just my sister’s sense of humour. Because she has been an absolute godsend through this ordeal.

I have to tell you that I have a new found respect and appreciation for anyone suffering a physical disability. Going from fully-abled to having lost the use of my legs – even if only temporary – is a jarring new reality.

The fact that I am able to make the best of it is less a testament to my nature and positive outlook, and more a reliance on the idea that this is in fact, only temporary.

I am not sure where my emotional and mental barometer would be had I lost both of my feet. But I am fairly certain that it would not have me eagerly tapping away on my laptop to furnish you with another post in my blog, feeding my ego and satisfying my urge to write in one fell swoop.

So. Let me try to incorporate a lesson into this, my own one-sided mental discourse with you, my readers.

The lesson that I am going to try to illuminate is one that I feel cannot be taught, spoken of or illustrated enough.

It is the importance, nay, the critical nature, of wearing all of the proper motorcycle gear all of the time.

I was missing one piece of gear when I had my accident. I was not wearing fully armoured leather riding pants. Not even leather chaps. In fact, I was wearing denim jeans. So, lets take a look at what I was, and was not wearing and examine the effects of my choices that morning.

On top of my noggin – brain pan – skull was my Bell Pit Boss helmet. A light-weight helmet designed and manufactured by an industry leading company, it cost about $150.00. .

Certainly not what you might refer to as expensive. And yes, I made the conscious choice to wear a 1/2 lid. DOT approved, this helmet did its job completely. My gray matter remained inside of my skull. In fact, I did not even suffer any bruising, let alone a concussion

On this occasion, circumstance allowed me to save face. Literally.

I will not test the fates in that fashion again, and going forward you will see me in a full face helmet only.

On my torso I was wearing my Scorpion Stinger EXO fully armoured leather motorcycle jacket. Weighing almost 12 kilos, it is anything but lightweight. There is armour in all of the critical locations, including a semi-rigid back plate.

I landed on the asphalt on my upper back / shoulders after colliding broadside with a car at 70 km/h.

My Bell helmet and my Scorpion jacket took all of the impact with the asphalt.

And as I lay here writing this, I want you to know this: the very first thought to go through my head immediately after my body came to rest on the asphalt was – ‘wow, that could have been a lot worse’.

I suffered no bruising to my back or shoulders whatsoever. No concussion. No tenderness to my skull or scalp.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Almost as though I had not been in an accident at all.

As already mentioned, on my legs I was wearing a pair of Jeans. Solid, heavy-weight Levis, but jeans nonetheless.

The left leg of my pants was sliced from knee to shin (as was my left leg) by the top, trailing edge of my windshield.

That is why, dear reader, I will be wearing chaps of fully armoured leather riding pants in the future.

On my feet I was wearing my 3 year old pair of Exustar model E-SBT 120W motorcycle boots. They come about 1/2 way up to my knee, are rigid and very snug. They feel a lot like a downhill ski boot when they are on, which is the way they are designed.

They keep everything in place. So although I suffered multiple fractures in my ankles, there were no green-stick breaks; no torsion breaks; no ligament damage; so ‘shattered’ bones. Just a few clean, aligned fractures that were the result of my ankles hitting my handle-bars at 70 km/h.

Had I been wearing street shoes, or even ankle-high riding boots, I could very well have lost both feet.

I imagine shifting without a left foot is challenging. As challenging as using the back brake pedal without a right foot.

I will wear these boots again. And my next pair of riding boots will be of a similar height, weight and design. No question.

Finally, on my hands I was wearing my fully armoured leather Z1-R Reaper motorcycle gloves. They are far from expensive at only $28.00 / pair, and I admit that after about 18,000 kilometers of riding the stitching was starting to let go on the tip of the thumbs – but they have solid armour on all knuckles and pretty heavy padding on the palms. And in the case of my accident, my hands suffered not even a scratch.

 

I have been guilty, in the past, of riding a short distance in my Nike’s. And only a T-shirt on my torso.

I have taken my jacket off in 30 + degree temperatures and stowed it in my saddle bags while riding through the Laurentians, or down Tatlock road.

I will not do so again.

And I urge you…no, I implore you – please, do not sacrifice safety for comfort. Or worse, for the ‘cool’ factor.

On hot days, if fully armoured leather is just too much for you, then spend a little extra money on a high-quality (and Hi-Viz) convertible, armoured nylon riding jacket.

Joe Rocket, Tour Master, Spartan, Icon, AGV, and Scorpion are just a few of the companies that make a superior product that will help to keep your skin where it belongs – on your body.

The decision to wear tight-fitting, armoured, below-the-knee riding boots is as easy as deciding if you enjoy walking.

We are a class of people who have discovered that we are truly at peace, and truly happy, while pursuing one of the most inherently dangerous forms of self-expression out there. We ride motorcycles. It is in our genes. It is in our blood. It is in our souls.

In this area, we have a single obligation to ourselves, and to our loved ones. To pursue that passion as safely as we can.

Get out there and ride!

Peace.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

And just like that, the season is over…


The 2014 motorcycle season got off to a pretty slow start in the Ottawa area. As a matter of fact the first real adventure of the season had been thought out, planned, arranged and organized long before the weather allowed for it to happen. The May long weekend found 5 of us from the Ottawa chapter of the CMC riding to Sudbury to meet up with a couple of members from the London chapter as well as a big chunk of the Sudbury chapter for a ride to and through Manitoulin Island.
The weather on the Friday morning of our departure was cold and rainy, but the conditions improved as the weekend wore on, and before all was said and done we had put 2,100 kilometers behind us and had enjoyed some truly incredible riding.
Manitoulin Island is a riding destination all unto itself, but if you are going to go, leave a little time in your schedule. Because you are going to want to ride highway 6 from Espanola to Little Current more than once. And if you are coming from the east and really want to get as much amazing-riding-bang-for-your-buck as possible then leave time for a little detour on your way home. The Temiskaming Loop is a top-rated motorcycle adventure tour and the scenery is absolutely breathtaking. Though it is approximately a 450 kilometer detour, it is worth every minute of the ride.

Manitoulin Adventure pics here

Alex and I also made another little detour that is now ranked right near the top of my ‘must-ride’ list. Instead of riding straight home from North Bay on Monday morning, we opted to go to Ottawa via Huntsville. Yes, another little detour. I had never been through the Muskoka region before and I now have a much better understanding as to what all the hoopla about this ‘cottage-country’ is all about. Wow. Highway 141 is just gorgeous and it leads you to a little gem of a road – probably the most technical I have ridden in Ontario – known as Peninsula Road, or highway 632. Alex and I rode her length 4 times and I cannot wait to ride her again.
Ride her again. I guess that brings us to the meat and gist of this post. And the reason for such a slamming-of-the-door-title.
You see, I am tapping out this post on the keyboard of my laptop from a retirement residence. While lying in a hospital bed. With 2 broken ankles.
Let me set the stage.
Sunday, May 25, 2014. 26 degrees Celsius and crystal clear with a warm breeze blowing. I put on all of my gear and hit the road at about noon, figuring I would ride to Lancaster to see my buddy Derek and maybe get a ride in his awesome ‘71 Z28, and then head up highway 2 towards Cornwall to see my older brother.
I left my place and immediately decided that it was a zero-slab day, meaning I was not going to ride any 400 series highways at all. The weather was just too nice – the day too perfect – to waste it on a 4 lane expressway.
So, I decided to follow the Vanier Parkway until it became River road and continue along that way until I hit highway 43. Then I would turn left, heading east and ride all the way to Apple Hill where I would grab county road 20 to county road 18 and ride to St. Raphaels, On, eventually turning right on highway 34 and heading south into the town of Lancaster. The town that I grew up in.
Well, needless to say, I never made it that far.
Having just cruised through Manotick – or alongside it would be more accurate I guess, since I was on River Road south – I remember looking at my watch and thinking that I would be in Lancaster between 3:00 and 3:30pm. It was 1:33 and I was just passing Kelly’s Landing.
The ride was beautiful and my soul was singing. I am truly never happier than I am when I am out on my machine, living my life on two wheels.
My grin faded and rapidly twisted into shock and then momentary terror, followed by resignation and acceptance when the car that had been stopped in the oncoming north-bound lane, without hesitation turned left immediately in front of me. Directly across my lane and into my path of travel.
I was traveling at approximately 70 km/h when she turned no more that 25 feet in front of me.
In the instant that I was allowed, every nuance from every motorcycle accident preparedness video that I have watched came into action. I did not think. I actually do not believe that I even reacted. I merely acted, and did the only thing that I had been taught that I can do. I held my course. Kept the bike upright. Shifted my seating angle to a positive upright position and grabbed as much front brake as I could.
The front end dove under braking. The back end got really light. And I just went for the ride.
It was over almost – but not quite – before I knew what was happening.
I was ejected from the saddle. Up and forward, over the handle bars. The inertia of my body mass traveling at 70 km/h arguing with the impact of 500-plus pounds of motorcycle coming to an abrupt halt after colliding with 2530 pounds of compact car.
My ankles lost the argument. As my body was thrown up and forward, my ankles smacked the handlebars of my motorcycle. Throwing me into a forward summersault which had the desirable effect of causing me to land on my upper back, shoulders – and helmet.
I say desirable because I al pretty sure that had I continued in my up-and-forward 70 km/h trajectory I very likely would not be typing this right now. Shattered wrists. Broken knees. Exploded elbows. And a face-full of asphalt would have been the likely end results.
Instead, I have 2 broken ankles. And while certainly anything but fun, and not without a degree of pain unlike any I have experienced before, I consider myself a very, very lucky man.
It could have been so very much worse.
I am recuperating. A day at a time. And have much more to say and to tell you. But at the moment I am tired. And with nothing but time on my hands for the foreseeable future, I do not think I am being remiss by ending this one here for tonight.
Some pictures from an album aptly titled “The Accident” are here

Friday, August 30, 2013

The last long-weekend ride of the season

The labor day weekend is upon us, and for those of us who eat, breath and sleep either riding or thinking about riding motorcycles, that means planning that one last, long adventure of the riding season.
Having decided to take Friday off as well, I was able to think a little bigger than some about just where this ride - this adventure - might take me. Mentioning the idea of planning an adventure at the Monday night meet and greet brought forth an added bonus - the piqued interest of another member.
brian2tall and I had ridden together several times in the past and have a similar personality, so the idea of making this a shared adventure all of a sudden became quite appealing. Brian and I came to no decision as to where we were going - not even whether we were heading east towards the townships or west towards Turkey Point - but that was secondary. We were going on a ride. A long ride. That was all that mattered at that point.
Two hours after leaving the meet and greet, after spending about an hour researching great motorcycle routes, I knew where we were going. And a few minutes later, so did Brian, as well as everyone else in my Facebook universe.
I had stumbled across a blog written 4 years earlier by a writer for a motorcycle magazine. In that blog the author vividly and enthusiastically described an adventure that he had been a part of, on a 750 ACE, no less. This adventure took him on a long run through Algoma county, and in recounting his adventure the author made mention of Ontario highway 129, which he referred to as "Ontario's Tail of the Dragon"
And that was all it took.
Those of you who ride are likely already aware of the legendary Tail of the Dragon at Deal's Gap. For those of you who do not ride, check out any of the hundreds of YouTube videos. Then you will understand why I had to come out to Thessalon, Ontario to ride the 129.
And if you have google-mapped Thessalon, those of you who do not ride are by now convinced that I am completely crazy.
You see, highway 129 is a full 700+ kilometers from Ottawa. 1400 kilometers, there and back. To check out a highway I had never heard of before based on a reference made by another rider. Whom I had never heard of before.
Brian was in. And as simple as that, the adventure began to take shape.
I have to give credit to Brian. He wanted to go for a good long ride. And it had to be one that could be completed in 4 days. Other than that, the details were up to me. So, figuring that Wawa is in the same vicinity (kind of), I decided that we would stretch this ride out to over 2000 kilometers. Ottawa to Thessalon to the 129 to Chapleau, to Wawa, to Sault Saint Marie, to Thessalon and back home. In 4 days.

We left Ottawa at approximately 0900. Fully aware that we were riding head-on into a huge storm system that was forecasted to dump over 50mm of rain in Wawa, carrying torrential rains all the way from Manitoba to North Bay.
"I get wet every time I shower" I had quipped to our 1st officer at Mondays meet and greet when he pointed out the extended forecast. 5 hours of riding in some really heavy rain later, I was eating my words and praying for sunshine.
My prayers were answered just before Blind River, and Brian and I stopped to strip off our rain gear, allowing the sun to warm the chill from our bones and the wet from our clothes. We spent the last hour of our riding day relishing the warmth, a renewed step in our dance, and finally entered Thessalon around 7:30pm. I snapped a few pics of a glorious sunset (sorry, I won't be able to post pics until I get home - I am blogging from my phone) and then enquired as to a recommendation on lodgings from a couple who were walking hand in hand enjoying the beauty of a late-summers eve. They directed Brian and I to carry on another 20 kilometers to Bruce Mines, Ontario. To the Bavarian Inn. And it is from a soft, comfortable, dry bed that I tip-tap-type this post. And it also from here that I now bid you...
Good night. It was a long day. It was a wet day. It was a day spent riding a motorcycle. Which means it was a great day. Tomorrow, we ride the 129.
Thanks for riding along friends,


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Riding, rally, and time travel…

 

Friday morning was so much nicer than Thursday morning. I was up early enough to watch a glorious sunrise over Lake Erie, enjoyed a breakfast of French-toast and coffee at the Sunset restaurant, and leisurely made my way further west along the waterfront trail. The ride from Turkey Point to Long Point is beautiful. A quiet little two-lane full of twisties and small dips and rises, it is a few minutes of pure riding pleasure.

All along the lakeshore, the scenery is beautiful, and one could easily spend a day exploring some of the small towns along the way. Port Rowan, Clear Creek, Port Burwell, Port Royal, Port Stanley, on and on traveling through some of the most scenic and picturesque little towns you are likely to see anywhere.

The locals told me that the ride from Turkey Point to Sarnia is roughly 2 1/2 hours. Being very good at finding the longest distance between two points, it took me closer to six. And I loved each and every minute of the ride.

I finally pulled onto the 402 from Port Stanley and headed toward Sarnia, thinking that if I did not hit the big highway I would surely end up traveling the more scenic waterfront trail until sometime in November, and well, I had to be at work on Tuesday, so...

I headed up the 402 and pulled off when I saw the sign for Grand Bend. A few people had mentioned that this was one spot that I had to stop, the scenery being quite exceptional in the form of bikini wearing sun worshippers. So I decided to make the detour,....

A few minutes of riding up highway 21 brought me up behind another pack-laden rider. Naturally assuming that he too was headed for the CMC Rally, I fell into an easy-paced staggered position to his right and carried on.

When we passed the sign indicating that the town of Forest was a mere 24 kilometers away I realized that my being distracted by thoughts of sun-bronzed beach babes had actually caused me to get off the 402 precisely where I needed too. See, the rally that I am attending, while hosted by the 016 Sarnia chapter, is actually being held in Forest.

And then, synchronicity being what it is and all, I pulled up alongside my fellow traveller at a stoplight and was greeted by the broadly smiling face of ‘Pusher’ – a fellow member of the Ottawa 016 chapter – with whom I had just had dinner at a meet and greet 2 weeks prior.

We cruised into the sleepy little borough of Forest and found our way to the fairgrounds, where perhaps 40 or 50 members were already lounging around fully equipped travel trailers, motor homes, RV’s and a few tents. We registered, shared some traveling stories with new friends, and then took to taking care of our own lodgings for the night. Pusher headed off to Sarnia, and I went to a local pharmacy to introduce myself to Debbie.

See, the CMC is a family oriented riding group of approximately 5,000 members across our great country. And family is always there to help...

In this particular instance, a couple of members from the host-chapter, the 016 Sarnia, opted to open their home to anyone who needed a placed to rest travel-weary bones. And I, being no fool, opted to accept their gracious offer.

Debbie and Ewen were spectacular hosts, offering a warm bed for the night and a hot shower in the morning as well as entirely enjoyable camaraderie and conversation. Ewen rides a beautiful Triumph Bonneville, and we managed to get out for a short scoot together, if only from his house to the fairgrounds where the rally was held. I truly hope to be able to return the hospitality one day!

I went back to the rally for breakfast Saturday morning – mingled with a bunch of my fellow Ottawa 011 members and several new friends from other chapters – and then....yes, it was time to go. I had remained virtually stationary for long enough – and Manitoulin Island was only a few short hours away.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind tour through the Georgian Bay – Manitoulin Island area, and I cannot stress this enough: if you have not yet had the opportunity to ride Manitoulin Island and to sail the Chi Cheemaun ferry, find the time to do so. The ferry acts as a sort of time-travel machine, taking you back some 20 years, and allowing a glimpse of what life was like at a slower, less digitally-enhanced pace. Manitoulin Island is the living definition of ‘laid-back’, and visiting her by travelling her arteries on a motorcycle was an experience I shall fondly remember, and repeat as needed.

I spent Saturday night camping in my Hennessey Hammock at a small but extremely well appointed camp ground that is less than a 1000 metres from the ferry landing, staring up at the most brilliant carpet of stars I can remember seeing since I was on the Mediterranean Sea, oh so many years ago. A hot shower at the campground, and a delicious breakfast at a small diner directly across the street set me off on a great start to an amazing day of riding. I covered the island, seeing all of the recommended bays, inlets and overlooks, and then headed north towards Espanola at about 2:30 in the afternoon.

100_2248Hennessey hammock camping

The ride home was a sort of ‘remember when’ all of its own, as I had made the same run last year on my way back home from the Rockies. Espanola – Sudbury – North Bay – Deep River – Pembroke – Arnprior – Ottawa, all in a little less than 7 ½ hours.

Some pics from the rally can be found here.

And pics from the journey are found here.

My apologies for taking a week to get this post up – I was riding when I could have been writing...

As always – thank you for riding along...