And The Cat Came Back, . . .

Well, that didn't take long.

Exactly 7 days was all my sister could manage.

It seems Aya did not take well to her  new owner, or at least not as well as we had hoped that she would, and so Aya is comfortably and happily back home with me.

My sister will look after Aya for the 6 or 7 weeks that I am away, and I am quite certain that will be chock full of interesting tales, but I am also pretty happy with that.

It was only a week, but I missed the little bug.

Come next March-April I am going to have to revisit the whole new-home-for-Aya thing if I follow through with my travel plans, but until then we are both much happier with Aya being right here at home with me.
I know it's not completely uncommon, but the silly little critter loves playing fetch with me, constantly bringing me something to throw - when she's in the mood, of course.

So, life here at casa-Enberg is back as it should be, and all is once again right in my world.

Let me mention Friday - my retire-from-work day.

It started at St. Pius X High School where I was once again invited to speak to a class of grade 11 Law students. The announced reason for my being a guest speaker has always been the same over the past 8 years: "Joe is going to share with you his experiences with the legal system."

I have never failed to be unexpected. To give the kids more.

This time though, it was off the charts. I don't know if I went in with a different mind-set due to it being an already significant day in my life, or if it was simply the way it was supposed to be, but the engagement with those kids was so close, so life-to-life that it left me a little awestruck. And very, very grateful.

I spent most of my allotted speaking time encouraging this class of bright young future leaders to find someone to talk to.

About the dark places in their lives.
About the stuff they are not talking to anyone about.

And I used my past as the backdrop.
Alcoholism. Drug addiction. Criminal activity. Jails. Homelessness.

Heavy prices to pay for keeping the dark stuff a secret.
For being scared to name the monster - whatever it may look like.

I wish that I could somehow impart to you as you  read this the feelings that I experienced as I saw that glimmer in her eye, or that pique of interest in his face as we engaged in a back and forth of question and answer.

I think I have found something that I am every bit as passionate about as I am about adventure motorcycle riding.

Sharing my story with our youth.

It was such an incredible way to start my last day of work, and I thank God for the continued opportunities.

I left St. Pius X at noon, feeling full and empty at the same time. Both invigorated and exhausted.

I drove to Shepherds, parked my car and knew as I was walking through the parking lot that it was going to be a short and emotional visit.

I spent the next hour making the rounds and saying so-long to the myriad people who have touched and impacted my life in that environment of mixed feelings and conflicting personas.

I will remember my days spent at the Shepherds of Good Hope for the rest of my life. Most of them, quite fondly.

I don't think you can ask for more than that.


Now, a final piece of housekeeping. I am going to be traveling a lot this summer and with my travels come all of the expected - and many unexpected experiences. Which, of course, I will be writing and blogging about.

The problem is, I am currently trying to keep two blogs current! And as you have noted over the years - I suck at it.

So - if I may ask - please make a note of my other blog on the ADVJOE website:

http://advjoe.ca/blog/

I will be keeping that one up-to-date on a regular basis as I travel, and I will be treating it as my blog, not just advjoe's blog. The type of stuff that I write here, I will be writing there. So if you are, for some unknown reason still following me here (and I really hope that you are, my faithful few), well, now you have somewhere else to follow me.

This is starting to sound like a Genesis song. . .(or the best Cineplex ad they have ever come up with - remember the one with the young girl, the snow man and the freezer?)

Ok. It is now the first Wednesday - I can no longer call it hump day - of the season of my contentment. I think that means I have to shower today,. . .or shave, . . or something . . .

Later folks,

There was Darkness. . .

Something happened in the fall of 2015 that I never considered possible.

Something so completely out of my left field that had you told me in August that it was coming, I would have laughed out loud.

It is pretty apparent, I believe, that I am a generally happy guy.

Gregarious, some may say.

And why not? I have a lot to be happy about - and grateful for, after all.

Early one morning in late September of 2015, I noticed it was gone.

The happy, easy-to-get-along-with Joe was nowhere to be found.

I was spending way more time than usual 'taking naps'

My bikes sat in the garage through the entirety of the week, and sometimes all weekend long as well.

The things in my life that used to bring me joy, weren't.

Whaddafuk?

It all came to a glaring point for me at 0635 one morning as I was pulling into the parking lot at work and verbally snapped at a client who was not following my direction.

Like I am some kind of authority or some shit.

15 minutes later I was in the HR office asking for the contact information for our EAP, or Employee Assistance Program.

By the end of the day I had an appointment set up.

By the end of the next day I had been diagnosed as suffering from depression.

I'm sorry, what?

Me? Depression? Not friggen' likely. No way. Uhn uh.

That mysterious ailment afflicts other people. People less happy than I am. But not me.

No way it had hit me.

Boy, had it ever hit me.

And everything that I had ever heard about depression proved true: you do not see it coming, you do not acknowledge that it is here and you do not have the energy to do a fucking thing about it on your own.

At least, those were all true for me.

Thank God that I just followed my gut and contacted EAP that morning.

I ended up having to take some time off work, and I attended therapy regularly and followed all of the suggestions given me by my therapist.

And not too much later I was able to return to work.

What a strange, heavy dark cloud it was that had settled over me for a time.

It seems that I had some unresolved issues surrounding grief.

Feelings that I neglected to talk about or share with the people that I love and trust.

Feelings that I had just tried to stuff, or ignore.

Man, you would think that a guy with my past, with my fairly deep understanding of the benefits of talking about what is going in in my life would have done just that.

It is the centre-point of recovery for gods sake!

But I hadn't. Or at least, not enough.

So the message for me - and maybe for you as well - is that I really do need to talk about the things that are going on in my life. Not just the good stuff, or the exciting stuff.

But the shitty stuff too.

The things that pain my heart deserve to be spoken, and I deserve to heal.

I am one of the truly lucky ones. I mean that. I am really, really fortunate.

My dark cloud lifted, and it did so very quickly. If I had to guess, I would say that I truly suffered for no more than 8 weeks.

I came away from the experience with a deeper understanding of depression, and a much greater understanding of how debilitating it is.

I also came away from the experience reminded of something: it is vital, for my well being, that I try to remain grateful every day of my life. And when I feel like things are going shitty, if I simply remember how grateful I am that I did not have to use today, the shittyness seems less significant.

If you, or someone you love suffers from depression please reach out and speak to someone. As the saying goes, the life you save just may be your own.

Peace,

From There to Here

As I mentioned in the previous post, 2016 brought with it a really good riding season for me.

I explored a lot of familiar territory in Frontenac, Lanark and Renfrew counties and I also explored some new areas in western Quebec.

I even took it a step further and explored the most remote regions of an entirely different country.

On an entirely different continent.

I suffered the usual mishaps: lots of low-to-no speed ‘offs’ (this is what we like to call it when we drop our bikes while moving at less than 10 kilometers an hour.)

The most impressive of those was an evening ice-cream stop in the Byward Market with Ryan. We decided to hooligan-park up on the sidewalk beside the Beavertail shack and I promptly dropped Betty to the sidewalk while hopping the curb. My pride wasn’t too sorely injured though – there were only about a hundred onlookers, hahahaha...

Of course the most dramatic of my mishaps occurred on the above-referenced out-of-country adventure.

Myself and 5 other riders met in Quito, Ecuador to take part in one of the incredible adventure-riding packages offered by Ecuador Freedombike rentals.

On day 3 of a 6 day ride I sent my DR650 into a low-side slide at approximately 50 or 60 km/h, which ended in a spectacular high-side and me flying through the Ecuadorian rain forest like a howler monkey.

The bike took a bit of damage. I took a bit of damage. The adventure continued.

You can read all about that trip, and see some pretty great photos here if you wish.

I took part in the Fundy Adventure Rally for the second year in a row. (and broke my 3^rd rib of the season)

I went to the Horizons Unlimited Ontario event and was given the opportunity to present on my Trans-Lab adventure of the year before.

I traveled to the most remote regions of northern and eastern Quebec, completing one of the most iconic motorcycle adventure rides on the North American continent – the Trans Taiga.

I dipped Big Ethel into the frigid waters of James Bay.

I mean, it was a really great season.

I intend to highlight some of last season’s adventures over the next few posts, but I also want to highlight some of the other bits of life that have happened since August of 2015.

After all, it isn’t all rainbows and puppy dogs. Or motorcycles and good times.

For now, know that I am happy here, behind the keys, sharing some of my life with you. I am learning more and more that it is not what we have, but what we give away – or share – that matters most.

You have the luxury of deciding to stop reading whenever the thought occurs.

I have the luxury of having lived, and enjoying the catharsis of writing.

I have had a wonderful day today, and my hope is that you have as well.

Peace.

Here I go again on my own . . .

Man, time sure does fly. . .

It has been a really long time since I last posted to this blog.

Not because I have had nothing to say. In truth I have said quite a lot.

But I was saying it here, on my other blog. A blog that my friend James and I started in late 2015 as an experiment, or maybe a project is a better term for it.

James was looking to expand his skill set at the time, and website design was something that he thought might be fun.

When asked if I would like to have a website created and maintained, basically for free – his guinea pig, if you will – I readily accepted.  I mean, let’s be honest, even if it didn’t work, I’d lose nothing, and stood to gain, well, a really nice website.

And a really nice website is exactly what James created.

A place to host a new blog, write product and equipment reviews, host a photo and video gallery and so much more.

We had about 10 followers that first week – some of you among them.

By the time we go around to posting the blog and video’s of my Ecuador Adventure, we were up to over a thousand.

James created a truly great site for the adventure-interested motorcycle rider, and also for the aficionado of the Dakar rally.

His in depth background, and personable coverage of the 2016 Dakar is, I dare say, amongst the best to be found on the entirety if the world-wide web.

And then, we went quiet.

The 2016 riding season unveiled itself from beneath the receding snow of a winter that came in softly and gently, and became truly brutal in its longevity.

By late April I was itching to ride, and riding is exactly what I did. 

Some 30,000 kilometers rolled beneath my tires before Mother Nature once again forced my hand, and demanded that my bikes be stored yet again while she threw us into another long, cold season of discontent.

It was another great season of riding for me, and it was a great summer for adventure of a different kind for James.

You see he likes Zodiacs in much the same way as I like bikes.

Which is to say that during the warm-weather months James lives on the water.

And so it was that we let the ADVJOE website gather dust. We were both just having way too much fun pursuing our passions to stop and hunker down over the keyboard.

And now, here I am. Back where I started, and in some ways, back where I belong.

You see, I thought, for a while at least, that it would be really cool to have a world class adventure motorcycling website – and in truth it was.

But it takes a lot of work. I mean, it really, really takes a lot of work. And you kinda need to know something about building, designing, promoting, supporting and maintaining a website.

Of which I know very, very little.

So the ADVJOE website will continue to gather a little dust. Not entirely ignored, mind you. I just have to decide what to do with it. I may pare it way down, and simply use it as my motorcycle adventure-related blog site. I just don’t know yet.

I do not have the skills to maintain the website as it is, with all of it's various plug-ins and radio buttons and grapple grommets and filbert flanges.

But I do know how to write. I can put together a fairly interesting blog post, add some interesting pictures, and in doing so satisfy my need to share some facet of my life and my adventure with the world on a very small scale.

And just maybe, satisfy the craving of the odd reader or two for inspiration. Wanderlust. Adventure. Introspection.

A hell of a lot has happened since I last tapped these keys.

Over the coming weeks, and months I intend to share a lot of those happenings with you.

It feels good to be back.

Joe

Happy Birthday Mom...

There was a lot going on for me today. A myriad of thoughts, and emotions running through my brain and my heart.  

Today is my mom’s birthday. And I really miss her. She headed off on the next stage of her adventure – whatever that may be - a little less than a year ago.

And I have found myself missing her every day since. 

 

See, I am not entirely clear, even in my own thoughts, about what I believe happens after we leave this earthly existence. I just know that I do not believe it’s over.

And with that belief, I am able to feel mom close to me whenever I need her. And that suits me just fine.

So happy birthday mom. Whatever you did today, I hope that you enjoyed it.

But truth be told, my mom was not the only woman on my mind today.

No, this morning and early afternoon was reserved entirely for the new lady in my life, named Suzi (yes, as a tribute to my dear friend, Susie)

I picked her up from the dealership where I get all of my maintenance and repair work done – Motor Sports World – yesterday evening. The mechanics had completed her safety check, installed new rubber, chain and sprockets, and given her a clean bill of health.

And today was the day where we got to know each other a little better.

I spent a few minutes bolting on her Ontario licence plate, as well as an aluminum skid-plate, at 0730 this morning, and by 0815 we were gallivanting down River Road towards the Tim Horton’s in Manotick where I was to meet up with my buddy Jason.

We were going to go out and spend the day in the Limerick Forest, a favorite riding area of mine.

You may recall reading that Big Ethel and I have spent quite a lot of time riding in the Limerick – there are even a couple of videos out there in YouTube land I believe, but in truth they are pretty boring.

Today, however, was anything but.

Now, understand that Jason is a friend of mine. We have ridden together on a several occasions and I have always enjoyed it. Jason is a good rider, but he is not a dangerous rider, so I felt very secure in having him lead the way while my new mount, Suzi and I, followed his track.

Ya, my opinion of Jason began to change rather quickly. I guess he decided that trial-by-fire was the only way to go, because less than 100 meters after entering the Limerick forest on a two-track, atv-type trail Jason had veered off into the woods on a single track rut through trees barely wide enough to allow my handle bars to clear.

Muttering under my breath while doing my best not to lag too far behind, I finally decided to just relax and let Suzi do her thing. She is, after all, a much more nimble – and svelte – machine than Big Ethel is. Almost 200lbs lighter, with an off-road setup and almost 11 inches of ground clearance, Suzi is able to do a whole lot of things that Ethel just can’t. But then, that is why I got her, after all.

I began to get comfortable with the terrain – and Suzi – quite quickly, and before we had completed a second circuit through the bush loop I was able to keep up with Jason quite well. I stopped calling him very rude names under my breath, and began really paying attention to his line and riding style, deciding that the old axiom rings true.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

Well, approximately 4 hours later, I was done. Wiped. Spent. Exhausted. Wore-the-fuck-out.

I had discovered on a couple of different occasions just how much easier Suzi is to pick up than Big Ethel, and found myself very happy with her mannerisms and capabilities – though let’s be honest, it is my capabilities that need work – I cannot even approach all of the things that Suzi is very capable of doing.

Yet.

Today’s ride was an amazing introduction into the world of true dual-sport riding for me. And I have to say, I absolutely loved it.

I am going to practice as much as I can over the next few weeks, and then Suzi and I are off to the Fundy Adventure Rally where I will attempt to really stretch her legs, and see what she’s got.

Big Ethel, I mean no disrespect. You are still my #1 dance partner – Suzi will never compare to your moves in the twisties.

And mom, I miss you daily, and love you with all of my heart.

Happy Birthday.

             

There have been some changes...

I must apologize for neglecting this blog, and my faithful readers.

I have been focused on a new project - one more centered on the main passions in my life - adventure motorcycle riding and travel.

My friend James decided, about a month ago, to learn a new skill-set. He decided that he wanted to become well versed in the art of website design and development, and subsequently asked if he could use me, and my adventures, as his first project.

Well, I can tell you that the results are nothing short of amazing.

James has created a website for me, http://advjoe.ca/ that is so much more than just a place for me to host my blog.

With James' know-how (and very quickly broadening skill-set) and my passion for writing, this new website is growing into a wonderful new project write before my eyes. (did you catch that-  pretty smooth, huh?)

There are product reviews, posts about my adventures, photos, links to adventure-motorcycle related media and events, and much, much more is yet to come.

But where does that leave my first born, this blog that allowed me - no, invited me, to delve into the arena of writing for readership?

Not to worry. What I've Learned Along The Way will continue to be the place where I post from my heart.

My more personal, close-to-home-and-heart writings about my life, my love's and my continued rambunctious journey through this wonderful second-chance-at-life will be hosted right here, right where they belong.


I will get back to writing more about addiction, and the recovery there-from, and the beauty that resides in an awakening.

My motorcycle-related writings, however, will live in a larger, more welcoming new home that has been designed and built around them, and for them.

I hope that you find something of interest in both places, and will do my best to give you just that.

So thank you, for your continued patience. I invite you now to come along, join me in this adventure that is life. . .

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...

I'm getting a little excited...

The Epic East Coast and Trans-Lab Adventure is now less than 2 weeks away.

To say that I am getting excited is an understatement.

I have outfitted Big Ethel, my 2014 V Strom 1000, with some new gear – including the Shad ZuluPack waterproof soft-luggage and a Rotopax 1 gallon fuel can – and she is ready to go.

I will be writing an in-depth review of the Shad luggage as the 8,000 kilometer adventure progresses, and I just put it to use on a much smaller adventure this past weekend.

I attended the Horizons Unlimited Ontario 2015 Overland Travellers Meeting just outside of Orillia on Friday and Saturday. There were dozens of like-minded adventure riders in attendance, and we were able to sit and listen to – and learn from – some amazing individuals who have blazed new trails and shared their experiences with us. 

Chantal Cornoyer and Patrick Trahan are two incredible adventure seekers from Quebec who have been living their dreams to the fullest – and inspiring people like me – for years.

Suffice to say that this past weekend has watered some of the seeds that were planted in my brain when I began to research adventure travel on a motorcycle. Europe, Africa and South America will roll out beneath my tires one day...

But first – it will be Quebec, the Gaspe region, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, the Cabot Trail, Newfoundland, Gros Morne, L’Anse aux Meadow, Labrador, Happy Valley-Goose Bay, and so many places along the way....

I will do my very best to portray all that I see and experience – of that you can be sure.

I do hope that you come along for the ride...

Joe

Dressing Big Ethel...

Well, I have made a few more alterations to Big Ethel in preparation for the upcoming trip.

The Pelican top-case is proving to be very functional – I think I may like it even more than I do the SW Motech Trax top case – but I still switch back and forth. I find the Trax case better for long distance asphalt and light gravel duty, and the Pelican better for the rougher, more off-road and trail riding stuff. 

The main reason is because the Trax box is so much larger, I tend to load more in it, which adds up to more weight and that translates to a greater risk of breaking a bolt or mount while hitting the trail hard. This has happened once already during a spirited ride down the K&P Trail, so I am cautious of which case I mount to the bike before I head out.

I am still unsure as to which I will use on the Epic East Coast and Trans Lab Highway Adventure...time , and advice from my riding partners will likely answer that question.

Another new piece of equipment is the 1 gallon Rotopax fuel can. Currently bolted to the top of my Pelican case, it will be a simple re-and-re to install it on the Trax box if I decide that it is the right box for the trip.

I also made a couple of comfort and ergonomics adjustments recently. 2 weeks ago I bolted on a set of foot peg lowering plates from Adventure Tech LLC and my knees are much happier. I purchased these used, from a friend of mine who decided to go with a different set up.

 I also installed a Givi AirFlow wind screen in place of my original. It mounts on the stock hardware so I still have the ratcheting 3 position adjustment, and I now have almost 8” of height adjustment as well. 

What a difference this new wind screen makes. All of the buffeting that I was experiencing on the peak / visor of my Arai XD4 helmet is now completely gone, and I am now able to hear my music at less than half volume while riding at highway speeds. Very, very impressed.

Finally, I managed to get my Adventure Tech LLCsoft luggage guards mounted to the bike last night, and then strapped my Shad ZuluPack luggage on to Big Ethel for the first time. 

I think that I am really going to like this set up, and will be putting it to an initial road-test this weekend as I ride out to the Horizon’s Unlimited Ontario 2015 Overland Travellers Meeting at Lake Couchiching in Rama, Ontario.

The big trip is fast approaching!.....I cannot wait to hit the road...

I hope that you will come along for the ride, 

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

It’s been awhile…

I have been away for quite sometime.

Hmmmm…

There was a time when that meant one thing, and one thing only.

Thankfully, that is no longer the case. Being arrested, locked up, in custody, in jail, going to court, facing remand, pleading my case….

All things that I remember well. And I remain grateful that today, they are not part of my life.

I am also grateful – believe it or not – that they once were a part of my daily existence. The chaos. The uncertainty. The unbelievable amounts of stress. The pain, and heartache. The darkness.

For they all helped to bring me to where I am today. To shape the man that I am now, and the man that I will become tomorrow. To provide perspective. Contrast. Point of view.

I am looking out of the window of my apartment in Vanier, lamenting the mid-March blizzard that has befallen us. Pining for the warmer weather, the melting of the snow, the cleansing rains of spring – all so that I may once again climb into the saddle of my iron steed and commence yet another season of travels, explorations and discoveries.

God I miss my bike.

Yet neither of these two facets of my life are what brought me back to the keyboard.

No. What brought me back to writing this blog is love.

And my absolute joy about being free to accept it. And to give it. To feel it, and acknowledge it. To learn of it, and grow with it.

Susie brought me back to you, my friends and fellow travelers.

You remember Susie. I introduced you to her on May 30 of 2012, just as I was preparing to head off on my Epic Motorcycle Adventure to the Rockies.

During that trip out west, I made a lot of discoveries. About myself and my life. About travelling the open road. About how infinitesimally small we are in the great big scheme of things. About the things that are important to me. About what friendship means to me.

And it was on that trip that I came to realize that I loved this woman.

Susie underwent 39 chemotherapy sessions between May of 2012 and December of 2013.

In December she was told that the chemo was no longer working.

This is the type of news that can, and often does precede the quick downturn and eventual death of stage 4 cancer victims.

Thankfully, Susie has never considered herself a victim. Nor have any of those who surrounded her and buoyed her through these last 2 years.

Susie and I became very close during this time. I expressed my love, Susie smiled and gave me the ‘I am flattered, but…’, and a friendship began to blossom that is quite unlike any that I have had before.
There is a great amount of information available espousing the undeniable benefits of laughter. And the healing power of love.

Susie and I have shared an inordinate amount of time engaged in belly-clenching, tears-streaming, gut-rolling laughter. And she has been surrounded by love every day. From her parents, her brothers and sister, her cousins, her boyfriend, her aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews – just an incredible number of people took the time to make sure that she knew – and knows – that she is loved.

On Friday, February 28, 2014 Susie underwent 9 hours of surgery.

Surgery that at least one surgeon tried to talk her out of. Because it was, in that surgeon’s words – a waste of time. Because Susie was certain to be filled with cancer – both old and new. According to the surgeon.
We protested. We invited the surgeon to consider quality of life aspects that may have been overlooked.

Having been told that chemo was no longer working, quality of life was Susie’s focus.

Several weeks and 9 hours of surgery later, that same surgeon came to address the family members who were present, as well as Susie’s boyfriend Mike and myself.

And the surgeon looked at each of us. Smiled. And said “it is really quite a miracle, actually.”

It seems that they found no disease, only scar tissue.

Susie’s stage 4 colon cancer – which at one point had metastasized and spread to her lung, liver, abdomen, lymph nodes and ovary – was no where to be seen.

Through 39 chemotherapy sessions this woman kept telling everyone that she was going to be fine.
Through more than half a dozen CT scans. Countless blood tests. Twice weekly visits to the Ottawa Integrative Cancer Center. Hair loss. Weight gain. The never-quite-gone looming darkness and fear of the disease.

Through all of it Susie kept her smile. Shared her laughter. Loved and received love.
There is an undeniable and incredible healing power that comes from within all of us and that is all of us. It is the one thing that can connect us to all that is and all that ever was. For thousands of years we have tried to ascribe ethereal identities and nomenclature to it. We have written rules to be abided by and oaths to be given. We have taught and been taught that it is a power to be deigned upon the deserving. The worthy. The righteous.

It is the power of love.

It is free. Just open your heart.

I discovered on my trip out west in 2012 that I was capable of loving another person as I do myself.
The greatest gift that I have ever received.

Matched very recently by a team of surgeons who said “she is doing great. It looks like she is going to be fine”

“I have always known in my heart that I was going to be okay” Susie said just the other day.

None of us is certain of what tomorrow holds. But today brought the promise of a tomorrow.
That is more than enough.

You are undeniably the strongest person that I have ever met Susie.
I love you. And am so very grateful to have you in my life.
Joe E.

Best Laid Plans, Really Great Roads…and Thanksgiving

I had a plan.

Really.

I did. I formulated it almost two weeks ago.

For the Thanksgiving long weekend, I decided that I was going to go on one last long-distance motorcycle adventure before the season rolled to a stop….drew to a close….came to an end….

You get the picture.

I have not yet gone on a long distance ride in an easterly direction. So, naturally, I decided that I was going to ride to Gaspe. And to the Bay of Fundy. And back. In three days.

I wisely booked the Friday of the long weekend off, allowing me to be back home on Sunday evening, and giving me a full day of rest on Monday before returning to work on Tuesday morning.

I planned on leaving early on Friday morning, and riding all the way to Gaspe – or as close as I could make it – before once again – and for a final time this year – setting up my Hennessy Hammock and sleeping in the great outdoors. I would then spend Saturday touring the area, getting side tracked at every available opportunity, and eventually begin the ride home either late Saturday afternoon, or early on Sunday morning.

The weather forecast, when I originally dreamed up this cockamamie scheme, was lousy. Rain, and highs of 7 or 8 degrees were what I could expect, according to the most maligned of public whipping-posts, the weather forecasters, of two weeks ago.

I was not to be swayed. Every time that a friend or colleague asked me what my plans were for the long weekend, my reply was a grin, and ‘riding to Gaspe – you?’

A ‘good lord’, and a shake of the head was the response that I most often received.

I think that a good many people may perceive me to be slightly crazy.

And that’s okay. Kind of gives me a little leeway to, well, be a little crazy.

The weather forecast, as you are not doubt very well aware, changed. As it sometimes does. And quite drastically, too. Highs of 20, 21, and 23 degrees. And lots of sunshine.

Thank you, oh wise weather sage, for being so wonderfully, beautifully wrong.

So. A good plan. A researched route. Likely fuel and food stops laid out. Weather that was too nice to even wish for. A finely tuned and eager steel steed with a freshly changed oil and filter.

Why, then, are you reading this now? As early as Saturday night?
“He must be blogging from his phone”.
“He decided to bring his laptop and is sitting in a Tim Horton’s somewhere north and east of Quebec City”.
“He decided not to hammock-camp after all”.

No. Nope. And unh-uh.

As is so often true, and as Robert Burns so cleverly penned, the best laid schemes, of mice and men, often go awry…

And though my plans most certainly did change, I cannot say that I am disappointed. Nor left wanting. For I was needed here. To be a friend. And to offer company, distraction, humour and understanding. As the case may be.
You see, Susie continues to valiantly – and successfully – wage her battle against cancer. She has had 36 chemotherapy treatments. Yet she is still able to soldier on, wear a smile, offer a kind word, and quite nonchalantly tell you that she is going to be fine.
All the while, friends who are also suffering from this despicable disease are dying around her.
And so it was that Susie found out, early Friday morning, that she had lost yet another friend and fellow cancer-fighter on Thursday evening.

The Gaspe adventure became very unimportant, very quickly.

I spent all of Friday with Susie. Watching. Listening. Learning. And thanking God that I am able to be ‘that person’ for her.
By days end, we had joined with my other best friend – James – and headed off for that ultimate form of distraction – a Hollywood blockbuster and butter-soaked popcorn.
Tom Hanks does not do bad movies. And ‘Captain Phillips’ is on par with his best. An excellent film, full of tension, that keeps you interested right up until the closing credits.
It was a great end to a wonderful, though at times emotional and heavy day.

Driving home, I figured that I could still squeeze one heck of a long ride out of the long weekend. Maybe just not all the way to Gaspe.

How about Val D’Or?

Yeah. Why not? Seemed logical to me.

And then I received a phone call from another friend, sharing some of her recent good news and asking me what my plans were for Thanksgiving. To which I replied that I had no set plans, other than taking a nice long motorcycle ride.

At which point I was invited to Thanksgiving dinner. On Sunday. In Cornwall.

A pretty lady. Turkey. Stuffing. Need I say more.

Yes – I admit – I am shallow as a puddle at times
.
So I arise bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, all set to head out on the road to Val D’Or – which, not coincidentally, happens to be the birth place of my father – and I started thinking about all that I have to be thankful for.

An hour later I was on my bike, heading to Chesterville, to be with my mom.

I stayed through lunch, repeatedly bugging mom to eat a little more of this, or finish the last two bites of that, living my childhood all over again, yet in reverse, and realized that this was always going to be part of my Thanksgiving weekend. Even when I did not yet know it.
We had a great visit – and I am going to do something for which I will likely get a smack – and post a pic of my beautiful mom, right…..
….here.I love you mom.

As you have already gathered – my riding plans changed yet again. And this time, I got smart. I did what has always worked for me in the past.
I made no plan. Picked no destination. Checked no maps.
I just filled up the tank, and followed my front tire, allowing the bike, and whimsy, to take me on the adventure that I was meant to ride.

And oh, what a ride it was.

I headed across the river, into Quebec, and followed the 50 to Montee Paiement. I had not travelled this route yet this year, and Montee Paiement always brought a smile to my face and a twist to my wrist last year, so off I went, scooting along her curves, over her hills and through her valleys.

This is a route that is definitely not for the faint-of-heart, or brand-new-to-riding type of motorcycle rider. The asphalt is old and cracked. There are potholes. And bumps. And lots of road-snakes. But man oh man what a ride. Montee Paiement ends at the 366 – a route that I absolutely love, and have written about prior – so it was with a smile from ear to ear, full of anticipation, that I swung left and headed north on Route du Carrefour. The asphalt is smooth. The curves are frequent, but not overly technical, and the hills come at you like whoop-de-doo’s on a motocross track. Add in the blazing colors of the fall foliage, the just perfect temperatures and the warm golden glow of the autumn sunshine and you will begin to understand how easy it is to lose yourself, becoming one with your machine and the road and all that surrounds you, dancing the beautiful dance.

In no time at all I was at the 366 / 307 junction. And this time, instead of heading south on the 307 as I usually do, I headed north yet again. On a route that I had only been on once before. The 307 north, Route Principale, is another wonderful motorcycle road. It will challenge even the most seasoned of riders, and the scenery through which the ride takes place is breathtaking. The one and only time that I had been on this route previously had been during a group ride to Paltimore earlier this season. I vaguely remembered some of the sights along the way, and vividly remembered some of the pucker-inducing curves – yee haaaa!!!
I rode on past Paltimore, all the way up to Val-Des-Bois, stopping intermittently to snap a few pictures, and feeling absolutely at peace again. At Val-Des-Bois I crossed the steel trestle bridge and opted to ride the 309 back down to Gatineau. Which turned out to be a perfect choice, as the 309 is every bit as scenic as the 366 – 307 run is, yet it is far less challenging. The curves are long and sweeping, and the hills are likewise long and shallow, as opposed to the staggered hairpins that are the order of the day on the 307.

I highly recommend this route to everyone who rides. If you love riding your machine and challenging the road, the bike and yourself, then the 366 north to the 307 north to Val-Des-Bois is a must ride. And if you really like ‘em twisty and hilly, get off the 50 at exit 145 and ride Montee Paiement to the 366. You will not be sorry.

In the end, I only racked up about 350 kms – including the ride to see mom – but as it turned out, it was exactly the ride that I needed.

As I am often apt-to-do, I snapped quite a few pictures along the way. Most can be seen right HERE if you are interested.

Now, I have to make my dinner. Pulled pork sandwiches. Home made baked beans (thanks Al). Cole slaw. And bakery apple pie.

That and Netflix sounds like a perfect end to an amazing day.

Oh, and one more thing.

Fuck cancer!

Thanks for riding along,…