A victory!

Shortly after I wrote the last update the rain let up for a spell. It went from a light rain to a drizzle. I figured that would be a good enough time to break camp.

Tearing everything down has become routine again. From start to finish it only took around 20 minutes; 10 minutes of which was in the tent staging things to go outside.

It’s a good thing I started when I did. The rain started coming down heavier as the minutes passed. The sky teased with a patch of blue in the distance, but it was just that, a tease.

Driving up the east coast of Newfoundland I took a look at the map. It was strange looking at the Zumo with a checkerboard off the side; that’s where the map ends. I drove to the end of the map. Browsing the map between turns I noticed a bit of land that juts out just to the south of St. Johns, so I told the GPS to get me there and not St. Johns. I guessed right! Where the road took me was Cape Spear – the easternmost point in North America. I have pictures of the signs to prove it. (Aside: I can add to Wikipedia to f

Even with the light rain and hiking for what seemed like miles up and down the trails in my full riding gear I felt on top of the world! One of my goals has been checked off my list: to be the person most east on the entire continent. Why is that a goal? Beats the hell out of me, but it does sound kinda cool, eh? The persistent dampness didn’t lessen my excitement as I marveled at the Atlantic. A hunted down some rocks that seemed native to the spot to bring home and began the long and arduous trudge back up the hill in the rain to the bike.

It’s no wonder that the crews stationed at the defensive battery in WWII said that this was a damp and depressing place. If your job is to work there I would agree.

I punched in St. Johns as my next destination to see what there is to see there. As I approached the rain started getting even heavier, progressing from a light rain to somewhere between rain and a heavy rain. Much like the Eskimos née Inuit allegedly had dozens of names for types of snow, motorcyclists have a similar range when it comes to rain. It’s all annoying, but to different degrees.

I drove down what seemed to be the main drag, Water Street, but I didn’t have the motivation to stop anywhere. The heavy morning traffic conspired with the rain to spoil that affair. I’ve been told that I need to get a squid burger… unfortunately that will have to wait until next time. Such is life I guess.

The drive back across the island

I quickly decided that I, unfortunately, wasn’t going to do a whole lot I can do in St. Johns I set the destination back to the western half of the island. This consisted mainly of driving around in downtown St. Johns going up and down streets and hills. I was able to see several examples of the prototypical house style – the attached and colorfully painted buildings that one always associates to the region.

While navigating out of the city I had, what I would describe as, my first “traction incident” of the trip. The tires I installed on my bike, Michelin Anakee 2s, seem to “talk” more to me about traction than previous tires I had. I never really knew, I suppose, when I was getting close to the limit. Once I seemed to exceed that. In what is a gentle right-hand turn the front stepped out a good six inches. I guess a truck dumped some diesel or something on the road. Thankfully it was over as quickly as it began – and in the same state: both wheels on the ground. I thought for sure that the front would just tuck in and I’d be along for the ride.

Once I got out of town the road was for the most part the exact reverse route as yesterday. There’s one way in, and the same way out. Another peculiarity almost caught me out today: the lack of gas stations. I started off the day with a quarter tank of gas. I figured I’d get out of the hubbub of the city then get gas. The range countdown was down to 17-miles to go before I found a gas station. With the bike fueled I had to contend with me getting fueled too. If you notice I never mentioned breakfast up there. I figured that the rain we were having would end as I drove west and I would get some food when it stopped raining. I figured wrong. Some Red Bull in my tank would have to sate me for the time being.

The scenery was the same as the day before, but all the while different. The forest greens now gave way to a procession of muted pastel greens that faded into the sky with the distance. The layers of the scene piled on top of one another in a dozen different shades of gray-green. The sky illuminated the landscape with the silver and pewter clouds that soften the edges of the world with the mellow light they cast down. The blue lakes were now a nearly white blue-green that reflected both the sky and the rough water that was being kicked up by the fierce winds.

The beauty was tempered by the difficulty in driving the roads. The paving of the highways differs from that of that states. Commonly standing water is encountered during the rain here making the roads far more treacherous than what I’ve encountered in the past. Several times the tires told me without incident that they were starting to lose adhesion on the pavement.

Six hours in the rain were enough to get by the defenses of my riding suit. The one weakness – the zippers in the crotch – started to let in some moisture. Nothing bad, but enough to get really annoying. I knew from the previous day when I “stole” some Wi-Fi from the Comfort Inn that I can get Internet in Gander so that’s where I decided to go.

Landing at the Inn I got a room, cleaned up a bit and decided to take a suggestion from one of En’s coworkers: go to a Tim Hortons; “They have soup to warm you up.” That they did. A coffee, soup and salad did the trick of making up for both breakfast and lunch since it was already 2:30.

Getting back to the room I attended to the wet clothes and went online to check on the ferry again. More good news (kinda at least): they don’t book the ferries to 100% capacity, if you show up early enough the crew has some discretion to load you on. :-D  Much rejoicing!

A bit of surfing and it was time for dinner. This time another local (it seems) chain: Mary Browns. They’re famous for Chicken and Taters, eh. (Note, Canadians don’t like the possessive apostrophe (see also: Tim Hortons)). Not bad at all. The experience was made complete by the guy in the kitchen that made sure to suggest things in a very Beavis way. “Cole slaw! Cole slaw!” Cole slaw it was. He did it to the next customer too. It worked just as well.

The evening topped off by some good Canadian brew (Labatt in this case), I bid you all a good night!