Day Sixteen - 250 miles
Today, I woke up to the glorious campgrounds at Acadia National Park. I decided to take the "Loop Road' around the park before I left. Richard and Sharon tried to persuade me to stay on another night (or two), but I decided to push on. This is a place to be revisited though. I also stopped at the gate of the campground, and took a picture with the friendly ranger girl who had helped me out the evening prior.
The loop road takes you around a good part of Mount Desert Island. The history of the island is very interesting through many different era. John D. Rockefeller Jr. built a lot of the "carriage roads" around the island in the early part of the 20th century. These roads are closed to auto traffic. I'd love to come back here and spend a week or so hiking around the place.
I drove up to Cadillac Mountain, which, being the highest point, has a commanding view of the surrounding area. After that I had a lobster roll for lunch in Bar Harbor, then it was back on Highway 1 towards Canada.
I passed through a few more quaint towns, then it began to get more remote, and far less people and traffic. By now, I was also noticing the tidal effect of the Bay of Fundy. If you don't know, the Bay of Fundy has the highest tides in the world, up to 50 feet vertical in some places. It was pretty far out this afternoon, and entire villages looked like someone had just drained the water out - almost nothing to be seen. Empty rivers, with grassy banks. All this would be full in a few hours. I'll have to see, if during my travels around Nova Scotia, I can plan to be at the same place during both a high and a low tide.
I entered Canada at the town of Calais on the U.S. side, over to St. Stephen on the Canadian side, in the province of New Brunswick. I didn't plan on staying in NB too long, as I was racing to catch the ferry at Saint John. The border guard was a bike himself, and was friendly, and asking me lots of questions. I also had to produce my passport!
One of the first things I noticed on the Canadian roads, was that the "deer" signs had now given way too "moose" signs, with pictures of moose with big antlers. I would really NOT like to hit one of those things.
On the way to the ferry - actually, I took a "wrong" turn, but ultimately it lead to the ferry as well - I saw a sign for "Martello Tower." This fascinated me. I knew they existed in parts of Maritime Canada, but I didn't realize I would actually pass by one. The British built Martello Towers, mostly during the time of the Napoleonic Wars, and there are several along the coast by around my home town of Dublin, Ireland.
I caught the ferry. It was $90 Canadian. A bit more than I thought. $40 for me, and $50 for the bike. I was REALLY freaked out driving the bike onto the car deck below. They hand you out a motorcycle "warning" booklet. It basically says: "This is a metal ramp, there's lots of slippy seawater around, and the deck below is sort of rubbery (and smells like fish - in fact, we threw a few on the floor to freak you out a bit more - and you'll be doing really well if you don't drop your bike. Good luck, and by the way, we are not responsible."
There were a couple of (rather unfriendly) folks from Quebec also on bikes. Maybe their English wasn't too good, and they just couldn't understand me. Anyway, they made it on ahead of me. I duly drove on board, and it was very sketchy indeed. I could tell from experience of "nearly" having dropped a bike on wet train tracks in San Francisco, that the SLIGHTEST movement of anything other than DEAD STRAIGHT would result in disaster. It was very scary. I would say loads of bikes have been dropped on that slippy floor. I barely used the brakes to stop. I went very, very slow. They supplied tie-downs and suggested fixing the front brake on using ties (thanks Don!). I took all their advice. The Quebecois didn't, but in the end, we all got off safely.
I wandered around on desk outside for most of the 3 hour crossing. It was amazing really, there at night, with my motorcycle below, crossing the Bay of Fundy. Wow!
I chatted with some old geezer as we left port. Otherwise, I was one man and the sea. We arrived at Digby, and I was in Nova Scotia. And there was nowhere to stay.
To make a long story short (because I've got to get this blog caught up), I snuck into a private campground, pitched my tent, probably waking the people next to me, and decided to face the music in the morning. The ferry got in a little after midnight. By the time I got settled, it was almost 2:30AM.
I would deal with the campground owners, and my "neighbors" in the morning...
Onwards!
No comments:
Post a Comment