The next morning was gray and chilly. I had several hours to kill, since the ferry boarding wasn’t until 3 pm. I piddled around in the hotel room as long as possible, then loaded up the bike and explored North Sydney, which didn't take very long. I stopped in a waterfront park for a while, sitting on the bike and watching the ferry.
To burn a bit more time, I drove to a little park on the opposite side and watched the ferry from the other side. A group of three travelers got out of their car, taking pictures of the Atlantic Vision ferry as I sat and watched in my riding gear on the wooden bench. They eventually wandered over to inquire about the bike and were, like me, killing time to catch the ferry. We talked for a while before they drove off to some other place to burn a bit more time.
I got on the bike and went to the local Canadian Tire to search for waterproof gloves to no avail. The selection was pretty limited and the only pair that would've worked were camo hunting gloves however they didn't have my size. By this time I've killed two hours and wandered over to the Tim Hortons next-door to down another hot coffee and kill some more time, eavesdropping on conversations at the tables around me.
The ferry was to leave at 5:30 and we were supposed to arrive at 3:30, so about 3:15 I rolled up to the window at the parking lot entrance. The lady was nice and efficient, and in short order I had my boarding ticket and windshield sign that said “Argentia.” She told me motorcycles loaded first and when I rolled into the lane, I could see the tail end of another BMW GS ahead. The rider was from Virginia, and was traveling with his wife however she was driving behind him in her car. She had decided she didn't want to spend two weeks on the back of the bike. There were three Harleys in front as well as several UTVs. Conversation took enough of the time that it didn't seem too long before we were warned it was time to load.
Once aboard, a couple of rusty tie-downs secured the bike for the sailing. The loading process had been fast and efficient.
I grabbed the clothes bag off my bike and after a while of wandering through various hatches and hallways, managed to find my berth for the night. The cabin was nice and I ignored what I’d paid for it, determined to get a peaceful night of sleep. I wandered back out of the room area and explored the upper floors and outside views of the dock and harbor.
The blast from the ship's horn scared the living crap out of me while staring at the town from the top deck, and the next leg of adventure to Newfoundland began.
The routes around Cape Breton and Isle Madame to North Sydney
Early the next morning as I stood outside in the thick heavy fog on the deck an hour before arrival, a local Newfoundlander came out and lit a cigarette. He'd been one of the riders on a Harley, a retired Canadian Special Forces guy. He spent a good amount of time talking about motorcycling, and giving me advice on riding in Newfoundland. Again, he warned me seriously about the number of moose on the island and not to take it lightly.
I'd planned to go south from Argentia and take my time looping around the southern capes on the way to St. John's. He advised me that the thick fog would be covering the southern cape and I probably wouldn't see anything on the transit. He suggested just going straight to St. John's and exploring around that area, advising me that much of the southern capes were flat and not particularly interesting. I asked him about the UTV's below deck and if they were street legal in Newfoundland. He told me about the old abandoned railway line that crossed Newfoundland, now used as a trail, and that since it came directly to the port, the UTV's were allowed to exit the ferry and head straight onto the railway trail, but weren't street legal.
When we rolled off the ferry, the fog was extremely thick. I stuck with my original plan for a while heading south, but the fog didn't let up and I decided to turn around and head for St. John's.
As I got further north, the fog lessened and eventually some blue sky appeared. I would have been in St. John quickly, however the highway had been shut down for repairs and we were detoured onto small roads, with traffic crawling along in a major traffic jam. I eventually peeled out of the official detour and continued to St. John's on smaller back roads.
The city had a nice feel, with a lot of character in the old downtown section filled with pubs and restaurants beside the picturesque harbor. The high hills and cliffs around the harbor were impressive, as were a lot of the boats and ships. I looked for a hotel in the downtown section, but the smaller inns offered no parking and the bigger hotels were much too expensive for my budget. I snagged an older hotel a mile or two from the downtown section that was nice enough and had parking directly in front of the rooms. As much as I would enjoy them, I have avoided staying at bed-and-breakfasts because in years past I had gotten tired of carrying gear up and down narrow staircases in older historic houses. I’m not a small guy and those spaces can get pretty tight.
The gray day had become warm, with blue skies and sunshine and after securing the room for the night, I hopped on the bike and headed out for Cape Spear. It's only a short ride from the city and getting a chance to see the stunning coastline as you approach was impressive.
I parked and got off the bike, stumbling around some of the paths in my riding gear and taking in the magnificent views of the coastal cliffs in either direction.
As I walked back up to my bike, a lady asked me if I could take a picture of her with her phone with a particular naval vessel coming out of St. John's harbor in the distance. After I did, she proceeded to tell me that it was a Portuguese naval vessel that had been in port and she knew the commander of the ship.
We had an interesting conversation that lasted at least 15 minutes, and she told me much of the history of the 500 year old Portuguese connection. The retired special forces guy I'd spoken with on the boat earlier had mentioned the Portuguese navy and its connection with St. John's as well. She said that for five hundred years, the Portuguese had fished the Grand Banks offshore and the Newfoundlanders had fished close in. It was always an amicable arrangement, with the Portuguese ships restocking and trading in St. John's.
She apologized and said that her ride was leaving and she had to go, but grabbed another local woman who had just walked up to her car and introduced us, asking her to continue talking to me about the area. Before I could say anything, the second woman turned off her car and got out, warmly smiling and proceeded to tell me of different places to visit including coffee shops and restaurants in the region. She also said I was very lucky, because the weather was beautiful and there was no high wind, as is typical on Cape Spear. I was sort of dumbstruck and mesmerized at the sincerity and genuineness of the two ladies wanting to talk and help. She eventually said she needed to go, apologized and drove off. I had experienced my first taste of the Newfoundland friendliness.
I made the walk out to the farthest point, then up to the official "Easternmost Point in North America" plaque, feeling somewhat smug that I had now made the northernmost, southernmost, westernmost and now easternmost points in the Americas accessible by road. Honestly, I had never planned on making that happen, just eventually coming to the realization that in my various travels I’d made those points.
I pondered the thought at each stopping point on the long steps to the lighthouses, after substantial breathing pauses from climbing in boots and riding gear. (Truth is it’s cause I'm fat and out of shape, but I hope passersby assume it’s all the riding gear)
An unexpected point of interest were the old military bunkers and artillery points tunneled into the rock promontories for World War II.
After enjoying Cape Spear, I headed to a small town nearby on the coast before heading to Gould and then back to the city.
When I eventually made the downtown section of St. John's to grab a snack, I spoke with no less than six individuals who wanted to talk about the bike and my travels, just in the space of time of walking to the bike and trying to put my helmet on. I have a feeling I may be in Newfoundland a bit longer than expected…