Slept like a baby in a retro Howard Johnson's motel near the airport. It started raining when I checked in and I couch-potatoed in the room, watching the rain and finally ordering a Domino's pizza delivered.
The next morning was sunny and in the low 50s as I headed northwest from Bangor towards the Canadian border. The sun came and went, alternating between mild mist, gray skies and puffy clouds with blue.
I really enjoyed the back roads, which twisted and turned their way alongside rivers and in the forest with brilliant stretches of intense reds, orange and yellow's painting the tree leaves. The fall colors in Maine were more intense than they had been a bit further north. It's been a very long time since I've seen true fall colors like the northeast gets, and though this is just the beginning, some of the color intensity I would swear was fake. We get a color change in parts of Texas, but nothing in this league.
The various towns and countryside were filled with classic wooden houses and buildings. The ride was extremely enjoyable and I stopped about 20 miles from the border crossing for a short break. One of the local men driving a pickup truck pulled in and parked next to me, striking up a conversation about where I was headed and where I’d come from. He wished me well and headed inside the little store.
There were three or four cars at the Canadian border entry, which went pretty smoothly. The young agent with a black beard and heavy French accent, eyed me a bit suspiciously, staring at me with long pauses between his questions. He then said “You are from Texas? Do you have any weapons with you?" I answered “No sir”, and then he said “Do you have any at home?” It surprised me a bit, and I said “You mean in Texas?” He nodded yes. I answered “Yes I have a bunch.” He looked at me briefly, and stepped into the little building and quickly stepped back out with my passport.
I rode away wondering what the question about my gun ownership at home had to do with anything. I assume his stepping back into the building briefly, was to press the giant red button to send my info to the Illuminati, who will put me on their assassination list and hunt me down with black helicopters while I'm in Canada.
Watching my rear view mirrors for black helicopters aside, the temperature had dropped on the Canadian side, and the rural landscape continued with painted colors. There was no question I was back in French Canada, and I saw more of what appeared to be dairy cattle in the region.
It wasn't long before I was nearing the area where my friends Jules and Christine lived, but their address did not work in my GPS, only with Google maps. In short order I found myself on dirt roads, muddy from rain and the drizzle I was experiencing. I began to have my doubts about Google maps when it tried to send me down driveways past people’s homes on farms. I continued to play its games until I came into a tiny village named Milan and found myself on blacktop again.
I knew I was close, but they hadn't answered my earlier texts so I followed Google which lead me through the town and back onto a much muddier road. The big bike slipped and squirmed a few kilometers through the woods until the narrow road ended at the junction of three little-used two track ruts. I knew they lived in the country, but somehow I didn't think the ruts ahead and to each side would lead me anywhere except stuck.
Amazingly my cell picked up the signal for just a moment and my call went through which was luckily answered this time. Christine agreed to meet me back in the small town of Milan and lead me to their house. I didn't relish returning down the muddy road but made it without dropping the bike. As I approached the church, I could see Christine waving both arms and arrived to a big hug.
For those who read my South America ride report, I'd met Christine and Jules at Casa Elena in Antigua, Guatemala. They had arrived while I was staying there, accompanied by the Guatemalan Tourist Police. They had been robbed the previous day at gunpoint on the infamous road south of Lake Atitlan, and just a few days previous to that had been bum-rushed and knocked off their motorcycles at the Mexico-Guatemala border crossing. They had left Canada to ride to Ushuaia a couple of weeks previous to my leaving Dallas, but after the two incidents and the loss of passports and paperwork from the robbery, they were done and had decided to ship the bikes back home and forget the trip.
Can't say I blamed them a bit, but after a couple of days together, with some good home-cooked meals by the hostess at Casa Elena, some wine and a lot of laughter, they tentatively decided to continue, but only to Peru. I'm happy to report that they made it all the way to Ushuaia and became skilled travelers in the process. Their plan on returning to Canada was to open a travelers hostel, similar to Steel Horse in Colombia, and they are in process of converting a beautiful small farm they purchased.
One of the best things about the long journey through South America is the kindred spirit developed with other travelers. Despite Jules and I not being able to communicate in any form, they're like brother and sister to me.
After a few kilometers down a wet gravel road, we arrived at Christine and Jules’ farm. I burst out with a laugh, because Jules had scribbled a sign “Parkeo Seguro” to the front gate, the one thing every motorcyclist searches for in Central and South America.
It was great to see them again and the place they had found for their traveler’s hostel could not have been better. The property sat at the end of a quality road with a house, barn, guest house and plenty of room for tent camping. The property borders government park land and was beautiful.
Christine is a wonderful cook and we shared a lot of memories and laughter. Jules is a horse trainer and horse whisperer, and Christine has worked in veterinary clinics for years so they both love animals, but insist they're not going to get anymore. Right. Currently they have Jules’ horse, two rescue donkeys and four chickens.
When it came time to do chores, especially shoveling poop, I had a sudden flare up from an old Olympic sports injury, incredibly at the same time as an old war wound from some of the famous battles I fought in in the Cold War. I think I got away with it, but I still ended up having to brush one of the donkeys.
It was a bit rainy, but it was relaxing and I really enjoyed being with them. Needless to say they haven't had much time for motorcycling since purchasing the farm and doing renovations, but their F700 and 800 GS’s bikes are parked and ready to go, still covered with stickers from their travels. They expect to be open for business and online pretty soon. Their place would make a great stopping point on travels northward.
The farm is completely off grid, powered by solar and propane generator.
As mentioned, Jules is a horse trainer and a legitimate horse whisperer. At Steel Horse in Colombia, Jules spent one day with an unruly horse there, never speaking a word, and by the next day the horse was eating out of peoples hands. Further south in Argentina, at a farm where Jules and Christine worked for a month, he did a similar thing with the owner's horses. The Argentinian farm owner has asked him to return to train several more horses.
The area they live in, outside Milan, QC, is beautiful, and of course French. They took me to the local restaurant for, as they described, the “best poutine” in the region due partly to the fresh cheese made nearby. Poutine, for those who haven't had it, is basically french fries with meat or other items, cheese and brown gravy. I'd seen it advertised in my travels but hadn't had any until now. Let's just say it's a comfort food that is best finished with a nap and possibly a stent.
My close friend, the rain, had followed me to their house and though a good excuse to lay around by the wood stove, it was time to head further south. It was sad to say goodbye but I look forward to returning possibly next summer. We all hugged and laughed and it was well worth the trip just to see them. The rain had stopped, and the forecast for Montréal and Syracuse, New York showed sunny in the afternoon.
It was chilly and damp through the red and gold covered hills, mountains and valleys until I reached the flatter areas of the Montréal region where the sun broke through the clouds. I was quite surprised at the number of motorcycles on the roads and highways. I've seen relatively few but from the Montréal area all the way into New York there were motorcyclists everywhere.
I was trying to avoid any major cities and Google routed me through a small border crossing at Dundee. I stopped at a lowered gate on the Canadian side, which raised to allow me through and across into the US and I traveled past a few houses before reaching the US Border Patrol station. The young female officer seemed a bit incredulous as to why I was coming through on a motorcycle, and even more skeptical that I had ridden to Newfoundland. Unfortunately I was not frisked, however she never lost her puzzled and suspicious expression.
The weather had warmed substantially throughout the day and it was probably in the mid 70s as I made my way south towards Watertown, New York. I stopped for gas, managing to time it perfectly for the arrival of several expensive sports cars, including a McLaren, a Ferrari 98 and some other exotics. Three of the girls working at the combination gas station and Dunkin' Donuts were all atwitter and giggly at watching the cars.
The sun was still high enough that I decided run another hour south to Syracuse to be a bit closer to Niagara Falls and my next destination of Cleveland, Ohio. I have to say I have mixed emotions about being back in the US, not because it's negative being here, just the fact that I've left one world with a foreign language for a familiar and somewhat comforting one in just such a short period of time. Ahead will lie the familiar, the routine and I'm sure the heat, which is still lingering in Texas. It will be nice to get to the mountains of New Mexico, although that means I have Kansas ahead :O I'll be missing the beautiful fall colors, the mountains and forests for sure!