Canada 2011
 
 

Day 02

July 26

 
     
     
   
  Today my mileage should be under 600 miles, but the logistics will be a lot more complicated. I've got a border crossing to do, then I'll try to meet Alain somewhere along the way. This should be really interesting since I don't have my cell phone with me. But I'm up at good daybreak and figure I might as well get to thrashing the corn. I didn't see anywhere nearby that looked worthy of breakfast consideration, so I figure I'll just look for something on down the road.  
   
  I really enjoy early morning riding where I can watch the sun come up. It's usually a very peaceful time even on the interstates.  
   
  Soon enough Mr. Sun peaks his head above the clouds and it looks like it's gonna be another great day for riding.  
   
  But the dark clouds ahead do not bode well and it appears that I am headed directly into the storm.  
   
  But then the dark clouds roll away and I see the lovely blue skies ahead of me.  
   
  At least for part of today, I'll be leaving the monotony of the slab and seeing a little bit of two lanes. If I had my 'druthers', I'd always stick to the backroads. But when you've got to hit and get it, the interstates will get there the quickest. I finally turn off the 'greatest revenue grabber' of all - I90 - and head up towards highway 30/29 just skirting the Adirondacks.  
   
  There's some nice farms out here and I figure the locals must have a good watering hole around here somewhere.  
   
  And I am not disappointed when I see this place. I'm cooking right along and whizz right by it before my synapses can synapse - a diner with lots of cars parked outside. SweetTreat doesn't have a reverse built in, but she does have a 'stop and turn around', so I engage it and pull into the parking lot.  
   
 

This is the real deal diner that I love to find when I travel around the northeast. Back home, you would call it a 'meat and three', but up here it's a diner. The locals are scattered at the tables around me, solving the world's problems over their steaming cups of coffee. When I peruse the menu, I see the ticket -

'The Gentleman's Special - NY Strip Steak, three Eggs and Toast'

Don't know if I qualify as a gentleman or not, but the breakfast does and I disguise myself and go for it.

 
   
  So if you are ever wandering down highway 29 near Gloversville and get a hankering for some real belly filling grub, pay Jackie's Diner a visit - you won't be disappointed!  
   
  With a full belly, I mount up and continue my run on highway 29. It will take me over to I87 which heads straight for the Canadian border. Morning traffic picks up a little bit, but nothing to write home about.  
   
  The old churches in the small towns like Sarasota Springs are always of interest to me. This country has lost sight of the fact that at one time, a town's churches were the center of the community. They tended to be the anchor of goodness and an encouragement for folks to do right. Now they are often viewed in less favorable terms - and sometimes justifiable so - but we have not bettered ourselves for making such a judgment.  
   
  Once again the clouds look as if they are going to come down and press me into the pavement. But I see a clear patch ahead and figure I'll just try to ride on through it.  
   
  And fortunately this time the plan works. It's always a crap shoot when I do that - some days I come out okay and some days I come out wet - wringing, soaking, boots full of water - wet.  
   
  It looks like the bottom is fixin' to fall out, so I pull into a rest stop and decide I'll suit up just in case. This is the surest way I know to make sure that it won't rain - just put on my rain suit!  
   
  Alain, who is very familiar with the area, has directed me to a less busy border crossing than I87. On I87 he says you can get stuck in traffic for hours, depending on when you arrive. As I turn off the slab, there is a convenience store where I gas up and make sure my passport and such is in good order. After a short break, I head on down the two lane to the crossing.  
   
 

When I arrive, I can tell that the Canadian Border person is surprised at why a lonely motorcyclist is using this out of the way crossing. It is almost as if I have interrupted his nap or something.

"What are doing crossing here?" he asks me in a gruff tone. "How did you know about this place?"

I figure if you tell the truth, then you don't have to remember what you said, so I do.

"My riding buddy up in Quebec told me about it. He said it was a lot less busy that I87. And since I'm on a motorcycle, I thought it would make it a little easier."

I guess he figures an old man on a motorcycle with a walking stick is probably pretty harmless so he lets me go on through. I am now officially in Quebec, judging by the sign.

 
   
  And now I have to 'metric' my brain since distances and speed limits are in meters not miles. I have a simple mental trick for it - divide in half, then add ten percent of the original number, and then one percent of the original number. Not perfect, but it gets you pretty close pretty quick. The mathematically correct way is to multiply the metric measurement by 5/8 to get to miles but my way takes a few less brain cells.  
   
  Once I'm back on the main highway, old Mr. Storm is after me again. This rascal has been pursuing me all day like yesterday but so far I have been able to avoid his wet, clammy embrace.  
   
 

Alain has told me that there is a phone booth at a gas station in Drummondville so I've got a good bead on it. I want to call him so he knows my location, but there's just one little problem. I don't have any Canadian money and most folks around here speak French. I gas up SweetTreat and then park her over near the phone booth. I go inside the store and there's this young feller who only speaks French. Now just how am I gonna explain a phone booth to a kid that's probably never used one and sure don't have a clue what I am saying in English. This is going to be really, really interesting ... and it is. Finally an older lady comes up behind the counter, and she manages to connect the dots from my gesturing. She lets me exchange my US dollars for some Canadian coins and I make my call.

 
   
  I manage to connect with Alain, and figures I should be at the rest area in about an hour. I hang up and walk back to the bike. All of a sudden, the bottom falls out and I feel like I am standing under a waterfall.  
   
 

I manage to get my rain suit on and get back out on the motorway. As the water comes down in great sheets, I discover that my rain suit ain't a rain suit - it's a water bucket! It's raining so hard that I can hardly see to keep it between the fence rows, but some days you just have to do what you have to do. I finally find a bridge I can take cover under and decide to change my gear. I have some liners that are supposed be waterproof, so I put them on and change out my soggy gloves. Then it's back out into the battle. I'm thinking that I should be getting near to our meeting point, I don't see any signs that make sense. But then again, all of the signs are in French so I am operating at a strategic disadvantage to say the least. As I am humming right along, I see a GoldWing parked off to the right. However, I'm two lanes to the inside and past the ramp with no way to get over through the traffic. Going back against the traffic is not an option, so I'm in a bit of a wet pickle. Finally I come to an exit and figure I'd better get off here and see if I can find a phone. Water is pouring out of the sleeves of my alleged rain suit and I'm wetter than an apple at a bobbing contest. I go inside to see what my options are. Fortunately, the angel behind the counter speaks English. I ask her -

"Is there a pay phone around here?"

She motions to one hanging on the wall, now occupied by a gentlemen who is intent on spending the rest of his natural life talking on it.

"Can you exchange US money for Canadian then?" I ask.

"No, I surely can't' she replies and my heart sinks.

"Is a local call?" she asks.

"I don't know, but here's the number" I offer.

She looks at it, says "Here, use the store phone" and I'm in business.

I connect with Alain, and he saw what happened, so soon he's on his way to rescue this wayfaring stranger.

 
   
 

As I await for my deliverer, I strike up a conversation with a young man parked beside me. As I tell him of some of my rides, he just shakes his head in amazement. He says

"I'd really like to get a bike one day."

"Well" I tell him "Don't wait too late. We only have today."

 
   
  Soon Alain pulls in and I know he's better than Allstate - I'm in really good hands now!  
   
  All I've got to do is stick to him like a tight pair of underwear and he will take me to his house and in the dry.  
   
  There's some nice bridges across the seaway and he takes us for a little run along the water.  
   
  I am able to catch a few shots even in the rain of a lovely cathedral.  
   
  And I believe that I should be able to outrun these horses since their progress seems to be somewhat hindered.  
   
  We take a little short cut through the city and soon we are at his house and in the dry.  
   
  After we hang up our dripping gear, I get the pleasure of meeting his lovely wife, Miss Claire, and two of his fine sons, Louis-Andre and David. Alain cooks some mighty fine chicken out on the grill and it's nice to be full, warm and dry again. Then this lovely fruit pastry pie comes out, and I must force myself to have some. After all, it's the least I can do as his guest. It's so good it makes your tongue want to beat your brains out. We have a great time of fellowship, but my body is wearing down like a clock that needs winding. I head upstairs to a lovely room they have prepared and I am out almost before my head hits the pillow.