Good bye for now, dear reader

The final day

We woke up in Millinocket, Maine and ended up in Waterville Valley, New Hampshire. In a somewhat cruel way, the weather that last day was simply gorgeous, what a football announcer (I am thinking Dick Enberg) would describe as a “classic New England fall day.”

I was glad to leave Millinocket. It was depressing and, I think, the way a lot of small towns in northern Maine (and elsewhere) are going to end up (many are already there) – no jobs, high crime, lots of drugs and people who have simply given up. It is true that the Great Northern Paper Company has recently re opened up one of its mills, employing 200 people, but this town used to have 7,000 people working in the mills. The lumber “harvesting” remains, yet, tragically, most of the trees that are cut are actually shipped overseas to be milled and then many are returned to the United States to end up at a local Home Depot, not far from where they were originally cut. Something is very, very wrong here. I am sad that we have essentially given up on the Millinockets of America. As my Dad used to say, the local economy is now based on people “just taking in each other’s laundry” and that cannot last too long.

Controversy about what to do with Great Northern Woods remains. Some wealthy “out of staters” have bought up large tracts of land, refusing access to snow machines, ATVs and hunters. There is a movement to have the federal government buy much of the land owned by the seven largest paper companies that clear cut large sections of the woods, and then convert most of the area into a National Park. Locals hate the idea, arguing that it would shut down what remains of the logging industry. But those jobs are falling with more efficient machines that do the tree cutting. So would there be more jobs if we left the forest alone and brought the tourists in? Would they come? It’s a long way away, but a truly beautiful area. I tend to side with the locals but I also understand the environmental degradation that occurs from clear cutting. No matter what, this beautiful place seems to be dying. The people here are scared and they are scared for good reason.

We headed out on the motorcycles toward Skowegan. The intercoms were working well which was not the case for at least three days. Readers of this blog might wonder why the intercoms were so important. First, there is the safety factor. Since I always go first, it allows me to relay critical safety information to protect George (“Pick up truck ahead with rifles in the rack; proceed cautiously;” or “Crazy teenager I just passed in ’82 Omni, smoking and texting”). But mostly we just talk. I have never been able to talk to someone for an entire day and say basically nothing of import. I don’t really remember what we talk about; I am the recipient of a large number of unprovoked insults but there are also the occasional recollections of life events from George, some of which I would say are thoughtful and even moving, but those are rare. But there is non stop talking. That’s what George is good at, I tell him, “you just have that talking thing down really well, so you just keep at it with that great personality of yours.” He finds those statements really funny.

I was anxious to get home because I really missed Celia and my kids were going to be in Boston, so I know we were going to have a long day. I wanted to see Celia when she got back Saturday morning. George wanted to stop around 12.30, to nurse his aching back and hip (I was not in good shape either; everything seemed to be aching), but I cajoled him onward, with promises that we would stop in Berlin. At about 260 miles we actually made it to Berlin, the largest town in Northern New Hampshire. Nice people, but, like Millinocket, a dreadful economy that will hopefully improve when the new federal prison gets going. Still, it is only a matter of time.

There were few motels in Berlin and we did not feel comfortable there. We went back to Groveton, where there were a lot motels, but they were all booked. We went to one of my favorite places, Twin Mountain and the same story there. It is starting to get dark. Our only alternative was to “book it” to Waterville and, since George does not do interstates and he has an irrational fear of going through Franconia Notch, the only alternative was to head up Bear Notch Road from Bartlett and onto the Kangamagus Highway to Lincoln. He is not happy that we have not found a cheap motel and a bar to meet the locals (not all of whom appreciated George’s shtick on this trip, particularly up in Canada where he made little effort to speak their language).

Those last hours were the most spectacular on the entire trip. It is simply impossible to describe how beautiful this region of the White Mountains is. While it is almost dark in the valley, the top half of Mt. Washington is ablaze with sun. I figure that if we can get to Bear Notch Road, which has an elevation of about 500 feet, it could get lighter as we go up the Kank (as it is called), which peaks at about 2,200 feet.

I am right. We are pushing the bikes hard around twisty Bear Notch Road because it is no fun to driving a motorcycle through moose country at night during rutting season and it is sort of fun to see how fast you can take the corners. I have to admit that George is now really good on the bike. He is safe and under good control but he no longer uses the blinkers or let the cars pass him in no pass lanes. He keeps up.

We don’t even stop for gas and George is really running on fumes. We hit the gorgeous top of the Kank at sunset and are in Lincoln around 6.30. Because it is now dark and because there is much better visibility on the highway, in terms of moose and dear, George agrees to take the interstate for twelve miles and we are back in Waterville by 7pm. 330 miles. Easy to do if you are on the highway; much harder if you are going through the secondary roads of Maine and New Hampshire.

We both agree that this was the best trip. They are all fantastic, but this was the best. No days off, 1,300 hard miles through four days of completely cold, wet, windy and miserable of weather without we don’t see a single other motorcycle for six of the eight days. People can’t believe that we are in this region in this weather. But the adversity made it fun. This was not Mt. Everest, but it was a real challenge. We (or I) got to speak French and there was that first day when George got to fall asleep under a tree and I got to drive 80 miles to find a tool to fix the motorcycle. I think we both thought that there was going to be a good chance that the trip would end on that first day, but, miraculously, it did not. That made it even more special.

As always, it is the chance to spend eight challenging days with a good friend that makes it an amazing experience. Our friendship has evolved. George has taken to calling me “Jack,” as in “Let’s go meet the locals at that bar, Jack.” For the first time, he also addresses me with a more profane salutation, that will not be repeated here. But it is all hysterically funny and we laugh until our stomach hurts so much that we just have to stop. These trips are special and important for me and I want them to go on. Whether our shared physical deterioration can match our ardor for such adventures remains to be seen. We both could probably use surgery to address infirmities in a combined total of approximately five different joints. But as long as I have the patience to wait for George while he ritualistically tucks his gloves in into his motorcycle jacket (this OCD behavior occurs regardless of the weather) and as long as extra strength Tylenol and Advil remain on the market, these trips will likely continue. So good bye for now, dear reader. I will probably be writing to you from Norway next year. I hear the roads ice up in October.

-Eric


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

I can't wait til next year

Its 2:20 on Saturday and I am on the Plymouth to Boston bus after spending the night and morning at Eric's in Waterville Valley. It's nearly 80 degrees out and the countryside is filled with leaf peepers. The traffic on my left is bumper to bumper. I'm so glad I'm on a bus heading south.

What an incredible day yesterday, nothing like we planned it. We got an early start out of Millinocket hoping to settle in Bethel or Berlin for the night. If we were lucky, we would find a cheap hotel and then find a Friday night high school football game where we would cheer for the locals and savor a hot dog or two for dinner. No such luck. Both towns were full as was the spectacularly beautiful Twin Mountains area heading up into the hills.

The weather was ideal, it was a three day weekend and it was the height of the foliage season. Even so, we had started the day thinking that we would easily find a place to stay. How naive. iPhone and Android searches returned only one option; the Mt. Washinton Resort Hotel. It had one place left, a $375 room with a king bed. That wasn't happening.

We then searched the old fashion way, knocking on the doors of roadside inns. Innkeepers looked at us incredulously. They had been booked for months.

It was after 5:30 p.m. and we were facing 75 miles to Waterville Valley, 60 minutes of daylight and mostly back country windy roads. We knew we had to hoof it. And that we did.

If we hadn't been so anxious about the impending nightfall, we would have soaked in this stretch over a few hours. It was out of this world. Next time you are in the White Mountain National Forest, try heading southeast on 302, cut over Bear Notch road and then west on Kancamagus Highway. Spectacular.

Our one strategic mistake was not fueling up earlier. Cutting it too close, my bike was on fumes as we limped in to Lincoln. We found a gas station and took a few minutes to fill the tanks. Eric needed to go to the bathroom and to have a bag of chips to hold him over. By the time he was done it was dark.

We had the option of taking a 40 mile route on dark back roads to Waterville Valley or to take a 25 mile route down rte. 93 and over 49. This was the one time I agreed to go on a freeway. I'm not sure why it scares me so much. We went 60-70 mph much of the trip. For some reason, doing so on a major highway feels different. I don't like it.

Instead of going directly to Eric's we decided to stop at the local watering hole, the Coyote Grille, for dinner. The staff at the Coyote was quite nice,

as was the clientele. The service and the food however, was beyond poor. I can't for the life of me understand how it's got a four-star Yelp rating. Those reviewers must own the place. The meals took over an hour to arrive. Once they did, we barely ate them.

Mine was the chicken and pasta. It's hard to screw either up but Coyote did. Eric had the raw tuna, and I mean raw. I wouldn't take a bite of it. It smelled like it was marinated in ammonia.

It was nothing like the lunch we had yesterday at "Whats for Supper" just southwest of Skowhegan, ME. A delicious chicken salad sandwich for me, a reubon for Eric. The price was a quarter of what we paid at the Coyote and a thousand times better.

We left the Coyote and arrived at Eric's two minutes later. We put the bikes in the garage and then collapsed on the couches. Time to crash.

We traveled 330 miles yesterday and 1,309 miles overall. A long trip and one that I will treasure always. Thanks Eric. I love these trips and have a blast taking them with you. I can't wait til next year.

Signing off.
-george


Sent from my iPad

Location:Cushing St,Newton,United States

Arrived safe and sound in Waterville Valley

Too tired to blog tonight after 330 miles of riding today. I'll write a wrap up tomorrow.
Goodnight all.
g.



- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Eric's latest

For some reason we froze today. The sun was out, we started at 36 degrees in Cabano and it warmed up to 45. But it was very windy and I guess the grind of cold wet weather finally caught up with us. We ended up at an airport in Patten, Maine, pop. 250 and we walked into the airport cafe. I could not stop shaking. For the first time, I thought about the motorcycle tow truck. I even thought I should have a cup of coffee. It would be the first cup of my life. I was that cold.

It was a sad scene in the cafe. The server was crying because her one year old nephew was having tests to see if he had leukemia. George and I tried to be reassuring and I think we were.

After a bit, a man in the airport cafe asked if we would like to see more of the airport and,specifically, his plane. We agreed. His plane was not a Gulfstream. It was better-- a brightly painted two seater that had arrived in in a kit that came equipped with a built in parachute.

The airport does serve travelers. It is used by guides to fly into the Great Northern Woods to find moose. Maine law does not support air strikes on moose; in fact they do not allow the pilot to radio the location of the moose to guest hunters on the ground. But when they land the plane, they can lead them to the moose.

We are afraid of the moose. They could jump out and scare our motorcycles. As the afternoon goes on, I see them everywhere in the woods;hundreds of the waiting to jump out. The phantom moose. It is time to stop for the night in poor mill shut down Millinocket, where you can buy a three bedroom house for $30,000.

We go for Chinese food. We are the only customers. We talk to the owner and her ten year old son. We talk to the owner and she complains about the deadbeats in town who live off the state. George asks for a video of her complaining about the deadbeats, many of whom are doubtless her good customers. Surprisingly, she declines, running behind the counter.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Location:Oxford St,Millinocket,United States

Back in the USA

We arrived here in Millinocket, Maine around 5 p..m. after riding nearly 200 miles from the Canadian border.

I hadn't realized just how big Maine is until today. We passed through customs in Fort Kent, Maine. That's 450 miles from Boston, the same distance that it is from Boston to Washington, D.C. That's big.

The riding was today was terrific; extremely windy and cold but blue sky's, mountain views


and breathtaking folliage. We had Rte 11 nearly to ourselves, just occasional pickup and lumber trucks.

We have been on a close lookout for moose. Our lunch waitress and the hotel desk clerk both shared horror stories of road deaths by moose. This must be what it's like when pregnant women get to hear unwelcome stories about others' difficult childbirths. Why do they think I want to hear gory details about scraping motorcycle riders off the pavement???

We are staying at the Baxter Park Inn. Shorty after we arrived we headed for the hot tub. That didn't last long. About two minutes after getting in, we noticed a film of dirt floating on the surface. It took about a nanosecond for us to hop out. Unfortunately, when we got back to our room, the key card wouldn't work. Dripping wet, I walked to the lobby to get a new key.

Not wanting to get back on our bikes, we opted to eat at the Barbeque House, the Chinese restaurant


across the street. The owner showed off the stuffed bear on the wall that he had killed a couple of years ago. He was very proud. I had hot & sour soup and the Kung Pao chicken with white rice. Eric had a salad and the Kung Pao chicken with fried rice. The owner's 10 year old son Chris sat next to us and chatted the whole time. He was very patient listening to Eric's incessant questions.

We're settling in now to watch the Tigers game (I can't bare to call it the Yankees game). A Yankees loss would sure help to lessen my pain and suffering.

The forecast is calling for higher temperatures tomorrow. Finally. I can't wait.

Until tomorrow...
g.



- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Location:Oxford St,Millinocket,United States

Eric's view

Tonight, George asked yet another server at dinner if she would care to do a video on his blog. At the time, I had my face buried in my hands from embarassment.

She was confused at first not knowing what a blog was. George explained it to her in his broken french and she thought about it in her fractured english. To George's horror, she returned a minute later and said "Sans vetements?" which means, as I translated to George, "Without clothes?" When George reassured her that the blog was entirely innocent, the matter was dropped. George's innocent intentions had clearly been misconstrued.
-Eric


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

America will have to wait

A morning 20 mile backtrack in the drizzle took us to Saint-Simione where we arrived 2.5 hours early for the ferry. We filled the fuel tanks and settled in for a relaxing lunch at Auberge Sur Mer, a restaurant up the hill from the terminal. I had a grilled cheese sandwich. Magnifique. Eric had the Salade Poulet. Barely edible. He wolfed it down.

We emerged from the restaurant and there was no rain and some





blue sky. Hallelujah. There is a god; maybe even a few.

As someone who gets nauseous in a bathtub, I was worried to see the large waves and white caps out on the river. From experience, I knew these conditions would affect my stomach big time. This was no time to get sick. Covering the 100+ miles to Fort Kent before dark would be challenging enough. Doing so after being sick would be impossible.

They say that people with exceptional balance are more susceptible to motion sickness. I've stuck to this theory as I've explained to people why I sit on the upper deck in the freezing winds while they opt for the comforts of the cozy lounge.

Spending today's ride topside did me good. The fresh air helped me avoid an embarrassing incident like the one I had on the Adriatic back in college.

The ferry took us to Rivière du-Loup, a town due east across the river. From there we headed south
hoping to make it a few miles past the U.S. border.

About 30 miles short of our goal, Eric insisted that we call it quits for the day. He was concerned that the sun would be setting in 30 minutes, that there might not be any hotels ahead and that moose were more prevalent at dusk. I preferred to keep going but I trusted his judgement. He tends to know what he is talking about.

I confess, getting away from the 30 mph wind gusts on rte. 185 was a relief. I will never get used to the way that feels, especially when you are going 70 mph and have trucks bombing by. That said, I was so looking forward to being back in the land of the free. This land is your land, this land is my land. Go USA! I'll have to wait til tomorrow.

Just before leaving the EconoLodge for dinner a car with two huge speakers on top drove by making a loud announcement. I thought that a criminal might be loose, or that maybe we shouldn't be drinking the water or some other high priority announcement. I asked Eric what was going on. He put his Android phone down and opened the door. He translated for me; "Bingo starts at 7 p.m. Get to St. Peter's early to secure a seat". Marvelous!

For dinner we walked a half mile down to the lake to a place called Quai des Brumes. It's quite cold outside with a hefty breeze. It's really unfortunate because I was forced to listen to Eric complain about it the entire way here.

As I write we are sitting at the
Quai des Brumes. It is part tavern, part restaurant.





Tonight it's having a beer special; buy a 32oz mug of the local brew and you get to keep the mug. We ordered two and then announced that we have no room in our bags for the mugs. The locals in the place have taken notice. Everyone is being so nice to us. I'm not sure how we will figure out who will get the glassware but I intend to milk it for everything it's worth.

I did ask our waitress to say a few words on camera for our blog. Her response was very odd. She clearly had misunderstood what I was asking. Awkward.

I just heard about Steve Jobs' passing. I can't tell you how sad this makes me. He will go down as was one of the great people in history. A big tip of the cap to him.

A favorite story I have about Steve dates back 20 years when for the second time, my boss Gary, cancelled a lunch date with him. Shorty after Gary did this I was standing next to the fax machine when a handwritten note from Steve printed out. It said something like "Who the f... do you think you are. My time is more precious than yours. Forget the whole thing. I'm no longer interested in partnering with you guys." I might have actually kept that fax. I think it's in a box in my attic somewhere. Jobs was one of a kind. The world will really miss him.

We still have 450 miles to go before we are home. On top of the nearly 800 we've gone, this will be by far the longest trip we've ever taken. It's certainly been a memorable one. I'm sure the next couple of days will make it even more so.

Thanks for the many emails this week. Keep em coming.

G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Eric finally writes

Waiting for the ferry in st. simeon. George is feeling nauseous before we get on the boat . Told me a truly revolting story about a trip aboard an Italian ferry thirty years ago.

We are headed for Riviere du Loop, a big trucking and industrial center on the way to New Brunswick. I am trying to advocate for a two mile voyage on the interstate but have encountered the usual resistance.

These are hard times. We have long since given up any pretense of personal hygiene.

How is it that I'm suffering from near frostbite and George is feeling so at home with the cold. He's impervious to it. He's more like these whales than he knows.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Morning struggle

Its 8 a.m. on whatever day it is. Another wonderful buffet, this time full of my favorite breakfast items. They have every conceivable fruit, yogurt, cereal, egg styles, cakes, waffles, meats and more. The one thing missing is oatmeal. I asked the waitress for some. Just to give you a sense of how my French is progressing, she returned in a few minutes with a pot of hot milk.

The view from the terrace was everything it was billed to be; an expansive view of the St. Lawrence








with boats docked in the foreground, a laker passing through the channel and believe it or not, a patch, albeit a small one, of bright sky over the opposite shoreline. I see no whales. Maybe later when we catch the ferry.

I received this email last night from the ever-supportive Coach Murphy; "Try putting your wet clothes in a dryer. They have laundromats in Canada!! I thought you 2 guys were smart!! Go south next time!!"
I appreciative straight forward feedback from my colleagues. At this moment however, I'm feeling somewhat vulnerable. Another note like that one and I think I will cry.

We need to head out shortly. My jacket now weighs twice what it did previously. I now know what it means to carry extra water weight.

A big sign in the lobby points to the spa where there is a hot tub and where you can get a massage. This is torture as I'm trying to muster the courage to once again put on those drenched gloves and boots. Life can we so cruel.

A couple of deep breaths, a little lecture to myself..."I think I can, I think I can"... Ok, here we go, time to leave the warmth of this grand and crackling lobby fireplace. Oh, maybe one more minute. No George, get off your butt. Ok, ok, it's time. Sigh. It's tough being me.

We're off for Fort Kent. Have a warm and safe day dear readers.
G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Tomorrow

We're headed for Fort Kent, Maine tomorrow. Here is the forecast;

"Tomorrow, windy... occasional rain and snow showers in the morning changing to all rain showers in the afternoon. High 46F. Winds N at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of rain 50%. Winds could occasionally gust over 40 mph.
Tomorrow night, Partly cloudy skies. Near record low temperatures. Low 23F. Winds NNW at 10 to 20 mph."

Yikes!

Should we go or should we stay?

Eric's snoring woke me up early so instead of smothering my head with pillows like I've done the last few days I opted to tip toe out of the room, pick up a couple of English language newspapers in the lobby and head for a coffee shop that we walked by last night. I was their first customer of the day. The clerk behind the cash register was still half asleep. Between her fatigue and my broken French, it was a miracle that she returned with the cafe au lait that I ordered.

After consuming both papers and ordering another coffee, I flipped open my iPad and checked my email. There in my inbox was a late night missive from my cousin Matt who thoughtfully provided a couple of suggestions for the next stage of our trip. One of his suggestions sounded parwticularly appealing. It read in part; "...Closer to where you currently are is another interesting place - Tadoussac. This town is 130 miles up Route 138 on the north side of the St Lawrence River. Once you get beyond the Quebec City environs, the trip along the north shore of the St. Lawrence is pretty scenic (it's quite a bit hillier than the south shore of the river). There are two main things to do in Tadoussac - 1) catch a scenic boat tour of the Saguenay Fjord and 2) book a whale watching trip on the St. Lawrence river (you can get on a big boat to do this or they have Zodiacs that get up close and personal with the whales). There is also a grand hotel in Tadoussac that I believe served as the exterior of the hotel in the movie "the Hotel New Hampshire." From Tadoussac you could either backtrack to Saint Simeon or continue north to Les Escoumins to catch a ferry to the south side of the St. Lawrence. If you crossed the river from Saint Simeon you could get on Route 2 to get to Maine..."

Matt's email got my juices going. I texted Eric, woke him up and told him to come to the coffee shop stat. We needed to talk. We had planned to stay in Quebec City for another day but after reading Matt's email, I thought we should reconsider.

Eric ordered his egg and cheese sandwich and diet pepsi and we got down to business. We drafted a list of the pros and cons of heading to Tadoussac. The list looked something like this;

Pros;
- A Spectacular ride and destination
- A fun adventure to a place we may never get to again

Cons;
- The weather forecast called for rain, low temps, high winds and possibly icy roads
- We are weary and drained. We could use a break from the stressful riding conditions.
- Our clothes are soaking wet.
- Quebec City would be fun to explore
- It would add two days to our trip
- It would add 500 miles to the trip
- I would miss Friday's Huskies hockey season opener
- We would have to check out of this elegant four-star hotel
- We would miss the web stream of the iPhone 5 announcement

We mulled it over for a few minutes and then concluded that we should be responsible and do the right thing. So, we packed out bags and headed for Tadoussac.

The first 20 miles was rain free. The view consisted of industrial parks, run down hotels, trailer communities and car dealers. As we continued on rte. 138 things then shifted to a marvelous streak of brilliant colors, water falls, grass covered ski slopes and the choppy St. Lawrence Seaway. There were Moose fences and warning signs everywhere. We were mostly alone, the ride peaceful, the view breathtaking.

Of course this didn't last long. As we climbed in altitude, the temperature dived, the rain came out of nowhere and the wind gusts hit us like a brick wall. Accompanying this inclement weather was a dense fog, limiting visibility to about 50 feet. To make matters worse, there were logger and oil trucks bombing by us in both directions. If you are ever questioning your manhood, try riding in these conditions. You'll get your answer pretty quickly.

We stopped for lunch in Baie Saint-Paul, about halfway to Tadoussac. We tried to get the intercoms working but for the second day they have failed us. We think they were destroyed by the rain.

The next 50 miles were harrowing. The conditions felt like a monsoon with the rain blasting against our visors and the wind gusts rocking us from side to side. The only vehicles on the road by now were trucks. It felt like we were at the top of the world, with the only sign of civilization being the 18-wheelers coming and going, bringing supplies to the Inuit and returning with fallen trees, north sea crude and other resource indigenous to the Arctic Circle.

By now we were totally water logged. I could feel the ice forming around my toes as the temps dropped to the low 30's and my boots gave up trying to repel the water. Thankfully cold weather doesn't pain me much. I felt for Eric though,






as he was shivering when he got off the bike during one his final bathroom breaks of the day.

Tadoussac is located on the north-west shore of the Saint Lawrence River, at its confluence with the Saguenay River. The only way for us to reach it, other to than drive an additional 160 miles, was to take a short ferry from Bain Sainte-Catherine. It was spectacular as we crossed between the fjords





on both sides of the Saguenay. The ferry was free of charge, a nice change from the excessive charges we've experienced in this province.

We arrived at the Hotel Tadoussac too late to explore the area. It is a wonderful place with the best dinner buffet I've ever seen. We spent a couple of hours eating multiple courses of food and nursing our pints of local biere rouge and a glasses of vin rouge.

The Hotel Tadoussac brochure proclaims;
"As you look out from the hotel terrace, you will see an ocean of green; marsh hay; sails; boats; sea foam; and in the distance, whales." I intend to be first in the breakfast line so that I can secure the best seat in the house.

We wont have time tomorrow to take a whale watch or to tour the fjords. We need to be in Saint-Simeon by 1 p.m. to catch the ferry to the other side of the St. Lawrence and begin our way back to Maine. Winds are supposed to be around 40 kph for the next few days. Ouch.

At this point we expect to be back to Waterville Valley by Saturday evening.

It's time for bed. Let's hope that Eric keeps his snoring to a dull roar.

Goodnight family and friends...
g.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Eric' Monday entry

I must apologize to my loyal readers for not making an earlier entry. As is usually the case, virtually all of the prep work for the trip was properly left in my hands, leaving me somewhat exhausted on the first day.

We have had a wonderful time, particularly if you like driving motorcycles over bad roads with torrents of rain and tropical storm force winds. The weather was so bad that the people who ran the ferry would not allow us on for fear that the bikes would be tossed by rough seas into Lake Champlain. No matter. We did a 225 mile detour around the south side of the lake and arrived soaking wet in lake placid after going through the pass near Keene where the temperature was near 35 degrees on my bike thermometer.

So this is a different type of trip. Perhaps some other comparisons are in order. From a technology standpoint we are far ahead. George shows no reticence in taking out the iPad even in the most elegant of restaurants and seems oblivious and indifferent as the glow of the pad interrupts the candlelight of the couple sitting at next table. I also added a droid to the trip. It has been a mixed blessing. I spent an hour dictating (voice recognition) a prior version of this entry only to delete it by pressing the wrong key).

The addition of motorcycle intercoms has also been a welcome addition, allowing us to amuse each other with various inane banalities as we battle through the weather. The range is five miles so we often have times of silence since George prefers a slower pace, usually on the shoulder with the emergency flashers on. But the intercoms have been positive, particularly since they allow us to make phone calls or listen to our music when we are not sufficiently distracted by the atrocious weather conditions and oncoming eighteen wheelers.

Well we can no longer make phone calls since we are now in Canada. I never considered Canada a serious separate country, but they now require passports and other papers to get in. We almost did not get in since George's attempt to charm the customs officer was met with a stony glare. Also it turns out that they don't like US money which is all that I bought (in keeping with tradition, George brought nothing). So far, our credit cards don't work since we neglected to notify the banks and we can't call them because, as stated above, our phones don't work. It is unclear whether we will be able to pay our hotel bill tommorow or get gas so this may be our sole entry.

Other traditions continue. Virtually any problem is appropriately left to me. When George's motorcycle broke and I had to drive 75 mile to get the proper wrench to fix it, I found George sitting under a tree sound asleep. Some token effort was offered by him to help me fix the bike but it was rejected as insincere.

Om the forgetfulness front, I would say we are on par with last year. Scarcely an hour goes by without the loss of a key, wallet or passport. The reader will remember the incident last year where I falsely and loudly accused a homeless man at McDonalds of stealing my motorcycle keys, when they were actually in my rear saddlebag. In Plattsburgh NY, I accused several sketchy teenagers of stealing my handlebar GPS, only to find it wedged into the front forks of the bike some sixty miles later.

Complaints about physical infirmities has decreased, due in large part that we have probably not walked more than 100 yards for the last four days. Long gone is any pretense that we will engage in some ancillary physical activity although George insisted I bring his hiking pole and a backpack (both of which fell off my motorcycle today) but he brought no hiking boots.

So all is well. I have, as usual, acceded to George's fear of the dreaded interstate and we have been content to take massive diversions from the direct route that the highway offers so that we can experience night time driving in freezing downpours and have giant trucks barrel right at us instead of joining us collegially in one direction in the adjoining lane. So we are making steady progress.


Monday
George has become obsessed with Amanda Knox. Maybe he has been obsessed for a while. I thought he was obsessed with northeastern sports and the patriots but we are not allowed to watch the baseball playoffs or Monday night football. It's all Amanda Know on the Today Show and CNN.

For what it is worth,here are my thoughts. What happened to Amanda sounds awful, but does it justify this type of juggernaut tv coverage?Sounds like she was not a murderer but she was no saint either. Why do we not hear much about all the thousands men and women locked up for years in US prisons under our draconian mandatory sentencing drug laws? Or the slaughter,rapes and dismemberments of women in the Democratic Republic of Congo?There is obviously something about the Knox case that I am missing.

Anyway, another great day. There fewer disagreements about going on the interstate, as I have given up. George's speed has actually picked up and we make good time on circuitous secondary roads that take twice the time. George had me program ten hamlets into the GPS that had us going up near the Hudson Bay but we ended up in a gas station where my super french allowed the "patron" to explain a more direct route. Unfortunately, we arrived at Quebec at rush hour, and the traffic terrified me. Strangely, George thinks nothing of it, weaving seamlessly through the chaos at 50mph. I don't get it.

I love Quebec and we had a great dinner and walk around the City. The Queen Mary was on the river, all lit up. If my knee and George's hip cooperate, we may try to scale the cliffs up to the Plains of Abraham tomorrow, hoping our fate will be considerably better than those of Generals Wolf and Montcalm. Yes I actually remembered that without reference to the guidebook! It's great to speak French again and I've had a few chuckles with waiters and hotel staff about George's assumption that English is a universal language. Well it ain't here and they sure don't like it if even a charming American does not "essayer" - try- to speak a little French.
-Eric

- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Quebec City, Old Town

Arrived in Quebec City today around 6:30 p.m. after taking 200 miles of back roads from Bromont. The rain was coming down hard early but became intermittent in the afternoon. The last hour was rain free, a wonderful exception to the first three day rule.

I'm actually getting accustomed to riding in the rain. We were going steadily between 60 and 70 mph and though I was hyper aware of all me surroundings, I was a lot less scared.

Unfortunately, the Bluetooth headset on my helmut didn't charge properly last night so Eric and I were incommunicado throughout the day. It was only a problem once as Eric missed the turn to stay on rte 161. I honked, waved and tried to speed up to catch him but to no avail. He finally realized his mistake ten miles later and he stopped to talk. It ended up being ok as we cut through back roads to get back to 161. It was a gorgeous ride with no cars in sight parralel to a river to a small river.

We stopped at Tim Horton's in Victoriaville for lunch. I had hoped to charge the headset there but suprisingly there was not one power outlet in the public area of the restaurant. Very upsetting. I'm going to write a letter.

We ate dinner tonight at Portofino, a nice Italian place a few minutes walk from the Hotel Clarenton in old town where we are staying. I had Pizza Greca. Eric had the Linguini and Shrimp. Both were delicious. I was tempted to buy the bottle of wine that Margot and I loved in Tuscany last spring. Unfortunately it cost 5x more here. If Margot was here, maybe. Eric, no.

I really like old town. Full of history, lots of character and old world charm, many narrow cobblestone alleys, elegant residences and an eclectic selection of nice restaurants. I want bring the family here some day.

After dinner we took a walk to the rocky overhang in front of the incredible Chateau Frontenac hotel overhanging the St. Lawrence. When we looked over the edge we were stunned to see the Queen Mary 2



docked along the shore line for the night. Incredible.

I have to say, I have been very impressed with Eric'a French. He's gotten us out of a couple of binds and helped us make a few friends. I never knew. Some day maybe my Pig Latin will come in handy.

We're thinking we will stick around here for a day and explore the area. Maybe we will head home through Maine on Wed-Fri. We'll see. Depends on the weather.

Celia, thank you for lending me your beautiful motorcycle. Your BMW R1150R, weighs 480 lbs but rides like it is half that. With heated grips, a windshield, air horn, self canceling blinkers, blinking brake lights, high intensity high headlights, engine guards, custom mirrors and more, I feel like a king. Thank you so much.

That's it for now. From beautful Quebec City, have a good night.

G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

A cheery breakfast face

Breakfast at the Chateau. Nice to be able to chat with someone other than Eric (see video).

A very nice waitress made it a pleasant start to the day.

Guess what; there is rain in the forecast. Time to put on our soaking boots and gloves.
Off to Quebec.
Au revoir.
G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Eric's update

I must apologize to my loyal readers for not making an earlier entry. As is usually the case, virtually all of the prep work for the trip was properly left in my hands, leaving me somewhat exhausted on the first day.

We have had a wonderful time, particularly if you like driving motorcycles over bad roads with torrents of rain and tropical storm force winds. The weather was so bad that the people who ran the ferry would not allow us on for fear that the bikes would be tossed by rough seas into Lake Champlain. No matter. We did a 125 mile detour around the south side of the lake and arrived soaking wet in lake placid after going through the pass near Keene where the temperature was near 35 degrees on my bike thermometer.

So this is a different type of trip. Perhaps some other comparisons are in order. From a technology standpoint we are far ahead. George shows no reticence in taking out the iPad even in the most elegant of restaurants and seems oblivious and indifferent as the glow of the pad interrupts the candlelight of the couple sitting at next table. I also added a droid to the trip. It has been a mixed blessing. I spent an hour dictating (voice recognition) a prior version of this entry only to delete it by pressing the wrong key).

The addition of motorcycle intercoms has also been a welcome addition, allowing us to amuse each other with various inane banalities as we battle through the weather. The range is five miles so we often have times of silence since George prefers a slower pace, usually on the shoulder with the emergency flashers on. But the intercoms have been positive, particularly since they allow us to make phone calls or listen to our music when we are not sufficiently distracted by the atrocious weather conditions and oncoming eighteen wheelers.

Well we can no longer make phone calls since we are now in Canada. I never considered Canada a serious separate country, but they now require passports and other papers to get in. We almost did not get in since George's attempt to charm the customs officer was met with a stony glare. Also it turns out that they don't like US money which is all that I bought (in keeping with tradition, George brought nothing). So far, our credit cards don't work since we neglected to notify the banks and we can't call them because, as stated above, our phones don't work. It is unclear whether we will be able to pay our hotel bill tommorow or get gas so this may be our sole entry.

Other traditions continue. Virtually any problem is appropriately left to me. When George's motorcycle broke and I had to drive 75 mile to get the proper wrench to fix it, I found George sitting under a tree sound asleep. Some token effort was offered by him to help me fix the bike but it was rejected as insincere.

Om the forgetfulness front, I would say we are on par with last year. Scarcely an hour goes by without the loss of a key, wallet or passport. The reader will remember the incident last year where I falsely and loudly accused a homeless man at McDonalds of stealing my motorcycle keys, when they were actually in my rear saddlebag. In Plattsburgh NY, I accused several sketchy teenagers of stealing my handlebar GPS, only to find it wedged into the front forks of the bike some sixty miles later.

Complaints about physical infirmities has decreased, due in large part that we have probably not walked more than 100 yards for the last four days. Long gone is any pretense that we will engage in some ancillary physical activity although George insisted I bring his hiking pole and a backpack (both of which fell off my motorcycle today) but he brought no hiking boots.

So all is well. I have, as usual, acceded to George's fear of the dreaded interstate and we have been content to take massive diversions from the direct route that the highway offers so that we can experience night time driving in freezing downpours and have giant trucks barrel right at us instead of joining us collegially in one direction in the adjoining lane. So we are making steady progress.

-Eric

Sent from George's iPad

Location:Chateau Bromont

Dry and warm in Quebec

After a leisurely Saturday breakfast, we finally left Burlington around 11:30 after coming to terms that the rain wasn't going to let up. The temps were in the upper 30's most of the day and the rain alternated from light showers to heavy downpours.

Our original plan was to go to Charlotte (thanks for the tip Matt) and take the ferry over NY to cruise around the Adirondacks. However, when we got to Charlotte we were told that no motorcycles were allowed on the boat. The heavy winds and turbulent waters made it unsafe for bikes. So, we continued south for 22 miles and caught the bigger ferry from Chimney Point over to Crown Point. After crossing we mounted the bikes and headed back north.

This year we are traveling with a Bluetooth intercom system that allows us to talk to each other while riding. This is a blessing and a curse. It helps us make spontaneous decisions and to point out hazards to one another. On the downside, it discourages me from singing and talking to myself. It also forces me to listen to Eric say the same things over and over.

There are seeming only nine words in Eric's vocabulary; "I'm starving" and "I have to go to the bathroom". It reminds me of the long car rides with the kids when they were young. We would make pit stops every 30 minutes. The same is true with Eric. It's painful.

While heading north, instead of taking advantage of the break in the weather, Eric declared once again that he is "starving", mandating that we stop immediately for something to eat. He just couldn't wait the 25 miles to Lake Placid. So, we had lunch in pub in Port Henry. The juke box was playing Boz Scaggs, the TV's were tuned to college





football and we ordered the local delicacy; steak fajita. Delicious. These hearty folks know how to eat.

The minute we got back on our bikes the skies opened up again. We would have had a perfectly dry ride to Lake Placid if we hadn't stopped for lunch. Instead we had a nerve wracking adventure along twisting turns, speeding trucks and oil slicked roads. I let Eric have it on the intercoms.

Lake Placid hasn't changed a bit in the ten years since I've been there. Lots of upscale stores, overpriced restaurants and overcrowded hotels. While sitting in a pub enjoying our hot chocolates,

we dialed for hotel vacancies. After awhile we found a room at the Placid Bay Inn, a $110 roadside "paradise" across from MacDonalds a mile outside of town. The smell of cigarettes, the rock hard matresses and foam pillows couldn't stop us from sleeping. The stress of the ride wiped us both out.

Before hitting the hay we walked into town and found a place to eat called the Dancing Bears. The joint was jumping with Octoberfest in full force. We had a good local stout and a heaping plate of nachos. A great way to unwind after a stressful day.

When we got back to the place we tried to use the hair dryer to dry our gloves and boots. Unfortunately, after every 20 seconds the circuit breaker triggered. The Placid Bay wiring was 80 years old. We gave up after a few minutes.

This morning we awoke at 6:45. It took all we could muster to get into our gloves, boots and suits. They were still soaking wet. For 20 minutes Eric was hunting around the room looking for something; opening his bags, looking under the bed, opening his bags again. He finally asked me if I had seen his neck warmer. I pointed out that it was on his head. This is the way it's gone for the past two days. I don't know if we've been numbed by the cold and rain or whether old age is setting in.

By 8 we were ready to go. I wanted to hop on the bikes and take advantage of the lack of rain. Eric wanted to eat. So, again we ate. We walked over to MacDonalds for a sumptuous feast. I had oatmeal and coffee. Eric had oatmeal, a sausage sandwich and a diet coke. A great way to start a new day.

By now the rain had started again. We hopped on the bikes and headed through town to get out to the road north. As we passed a little adventure store, Eric suggested through the intercom that we stop and look for a pair of Gortex gloves. That was the best suggestion ever made. We bought two pairs and contrary to yesterday, my hands remained warm throughout. Thank you Eric. I owe you one.

After the gloves purchase, we headed back to the bikes. When we got to them Eric had again misplaced his keys.

We went back to the store and the clerk had found them. Eric had dropped them on the floor. We then headed back to the bikes. Upon arrival, Eric declared that he had to go to the bath room again. And, so it goes.

The rain did dissipate for the first hour. That was great. We drove up the west coast of Lake Champlain on rte. 9. It was a picturesque ride with full foliage on our left and deep blue seas on our right. The best stretch of ride yet. Unfortunately it didn't last long. The heavy rains started again and the temps hovered around 40. I was getting used to riding in these conditions. However, the trucks were another story. There is nothing Iike the heavy spray of a tracker trailer blinding you for a full three seconds. Doesn't sound like a long time but trust me, going 55 mph on a fairly major road and not being able to see for three seconds is quite panicky.

I wanted to keep riding through lunch but Eric was... So we stopped at the Tim Hortons in Cowansville for a bite. We were quite the site as we walked into the place, helmets on, dripping from head to toe. It was embarrassing as we created pools of water at our feet. I had a bowl of soup. Eric had the soup, a chicken sandwich and a pepsi.

We then continued on our trek. A little outside of town Eric scream into the intercom; "F... , someone stole my gps.". Somewhere between our last fuel stop and there It had disappeared. I cautioned him about jumping to the conclusion that it had been stolen. "It might have fallen off or you might have left it somewhere.". "No, it was stolen", he replied. At our next stop, 30 miles later, he found it. It had slipped off it's mount at lodged between the front forks of his bike. It was whole and fully functional. Unbelievable.

We arrived at the Chateau Bromont (http://www.chateaubromont.com) in Bromont, Quebec around 4 pm. I hopped in the shower and then settled in for the Patriots game. Another solid performance by Brady but I fear we may have lost Mayo for the year. That would really stink.

Sunday nights in this kind of place are a ghost town. We have been in the pub for two hours having dinner and nursing a couple of beers. Not one other customer has come through the doors.

The receptionist told us that they received word from the town that the water supply had become contaminated and not to drink the water. They have been giving us bottled water to hold us over. Fine with me.

We have to figure out a way to dry our clothes before making the 150 mile trip to Quebec City in the a.m. We can't stand the thought of putting those water-soaked outfits on again.

The forecast is for more of the same tomorrow. However, they say to expect sunshine on Tuesday. I'll believe it when I see it.

That's it for now. Sorry for the lack of blogging. I'll try to be more respectful to our loyal readers going forward.

Good night to all.
G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Saturday Morning Quandry

What to do??? Rain in the forecast everywhere. Canada towards Lake Ontario looks like best of many bad choices. See video below.

Had dinner at Trattoria Delia last night. Lots of parents and students eating. Expensive and ok food. Eric talked. I listened. It's the one constant of our trip.
Later.

- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Location:Burlington Doubletree

Loose Lug Nuts

We arrived at the Burlington Doubletree Hotel at 7:15 p.m., much later than we expected. We didn't leave Waterville Valley until around 11, needing to pack up, change seats on my bike, make a fee calls and fuel up.

Around noon, 42 miles into the trip and a few miles short of Bath NH on Rte 112, we had our first mishap. Riding at 45-50 mph and traveling around a bend, my rear wheel suddenly began to wobble; a very strange and scary thing. I started to lose control but there were no cars behind me and I was able to pull over safely. Eric, riding ahead of me, didn't see what happened so it took a few minutes before he returned. It took us a while to diagnose the problem. Believe it or not the lug nuts on the rear wheel were nearly off. We were shocked. We wondered whether someone had it in for us.

We had no tools with us and we had no cell phone signal. There was however, a college kid from Hofstra spending the Jewish holidays along the river bank by himself sifting for gold. He told us Bath was five miles away. So I rested against a tree while Eric headed on his bike to Bath to see what he could find.

I fell asleep and woke up 75 minutes later when Eric returned from his mission. He had been to a few places and found a metric socket wrench. We were then able to tighten the lug nuts enough to get us to the
Kawasaki dealer


15 miles away. The mechanic there used a power wrench to tighten them further.

All in all I was lucky to have been going relatively slow and to have been riding on a back road. Just another reminder to always be on my toes when riding. Anything can happen at any time.
Readers, please don't mention this to anyone who cares about me. Thanks.

By the time we got going again, it was after 3 p.m. The route to Burlington on rte 302 was beautiful, the trees mostly green and yellow with a smattering of red. A week or two from now will be stunning.

It's now 8:30 p.m. and we just heard about Francona's Red Sox resignation. We're hungry but we want to see the upcoming press conference on TV. Church Street can wait.

The forecast is for heavy rain tomorrow so we could be sticking around for a couple of days. That's fine. I'm sure we'll have fun no matter what happens.

Until tomorrow....
G.


- Posted from George's AT&T
iPhone

Location:Burlington, VT

Year Three, Day One; It Stopped Raining, Finally!

I thought this year's trip might never happen. Eric and I have been waffling over past few months about where to go. We talked about Patagonia, Norway, Colorado, the Northwest and more. Given our schedules, the stock market dive and our general procrastination, we ended up staying close to home.
I'm actually fine with this decision. It allows us more flexibility and I finally get to try Eric and Celia's new bikes; a BMW R1200RT and R1150R. Absolutely gorgeous machines with all conceivable options.

We are sitting at a local coffee shop here in Waterville Valley, mapping out day one. We had originally planned to go to Quebec or Cape Breton Island but the forecast is for more rain, lots of it. Hopefully we can avoid some of it by heading west. Today we've decided on Burlington, VT where we might spend the night or alternatively catch a Lake Champlain ferry over to New York State.

It's been pouring for a few days so there are lots of wet leaves on the ground. We'll have to take it easy. Regardless of the weather, it should be a blast. It's great to be with Eric again and to engage in the endless back and forth banter. Hopefully, for awhile at least, he can forget about the legal case he's leading and I can let go of Sunday Patriots game, the epic Red Sox collapse and last night's ugly Huskies loss to Delaware.

Eric wants to get going so i need to stop typing. We'll try to do a nightly update.


We're off like a heard of Turtles!

G.



Sent from my iPad