TLH Trip - Final Chapter

[Steve Northrop]

     We exited the ferry in North Sydney, Nova Scotia and headed for the 
Cabot Trail. It goes inland for a bit then out to the coast. The inland 
portion reminded me of riding in Colorado with the curves, overlooks and 
elevation changes. Not really much to look at though. We stopped a couple 
times and I was feeling pretty crappy. By the time we got near the coastal 
section it began to rain again. Bill pulled into a small cafe/store. I just 
couldn't stop again without it being someplace I could lay down, especially 
in the pouring rain. I did a u-turn in the parking lot and took off. Mike 
went with me. I was on a mission, topping 80 mph on curvy roads on a KLR650 
with knobby tires. Mike had trouble keeping up on his Beemer. Didn't know if 
the other three were coming or not but doubted it. We ended up making it to 
Truro, about another 200 miles, found a Super 8 and went in. I felt awful 
and fell into bed. Mike said I didn't move a muscle for 3 hours. He brought 
me back some soup from dinner but I couldn't eat it. We tried to call Bruce 
(Bill and Jim don't have cell phones) but his phone was turned off. We 
didn't have any idea where anyone else was. We had pretty much decided after 
the Cabot Trail, we had seen everything we wanted to and would beat feet 
toward home. I slept a little better than I did on the ferry but I now know 
what they mean by "never trust a fart".
     Friday dawned bright and clear. I decided to try a piece of toast and a 
little juice and see if I could keep it down. Mike lead the way and we were 
hoping to make Bangor, ME. Mike got ahead of me in traffic when the KLR went 
on reserve. Not wanting to run out of gas again, I headed for the first 
small town about 5 miles off the main drag. Filled the tank (and bought some 
Imodium) and got back on the highway. Now I don't know where Mike is either. 
Oh well, I lit out for Bangor on my own. I get just across the border and 
stop to get gas (I'm tired of being fleeced by the Canadian gas prices). As 
I'm waiting to pull back out onto the highway, Mike passes in front of me. 
He pulls over and I pull up. He tells me he just talked to Bruce and he's 
only 5 miles behind us. Kind of uncanny that after not knowing where anybody 
is for 2 days and 600 miles, three of us are within 5 miles of each other. 
Of course it starts to rain again but we have a short ride to Bangor. Mike 
and I find a motel and call Bruce and tell him where we are. He meets us and 
tells us that he and Jim were in Truro as well but at a Comfort Inn. Bill 
had ridden on hoping to get home a day early and Jim had headed North toward 
home. It was pouring when we were ready for dinner. The motel had a lounge 
but they were only serving chicken wings. There's a Thai place next door, 
yeah, let's try that. Surely I can find SOMETHING on the menu to eat. I'm 
kind of hungry since I've only had a piece of toast and a Popsicle in two 
days. BIG MISTAKE. They shouldn't have put the rollaway I was sleeping on so 
far from the bathroom!
     The next morning, the three of us say our goodbyes. I'm heading to 
Portsmouth, NH to see my youngest daughter, Bruce it going back to his 
sister's in Connecticut and Mike (who does ironbutts just for shits and 
giggles) is going to try and beat Bill back to Rochester (he didn't). My 
ride home on Sunday after a nice visit with my daughter involved dodging 
thunderstorms with hail all the way down the Thruway once back in the land 
of taxes. All in all, I covered 3900 miles on the trip, not including the 
ferry rides. The KLR performed flawlessly. I can't think of another bike I'd 
rather have for a trip like that. I don't know how much I spent but I don't 
care because I had a ball. Get out there and ride boys. There's nothing else 
like it!

THE END!

Steve in Western NY
'96 GPZ1100
'02 Daytona 955i
'08 KLR 650
"You Can't Fix Stupid", Ron White