CANADA – Coast to Coast – Part 1 by John Baillie

CANADA – Coast to Coast
by John Baillie.

Part one.

The inspiration for the trip came on a family holiday eleven years ago when I saw a sign showing Tokyo closer to Victoria BC than St John’s NL. I had been to Tokyo, and I thought it would be an idea to cross Canada when I retired.

The original idea was to cross by train but that didn’t go where I wanted to see so I decided to ride across. I had planned to do the ride in 2021. In 2022 world logistics had still not returned to normal after the pandemic (they still haven’t) but I did manage to get over to Vancouver for an awesome, 8-day trip through the Rockies, on a rented bike. 2023 was a busy year at home so, finally 2024 came around.

St John’s

I arrived on 7th June. The bike was originally scheduled to arrive the day before me but that was delayed until the 11th so I had a long weekend to acclimatise. In the end, the bike didn’t arrive until the 17th of June, taking a 9 day bite out of my 40-day plan! Not an ideal start!

 

I hit St John’s during a period of very good weather. There was no fog, and it was before St John’s turns itself into Magaluf for the summer. They were already building the patios on Water St, but it was still quiet. Warm, friendly people, beautiful scenic walks from the city centre, excellent seafood and four craft breweries kept me occupied while I was hotel surfing and waiting for news of the bike. There are worse places to reschedule your trip but after eleven days I had pretty much exhausted the options. The sickening knot that had been tying me up was finally relieved when I got the news that the bike had arrived at Air Canada’s Cargo station. It was 16:30, so I had half an hour to get to the airport, clear the bike through customs and uncrate it!

After almost two weeks of utter uselessness from Air Canada and my UK freight forwarder, a new chapter was about to start thanks to the boundless helpfulness and friendliness of the Canadian people. The guys at Air Canada Cargo felt my pain, “you’ll want to get on the road tonight”. Starting with a lift round to customs to the CBSA guys who had never done a temporary vehicle import before but got it sorted anyway, back to Air Canada who, due to insurance reasons and big brother watching from Toronto, couldn’t help me uncrate the bike but gave me a loan of an electric screwdriver and arranged someone else to come and help. I was on the road at 18:15, well after closing time. Photos with the bike was all they asked, my eternal gratitude and the crate the bike came in (“I needed somewhere to keep my skidoo”) was all they would take, so with frayed nerves, the first leg began.

First stop was the petrol station, second to collect some bits and pieces that couldn’t go in the plane (thanks Jim) before heading to Cape Spear where I met a couple just finishing a coast to coast in the opposite direction. They offered to take my photograph, and I took theirs for them. Cape Spear, the eastern most point in Canada and start of the long ride west. From Cape Spear, it was back to St John’s to pack properly for the ride.

 

The Long Beginning – St John’s to Drummondville.

St John’s to Grand Falls-Windsor – 430km, 34°, 18th June

“Look out for moose”, everyone had warned me. Having had a full service and replacing anything that might come to the end of its service life during the trip, the last thing I was expecting was for the engine warning light to come on after 160km. Bugger! A quick email to the dealer and some reassurance that having had all that work done, it would probably clear itself after a few start-up cycles. The nearest dealer was four days ride away and the bike was still running, so I kept going gingerly to begin with.

I had packed for the maritime provinces to be cold and wet. The first day, like the previous two was hot, dry and sunny. Ignoring the engine warning light, I started to enjoy the ride. Deserted roads winding through forests and lakes, over mountains and along the coast and I began to relax. Everywhere has its smell and riding a bike means experiencing the scents along the way. At home, I love the smell of the forests, especially on a hot day when the pine scent is so strong. For some reason, the Newfoundland forests smell like toilet freshener, so now we know that ‘pine fresh’ was invented by a Noofie!

I had been looking forward to the flight museum at Gander but to be honest it was OK; a rest and re-hydration stop.  Stopping for coffee and gas every 150km or so, I arrived at Grand Falls-Windsor tired from concentrating on riding on the right, navigating and worrying about stray moose. Grand Falls-Windsor is pretty and one of the few places to stop if you are crossing Newfoundland in two days. It felt stuck in the 1950s with cash only bars and some questionable attitudes to outsiders. I shared a couple of beers with a lovely couple travelling from Calgary, an English Albertan veteran of the oil patch and his wife, at the questionable Kelly’s Pub and had a delicious middle eastern meal at Grand Rodeo.

 

Grand Falls- Windsor to Channel-Port-aux-Basques – 497km, 34°, 19th June

“Really look out for moose between here and Badger, they like to eat the salty vegetation at the side of the road” the receptionist very helpfully told me and sure

enough, I had my first sighting just short of Badger. They are big, really big, but helpfully easy to spot against the greenery, once you know what to look for.

The road across NL loops along the north coast and then south along the west coast. I had originally planned to head way up north to the Viking settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows, but it got cut out due to the late arrival of the bike. One of my stops for the day was at Dear Lake, at the turn off for the spur north, where I met two brothers riding around the world in stages. Their current leg was from Alaska to New York, via Newfoundland. Bob had been suffering from an infected foot for some days. A while later, he messaged from hospital to say that he had had his toe amputated. I hope to see them during their stage across Europe.

Heading south, I had been told about a beautiful diversion west from Cornerbrook. Well, they do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and when I turned back in the absence of beauty, I found a live power line had come down across the road. After a diversion and all hot and uncomfortable, I was back on the Trans Canada and heading to the ferry port.

Places to stop are few and far between in Canada and I had learned from my previous trip to stop when I could and did so at Pinchgut Lake. The café was one of many places which, while looking basic, served a great lunch at a great location.

 

Midway between Cornerbrook and Channel-Port-aux-Basques, it rained properly. The routine of getting a wet biker into waterproofs at the side of the road is a pain and ungainly to say the least. Suffice to say that I fell on my arse trying to get back on the bike. With no hard shoulder to stop on, this was done in the live lane. The road was quiet when I stopped but by the time I wasn’t getting back onto the bike, a truck was approaching and passed me as I fell to earth. It was a lucky escape, and I needed to calm down and think more clearly. Before Cornerbrook, I had been sharing the road with a guy on a Harley. Next day, waiting for the ferry, I found out that he hadn’t seen a drop of rain.

Further south, it turned into a beautiful day again.

Channel-Port aux Basques isn’t a big place, but my satnav managed to get me lost but as I said, it’s not a big place so I wasn’t lost for long.

I had been wondering about all the hyphenated place-names I had been coming across. Newfoundland is so spread out that to provide services, some time ago, it was decided to amalgamate townships and combine their names, so now we know.

After a short walk and something to eat, it was early to bed for a 04:00 ferry check-in.

 

 

 

Channel-Port-aux-Basques to Chéticamp – 239km plus 5 hours ferry NL-NS, 34°, 20th June.

Despite being packed before going to bed and up on time, I still managed to only just make it for the early morning check-in. Due to disruption on the freighter, the passenger ferries were running a 24hour service and on the 20th of June, that meant an 06:15 sailing instead of 09:30. The plus side was a more of the day riding in Nova Scotia.

There were two other bikers waiting to board, one from Chicago on an east coast tour and the other a retired submariner on a visit to his mother in St John’s. It was the submariner with whom I had shared the road the previous day and who had stayed dry when I took the excursion at Cornerbrook! He was a regular on the ferry so was able to help securing the bikes onboard. No ratchet strap over the saddle like at home but four, one from each corner! Newfoundland to Nova Scotia an open water Atlantic crossing.

Due to the early start, I booked a cabin so I could be fresh for the ride around Cape Breton but just as I was about to drift off, my phone rang. Mr Chicago was stuck in the ship’s lift and couldn’t raise the alarm! By the time I got dressed and got to the lift, he was out. I gave up on the idea of sleep and the two of us went off for breakfast.

The passage was so smooth it was difficult to know we had even left port. No worries about the bike then. I’ve always worried about the bike on ferry crossings ever since my first crossing to Ireland. The very helpful guy who showed me how to tie my bike down was called to the car deck after a very rough crossing as we approached Larne to collect the various bits of his bike. It had broken free during the crossing and slid across the deck. Poor guy.

 

Nova Scotia

At North Sydney, I was in a new time zone, half an hour earlier than Newfoundland and 4 hours behind home. Off the ferry and I was onto Cape Breton Island. After a short stretch on the Trans-Canada Highway past Bras d’Or Lake, the long straights and gentle curves of the TCH I had been on since St John’s were over and I was onto the beautifully twisting Cabot Trail, one of the sections of the trip I had been looking forward to since the planning. It didn’t disappoint!

 

NS-30 weaves its way north along the shoreline until Duncan’s Beach where motorcycling heaven suddenly opens up as it spectacularly heads up to Pathend Brook Lookout, with clutch slipping hairpins and fast snaking twists. Over the top and it sweeps down to Ingonish where, with the temperature well into the 30s, it was time for another surprisingly excellent lunch at The Coastal. On up the coast through Neil’s Harbour with its scenic lighthouse and a petrol and water stop in Dingwall, NS-30 weaves in and out the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. In the park, the roads are perfect, outside the park there are clear signs of a slow economy with run down houses and wrecked cars. The run from Dingwall to Chéticamp is stunning and I had the road to myself. The scenery is amazing and the road maybe one of the best biking roads I’ve been on. The park authority helpfully signposts every corner with direction and speed (which can easily be doubled).I arrived in Chéticamp feeling great and with the biggest smile on my face, my Air Canada woes far behind me.

I had booked into l’Auberge Doucet. Having ridden through places with Scottish placenames, I had arrived in Acadie. My anticipation of a perfect coming together of fresh seafood and French cuisine ended abruptly at the Seafood Stop. I was instead transported to my hated 1970s school dinners.

 

 

Chéticamp to Halifax – 411km, 36°, 21st June

 

 

 

I woke to another beautiful morning and, after a sharing routes and stories with some Québecois bikers also staying at the auberge, I headed south along the Cabot Trail following the top of low cliffs with small fishing boats working close-in to the shore. Idyllic! Around Margaree Harbour the Cabot Trail heads inland. I stayed on the coast and switched to the Ceilidh Trail where the place names switched back to the familiar. I rode through Dunvegan and Inverness towards Port Hood with placename signs in Gaelic and French but not English. The Scots who came to Cape Breton were mainly Catholics and so while the names were familiar, the church architecture was not.

 

 

After Port Hood, the Ceilidh Trail heads southeast to the Canso Causeway and so, after two weeks in Canada, I made it to the mainland!

Back on the TCH, I stopped for petrol and water just outside Antigonish where I had a long conversation with an anti-poaching ranger. Needless to say, he was also a biker. From there, west through New Glasgow to a pit stop in Truro in blistering heat before heading south to Halifax. It was all very fast highway riding, but I got my first glimpses of the Bay of Fundy before being spat out into downtown Dartmouth on the other side of the Angus L Macdonald Bridge from Halifax. Fumbling about in sweat-soaked gloves, I managed to find the bridge toll and after a wee bit of circling found my hotel. Thanks to James in Halifax, I had the toll ready otherwise it would have been more of a faff.

 

 

Halifax – 100km, 29°, 21st to 23rd June

 

 

 

Halifax was on the must visit list. I had read “Barometer Rising” by Hugh MacLennan, set during the Halifax explosion of 6th December 1917. A French munitions ship, the Mont Blanc, exploded creating the world’s largest explosion, it was heard 130 miles away and created a tsunami which exposed the seabed and destroyed everything in an 800m radius. 1,800 were killed and 9,000 injured. Ten thousand were made homeless. The anchor of the Mont Blanc was blown 2.3 miles where it still lies.

Through Robbie, President of the Scottish Ducati Club, I had contacted James Huestis, President of the East Coast DOC. James lives in Halifax and very kindly offered to pick me up at my hotel and show me round Halifax. No better way to see a city than in an open top car with a local.

Next morning, James had arranged for some of the club to meet for a breakfast run down to Peggy’s Cove. Most of the club were in the Annapolis Valley for the weekend but there were still 6 who met up for the wee circular breakfast run along the coast to Peggy’s Cove. Breakfast was a great idea. We had the place pretty much to ourselves and left just as the coach parties were rolling up.  Back in Halifax and I had a chance to adjust the chain and inspect the bike at James’ and, in the afternoon, I explored Halifax on foot. The Citadel survived the explosion despite being almost at ground zero, thanks to its earth ramparts.

I had originally planned to spend three nights in Halifax, but the forecast was for rain closing in and lasting a couple of weeks. I therefore decided to try and jump ahead of it. The beautiful weather I had enjoyed since I had arrived in Canada was about to break and I wanted to get ahead of the front.

 

 

 

Halifax to Caraquet – 495km, 29°, 23rd June

I woke early to try to get to Caraquet before the rain. I did, but only just!

My morning routine was starting to take shape. Alarm for 6am, get the coffee on, check the weather channel on TV and look at the weather apps on my phone. On the bike for 7am and stop for breakfast after an hour or so. This morning, I woke to a text from an unknown number. It was from another DOC member inviting me to meet for breakfast in Truro, 100km north and on my route for the day.  I replied to the text and immediately heard the polite Glaswegian voice of David Aylmer. “When you get to Truro, turn off at the big grey building and meet me at the One Stop”, except by the time I got to Truro, the haar was in and all the buildings were grey. I missed the turn off and by the time I could stop to call to apologise I was at Debert, on the other side of Truro. David, gentleman that he is, rode up and we had coffee and a croissant and a good old chat about bikes and life.

By the time I stopped at Thomson station for brunch, the skies had cleared, and it was warm again.

Today was the day the forwarder returning my bike home said we needed to confirm the arrangements. Being a Sunday and given the hassles getting the bike to St John’s, I elected to put off to tomorrow what needed to be done today. I would be taking the day off and it could wait. When I stopped at Amherst for fuel, I also took a break and checked my emails. Lo and behold, there was an email from Motorcycle Express; sign this, pay this and print and fill out these forms. By the time I reached Caraquet, the return was organised, what a contrast to the utterly useless James Cargo whom I has entrusted to get my bike to St John’s before me!

New Brunswick

Eating up the miles on TCH, I was soon in New Brunswick and, looking over the flat expanses towards the Bay of Fundy, I could see the weather front coming in on my left. Cutting off the TCH at Moncton and onto the NS-11 the ride became more relaxing, running through forests with moose and beautifully manicured townships. At Miramichi, I took on a lunchtime dose of indigestion before following the NS-11 right and along the coast to Caraquet through Tracadie-Sheila (there’s that mix of Gaelic and French again).

Between the heat, the early start and my aches and pains, afternoon stops were more frequent than in the morning. The rain had just about caught up with me at Miramichi, but I was far enough ahead of the front able to stop at Neguac for a breather. By the time I reached Caraquet, the skies were grey and 20 minutes later, the rain had set in. Made it!

Having watched Scotland being humbled by Germany in St John’s and having missed the Switzerland game, I made it to a pub for the Hungary game. I was wet from the walk to the pub and the game did nothing to lift my spirits. I trudged off for something to eat. Canada is pretty much closed on Sundays and Mondays. This was a wet Sunday in the off season, by the beach so there was a choice of one open restaurant. Cheer up, there’s scallops on the menu. They were deep fried!  The biking was going better than the gastronomic experience.  A mixed day in all and I was quite tired after 2200km in 6 days so off to bed and enjoy the next day.

 

 

 

 

Village Historique Acadien – 27km, 31°, 24th June

By morning, the rain had passed and the skies were blue. The gamble had paid off, rain was forecast in Halifax for the next few days, so I took my Halifax day off in Caraquet where I visited the living museum of Acadian life at Bertrand. The day was beautiful, sunny and up in the 30s again. The museum is spread over a large site and is a collection of Acadian buildings from all over New Brunswick and Acadia to show Acadian life from the earliest settlement to the 20th century.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Monday and again most of Caraquet was closed but I did get a decent meal and chilled in the motel garden with a beer as the sun set over the sea, looking towards my next destination across Nepisiguit Bay. It was a perfect end to a lovely day off.

Caraquet to Percé – 455km, 32°, 25th June

I set off bright and early and feeling refreshed after my day off, happy to be in the saddle again. Making my way again along low cliff tops with fishing boats just offshore, I found myself riding through Stonehaven in the haar. Of course I did! The haar didn’t last for long and before long it was back to sun, forests and moose. I was still wary of them but becoming more confident that they are easy to pick out in the daytime.

After Stonehaven, comes Dundee and then of course Campbellton but not before a splendid breakfast at Eel River Bar. Campbellton would be my exit point from New Brunswick at the bridge crossing the mouth of the Restigouche River.

Québec

Crossing the J C van Horne Bridge into Québec province took me back in time, by an hour. This was my fourth province and third time zone. Riding the coastline of the Gaspésie was another of my must do parts of the trip and I was looking forward to it.

It was early afternoon and getting hot. My morning shoulder and neck pains were giving way to an ongoing issue with my right ear. The aches and pains could be stretched out, even while moving but the ear was becoming a problem. I’m not exactly sure what I had done but before I had even got the bike, I had a graze on my right earlobe. Maybe it was too much sun or wind or something else in St John’s but wearing a helmet all day wasn’t doing it any good and at some points it was distractingly sore. Stops were getting more frequent for some relief, so there were lots of photo stops along the south shore of the Gaspésie.

At New Richmond, I stopped for an excellent lunch at a family run roadside restaurant, Au Fin Gourmet. I guess the clue is in the name. It had been recommended to me at one of my earlier stops and it didn’t disappoint. My food experience in the Maritimes had been great but had become mixed in the previous couple of days and so I was looking forward to the French having a good influence on things. This was an excellent start!

From New Richmond, I headed on along the coast following QC-132 as I would continue to for the next three days. At Newport I stopped again on the beach road and met a couple from Virginia on a touring holiday of the east coast. He turned out to have been a Murphy Oil drilling engineer and had been to Aberdeen. We had a good old chat about fun times working in the oil industry before I set off north again. Just short of Percé whilst stopped to take some photos I met a couple of bikers. We swapped stories and I gave one the spare CO2 cylinder for my airbag vest I had had delivered to St John’s in case I wasn’t able to take mine on the plane. I hope he never needs it!

Riding into Percé, I could have been somewhere on the north coast of France. It is a beautiful seaside resort with a cobble beach a spectacular, arched sea stack just offshore. The weather was perfect, the location ideal and although tired after a ten-and-a-half-hour day, I was feeling great.

After freshening up, and a cold beer at the Pit Caribou brewery, which I had been recommended in Caraquet, I was lucky enough to get a table at the excellent La Maison du Pêcheur restaurant. The gastronomic experience was on the up!

I fell into bed having ridden 455km to be 100km from Caraquet and 50km east of where I had started but boy was it worth it!

 

Percé to Rimouski – 458km, 22°, 26th June

Leaving Percé, QC-132 twists and turns tightly, rising and falling over the headland before following the coastline to Gaspé with spectacular views in the mirrors of the cliffs leading back to Percé. The weather started nicely enough but the clouds were gathering by the time I reached Gaspé, where Jaques Cartier had “discovered” Canada 500 years after the Vikings had found people already living there!

I cut out Cap Gaspé as the clouds promised rain, with a short excursion back into moose country before sighting the mighty St Lawrence River at Rivière-au-Renard. QC-132 winds its way along the southern shoreline of the St Lawrence. Occasionally, it just goes straight over the tops of the cliffs where there is no way to follow the shore. This gives some magnificent views of the villages that line the shore. It’s a beautiful road but when the rain arrived, both the bike and I got soaked and filthy. It didn’t last too long, but it was one of those days with waterproofs on and off, too hot to ride in them in the dry, too wet not to wear them when it was raining. By afternoon, the weather had improved and the run along the shoreline became much more enjoyable and so, I rolled into Rimouski in good spirits, having ridden 360km upstream without yet seeing the northern shore of the river.

 

Rimouski is a pleasant stop with a good choice of places to eat and drink but the food is strangely American with no sign of French influence. I was now deep into Québec, and it was clear that almost nobody spoke any English. Not only that but the differences between Québecois and French weren’t helping any. Nonetheless, I still slept, ate and drank well and the sunset over the river was spectacular!

 

 

 

 

Rimouski to Drummondville – 448km, 23°, 27th June

This section was never going to be one of the world’s greatest motorcycle rides. Today and the next day were just about getting past the big cities. I had originally planned to ride up to Mont-Tremblant and down to Kingston but that plan fell foul of the delay in St John’s.

I set off with too much on my mind; 21 days into the trip and I was still effectively on the east coast and trying to catch up lost time plus it was going to be a wet day, so almost immediately I took a wrong turning and then another. Not the best start but at least it was dry. A momentary lapse of concentration meant having to double back through diversions and roadworks and I lost at least half an hour. It was another wake-up call!

Still on QC-132, I rode across the flat expanses flanking the river and before long, the waterproofs were on again. Most of the ride was along the tree lined highway and except for the occasional bucolic views it was monotonous and busy. The road surface was as poor as I had ridden in in Cuba with large potholes in the middle of the carriageway. By time I reached Levis, just south of Québec city, the ride had become an endurance with heavy rain, heavy traffic, contraflow, diversions and roadworks. Thankfully, my satnav guided me to the right route. By the time I reached Drummondville, I was very tired but at least the rain had stopped. Dirty, damp and dishevelled, I reached the huge Grand Times Hotel. It was quiet with only 10 of the 140 rooms occupied and so it was no problem for reception to move me to a room with a bath, what bliss! The plan had been to head into Montreal to see what the Ducati dealer could do about the engine warning light, but the ever-helpful receptionist told me that Montreal traffic is awful and that unless I was prepared to leave before 06:30 or after 10:00, I should avoid Montreal altogether.  I didn’t see much of Drummondville; it was a pit stop. Flat, featureless and blandly North American.  This was the only day I took no photos.

Drummondville to Cobden – 446km, 28°, 28th June

The day started with bright blue skies as I set off for the Ducati dealer in Ottawa. Following TCH in the direction of Montreal and then turning off on the A30 and heading south I got a pleasant surprise after joining QC-201. Feeling a sense of relief at leaving behind the major urban areas and crossing the rapids of the St Lawrence as it flows around Grand Ile, with blue skies and green trees, at a sedate 70kph, an osprey flew up and over me with a fish in its talons. Without doubt this was a highlight of the trip, and the sight will stay with me.

Farewell to monolingual Québec. The rest of Canada is bi-lingual, at least on its signs.

 

PART 2 TO FOLLOW NEXT MONTH.