July 19: From Delightful to Daunting
The day started out innocently enough. I had a great night’s sleep with wonderful Bunk a Biker hosts and made it to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of north America. It was raining this morning on and off but nothing that was particularly noteworthy. Unfortunately, once I hit the road to get to my destination for the night, conditions became much worse, and I had one of the most difficult rides of my life.
I felt a sense of elation heading towards Cape Spear this morning as it was just a month earlier that I left home to conquer the Dalton Highway and start making my way through ten Canadian territories and provinces towards the east coast. It was hard to believe that just three weeks ago I was admiring the beautiful waters of the Gulf of Alaska and here I was staring at the Atlantic Ocean at the exact point where the sun first appears on our continent every day.
The drive up to the Cape Spear Lighthouse was beautiful, with panoramic views of the ocean and surrounding bluffs, framed by the lush green vegetation on the sides of the road. I very much enjoyed standing at the marker for the official “most eastern” point, touring the bunkers in the area, and admiring the historic lighthouse, first built in 1835.
After driving into St. Johns to pick up some necessary parts at the Harley Dealership, I started what I thought would be an easy three and a half hour, 215-mile ride to the small town of Grand Banks, near my departure point for tomorrow’s ferry to the French Island of Saint Pierre.
Unfortunately, a variety of circumstances resulted in the conditions being some of the most dangerous I have ever driven in. I struggled to control the bike and remain upright as a rode through what turned into a fierce rainstorm through heavy fog with a strong crosswind and excess water on the roads. It was nerve wracking driving the bike through large pools of water with almost no visibility on an unfamiliar narrow winding road filled with potholes as trucks and other vehicles splashed more water on me.
I would have loved to pull over and wait the storm out but unfortunately the “shoulder” consisted of loose gravel that was often several inches lower than the road itself and the storm was apparently only going to get worse. I also knew that if I didn’t make it to my destination tonight, I would miss the ferry for France tomorrow and not have another opportunity to book a ticket on the once-a-week voyage.
So instead, I shifted down to third and fourth gear, lifted my face shield up, pulled my goggles down my nose, and hid behind my windshield. This gave me a narrow band of some visibility, albeit one through a dirty windshield with cold rain and wind pelting my face. Despite the fact I was wearing raingear every inch of my body was soaked.
By the time I reached the Bed and Breakfast where I was supposed to spend the night I was emotionally and physically spent. I had known their driveway was hard-packed gravel but decided when I got there, I just wasn’t up to the task of going down the hill and around the corner on that terrain. I am extremely fortunate that the owners of the B and B agreed not to charge me for the night and a motel with a paved parking lot a few miles away agreed to take me in and even dry my clothes. I have turned the room heat up on high and am hoping my chaps and jacket dry enough to wear on the bike tomorrow. If you look closely at the photo, you can see the rain pelting the window where my clothes are hanging. I am grateful to have a dry roof over my head and am crossing my fingers that tomorrow will be less wet than today.
