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Six Weeks, a Tent and a VFR - Updated November 12th: Traffic with a Capitol "T", Hollywood and the Score: Wind 1: Olive 0 (Day 41/48)


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great adventure.....enjoy and keep the reports coming so we can enjoy with you too!!!

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I'm enjoying this thread immensly.

i hope to go for a nice long road trip too.

keep up the good work....and ride safe. Don't forget to check out PEI and the confederation bridge. Pretty little island.

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Continuing on as dusk began to fall I finally found a place to spend the night. I was tired and feeling very frustrated with my efforts to communicate. Quebec seemed in some ways more foreign than anywhere I had traveled in the States. Distinct and different certainly was the feeling.

Since my wife is french-canadian, I can make this statement, and have backing to go with it. Most people in Quebec can speek english but chose not too, to those from the rest of Canada. Sure if you get in to some of the more remote areas you could run in to problems, but between Montreal and Quebec City there shouldn't be an issue. I've seen it lots of time traveling with my wife, sitting in a Boston Pizza in Montreal our server tried to play the I can't speak English card on me one day, the wife opened up on her in French asking if she likes getting tips from her customer and can you believe it her English was better than mine :laughing6-hehe:

The best every was back in 07 (before I met my wife) I was coming back from the east coast and had just crossed back in to Quebec from New Brunswick, less than 100 feet in to Quebec on 185 there is a Welcome to Quebec Travel infomation rest stop. I stopped and was looking for a simple can of Coke. Walked inside and asked the guy behind the desk if there was a coke machine in the building. He looked at me with a blank look and told me he can't speak English. Really??? Your working at a travel booth 10 feet inside Quebec and you can't speek English?

Using what little grade school french I could remember and hand signals I tried to explain I just wanted a drink of Coke or water anything. He says to me "No Bar here" and turned in his chair away from me :blink:

Thats why I travel on the US side going down east now, and the roads are a lot more fun when your on the bike :fing02:

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My cousin and myself do not share the same philosophy towards riding. My attitude is that the cow is already dead and has little use for his hide, and I still have some use for mine. His is that the freedom of the road entails riding in blue jeans and a short sleeved shirt. I guess to ride a Hog you have to be tough enough to withstand a little road rash. His argument is that he is careful when he rides. Personally I'll stick with my gear, because my crystal ball isn't good enough to predict when I am going to go down despite the care and caution I ride with. Riders know it is not a question of if you fall off the bike, but when. I do my best to stack the odds in my own favour.

I'm not sure if I have ever read a better way of describing why to wear your gear than this. :fing02: :fing02: Enjoying the report.

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NIce, nice, nice! What a fantastic adventure. Thanks for sharing, looking forward to all the updates.....I have to go somewhere at lunch!

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...most interesting to me is that your writing draws pics in my mind that run like video; great writing along with great experiences!! Still following...

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Have had very limited net connectivity - heading back through Nova Scotia after having taken the overnight ferry from Newfoundland (you load up just before midnight, and arrive the next morning at 7am. Last night was a rougher crossing than the journey there - they even tied down the 18-wheelers. Apparently a month or so back they caught rough sea and had a couple of trucks tip over on top of cars. I just tried to sleep in the chairs - didn't want to spend the extra money on a cabin.

Thick fog and rain leaving Sydney, Nova Scotia. It cleared for a short while, and then the fog socked back in. Stopped to dry off and de-thaw crossing at the Canso penninsula. Proper report with photos and catching up on the story to date will follow hopefully this evening if I have decent internet access.

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WHOO HOO!

My sentiments exactly!! That shot in front of Parliament in Ottawa is across the street from where Poncho and Tumbles

discovered me last year. Glad your trip is going well now. Can't wait for the update when you get to "civilization" fing02.gif

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Continuing on as dusk began to fall I finally found a place to spend the night. I was tired and feeling very frustrated with my efforts to communicate. Quebec seemed in some ways more foreign than anywhere I had traveled in the States. Distinct and different certainly was the feeling.

Since my wife is french-canadian, I can make this statement, and have backing to go with it. Most people in Quebec can speek english but chose not too, to those from the rest of Canada. Sure if you get in to some of the more remote areas you could run in to problems, but between Montreal and Quebec City there shouldn't be an issue. I've seen it lots of time traveling with my wife, sitting in a Boston Pizza in Montreal our

This is simply not true. A lot of those folks do not speak English and do not understand it. It depends where you are (Montreal being more bilingual than the rest of the province), how old you are, and your level of education. I very much doubt it was lack of good will.

Thanks for the report Olive. As always, interesting.

C

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Most people in Quebec can speek english but chose not too, to those from the rest of Canada.[

This is simply not true. A lot of those folks do not speak English and do not understand it. It depends where you are (Montreal being more bilingual than the rest of the province), how old you are, and your level of education. I very much doubt it was lack of good will.

I have to agree with Polar Bear on this one. Perhaps if I had stopped at places like Boston Pizza and places on the main highway I would have found English more prevalent, but I was stopping in fairly small places. Communication styles of people indicated to me that they were trying to communicate using what little english they had, giving me the impression that they were trying - not simply turning their noses up at the idea of a Canadian who didn't speak French.

Just working on a couple of updates.

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This is simply not true. A lot of those folks do not speak English and do not understand it. It depends where you are (Montreal being more bilingual than the rest of the province), how old you are, and your level of education. I very much doubt it was lack of good will.

Like I said the smaller places off the main track could be an issue, but the main population centers along the 20 or the 40, don't let them fool you :pinocchio:

Anyways back to the story... :offtopic:

Olive, can't wait for the full update, we have missed a lot, your not back in N.S.? Can't wait to hear about the trip around the Rock, and I hope you rode the Cabot Trail.

Fingers crossed for you that the weather turns a little nicer.

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I got off to an early start and continued riding through Quebec. In parts it reminded me of Ontario with lots of trees and signs reminding of moose on highway. There was a little more farmland here, and the word pastoral could be applied to parts of the countryside. Small towns dotted the area, and the road I was on was fairly quiet.

I stopped for a quick coffee at a place where I could access WIFI, and took a picture of the menuboard - so familiar, yet so different.

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Continuing on to Quebec City, I stopped at a visitor center to get directions to the old quarter. To my surprise I found out that bikes are not allowed within the walled city itself. The attendant at the booth provided me with a small map and directions to a good place to park.

Following her directions which seemed to be a fairly major route on the map, I rode through a lot of residential areas . The houses were beautiful, and built tall around the road. It wasn't unusual to see two or three story buildings close to the road, reminding me of the way apartment buildings are set on a lot out west, although these were houses. Some of them had a balcony and door upstairs with an iron stairway spiraling up to the second floor – I surmised that these were duplexes or triplexes with a separate external entrance. It didn't look like it would offer much fun on moving day given how steep some of the staircases were.

Cars were parked along the side of the road making it very narrow at times. Oncoming traffic darted into my lane to push past the larger vehicles at the side. Cyclists were very evident at the side of the road as well. The road curved a lot, and had quite a few hills and busy cross streets. It was bustling with people, bicycles and traffic. Occasionally I saw another motorcycle ride past.

I passed by some industrial buildings, including a school. It must have been break time because there were a lot of girls outside, all wearing the same design of plaid skirt, but their tops varied widely from bulky fleece tops to sweaters and t-shirts, none of which seemed to be part of a uniform.

I continued to ride past housing and businesses through a very nice area. Finally I approached an area with a lot of cafes at the side of the street. Signs at the side seemed to indicate no parking, but there were a lot of cars at the side. I headed onwards to the parking lot that the woman at the information booth had suggested only to find a sign showing that it was cars only – both trucks and motorcycles had a round circle and slash through them. Turning around, I started searching for a place to park the bike.

After a few loops I finally decided to stop on the main street outside the cafes. The parking signs were tandem. The top sign clearly indicated the times that parking was not available. The bottom sign had text that I couldn't translate into sense – why would there be a need for a sign indicating no parking during designated times if it was a no-parking zone for vehicles at any time. I parked the bike. Gettnig off I had a brief chat with a local who had noticed the Alberta plate . He correctly surmised that I didn't speak french, and had halting english. After a brief discussion the second sign made sense – no motorcycle parking. Right, “moto” means bike, not vehicle. Oops. (A pictograph would have made a lot more sense).

I got back on the bike, circling around until I finally found street parking for the bike. Unfortunately it was in a time limited parking zone. I grabbed the camera and took a quick hike toward the old quarter, passing building construction and Quebec's Legislature. As the walls of the old city came into view, so did a horse drawn carriage.

It was a warm day, and I regretted that I was still wearing all of my bike gear. I didn't want to leave the tank bag on the bike either, so I was carrying that and my feet weren't thrilled that I was still wearing my bike boots.

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Entering the walls I was greeted with a view out of a postcard. Tall buildings and narrow roads. Old french architecture. In places the roads were cobblestones, but always very narrow. Dark narrow alleys let in little daylight and cut between buildings, at times seeming a tunnel between two businesses. Tourists clustered on the sidewalks clutching cameras and shopping bags of souvenirs. I passed by a small area where horses and carriage drivers waited for their next fare. Expensive restaurants, exclusive boutique hotels, gift shops and cafes dotted the streets. In places umbrellas bloomed from an outdoor cafe . Along some of the side streets carts were parked offering the fare of local artists. Construction took place in areas. In the distance statues and a large cathedral towered over the city. I had seen photos of Old Quebec before, and it was all here in a very small area. Reminded me a lot of pictures I have seen of France.

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Heading back to the bike, I had to really push so I wouldn't be parked past the allotted parking time. The hot sun beat down on me and my tank bag gained a few pounds just from being carried . I felt my boots rubbing, and wished that I had taken the time to switch out to more comfortable footwear.

Reaching the bike I was a few minutes late, but other cars were still parked on the street as well. I took my time re-gearing up, and noted that traffic was beginning to pick up. Some of the streets in Quebec are on very steep hills, and I would not want to try to take a car along them on a wintery day. It was enough to take the bike. Perhaps hill is not the correct term – as they seemed more like a small mountain rising steeply ahead. I had to stop the bike on a couple of them while waiting for a light to turn green, and each time this made me uneasy because of the pitch of the hill.

I chose to head along the North side of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. Passing out of Quebec I saw an immense bridge spanning the distance to an island to the right and a huge waterfall to the left. Continuing onwards the highway felt a little more open, but passed through a lot of small towns.

One interesting feature was a number of small traffic circles to the right of the road. There was only one entrance into them, which was also the exit. In a few places there was also access to a few homes, but this was the exception, not the rule. Riding for a while I realized why there were so many turnabouts – they were primarily intended for traffic that wanted to access businesses on the opposite side of the roadway. Barricades in the center of the roads made it impossible to cross over, and U-turns were not allowed.

Up ahead I saw the sign for St. Anne du Beaupre. In the distance I saw another majestic church rising over the town - the Basilica of St. Anne du Beaupre. Getting closer I found a huge cathedral and had to stop to take a few pictures and a better look. It was obviously open to the public

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Parking my bike on the street, I walked in. The building was incredibly large, towering over the town. Two huge spires flanked the building that showcased ornate sculptures. Just magnificent! Heading up the stairs the detail on statues became more evident, and I noticed the brass doors were open. Stepping inside I was greeted by the soaring notes of an organ. The interior eclipsed the exterior. I stepped inside and discovered that a service was in progress. I sat down in a pew and just listened to the sound of the organ, the sole female soloist raising her voice in song, the fluid sounds of french from the priest. The cathedral was immense with tile mosaics, stained glass and huge arches dwarfing the small wooden benches below. Words are not enough to describe this building as a work of art. After the service concluded I was able to take a few pictures of the interior.

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The street beside the cathedral - typical for small towns in Quebec.

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Continuing onwards, the road climbed another steep hill and I passed a few truckers laboring up in low gear. It was time to stop for gas, and at this point the proximity of towns spread out a lot. Finding a gas station I pulled in and topped up the tank. I talked to the person behind me in line while waiting to pay – he was curious about the Alberta plate. As he was also a biker, he was curious about my trip. I indicated my plans to continue with a crossing of the seaway at the ferry, and he told me that the ferry I had planned to cross with wasn't running yet this year. A brief exchange in french with the cashier of the gas station produced the brochures for the local ferries, and he was indeed right – it was too early in the season for the crossing I had intended. Very helpful, he let me know about the road construction at the later crossing and recommended that I follow the road back through Quebec and take the south side of the seaway.

Returning back the way I came, I decided to try to pull over at the falls to take a picture. The entrance was a toll gate, and I didn't think that the amount they wanted to charge was enough just to go in for a picture, so I turned the bike around and continued back through Quebec City. Inadvertently I took the scenic route through the city, eventually finding the south bridge and the highway once again.

I was very hot, and pulled over for a cold pop. The weather was the warmest I had seen all trip. It would make a beautiful night to pitch a tent. I continued riding for another half hour as the sun began to drop in the sky, and followed signs to Domaine Champetre campground. After booking a site for the night and pitching the tent, I tried to get onto the internet – my net book wasn't at all interested in being cooperative with their WIFI router, so I folded up the computer and decided that an early night might be a better idea.

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Today I am riding in Maine - crossed the border early afternoon. Caught up with one more day of ride report with more prepared and ready to upload - just need to find a place to recharge the netbook battery, hopefully still with WIFI. At least I got updated to Quebec City!

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Hey O. remember to change your speedo from km's to mph now they let you in, VFR's are great like that and you wont be holding up the blue hairs.

Weedman I aint talkin about you either you're FLY'N@70 m8 :biggrin:

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I woke up early in the morning to the deep buzz of bullfrogs and birds outside my tent. I packed up my tent, although the air was a little chilly. As I was starting to load the luggage on the bike the owner of Domaine Champetre campground said hello and offered me a coffee. What a great offer given the brisk temperatures. We stood and chatted for a while.

He explained that he was a little nervous when I had ridden up the previous night. It is not unknown for a group of bikers to send a lone female rider in first to book a site, and then a few minutes later an entire pack of loud bikes show up. I gather he expected me to be a forerunner for one of these groups. It surprised me that this sort of thing was a problem, but might explain the type of reception I had gotten at the first campground I had tried a previous night.

He was proud of his campground and understandably so having done a lot of work on it. It catered to Rvs, tenters, and tried to provide a destination not just a place to pitch a tent for the night. It provided badminton and volleyball courts, a swimming pool, fish ponds, bike trails and many places to hike. There were plenty of small features like fish ponds, benches and nicely planted gardens. He was still setting it up for the seaoson, although it was in very nice shape.

As we stood talking a young kitten wandered up. We weren't sure if it was tame or wild, but it seemed a little leery of us, stalking around the bike and the bench that was against the side of the building. It finally adventured on top of my bike to check out my camping gear. This was too perfect to miss out on, and since I had the camera out I tried to take a picture. The picture turned into an action shot of “attack kitty”. The little fellow decided that my shoulder looked substantially more interesting and comfortable than where he was, and launched himself at me. Startled, I sloshed the cup spilling hot coffee everywhere, just before evicting the cat from my shoulder where he definitely did not belong. Perhaps he wanted to explore the Maritimes with me, but I wasn't interested in a hitch hiker... besides, I didn't have a spare helmet that would fit him.

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I set off down the access road, dodging potholes until I reached the main highway and turned east. Ten minutes into the ride large heavy rain drops started to fall. I pulled over for a coffee and to wait for the weather to properly sock in, then continued heading east. The usual stops for the day - coffee, gas, and where facilities like this roadside rest stop existed, a bathroom break.

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I had a specific plan for heading into New Brunswick, but like best laid plans I laid it aside when I pulled off the highway to top off the tank and followed what looked to be a promising road. It was marked with scenic route signs, and I hadn't actually checked my map to double check the route number I had planned. The route headed south past lots of small towns – passed right through them, so road speed was constantly varying from 50 to 90. The houses by the road were mostly older, although there were a few with fresh siding as well. Not many places to pull off the road – the shoulder was gravel, the road was narrow and there was just enough traffic to be an issue. The condition of the road made for an entertaining ride – traveling through curves had a higher than usual degree of difficulty thanks to the potholes, ruts and other asphalt obstacles.

The houses were perched fairly close to the road in places, reminiscent of other parts of Quebec. Side roads were gravel, and there wasn't a paved driveway to be seen. At times the hills made the driveways charge up steep slopes, or circle down dropping quickly away from the road. Lots of wooded areas, but also farms and ranches to be seen. Every small center sported a church with a tall white steeple standing up tall against the countryside visible for miles.

I continued riding, finally locating a promising spot for a late lunch and a coffee. Turning on my phone I was bemused to note an automatic email my cell service provider sent me “welcome to international roaming”. I hadn't crossed the border, at least not yet... although was just across the river from the States.

As usually happens when I stop, a local quizzed me about where I was from. An Alberta plate in these regions on a single bike tends to draw a bit of notice. I found out that I had actually taken a side highway, and this was why the directions I was following weren't exactly accurate. Setting off with rewnewed directions I backtracked part of my route, exiting to finally find the highway I had originally intended to follow. It was in significantly better repair than the road I had take earlier in the day.

Traveling onwards I stopped for gas in a small town that claimed fame for it's waterfall, and headed over to the lookout point. Tourist center was closed this late in the day but the falls were still accessible. If I had more time and better shoes it could make an interesting hike.

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At this point I was very aware that my left foot had picked up a large blister the day before. I could feel it every single time I shifted or put weight on my foot as the boot pressed against it uncomfortably. Not much I could do about it, so I continued to ride.

The major industry in this area of the country was pulp and paper. Lots of lumber mills around, and a few large manufacturing centers as well as I took busier roads.

Lots of warnings along the side of the road about Moose, and I spotted a rather unlucky Moose as I continued to ride. The car that hit him was rather unlucky as well – but that had been towed away some time before I arrived. All I saw was the Moose, eyes glazing white in death with a few hopeful black birds having a late evening snack.

Dusk was falling so I started searching for a campground not wanting to meet one of the Moose's close relatives at close quarters. I followed one turnoff sign, and explored some of the roads that it linked to but no further signs of the previously advertised campground. Back onto the highway I finally found a place for the night as darkness settled in.

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Today I am riding in Maine - crossed the border early afternoon. Caught up with one more day of ride report with more prepared and ready to upload - just need to find a place to recharge the netbook battery, hopefully still with WIFI. At least I got updated to Quebec City!

Looking forward to the next installment. Sounds like you're enjoying the trip so far. Welcome to the USA! :fing02:

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Great posts Olive. Hopefully you've got some better weather ahead. And you probably won't have to be on the lookout for any more moose . . . :biggrin:

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Continued to head east across an ever changing terrain. Skies I were cloudy but temperatures weren't too bad.

After I crossed the Canso Causeway there was definitely a different feel to the roads. Instead of going through the hills they went over and around. In places the road was in poor repair, and curves had increased technical difficulty as I dodged pothole after pothole.

Still a lot of churches around – this one was just across a small lake and at first glance I thought the field behind it was filled with grazing animals – nope, that is a very large graveyard.

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The road ran along lots of small bodies of water. This dock had a boat tied up, for sale by owner.

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As I reached McNabs cove the road rose up into some very low lying clouds and temperatures rapidly dropped. Riding through the fog felt a little eerie, but I had plans to catch the overnight ferry to Newfoundland so continued to press onwards. A lot of fun riding roads in Nova Scotia, and lots of smaller pockets of population dotted the highway and surrounding areas. A police car pulled in behind me for a short while, following me through some nicely curved territory while I kept a close eye on my speedometer. Satisfied, perhaps, that I was behaving myself he pulled on past and I saw him again at the bottom of a hill with a slow lazy curve coming into sight holding a radar gun checking speed of oncoming vehicles. Fortunately I was still behaving myself.

Reaching the ferry terminal I followed instructions to enter the port. The entrance reminded me more of customs than a toll booth. Since I hadn't gotten an advance reservation there was a little more paperwork to do. Apparently in the high season it is almost impossible to get a place to board if you haven't reserved in advance.

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I was directed to park at the front of one of the loading lanes and looked around. It was a huge parking lot, one side filled with cars, and the other with Rvs, Trucks and Semis. In another segment of the lot semi-trailers were parked without their tractors, and a small shunt truck painted bright yellow was towing them up onto the ship.

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The ship parked ahead was huge – it resembled a cruise ship more than a ferry. My mental image of a ferry had been a flat barge. This was a far cry from that. The fog was thickening and it was impossible to see much beyond the parking area and the boat. A little eerie.

Parking I got off the bike to stretch my legs. I was feeling a little stiff having pushed riding a bit far to make the ferry in time to book a space for the evening. A call came for boarding, but the attendant who was directing traffic let me know that they were loading the hold first and it would likely be at least an hour before they got to the bike. Apparently the hold in the ship is accessed by an elevator and they rarely put bikes down there. I walked into the area surrounding the port, waiting for a security guard to let me outside the gate to take a quick look around and find a cup of coffee. The warmth of the coffee was appreciated given the rapidly dropping temperatures outside .

Heading back towards the ship I pressed the intercom button on the gate and waited. Then waited a bit more. I pressed it again. Hmmm.... I walked over and looked inside the guard shack. I still had plenty of time to get back to my bike. About five minutes later the guard returned and let me back in after checking my bording pass.

Returning to the bike I stopped to talk with a friendly driver. He had a small truck and was hauling a brand new RV over to the island. Turns out he was a commercial driver who specialized in hot-shots, usually picking up recreatinoal vehicles and boats in the states and bringing them up to Canada. He was called to load his vehicle, and I returned to my bike. While I was gone another rider had joined the lineup. I walked over to talk to the rider of the Honda ST. Tom was doing some solo touring as well and was from New Hampshire. We talked about bikes, customization, the roads and then were called to load up on board.

I was very relieved to see that we were heading across a relatively flat ramp to board the boat. I had no idea what to expect, and somehow I wound up leading Tom. Reaching the boarding planks there were a lot of staff providing directions, and I stopped my bike a little too early. He directed me forward a bit more and had me park my bike right in between four deck tie-downs. I was a little nervous because the deck was wet and looked rather slippery. Dismounting from the bike I quickly removed gloves and helmet.

The deck hand provided me with a batch of tiedowns and asked if I had been on the ferry before. He gave me instructions on how he wanted the bike tied down – two points on the rear, and through the front tire to both sides. The crossing was expected to be quiet so I didn't have to worry as much.

I threaded the rope through the first mounting point I selected on the bike, and slipped the metal hook through the loops in the rope. Then I attached the second end of the hook to the deck and pulled it tight, snapping the buckle clip over once I had the cable taught. The same on the other side.

The deck hand came over and told me it needed to be a little tighter, and suggested that I might want my husband to give me a hand as it was easier with two. I looked at him a little blankly, and he correctly interpreted the look – “oh, I'm sorry I justa ssumed the other biker was your husband”. He told me that he wasn't supposed to help with tie downs, but gave me a hand regardless, I thought that was really nice of him.

Once I had my bike secured, I went back to give Tom a hand with his. Once both bikes were secure we collected our stuff from the bikes and headed up into the ship.

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Wow! This was certainly not what I had pictured. The boat was the Blue Puttee, and was one of the newest additions to the fleet. It was very nice, and looked more like a cruise ship than a utilitarian vessel. I walked around to see what was offered. A playroom for kids. Video arcade for teens. Internet cafe. Gift shop. Tourist information. A bar, restaurant and cafeteria. Upstairs there were small cabins for people who had paid the extra to have a place to sleep overnight, as well as an area with reserved seating. Outside all that you could see was the thick fog.

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Looking around for information about the vessel, a helpful crew member provided me with a bit of detail since they didn't have anything out on it yet. This boat could take in excess of 500 cars and 1000 passengers. I did mention that it was huge?

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I returned to the front of the boat where there were rows of seating with television screens at the front. The chairs were large, reclining like seats in aircraft. Lots of room between the aisle – space wasn't at a premium here as it is on an airplane. The spacing reminded me more of the first class section of an airplane. I choose a spot where I was going to spend the night.

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Looking out the windows all I could see was fog. It had really rolled in – you couldn't even see the water below the boat. I sat and felt the gentle rocking of the boat and listened to the deep thrum of the engines. I was on my way to Newfoundland.

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