We certainly didn’t give St Johns much of an opportunity to impress, arriving and departing within about 10 hours, 9 of which were in darkness. Fortunately the hotel was closer than we were led to believe, so straight off the ferry and 5 minutes later we were there.
By the time team briefing had drawn to a close, a late dinner and a few drinks, it was almost time to go. Our 6:30 departure was nearly too early for one or two, but we finally got away with a stop 10km along the motorway for another Tim Hortons breakfast - it really is exceptional value for money, and the food is pretty good too. This was time for those who’d neglected to listen to our in house weather expert who’d predicted 12C (a lot cooler than we’ve been used to, a a real change for those of us who’d been down to T shirts), and who need an other layer or two. The temperature was also predicted to rise to 23C, which also proved on the money. We had a lot of ground to cover, but thankfully most of our running was on fairly decent highways and motorways, and at a good clip, averaging between 115 and 130km an hour, sometimes for 2-3 hours at a time. You can devour a lot of km very quickly at these speeds. The border crossing actually took us by surprise, a bit of a wrong turn finding us at small town of Calais, on the US side of a river, and in Maine. We went across a bridge, and there it was, quite a surprise, and with only one officer on duty (plenty of others popping heads around corners for a look, but not to assist), took some time. It was not long after this that different groups looking to achieve different things in the day splintered into twos and threes, which is probably not a bad thing. Some wanted to minimise stops and blast through, others stopping more frequently- other than lunch, gas and comfort stops, we didn’t hang about, and accompanied by Brian and Bree, made pretty good time, beating the rush and being in the first wave to return bikes. So, Anastasia has been retuned along with all the other bikes to Eagle Rider, I’m showered and about to murder a beer at the bar. Tomorrow most of us leave for Home, bags full of Harley T shirts, and in my case, parts for my new bike. Post script - as anticipated, the tour wound up in the bar last night, with all the fines and poker hand winnings ending up on the bar. Sheriff Baldrick, who like all good sheriffs, is not one to let facts interfere with the truth, and so had a good job of identifying and fining miscreants, (rather unfairly on occasion), but the money on the bar excused his excesses. In fact, whilst there were one or two significant contributors, Cuddy for his enthusiasm (which often saw him in the wrong place at the wrong time), and usually ended with is bike having a rest, being unceremoniously laid down, and Lynn, the Sheriffs wife, for being like a Labrador pup around grandmothers special China, (an inevitable and unfortunate outcome inevitable), most of us made regular payments to the fine fund. After exhausting the various funds, we whistled up a fleet of Uber’s and descended ona local Italian restaurant for yet more pizza - with 25 fairly rowdy Kiwis taking over the place, they had an unexpectedly busy Monday night. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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