The Road to Prince Edward Island

I had intended to detail our ride to PEI when we got back to our B&B last night, but the lethal combination of total exhaustion (thanks to fighting crosswinds for most of the day), Jason's snoring and food coma (dinner was awesome), the only thing I could do was sleep.

Monday morning was beyond blustery; the wind was fierce and the skies menacing. The only saving grace was the weather forecast - no rain and blue skies, literally, on the horizon. The road out of St. John was fraught with frost heaves. Between that, the pot holes and patches of repaving, I felt like I was on the back of a bucking bronco, not an Iron Horse. And the GPS had somehow conspired against us as well. On more than one occasion, it beckoned us to take a dirt road, and on a few others, it actually lulled us into a false sense of security by teasing us with pavement that without warning disintegrated into gravel and dirt.

It was time for coffee and recalculation.

We pulled into Tim Horton's, the Dunkin' Donuts of Canada to warm up (despite long sleeves, a hooded sweatshirt and jacket, the wind was taking its toll) and take a look at the route. It took some backtracking and a little more reliance on Jason's internal compass, but we got back to Sussex and continued on to Prince Edward Island.

Routes 114 and 951 were picturesque, not unlike some of the routes we’ve ooh’d and ahh’d over in the US – the Blue Ridge Parkway for one, where every curve brought another spectacular site. We finally caught up to that elusive sun in Alma, where the skies were a beautiful and welcoming shade of blue. But, try as we did, we couldn't outpace the wind.

It was after 5 when we rolled into Charlottetown and settled into our B&B - The Hillhurst Inn- home for the next two days. I gushed over the architecture and spectacular Victorian interior, including the reception hall in quartered oak with an oak-paneled ceiling. Although it has been renovated since it was built, specifically for the purposes of operating as a B&B, the house (which boasts 8 bedrooms) has retained many of its original features. The home was built in 1897 by George Longworth. The Longworth family were successful shipbuilders and merchants in Charlottetown.

We wandered downtown towards Charlottetown's historic area, (a nice walk, since the wind was finally reined in) rich in a bounty of restaurants, shopping and history. Dinner was the objective, and we enjoyed PEI mussels (of course) and terrific seafood fare at the Old Dublin Pub.

PS. If you're waiting for my further musings on St. John, you'll have to wait until our next visit. Torrential rain and wind pummeled the area shortly after we got to the hotel - and never let up. Instead of exploring, we ordered take-out and watched a "Shutter Island" with Leonardo DiCaprio. Strange movie.

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Oh Canada!

It was an early start to the Father’s Day leg of our journey. We were up, showered, coffee’d  and on the road by 7:45. Before we left, we chatted briefly with a really cool couple who were saddling up their Harley trike about riding in general (they recommend a spin on the Green Eyed Snake), but specifically about the switch from two to three wheels. Marketing genius for Harley I must say. It definitely extends one’s riding life.

The Maine coast continued to be spectacular, with stunning views and quick teasing glimpses through the thickets of fir and pine trees filling the air with the persistent smell of balsam and Christmas. Americana is everywhere – flags waved proudly from front yards, front porches and telephone poles, welcoming us like old friends. The American spirit is so prevalent here, we even saw a bald eagle soar overhead as we rode through Gouldsboro, it’s white crown unmistakable against the backdrop of towering pines.

It was a blustery day so we finally surrendered to the wind and layered up in Machias – another first. I’m used to peeling off layers as the temperature rises, not adding them as we push further north.  I swear it dropped 10 degrees right after we crossed the border into Canada. But before we got there, we stopped at a few scenic overlooks and took in the incredible views, including the St. Croix River, which was simultaneously rustic and majestic. 

Once in Canada, we detoured slightly to St. Andrews, or St. Andrews By-the-Sea, as it is commonly called.  This tiny seaside town – population less than 2,000 - was founded in 1783. It retains much of its colonial charm, and is piping with quaint character and bungalow type dwellings clad in cedar shakes painted in shades of gray and brown courtesy of Mother Nature's weather brush.

We found a similar roadside treasure in Lepreau Falls, just outside of St. John. Early area settlers relied on the Lepreau River for transportation and fishing and the power to move logs and run sawmills. During Prohibition in the US, American bootleggers used this relatively isolated spot as a rendezvous point to load their boats with liquor. Bootleggers would smuggle the liquor from New Brunswick to Maine and sell it at black market prices.

Sun shone like a beacon in spots along the way today, but it couldn’t quite muscle its way through the insistent blanket of clouds. And the closer we got to St. John, the more dismal the sky became.

At first blush, St. John is nothing to write home about – or blog about for that matter. Of course, I can only comment on what I’ve experienced so far, snaking our way up, down and around a roller coaster of hills to our hotel. So far, and maybe it’s the influence of the wind and grey fringed clouds, it feels very much like an old urban town. And quite frankly, it is. It’s the oldest incorporated town in Canada, but rich in architecture, galleries and quiet historic charm.  Uptown, I’m told, is where we need to be, but we’re only here for the night so a true St. John experience will require a return trip.

Stay tuned.

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