Right then! I left you as I was arriving in Toronto, where I would spend a boring and tiring 8 hours waiting for my flight to Halifax, pay 12 € for a pint of Guinness and sleep for well over an hour taking up 3-4 seats in what became a packed waiting area; and no-one disturbed me!
Jen
I arrived at Halifax airport at 0125 on 16th April; my bag was just about the last one off Jen, with who I had made contact through the couchsurfing app was, unbelievably, waiting for me. Once I had got to know her a bit, over the next few days, this became totally believable. Within the hour I was safely tucked up in bed getting some badly needed sleep, ready for the morrow, which I thought might be a tad frustrating.
Jen is, well, unbelievable! J A substantial greying lady of a certain age, she is your Mother, even though one of her most frequent asides is “I’m not your Mother!”
She is everyone’s Mother; she organises things, finds things, shops online for you; provides Mother’s taxi service and knows where to find anything you need, or somebody who does. She is a mine of information on just about anything and throws herself fully into everything she takes on.
It was this approach that resulted in my standing in a car park, on a decidedly chilly evening, giving out fetching, red woolly hats.
Her son’s friend had embarked on a trans-Canada run – 75km per day for 99 consecutive days – to raise money for the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation and in 18 days he had already raised more than CAD $ 35,000. Jen was helping out as he passed through Halifax, so the least I could do was hand out some hats!
Amongst many other things, Jen renovates and decorates other peoples’ homes, in the course of which she collects and restores or re-purposes the things they no longer want. This gives her yard a certain “Steptoe & Son” quality; some of the things I saw were surely cool, but for others I doubt you’d get a lot for at your local Vide Grenier !
Either way, we got on famously, and I am extremely grateful for her hospitality, generosity and assistance; without this I’d probably still be trying to get my bike released from the Air Canada warehouse
Air Canada and Canada Border Services Agency (aka Customs)
Retrieving my bike from Air Canada was in fact, my first task. This would involve visiting Air Canada, then Border Services and then Air Canada again. Jen changed her plans to ferry me around – this was not the last time she would do this, and I’ll restate my gratitude here. As I got out of the car at Air Canada, my optimistic “Be back in 5 minutes” was met with a somewhat cynical “Humph!”
I was back in 5 minutes and then it was off to the Customs’ office. This was equally speedy and efficient; a young lady who was also a biker, had my paperwork cleared in about 10 minutes. Back to Air Canada, where I paid the 145 CAD required, for I’m not quite sure what, and where the crew in the warehouse had my bike by the door without delay. Unpacking was easy and quick; Jen gained several tie-down straps, a bucket load of screws and, thanks to the warehouse staff, a couple of plastic pallets.
As soon as the bike was uncovered, every one of the Air Canada staff, warehouse and office alike, came to ogle it. Some just marvelled at such an old machine – I’m referring to the bike – setting out on such a journey, while others reminisced about their youth and memories of having or seeng or riding the bike.
In no time, the bike was unpacked and I was suitably attired; the bike started after a few coughs, and we were away. Door-to-door, including a 15/20-minute drive each way, took about 2 hours; compare that to the 7 hours I spent just sitting in the customs shed in Saudi Arabia!
Later that afternoon, I did a bit of a service on the bike changing the oil, adjusting the clutch and chain and tightening the mirrors which had ben moved during packing.
I’m not sure where the next 36 hours went, but a lot of time was spent trying to decide where I should go first and, as usual every plan was superseded by a better one, until I found myself back at the start. The weather was changeable, apart from the temperature that is; well that’s not strictly true, as sometimes it reached a dizzy 12ºC! The main decision was whether I would go to Cape Breton to ride the world renowned Cabot Trail, allegedly one of the world’s greatest motorcycle trails. I decided it would be dependent on two things: the weather and accommodation availability, because I was quickly finding out that overnight accommodation, even in this low season was going to be even more expenssive than I had anticipated.
The Titanic
However before that, there was one thing I had decided I had to do. Halifax is the town to which the bodies recovered from the Titanic were taken for identification and at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic there is a permanent exhibition commemorating the event.
There were more than 2 200 people aboard the Titanic when she sank on 14th April 2012. Of those, only 705 survived and while the survivors were taken to New York, the recovered bodies were taken to Halifax. 328 bodies were recovered, of which 116 had to be buried at sea as the salvage crew ran out of embalming fluid; 1200 bodies were never recovered. Of the 209 corpses brought to Halifax, 121 are buried in three cemeteries in the city, the remainder being returned to Europe. (Source: Maritime Museum of the Atlantic).
Not surprisingly the exhibition is nothing like the memorial in Belfast, but it was interesting, nonetheless. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to any of the cemeteries; maybe next time.
Departure No 3
I had decided that in spite of weather uncertainties, I had to get moving, so I planned to head up towards Cape Breton and plan on a day-to-day basis. Having fill up on Wednesday, all I had to do was load up on Friday morning and head off. The Fates, however, had other ideas!
I came out on Friday morning to fine fuel leaking from the fuel tap. This was annoying, but not critical and moving the tap from closed position stopped the leak. Much more worrying was the fact that the front of the engine, from cylinder head down was covered in oil! It had dropped below 0º during the night and the bike had sat out, covered by a tarpaulin; I wondered if this could have caused whatever had happened. Had the head gasket somehow blown?
With little other option, I started the engine and after several minutes during which the oil burned off, I decided to take it for a run. I did a 20km circuit and all seemed well, so I decided to leave.
Half an hour later, I was on my way North up the Trans-Canada Highway. Glancing down at my map – oh yes I think I forgot to mention that my GPS packed up the Friday before I left Belfast so I was going old-school, but that’s another story – I realised I’d left my specs behind!
I had no idea how far the next off-ramp was – they’re not great with distance signs here – so when I saw a potential u-turn spot (it was a dual carriageway) I pulled over. The sign I was sitting under said, “No U-Turns, except authorised vehicles,” so I authorised myself, did a quick u-e-y, and headed back towards Halifax.
Departure No 4
Re-united with my specs and with a clear view of my tourist roadmap, which I had picked up free at the airport, I set off once more.
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 