9/19/10 – Savior Faire is Everywhere

This morning Gail and Tom boarded-up the windows of the River House so grouse and other flying objects won’t sail through during the fierce winter storms that are soon coming to the north-country. Aunt Louise made tacos for lunch while Erie and I watched birds, chipmunks and the NFL pre-game shows. We feasted on wonderful tacos and then all of us hit the road. I was headed northeast towards Montreal and they were going south to their homes in Syracuse. I had a fabulous 3 days on the River with memories I will cherish forever.

I decided to take the long route north to Ottawa and then east to Montreal. The ride was fantastic. As I rode north, the signs of fall were everywhere; lots of leaves changing color and cool temperatures, but no pictures because there weren’t places to pull-off the road. As I crossed the Bridge into Canada, I met a militant young Canadian border agent and she wasn’t allowing any USA Riff-Raff into her motherland. She bellowed: “Turn off your motorcycle, give me your passport and remove your helmet. Why are you entering Canada? Why are you so far from California? Do you have guns or pepper spray? What’s in your bags?” My responses: To see the sights; No, no, I’m on vacation; and clothes, books and a camera. “Why do you need books for sightseeing?” My response: Because they are books of maps and sightseeing tips. “OK, have a nice day”. My response: Aren’t you going to frisk me? Just kidding, I really said “Thanks” and rode north.

By the time I got to Ottawa, it was getting late and I rode around for awhile and saw nothing interesting, so I got back on the highway and headed east towards Montreal. I stopped for gas and met 2 guys that both work for Bombardier making luxury private jets. Mario was riding the 2004 version of my bike in silver. We talked about bikes and they gave me instructions on things to see tomorrow in Quebec City, including: Old Quebec, Chateau Frontenac, Plaines d-Abraham, and Chutes Montmorency.

As I crossed from Ontario into Quebec, all the signs were in French and the street names became long like: Boulevard de St. Francis des Denis, etc. etc… I checked-into the local Howard Johnsons Hotel and the first room reeked of strong perfume. I relocated and rode down to Old Montreal, which is an old cobblestone paved district that’s completely dead on Sunday. I rode on to the lively Crescent St. and stopped into the Ziggy’s Pub, I met Ziggy, and watched the Colts stomp all over the NY Giants. I rode back to HoJo and wrote this post.