No Passport; Trouble at the border; Sunny Montreal in raingear; 490 miles and three ecosystems later

No Passport

We had chosen the northern route through Canada due to the weather forecasts for Sherbrooke, Montreal, Ottawa, North Bay and Sudbury, all predicting no rainfall. So Bob and I met at Associated Builders at 6:45, gassed up at the Mobil, gave each other a high five at the light and rode off to look for America - on a Harley and a Suzuki; in the wet and dampness of an awful period of weather, slick roads, temps in the 50's, both of us encumbered by our rain suits and thick coats underneath, with a sweatshirt underneath those, gaiters, heavy rainproof gloves, running up Route 1A to Bangor, detour to Hermon and then onto 95 South. Although the pavement was wet, we were able to go at 65-70 mph to Newport where we exited onto Route 2. This is the old route to Sugarloaf so it was familiar, but not really because everything was green, there was no snow, but you still had to worry about the slippery roads. When we got to Skowhegan, we pulled into the first gas station on Route 201, the meeting place for Billy to join us. After we had gassed up, used the facilities and were just waiting for Bill, Bob said that he had forgotten his passport. And of course, you can't enter the US without a passport now so it looked like we would have to make arrangements to go another route or perhaps Sugar could bring the passport with her (she was dropping off Toby and Brie who were flying back to NYC). After getting the neighbor's new girlfriend to go into his house, she reported that the passport was not there, so we started in on Bob's bike, tearing everything out. And we found it in a separate pocket of one of his cases. Then Bill aririved at about 9:30 and thought he would like to take a 30 minute break or so (we were supposed to meet at 9 AM!) so I said, "I'm the one who should have ridden alone." Thinking they were both just trying to piss me off, I took a picture of Billy texting Donna (a phone call would be shorter) and Bobby showing me his passport. And finally we were off for the border.

Trouble at the border

After sliding by Sugarloaf, Eustis and Stratton in very wet, but not really rainy, conditions, we pulled into Coburn Gore and hit the Canadian customs. We gave them our passports, and they took forever getting clearance for us. Billy thinks they were checking all my stamps. I think that it was our appearance as they asked us to take off our helmets and our hair was pretty bad. There goes another 30 minutes. At least they had a men's room - Billy was about to go pee on the building or something, and that wouldn't have been good. We finally got our passports back with no explanation and jumped back on our bikes to continue toward what we hoped would be better weather.

Montreal

After lunch at Subway (apparently I'm treating in Canada because I'm the only one with Canadian money and Billy's debit card won't work in the gas pumps), we hopped on Autoroute 10 Ouest for the last 88 miles into Montreal, still clad as before with our sweatshirt, heavy leather jacket and rain coat and rain pants. By the time we got to Montreal (about 4 PM), it was beautiful out, about 75 degrees with few puffy white clouds in the sky as we rode across the bridge toward city centre. Then wham! What a traffic jam - stop and go traffic for the next 10 miles or so to get to A-15 Nord, then to A-40 Ouest. It was very hot with the heat of the engine rising right through our seats making for very uncomfortable conditions, and no exit to reach to change our clothes. After 10 or 15 miles on A-40 and leaving Montreal and its suburbs, we were able to stop for gas, a drink and a change of clothes, at least our outer layers.

490 miles

We proceeded another 90 miles into the sun to Ottawa, and just punched right through rather than stopping. We had had enough of big cities for one day. We are now in Kanata, in a Holiday Inn, having eaten a ribeye steak dinner, watched the end of the US Open (a replay?) and are ready for bed. So we had a long day, and went from the dampness and fog at the coast, to the 48 degrees and windy conditions at Coburn Gore, and then to the farmlands and temperate conditons fo southern Quebec and Ontario. And we've just started.

The Imposter

Billy thought we should alert the press that we were on our way to view the commission issued to our grandfather Charles Fenton that took 107 years to get to Fort Meade near Rapid City, SD, the supposed purpose of the trip. I agreed and said that we should also warn the press and the curator at the museum of an imposter who might show up before us, riding a red Harley Electra Glide, about 64 years old, balding, a bit of a paunch with a very distinctive gait. So if you pass this on to the press and the curator, tell them that they should not under any circumstances show the commission to this imposter even though he might appear to know a lot about the Fenton family.