FAINT FOOTSTEPS, WW2 by G. Harrison: I Take Me a Trip (13)

The Long and Short Of It

2. I Take Me a Trip

"Before the bike trip, son Paul and I sell birdhouses for my gas money"
Saturday, June 5, 2010, at Gathering on the Green, Wortley Village

"I hug grandson Ollie, then hop on the bike, Tues., June 8 2010"

Some woodworkers will say that if they finish work with all their fingers then it's been a good day. Motorcyclists likely have more than a few ways to describe the end of a successful ride. What can I say about the first day of a 2,200 kilometre-long trip to the East Coast on June 8, 2010?

At the end of day, though I'd biked about 35 kilometres farther and arrived in Kingston ten minutes later than predicted, I was relaxed and all in one piece. I parked my bike in a waiting garage, inspected my room in Skweek House (hostel) and was eating supper by 7:15, at least according to my notes. I wrote, under the heading 'impressions', four words about the scenery between London and Newmarket: NFB (National Film Board film) just for me!

Here are a few other impressions formed while riding 527 km from London to Kingston via the back way:

Canada is huge, no wonder Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone

Bike is top heavy but OK. It will be lighter on way back

Note to (wife) Pat - I should have packed my red longjohns

Oh - excellent! (A description of a microwaveable stew. I cannot recall if I
am serious or joking)

Regal lager - good starter, (I) want another one, but different!! (No doubt
about it, I enjoyed a couple of tasty pints at The Kingston Brewing
Company before hitting the sack at Skweek House)

Proof is in the pudding. Like a woodworker happily examining all his digits before turning off the lights in his workshop, 'it's been a good day' seems to truthfully sum up my thoughts about June 8 as recorded in my journal.

Though the ride was my first to Halifax, and the scenery and experience was wonderful, a hint or feeling of seriousness often crept into my thoughts and notes. For example, on Day 2 my first words in the journal were about breakfast, but even then, while sipping a cup of tea, I knew I was on the road because of my father's wish to be buried at sea, and I was somewhat inspired and affected as he was by his years in the Canadian Navy.

I said, "Up early. Took awhile to get organized but kitchen and shower were great. Thermos of tea, cup of tea, cookie, oatmeal with cranberries, rye bread. Pretty dry - like hard tack - therefore, (it's) like being in (the) Navy."

"Rye bread was like hard tack... like being in (the) Navy"

As well, on Day 3 I travelled from Trois-Rivieres to Riviere-du-Loup, a shorter ride than the average, and while eating supper in a comfortable, shared kitchen and dining room I listed ten things I recalled about the day's events. Most were really not much to write home about: (In Trois-Rivieres) "Didn't go out after supper, watched a bit of hockey (NHL playoffs on TV), in bed early - 10:00 PM - ish, continental breakfast in Tr. Rivieres, prepped bike in 30 minutes," etc. But as I prepared to put my pen down a more serious thought entered my mind, not for the first time. "I'm on a mission, a good one. It will be a special, unique moment to put the wee boat into the Atlantic."

"I'm on a mission, a good one"

Indeed it was 'a special, unique moment' when I jammed my motorcycle boots into tight spots in slippery rocks - so I wouldn't fall in - on the Atlantic Coast a few days later. It was a day when my short frame was worn down by heat and bad directions. It was also a day when I found the perfect spot on the rocky shore and stood tall, if but for a moment in time.

But still, there are a few more miles to go on the motorcycle.