Ride report, north east US, eight months late!
Impatiently waiting for the weather improve, dreaming of riding again. But today the bike remains in the garage, with no end of the foul weather in sight. Rather than brood over it, I figured I might as well write up a ride report of our one week trip through north east USA last summer. Sorry I'm about eight months late! This report is heavy on not-so-good photos; if you're looking for meaningful and insightful writing, move on.
Other than an appointment on the Monday, we had no set schedule, and no specific route. The idea was not to spit out as many miles as possible, but to avoid the slab, take our time, and do as we pleased.
Three of us set off Sunday, July 28 from the Toronto area. I was on my trusty Thruxton, my brother Harry on his well used 1987 BMW K75S, and his son Alex was aboard his dad's '04 GS1150.
Eight o’clock in the morning, five minutes into our epic trip, and we're split up already. I stopped for gas, while they misunderstood and carried on.
We made our way to Kingston, Ontario to take the ferry to Wolfe Island, then on to Cape Vincent, New York. Bikes go to the head of the line!
The city of Kingston, Ontario is justifiably proud.
Rain began to fall as we crossed the border, then we chose to stop for lunch just outside of Watertown. I knew it’d be an interesting trip when my brainiac nephew asked the waitress: “Does the special include the coffee?”
Following lunch, father and son decided a brief nap was in order. I’m not sure they chose the most appropriate location. The sight of Alex, crashed on the front steps of a funeral home, dressed as a half-assed astronaut, was hilarious!
Gas stop somewhere along New York State Route 3.
Up to this point, the rain was little more than a dzizzle, but from Cranberry Lake to Tupper Lake, the skies opened. Torrential rainfall, the likes of which I'd not experienced. We became split up, but carried on. My hands and especially my feet were soaked; I was certain there was a litre of water in each boot. The rest of me was essentially dry, as was most of the luggage. We met up at a gas station in Tupper Lake, a little worse for wear, but the spirit remained strong. The original plan had been to ride to Lake Placid, but we spied a mom 'n pop motel with a sign exclaiming, "Biker Friendly!" Good enough for us, and we were in no particular hurry to get anywhere. He gave us the so called "deluxe suite". Deluxe, in a seventies kind of way, I suppose. To us, it was little more than three beds and a motorcycle gear drying facility.
A room with a view.
So, 440km for day one, and despite the rain, a ton of fun!
Impatiently waiting for the weather improve, dreaming of riding again. But today the bike remains in the garage, with no end of the foul weather in sight. Rather than brood over it, I figured I might as well write up a ride report of our one week trip through north east USA last summer. Sorry I'm about eight months late! This report is heavy on not-so-good photos; if you're looking for meaningful and insightful writing, move on.
Other than an appointment on the Monday, we had no set schedule, and no specific route. The idea was not to spit out as many miles as possible, but to avoid the slab, take our time, and do as we pleased.
Three of us set off Sunday, July 28 from the Toronto area. I was on my trusty Thruxton, my brother Harry on his well used 1987 BMW K75S, and his son Alex was aboard his dad's '04 GS1150.
Eight o’clock in the morning, five minutes into our epic trip, and we're split up already. I stopped for gas, while they misunderstood and carried on.
We made our way to Kingston, Ontario to take the ferry to Wolfe Island, then on to Cape Vincent, New York. Bikes go to the head of the line!
The city of Kingston, Ontario is justifiably proud.
Rain began to fall as we crossed the border, then we chose to stop for lunch just outside of Watertown. I knew it’d be an interesting trip when my brainiac nephew asked the waitress: “Does the special include the coffee?”
Following lunch, father and son decided a brief nap was in order. I’m not sure they chose the most appropriate location. The sight of Alex, crashed on the front steps of a funeral home, dressed as a half-assed astronaut, was hilarious!
Gas stop somewhere along New York State Route 3.
Up to this point, the rain was little more than a dzizzle, but from Cranberry Lake to Tupper Lake, the skies opened. Torrential rainfall, the likes of which I'd not experienced. We became split up, but carried on. My hands and especially my feet were soaked; I was certain there was a litre of water in each boot. The rest of me was essentially dry, as was most of the luggage. We met up at a gas station in Tupper Lake, a little worse for wear, but the spirit remained strong. The original plan had been to ride to Lake Placid, but we spied a mom 'n pop motel with a sign exclaiming, "Biker Friendly!" Good enough for us, and we were in no particular hurry to get anywhere. He gave us the so called "deluxe suite". Deluxe, in a seventies kind of way, I suppose. To us, it was little more than three beds and a motorcycle gear drying facility.
A room with a view.
So, 440km for day one, and despite the rain, a ton of fun!
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