Canada: Nova Scotia

The warm June sun that sparked the smiles behind our visors when we picked up our bikes in New Jersey has abandoned us. Between Portland, Maine, and Saint John in New Brunswick, our constant, dour companions are pouring rain and cold temperatures.

Here Comes the Sun

The monotonous drone of pelting rainfall wakes me. Not the greatest of welcomes to Canada, I think, while fixing the hard cases on the BMW and Ducati. Perhaps the outlook will improve after breakfast.

At least Christa is in a great mood. Her belly filled with fluffy pancakes and strawberry toppings, she looks most satisfied on her R1150RT with full-weather protection. On my Duc, the prospect is a little different. The small fairing protects but not as well as the Beemer. We put Saint John in the rear view and confront the gray wall ahead. In these wet conditions there is only one possibility: to crouch behind the windshield and make the best of it, carefully slicing the ponds on the road in half.

Two hours later, the rain stops and the roads dry. After Aulac, we cross into Nova Scotia and make our first stop at the visitor center. Inside, there's a great information room featuring brochures crammed with virtually everything known about Nova Scotia: its regions, history, the sightseeing mainstays, and the range of flora and fauna the casual tourist may encounter.

Cathy, a very helpful employee, takes one look at our attire and hands us a small book. "Welcome to motorcycle heaven," she says. "Here's a guidebook only for motorcyclists. Enjoy your trip and don't forget, we measure in kilometers." Thanks! Bye-bye.

We spend the night in Amherst's best lodging, the Wandlyn Inn. With an indoor pool and a great restaurant, this hotel aims to pamper. Unwinding in total relaxation mode at dinner, we chose an agreeable California chardonnay to complement our succulent shrimp cocktails and the salmon baked in a honey crust with almonds.

The next morning the dominating color outside is gray in all its varieties and our disappointed faces reflect that gloom above the breakfast platters. But eventually the room lightens and our waitress Peggy points at the window to cheer us, "Here comes the sun!"

The Sunrise Trail

In minutes we're saddled up and proceed to carve a path to Inverness. Some creative types with the tourism office have dropped the numbers and named the major thoroughfares. What a terrific idea! Today, the signs zipping by tell us we're taking The Sunrise Trail.