Wolfville NS – Southeast MA
Sat Sep 9, 2023
(~787 miles)

We arose in our comfy AirBnB hotel room early, enjoying a cup of complimentary Nespresso to help wake up while we watched the pink sunrise and made ourselves ready to face the day’s ride back to St. Stephen, New Brunswick. Today, we hoped to squeeze in as much of NER’s Wolfville-PEI Ride as possible before breaking off and slabbing it to the border.

The Old Orchard Inn has a (rather fancy-looking) dining room/restaurant but we weren’t feeling the need to spend time/money on a sit down meal, still quite satisfied from our delicious dinner from last night. So we were rollin’ by 07:30.

First stop was the bridge in Port Williams again, on the off-chance of seeing the tidal bore. No go. I never did really find a good online source listing the exact schedule for this phenomenon – maybe we’ll catch it next trip! But I was also keen on getting a close-up look at the Acadian dyke system, and there was just such a one right across the street. A narrow footpath runs off into the distance along the top of the dyke, but we contented ourselves with a few photos from the trailhead.

After a brief stop to take in the moment and capture the rising sun over the marshes, we headed back to NS 1 and fueled up at the local Irving station. Then we struck east through downtown Wolfville, very quiet and still at this hour on a Saturday morning.

Entering the historic Acadian town of Grand Pré, we veered off the numbered route to take in a few sights. On Old Post Road, we pulled into the empty lot at Landscape of Grand Pré park, which sits atop a rolling hillcrest, with expansive views of the local countryside, much of it agricultural land reclaimed from the sea hundreds of years prior, reaching out to the waters of Minas Basin. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

This is the land the people of my ancestors toiled on to eke out homesteads from the saltwater marsh to make their lives in the New World, dating from the earliest times on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. The Acadians engineered the vast systems of dykes with aboiteau ( one-way sluice gates) to hold in fresh water and keep out the seawater from thousands of acres here, cultivating rich growing conditions for their crops. All while living under the political pressure of loyalty alternately demanded from France and England, which they mostly ignored. It was a powerful moment stopping to consider and visualize the effort put in to settle and tame this landscape, some 400 years earlier.

After a short break in the humid morning air, we continued down to the Grand-Pré National Historic Site, which we found did not open for another hour or so. Thankfully, the grounds are easily accessible from the roadways here, very informal, so we were able to ride a short way down the road to the Grand Pré Dyke, which runs along the back of the property.

A gravel road runs along the dyke and provides access to get close to the famous Deportation Memorial Church. We were able to get a decent look at it from all angles and learned it was built in the 20th century, well after the Expulsion and serves as a commemorative symbol and landmark, located roughly where an earlier church stood whose design is lost to history.

A short stroll away along the path is the statue of the fictional Evangeline, from Longfellow’s famous poem which inspired pride in Acadian culture and worldwide sympathy for the people and their tragic experience.

I’d also intended for us to stop by and see the Acadian Deportation Cross memorial over by the coast, but had somehow left it off the route I’d edited last night. That will have to wait for our next trip to these parts. Now we headed back towards Highway 103 (which becomes a divided highway after Grand Pre), but paralleled it on back roads for several miles, following our GPS route and taking in more of the local scenery.

We cruised closer to the Avon River through Hantsport and Falmouth, where we crossed it into Windsor. Here I had scouted out the local Bedard Bakery online as a possible breakfast stop, and it turned out to be a great one. While they didn’t have any seating nor serve hot meals, the array of sweet and savory pastries was tantalizing. And they had coffee.

There are a couple low benches on the sidewalk below their windows, where we were able to sit and enjoy our coffee and goodies while watching the small town’s Saturday morning activity, mostly bakery patrons and dog-walkers. In addition to some peach coffee cake, I had something called a Savory Strata, which included spinach, cheese, scallions, etc. and was absolutely delicious. So much in fact that I had to go in and purchase a second one (and a couple other items) for the road before we left again. Diet will begin again AFTER the trip! 😬

Another motorcyclist rode by and then apparently decided to turn around and stop in for a bite. Thus we met Simon, a local rider on a Triumph, who chatted us up to find out how we were enjoying our trip so far. After the delectable baked goods and some friendly conversation, we piled ourselves back into the saddle to carry on.

A couple miles east on 103, then NS 14 for a few more before turning left on NS 215 to circle back towards the bay. We enjoyed the beautiful riding along the southern shore of Minas Basin, with plenty of salt marsh grass and rural farming landscapes.

In the small village of Walton, we took the gravel side road to check out Walton Harbour Lighthouse, perched on a cliff high above the receding tide waters. The squat tower is open to the public as a small museum, and there’s a small touristy gift shack on the property as well. We gave a small donation and were invited by the docents to climb up the steep ladder-stairs inside the short tower to enjoy the views from the lantern room.

Though arguably not as well-known as Hopewell Rocks, Burntcoat Head Park is the spot where the very highest tides ever have been recorded. Low tide was near, and it was just up the road! As we pulled into the parking lot of the free-admission preserve, we could see pop-up tents with folding tables and lots of people settling down on in a large grassy area. There seemed to be some sort of local event being held here today.

After dismounting the motorcycle, a local guy walking by struck up a conversation with us about the bike and our travels. Apparently he does a lot of hunting, as that somehow became the primary topic of our short conversation. He does work baling hay for local farmers, who allow him to hunt on their property and he mentioned having seen a bear wandering the area recently. Friendly and interesting guy.

Despite the warmth of the day, we decided not to pass up the opportunity to enjoy this park a bit. We doffed our riding jackets and helmets and headed off past big squarish Burntcoat Head Lighthouse, down the 10 minute footpath to check out the tidal zone here. While not quite as varied or impressive as the dramatic sea stack formations at the Hopewell Cape across the bay, it was still amazing to view and walk the exposed ledges of the seafloor at low tide.

There were more larger groups of people setting up for their event (or maybe multiple events?) as we walked down. It seems to be a popular day-use area. We spotted several fold up tables and chairs stacked neatly on the small beach of exposed sand, so perhaps a low-tide wedding was being prepped? 🤔 Seemed like a lot of work carrying all that down the path for just a couple hour window, but better them than us!

The short sweaty hike in our riding boots was worth it, to stretch our legs and see the beautiful and unique shoreline. Once back on the bike, we continued on east via route 215 to Maitland and crossing the wide Shubenacadie River. Here we picked up NS 236 to take us in to the busier area of Truro, where we had to again travel one exit in the wrong direction on Highway 102 due to our intended on-ramp being closed for construction. The very next exit in the correct direction, having passed by the very easternmost tip of Minas Basin, we left the slab behind us once more, taking up NS 2 for a jaunt through Cumberland County.

We followed route 2 west, along the northern shore of the basin, enjoying more rural scenery and the occasional water views as we made our way out this peninsula as far as Parrsboro. Route 2 had a construction closure a couple miles outside the town, so we had to join the rest of detoured traffic, including a couple other motorcyclists, on a few miles of decently graded gravel to get into town.

We were ready for a lunch break by now, so we headed down by the water in search of the ever-present Canadian picnic table. We spotted a few next to the Fundy Geological Museum, which appeared to have just opened for the day and had an empty parking lot. Based on all the cool geological stuff we’d been seeing on this trip, I would actually love to go back and spend some time at this museum, but we had miles and miles to go today.

After going in to beg use of their restroom – the girl seemed less than pleased that we weren’t paying attendees today (sorry no time!) – we sat and ate our complimentary apples from the Inn and leftover pastries from the bakery at a nice shaded table with views of the tidal inlet that stretches up into town.

Leaving Parrsboro, we headed north on NS 2 and NS 302 through the interior of Cumberland County. More scenic farmland and some pretty lakes flashed by as we made great time on the isolated two-lane routes. It had already been several hours of slow riding along the coastlines and we could feel the call of the open highway calling us to make time to the west.

Seeing more wind turbines scattered across the farmlands clued us in that we were approaching the windy Chignecto Isthmus once again. We picked up the familiar Highway 104 again near Amherst, and very quickly made our exit from the wonderful and welcoming province of Nova Scotia, back into New Brunswick. We’ll be back for sure!

We had one final stop to make, however, as I really wanted to see Fort Beausejour Historic Site, which is just one exit from the border, overlooking the head of Cumberland Basin. This classic star-shaped fort features prominently in the book I’ve been reading on the Acadian expulsion (A Great and Noble Scheme). The final taking of the fort by the British in 1755 led directly to the order for Acadian expulsion and the eventual fall of Louisbourg Fortress and French influence in the region. I was quite eager to set eyes on the site in person, to get the actual visuals of the setting in my mind.

The winds were blowing hard here, across the isthmus, with heavy fog and some drizzly weather threatening but never quite reaching us. The conditions were exactly as described in the book for the early settlers here – damp, cold, unforgiving, and beautiful. The stone visitor center was closed for the season already, but there’s no gate and we were able to wander the fort ground freely for a half hour so with just a couple other carloads of visitors.

 

Now it was time for some quick highway travelin’. We shot northwest around Moncton on Highway 2 and picked up Highway 1 for the southwest leg back down to the US. Compared to the slow rolling we’d been doing most of the past week, we felt like we were flying.

We covered the kilometers quickly, while diving in and out of foggy areas (esp closer to the shore like in St. John) and a couple sprinkles. We entertained ourselves trying to guess the meaning of some of the more obscure services icons on some of the Canadian highway signs, wondering why they didn’t make these things more easy to identify. Hey, we were having fun, but it made me wonder if any of the US icons we take for granted are hard for foreigners to decipher as well. 🤔

We had booked the same Schoodic Motel in St. Stephen that we’d stayed at on our first night of the trip. We knew we might be hitting some severe weather as we approached the border, but our thoughts began to take us into tomorrow. There would be a long ride ahead of us down through Maine and joining the jam-packed Sunday flow of weekender traffic down I-95 and through New Hampshire. Something I’d once vowed never to do again, plus more rainy weather was forecast for tomorrow as well.

The thought of getting stuck in both heavy traffic and wet weather together after such a carefree and fun trip got us both thinking about a change in plan. Since we couldn’t cancel the hotel, it would be there waiting for us regardless. So we’d decide when we got there whether we felt like continuing on to just get home by late tonight. Riding into the evening would mean no traffic and beating the inbound weather pattern.

As we neared the end of our leg through New Brunswick, we saw bright blue fair weather skies  interrupted by dramatic anvil-shaped thunderheads, confirmed on our radar apps as some pretty serious storm cells whipping through the area. Luckily, we seemed to be threading the needle between most of them, catching only a brief downpour at one point just miles from St. Stephen. The clouds were gorgeous, however!

For better or worse, we decided that we were feeling pretty good and that we had enough stamina to ride all the way home tonight. We’d just have to eat the cost of the hotel room tonight.

We routed through downtown St. Stephen once more to cross the border at Ferry Point, with just a 10 minute wait at most. It was sprinkling on us a bit, but it seems we had just missed the big weather before we’d arrived since everything was dripping. The crossing and questioning from border security was pretty quick and we had no trouble re-gaining access to the U.S. … home again and we gained an hour back with the time zone change!

A beautiful sunset entertained us for a good length of Airline Road (ME 9) west to Bangor, as the light played within the swirling remnants of the storm clouds.

We pulled in at Dysart’s Truck Stop once more for a late dinner round about 19:00. This time around, we had bit of a strange waitress – very chatty and a bit in-your-face. I had a hot chicken sandwich while Char opted for a tuna melt. I asked for my strawberry-rhubarb pie heated up a bit, and this waitress actually gave me a hard time about it, claiming berry pies would lose their form when heated, blah blah blah. Tired and a bit short on patience, I told her to please bring it as requested. Well, the piece of pie I received was nuked way beyond reason and served HOT, most certainly looking a bit deflated and sad. I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose to prove a point, but I didn’t have the energy to get into it with her and anyway, it tasted fine once it cooled down a bit. Guess she didn’t need a good tip. 🤷‍♂️

After the meal, we met another rider in the parking lot, a guy from New Jersey on a Harley, who’d just been a week in Nova Scotia himself. His cruiser was loaded to the gills with bags and camping gear and he was going to be looking for a hotel shortly. We bid him a safe ride and got moving again, now under cover of darkness but with easy interstate in front of us the entire way home. With one last fuel stop in Gardiner ME, we ended up pulling in to our driveway right around midnight, exhausted but thrilled from a great trip and happy to be back in our own beds for the night.

Ever since finding myself riding out the Gaspé peninsula in Quebec during the 2019 IBR, I’d been captivated by the realization that an entire region of the continent like the Maritimes had escaped my notice for most of my life. I just hadn’t really given it much thought, my mind always considering Maine the “end of the road” when headed north from home (let alone going east!). We had a fantastic time breaking past those self-inflicted illusions and barriers – the scenery and people that we met were  wonderful and welcoming. The routes created by Ed Conde of New England Riders provided an easy and worry-free framework for days of travel fun, and we are ever so grateful to him as always. We look forward to exploring more of these provinces on future sorties east of New England.

More photos from today’s ride.