After the beautiful afternoon previous, I was disappointed to wake up to winds and rain in St. John’s. I was glad I had taken advantage of the good weather, but the forecast for the next two days was rain with a brief two or three day break with sunshine, followed by another week of rain.
My plans had been to explore the various fingers and peninsulas of the eastern side of the island, such as Grates Cove and Bonavista, as I worked my way westward. My main interest in the island was Gros Morne National Park and L’anse aux Meadows, both on the western coast, but with only 2 to 3 days out of the next 10 without rain, I needed to rethink my plans on the east coast.
For me there was no point to explore in rain and fog with no ability to do much photography, and then miss the sunny window and have to ride the western coast in rain and fog. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I decided to forgo my explorations around St. John’s, Grates Cove and even Bonavista.
I set my sights on Twillingate and after a hearty breakfast served by a girl with either a Scottish or Irish accent, reluctantly rode off in rain and wind. I stopped in briefly at the Toy Box BMW shop to check it out and say hi, checking to see if they had any waterproof gloves in my size, or a Heidenau K-60 rear tire. They had neither, though the guy behind the counter said that the shop owner used them on his BMW 1200s and 1250s. My rear tire was now pushing 9000 miles and though it had a couple thousand left, if they happened to have one I would've had it installed.
The temperature remained in the high 40s and the rain continued for the next couple of hours without stop. The highway construction that had required a detour on the way to St. John's was still in effect and the slow detour off the highway added almost an hour with the stacked up traffic. I was beginning to feel the chill and turned off the highway up to Dildo, one, because of course you have to go there, and two, I was ready to warm up with some coffee and lunch. Most of the little town was closed up, save for the Dildo Brewery. I got off the bike and went inside, only to discover the place was full and had a line of people waiting. I grumbled and went back out to the bike and continued on.
A bit farther down the highway, the rains lessened and stopped for periods of time. I gassed up, then whipped into a fried chicken joint called Mary Brown's where I shared a table with Peter Frampton, the famous nautical engineer from St. John’s. Peter was towing a very large boat, and when he came inside he ordered his meal and asked if he could sit at my table. We talked about a lot of things, and of course he warned me about the moose along the highway.
In between the spells of rain, the rocky landscape and short evergreen trees made a nice vista. Here and there on both sides of the highway there were large bodies of water, and in some cases I was unable to tell if they were lakes or actual fingers of the sea. The highway led into a higher landscape with some high hills or low of mountains, whichever you choose to call them.
After so many warnings, I finally saw my first moose briefly off the side of the road and down in a gulley. Mr. Frampton had told me that the moose had been introduced to the island to create a herd to function as a food source for the residents in case the fishing industry ever died out. The Special Forces dude I had talked to on the ferry told me that they estimated there were close to 200,000 moose on the island. Luckily this particular moose was in no position to get on the road, but I have to admit with the rain and spray, spotting a moose could be a challenge at times.
The temperature had peaked around 50 but was now dropping back into the mid 40s. The rain continued on and off, however it was not heavy but my soaked summer gloves had finally gotten the best of me despite my heated grips. When I reached Gander, where I turned north for Twillingate, I had to stop and get a cup of coffee to warm up. By the time I had warmed up and finished my coffee, I considered the hour and a half more it would take to go to Twillingate, just to spend the night and get up and reverse back out to Gander. The weather for the next day was predicted to be even worse, so it made no sense to go to a little community just to spend the night and add three hours of travel time with no enjoyment. I’d left about 9:30 am and it was now 6:00 after a long day in the cold rain. I found a hotel off the main highway for the night. Though it was a bit chilly, my rain gear had held out and I hadn't gotten seriously wet.
I have to admit I was a little bit bummed at having to change plans and miss much of what I wanted to see, but that's part and parcel of travel. Tomorrow the rain is supposed to be heavier, but the goal will be to get to Deer Lake or Rocky Harbour on the west coast, which, if the weather forecast is accurate, will give me sunshine for the west coast and northern part of the island.
During the night, I was woken up to the wind moaning outside. I got up and looked out the window, the motel parking lot lights illuminated my motorcycle sitting in the cold rain and wind backlit by the light.
In the morning, the rain and wind continued. My phone said it was 42°, and it took quite a bit of effort for me to motivate myself to head out in it for the day. I layered up enough that I could barely breathe when I zipped up my already snug jacket, but once I got in motion it didn't seem too bad. Since the rain was forecast to continue the entire day, I decided to make Deer Lake my goal rather than pushing on further to Rocky Harbour. I wanted to see the region in sunshine rather than shielded in fog and rain.
An hour into the ride, the cold was beginning to creep in. The rain continued nonstop and eventually had soaked my gloves enough that the grip heaters didn't seem to help much, that is until I took my hands off the grips. I still felt a bit bummed, and the gray heavy overcast and rain didn't help.
The winds were pretty active and deceptive, slapping the front wheel when least expected and always it seemed when in a standing puddle on the highway. I know the speed limit was 100 kph (62 mph), but I tried to stay above that as much as possible, trying to constantly sweep the roadsides for any sign of moose. It was nice that the highway department had cut the roadsides back pretty far in an attempt to help.
Two hours in, I regretted having opposable thumbs as they were now aching from the 70 mph wind and wet. I tried various positions to get them against the heated grips, however the other four fingers were having none of it and they were hung out on their own. The thumbs hung below the grips just enough that the brush guards didn't cover them from the wind. Of course, I forget my winter gloves and come to a land known for its rain and cold, only to find that none of the six different stores I have tried have any rain proof winter gloves and if they do, they certainly don't have XXL.
The last hour to Deer Lake, which is roughly an hour from the coast, was spent eyeing the mileage countdown on the GPS, which seemed like a lifetime. A little before reaching the town, some patches of blue could be seen and foretold of a better day tomorrow.