God was angry this day my friends.  He sent Mother Nature to do his bidding, and she brought Rain, Lightening, Thunder, and Wind to answer his call…

It all begins with a really late start this morning after drinking all night with my new Polish friend.  I’d say we talked all night, but he did all the talking.  God help those poor souls in Poland who owe him money.  Here come the Ukranians.  Don’t fuck with the Urkranians.  Trust me my friend.  I know these things. I have to find someone willing to listen to the tape and type all that he said.  It’s outrageous and nearly incomprehensible.  I have 40 minutes of material, and that was without taking a breath, which was hard for him to do anyway since he smokes at least five packs a day given his pace that night.

Well, even with my late start, I’m feeling good on the bike, and after some work ovrer a hearty breakfast and a pot of coffee at the Moose, I’m off.

Love the Moose!! Free wireless and some tasty synthetic eggs!

Upon entering the parc, I am very happy with my decision to stop when I did last night.  If I’d have kept going, it would have been a long, dark ride into the parc in those heavy, low skies and advancing hour.  And opportunities for places to stay dry up completely as I go deeper into the parc.  As it is, I’m glad to be able to  just enjoy the scenery of this parc with more vast, green nothingness peppered with cavernous lakes on either side keeping my head on a swivel.  This vacancy of anything other than green is just highlighted by being on the bike and not in the protective condom of a car.  This thought would become so much more real in the coming hours…

At first, I felt great, and I was looking forward to writing later about how I just skipped along the north edges of the storm system and just got a drizzle here and there.  I started to see some dark clouds, but I felt confident that they were staying out of my way.

This does not do this cloud justice. I took this while riding because I didn't want to stop for even a second.

I even made a quick stop in a small town to hit the internet because I needed to do a spell of work.  So I approach the nicest looking coffee shop and stroll in and ask if they have free wi-fi (pretty much a standard on the road now), and says, “no, but the coffee shop a block down does!” with a smile and even maybe a little enthusiasm.  Um, I guess the whole profit motive hasn’t made it up here yet.  So I head down to the next shop where I’m treated to single serving automatic coffee and about 90 degrees inside the shop with slow internet.  Nothing makes a Wags happier than trying to deal with slow internet in full moto-gear and a full sweat.  Get. Me. Outta. Here.

I get back on the road, and the clouds start to look a bit ominous as seen a bit in the picture above, but I’m feeling like the weather master so there are no worries.  When the rain starts to trickle, I throw on my rain jacket, but it’s so hot out that I pass on the rain pants thinking that a few sprinkles will keep me cool since my top is roasting.  Yea, good plan Wags.  When the rain hits, it is serious wrath of God shit.  I never even saw it coming.  ALL the cars pull over, and the lightening is the stuff of legend.  I have never seen its equal.  It looks to be a few hundred meters away and by the immediate sound of the thunder coming in over my headphones, it’s really close.  And now that I’m now in farm country there is nothing blocking the wind other than a few barrels of hay here and there.  And then the real rain hits.  So, when you’re in a car, pulling over is the right move, but on a motorcycle, all pulling over does is, well, NOTHING.  It’s raining sideways, and  I need cover, and I need it fast.  So, I keep going.  I mentioned my genius decision to leave the rain pants off, yea?  Well, you see, what happens on a motorcycle, particularly with my very flat after-market seat, is that the rain hits you in the chest and then settles in your lap.  I am now literally sitting in a pool of water as it makes its way into my drawers and then down into my boots, and my only choice is to keep going.  Seeing as how crying will do no good, I just keep on keepin on.  I am now soaked to the core getting wet in places I didn’t even know I owned.

I finally see a structure off in the distance and make a beeline for it.  Pulling off, I find four other riders huddling under the overhang.

Four soaked losers.

I’ll take their lack of talkativeness as fear, and we just hang.  And then the REAL rain and wind comes.  We huddle closer like five wet cats as the rain finds its way everywhere.  We considered eating the weakest of the group, but just before the sacrifice, the rain eases up, and we breath easier.  Then, the Canadian weirdness kicks in.  These folks leave, and a Harley guys shows up, and the poor bastard is wearing JEANS!  I thought I was in bad shape.  Oh man.  And his understated quote of the day as he takes off his helmet and wrings his gloves out (or oot as is the custom here), “that shit was biblical man.”  Yea.  Totally.  So we stand for a bit, and we’re both struck by the fact that there are several pick up trucks in the lot that appear to be in action, but there’s no one around.  We are in some kind of nomansland.  So, I take a moment to go around the the side of the building to throw a wiz.  On the house.  And wouldn’t you know it, Billy Bob and Jethro show up exactly at that moment in yet another pickup truck full of materials used for god knows what.  I look over at my Harley pal, and he’s thinking the same thing.  What are the odds of that?  We both think we saw movement in the basement, and I’m convinced it was the gimp ensconced in full leather with an eight ball in his mouth.  This combined with the toothless, weird looks we get from the boys pretty much gets us moving.

Look closely and you might see the gimp grinning a toothless grin behind the leather...

He mounts up in a hurry, and we forget to say goodbye and get back on our steeds.  I don’t bother with my pants.  It would be futile, and I hope that some air will dry me a bit.  That lasts about ten minutes before the rain kicks in again.  The beauty of traveling east is that when you catch a good weather system, you can rid it out for a long time.  Unfortunately, this also holds true for bad weather.  I’m in it, and I’ll be in it for a while.  Basically all the way to Montreal.

The thing to remember here is that when you’re soaking wet, AND it’s hot out, AND you then throw on unbreathable rain gear (finally caved on the pants), you have now created a sauna.  In your pants.  My boys are now seriously pissed.  They’re still not talking to me.  We are clearly in a fight.  And they don’t get relief for another 180 miles…

I consider stopping for the day in Renfrew, but I really want to get to Montreal, so I hunker down and embrace the wet.  And then, wouldn’t you know, another traffic jam.  Super sweet considering I am encased in rubber creating weather patterns of my own.

Long story short, I end up making it to Montreal, and I’m glad I did.  Finding a great place in the hipster colony makes up for all the mess.  I check in and change and then go out to move the bike to the parking lot three blocks away.  Easy, right?  Yea, not today.  Due to the one-way streets, I have to drive about 10 blocs to go three, and guess what, it decides to unleash yet again.  I am now in jeans and street clothes riding through the streets of Montreal in buckets of rain.  Buckets.  I find the lot, and leave the bike unprotected in the lot with nothing but the card of the hotel telling the attendant I’m staying at the hotel.  Hope it’s there tomorrow.  But, it’s all ok moments later when I emerge from the back street onto Rue St. Denis to stumble into the first place I find which happens to be a place called Bieres specializing in 100 beers and lowland food including caribou, sausage, deer, moules, frites, wild boar, etc, etc.  I have found heaven.  A few Unibrous and some sausage, and I’m back on top of the world.  I think I might even be dry for the first time since noon.

I was supposed to be in Quebec City tomorrow, but I need a day off the bike as my entire body is sore.  Was I tense on the bike today?  Hm.  I’ll wonder Montreal tomorrow and head out on Thursday.  Montreal is my kind of city, and I’m looking forward to long strolls tomorrow.  Ahhh…  Already found some cool ideas for the cafes back home.  Yea, I’m working!

Not many picture today – I had other things on my mind.  Hopefully more tomorrow…  Now, I just need some sleep…

Ok, I couldn’t post this last night because I lost some internet, which is good because I wanted to share this.  It’s tempting to let this little tidbit go as it’s humiliating, but hey, we’re all friends, right?  I get up this morning about to enjoy my free croissant delivered to my room before heading out to a coffee shop for a bit of work and a plan for the day.  I reach for my keys, and I don’t see my motorcycle key.  Then the whole world goes wango bango in my head as tunnel vision kicks in and all I see is the empty key rign.  Shit.  Are you kidding me?  In the exhaustion and rain last night, I must have left it on my bike.  In the ignition.  In an exposed lot.  Ok, don’t panic, er, stop  panicking, er, just get moving dude.  I scramble to get out of the place and start the walk to the bike the whole time saying oh come on, be there, be there like it’s my Zen mantra.  Thoughts of, how the hell do I come home on a plane with no bike five days into my two + week trip?  Seriously Eric.  Waiting for the last light was agonizing.  Damn long lights.  I walk around the corner, and no bike yet.  Further around the corner, shit, I thought it was parked over here, further around the corner, and there she is.  La Gigante.  Look at her just sitting there minding her own business all ready to please like a panting puppy.  And there is my key.  In the freaking ignition.  Ah, what a glorious start to the day.  Wags is back in business…  Let’s keep this short chapter to  ourselves, ok?