Nova Scotia Days 15, 16, and 17 - The Long Ride Home

I'll make this short and sweet: we were a long way from home, we had maximized our time in Nova Scotia, and we knew all along we were just going to put our heads down, hit the super slab, and get home as fast as we could. Apart from the friendship and laughter, there wouldn't be much fun in this part of the journey. Even meals were sacrificed. We ate at McDonald's once. And another Subway. Whatever it took to keep us moving... knocking down the miles... trying to reach our daily destination goals at almost any cost... we were willing to do.

Day 15 started with our ride on The CAT, a high-speed ferry with service between Yarmouth, Nova Scotia and Portland, Maine. The catamaran, powered by four engines (one not working on our journey) travels 212 miles in 6-1/2 hours. The boat, which carries some 700 passengers and more that 200 vehicles, is really nice. Seating and dining areas were comfortable. Movies played during the trek. The food was just barely okay - but being able to eat both breakfast and lunch on board was time-efficient for us.

Finally arriving in Portland mid-afternoon, we had to clear customs. We then started south. We added a visit to a Harley-Davidson dealership in New Hampshire into the ride plan to get a part to be used if Randall's shifting mechanism failed again (and another T-shirt!) then continued south with our sights set on Clinton, New Jersey. Slowed by rain, we ended up stopping 30 miles short of our goal, in Parsippany, New Jersey. Our decision was based in part on the lateness of the hour and in part because we could save about $30 per room on our hotel. Wet and tired, we went straight to our rooms and called it a day.

Only a security fence separates us from our ride.

Lined up and ready to load.

The ramp to the vehicle deck.

Tied down and ready to sail.

These bikes are good friends!

Bikes are crammed in like sardines.

Leaving the harbor (harbour, in Canada) in Yarmouth

Dining area on board. Our travel seats were much nicer!

Food was okay.

I'll let Randall or Steve caption this one.

Old Glory flies - and we're back in the United States!

Day 16 was another no-fun day, with our target destination Maryville, Tennessee, just south of Knoxville. We rode hard, and made it to Maryville around 9 PM. I messaged Eddie and Pam Binning, long-time friends of Randall, Trent, Matt, and me to let them know we were going to be oh-so-close to them, and got an immediate reply from Eddie: "Where should we meet you?" I called, came up with a plan, and Pam and Eddie had a table set up and ready for us at a Maryville Tex-Mex place. It was great to see these dear friends - and this meal served as the annual "last supper" for our band of riding brothers. The Hilton at the airport was our home for the night. We met briefly to develop a plan for our last day together and called it a day.

On Day 17, "home" was the goal. We prayed together one last time - and this old man cried. I had spent almost every waking hour of the last 17 days with these guys I have grown to love deeply. We share more than a common interest in motorcycles and touring. We do more than laugh together. We DO life together and share some of the most intimate parts of our lives with one another. The bonds, developed with most of them over nearly 30 years, run deep. In a day when virtual relationships are the norm, the friendship we enjoy is something to be cherished. Even now - as I'm recalling and writing - one of my riding brothers sent a message letting me know he's praying for me. And I get emotional again. Because these kind of friendships are a treasure. Those guys are 630 miles away, yet much closer than most people I interact with on a regular basis. My pastor often says our culture is characterized by relationships that are a mile wide and an inch deep. Not so with these guys. Underlying the laughter is a deep bond that I will cling to for all of my days. I'm not ashamed that I cried. Not one bit.

Our band of brothers.
From left: me, Junior, Steve, Matt, Randall, and Trent

GPS set to "home". One last time to pray - and then we're on our way.

SMH... If there's rain - I can find it.

So we rode together to Chattanooga. And then my friends went southwest toward Birmingham, and I went southeast toward Atlanta. I skipped lunch. Gas and Gatorade stops were conducted as fast as humanly possible. (I had to visit the restrooms on these stops, too.) Hotlanta was a HOT MESS - but I made it through, clicking the miles down, and rolled into my garage at 5:10 PM... tired, but feeling a sense of joy and accomplishment at having completed the course. We experienced a trip of a lifetime. We made memories that are forever etched into our hearts and minds. We deepened bonds of friendship in a way few have a chance to do. My life - and theirs, I trust - have been enriched by the journey.

 And then there's home. And I am reminded as I roll into the garage... as my very best friend come out to greet me... that home is a place where love abounds. The girl who said "yes" to me at an altar 33 years ago said "yes" when I suggested we sell a boat and buy a motorcycle. She said "yes" when I said I had an idea to ride all 48 states in three summers. She said "yes" when I said Nova Scotia was the destination for 2017. I think she says "yes" because she believes in me. I KNOW she says "yes" because she loves me and understands my quest for adventure and risk. She makes "home" more than a destination or an edifice. She makes "home" a place of love, acceptance, refuge, and security.

Charles Dickens wrote, "Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering." After 6004.9 miles of riding and another 300 or so traveled on ferries - I am safe at home. And I appreciate it more from my wandering. Yes... I am a grateful man. I am grateful for my wife and family. I am grateful for my travel friends. Most of all, I am thankful for Jesus, who loves me and who blesses me beyond measure.

Short and sweet, huh? I guess I got carried away. Long rides. Long blog posts. And now, a long wait until next time. When we go north. And west.

Dirty - but in one piece. Just over 60K on the clock now.

The final ride track, as recorded by our SPOT Gen3 satellite tracker.

** This is the final ride update. I'll write one more post for other motorcycle touring folks describing some of the planning and execution tools and processes.