The morning I set out for the Digby Wharf Rat Rally was entirely unique on this adventure. This day was the first time I’d set out for a day ride. I wore only a t-shirt under my jacket, and Jules just wore her luggage. I left my dry bag at home, of course, because it held everything I used day-to-day.

We set out along the Evangeline Trail about 8:00 am. Although I’d traveled this#1 highway many times over the last twenty years, this was my first time on a bike. As I breathed in the salty air, gazed out over the Bay of Fundy, and soaked up the summer sun, my heart filled with joy. I rolled past familiar homes, thought of the people I once knew to live there, and felt grateful for the memories. I recalled taking the kids to walk the beach down by Dargie Cove, climbing the rocks at Smugglers Cove and eating clams & chips in a restaurant that seemed to be no more. For 90 minutes Jules and I swept along the winding rode towards Digby. Apart from the slight discomfort from having left my sheepskin back at Mom’s, it was a perfect ride.

I pulled into the row of bikes on Waterstreet around 9:30, dumped what I didn’t need on my person in my trunk, and set off to explore. It was pretty cool to feel like I was part of something bigger than my solo trip. I’d never been with so many bikers in one place before! I’m not interested in Sturgis and this crowd was big enough for me. The thing I love about bikers is that they’re always so welcoming and eager to talk about their ride.

On more than one occasion I felt like a celebrity! When people learned I traveled from Alberta, and that I’d made the trip alone, they called me a lot of things; brave, tough, impressive, inspiring, strong, courageous, awesome… I never felt like these things were necessarily accurate descriptors at first. But the more people I met, the more I heard, “Wow! That’s always been a dream of mine too”. Each time I heard that, I responded with “Do it. You’ll never regret it, you’ll come out of it a different person”. Some told me I’d inspired them and made them feel it was attainable. If I managed to encourage even one person to follow their own dream of adventure, whatever that may be, then the sharing of my story was worth the time to tell them.

I’d just been putting one mile in front of the next on this trip and never really thought a lot about how far I’d come. Each day I’d get up, load Jules, head east, and look for interesting things to check out along the way before finding a place to sleep at night. Every day was on repeat with new highway, hopefully new sights and new friends. It never really felt like a big leap to do this trip. I guess the biggest leap may have been to choose not to find another contract. In less than 24 hours after my contract was finished, I was on my bike pointing east. I didn’t plan anything in advance. I didn’t overthink it. I just left. It was more of a survival tactic at that point, than anything else. Overthinking would have paralyzed me.

Many of the folks I spoke to asked if I had gone here, seen this, or done that. Sometimes I said yes and we’d talk about our common memories. Sometimes I’d say no and they’d chastise me for having missed an opportunity. Initially I had a bit of FOMO and regretted NOT checking out the thing they described, or turning down the route they had ridden. I had to remind myself that their journey was their journey. If they’d ridden the Gaspe Peninsula, great. I didn’t, but it didn’t mean that I’d failed. It just meant, “not this time” because Canada is fucking massive and it’s not possible to see everything or ride every magnificent piece of highway in one 6 week trip. It took a lot of inner convincing though, let me tell you.

My conversations at the Rally also made me cognizant of how I share my story. This was my journey, but at no point have I ever felt like it is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done. I’ve never felt like anyone who does NOT jump on a bike and go ’till they hit water is less than. As much as I love to share my stories, I feel it’s best done here. My audience can choose to relive with me or not. When I’m actually in conversation with real people though, I tend to only retell if they ask. I’d much rather listen to their adventures and see the light in their eyes when they relive the curves, describe the sights, and reminisce about the people they have met.

With Jules sporting a new sticker giving her bragging rights for having attended the 2025 Digby Wharf Rat Rally, and me getting a new t-shirt for my own bragging rights, we hit the road again. We set out towards the #1, but somehow I zigged when I should have zagged and found myself going down a quiet interior secondary road.

It was a nice road, but I felt I was missing out by not catching the coastal views again. I’ve mentioned a time or two in my stories that I’ve been avoiding gravel roads this trip. Jules can take ’em with her 50/50’s no problem, and I’ve done a lot of gravel travel. I’ve been leery about remote off road travel on my own though. Here, however, the area was populated enough and the gravel roads were well traveled. I could easily walk for help if Jules decided to take an unplanned nap along the way. Off we bounced down some decent gravel heading back towards the Evangeline Trail. Trucking along at a good pace, we eventually came to the highway. Getting back ON meant a longish wait as the traffic had really picked up.

By the time we got back to Yarmouth I wasn’t ready to call it a day yet. I had been craving calamari since hitting Quebec, but still hadn’t even seen it on any menus! I sat on the patio at Rudders on Waterstreet with excited anticipation. Finally calamari! If you’re ever in Yarmouth and looking for calamari, Don’t go to Rudders. The only way I can describe the batter is by likening it to the biscuits I had with my seafood chowder coming off the Cabot Trail. Great for biscuits, terrible for calamari.

I am not a great picture-taker! There were a ton of bikes, but I didn’t even consider taking pics of them all! I was usually caught up in chatting with people. I did, however, want to get a shot with the Digby scallop fleet and all the sailboats. Had I KNOWN that The Bluenose II was docked in Digby that day, I could have gotten a pic there! I missed her in Lunenburg, but I got her in Yarmouth the day after the Rally.