I set Petunia up first for Magnetic Hill, then Hopewell Rocks, and then St. Stephen as I prepared to leave the Motel 6 in Moncton. My plan was to hit up some touristy spots and then head kitty-corner through Maine to re-enter Canada close to Montreal.

Just as I was about to mount, another motel guest came over to chat. I am all for having bike-side chats. In fact I love them! However, I thought about how I wished folks would approach me when I first start gearing up, rather than after pairing my music to my helmet. I am not an ass and I recognize it takes a little bit of something to approach strangers (I do it all the time), so I closed Spotify, took my helmet off, and said hello.

I don’t recall the fella’s name, but he told me about all the 2 wheeled toys he has at home and how he never seems to have time to ride. I asked him about his favourites and he lit up! Then I did too. Smiles are infectious. This fella started out with kind of a quiet hello. By the time he was telling me about his favourite toys and his favourite rides, he was smiling ear to ear and no longer seemed to be timid about chatting with me.

That’s when it kind of hit me. If I hadn’t switched off Spotify, if I hadn’t removed my helmet, I would have missed his smile. I would have missed bearing witness to his transformation from timid to gregarious. Although his stories about long-ago moto adventures didn’t have a lasting impact on MY day, I know the new light in his eye from retelling would linger long after I rolled out of the parking lot that morning. I’ve stopped for every bike-side chat ever since.

This life is too short to miss a chance to light up the smile of someone else. It’s such an easy thing for any of us to do too, really. Maybe it’s a quick chat at the cash register, complimenting someone on their hair, noticing the care with which the grocery packer places your items in the bag. It’s all about being present with people. A mere moment of your time can have a lasting impact on the day for someone else.

The world would be a better place if we choose our moments wisely. And if we remember to always be kind; we each leave a piece of ourselves behind with every one we meet.

So…..Magnetic Hill…..

After leaving the parking lot, I set out for Magnetic Hill. I came up on it so quickly, that I missed turning into the parking lot. Thank goodness I missed that turn! I hung the next right thinking I’d whip back around, but an oncoming car prevented my u-turn. This meant I had to commit to the detour a little longer. Again, thank goodness for that! The road climbed higher and higher and I was treated to a magnificent view over the city. Had I not missed the parking lot, I’d never have seen this! Had that car not been coming down the hill, I’d have made my u-turn and again I would have missed this stunning view. This is why I don’t really fuss over these things anymore (think back to my mini freak out over the Aberdeen Motel detour).

There wasn’t a good spot to take a picture and besides….those wide angle views rarely make for good photographs by my phone. At the top I turned around in the parking lot of a winery and returned to the Magnetic Hill parking lot. The place was a ghost town, but it wasn’t even 8:00 am yet. I hopped off to read the signage. History, blah, blah, blah, white post, blah, blah, blah, put vehicle in neutral, keep your foot off the brake and roll uphill to where you started.

Wait. What?

Put my bike in neutral and don’t panic while I feel like I’m rolling backwards uphill? My cerebral cortex started freaking out with the memories of Jules’ regular naps on my off-road riding course last year. This whole thing feels sketchy on my own with no other curious tourists to help me upright my bike if she decides to sleep through this ‘magnetic experience’. Yeah… I was a chicken shit. But let me put this into context a bit here. Last summer I went on an off-road course on Vancouver Island that was supposed to be great for all levels. Even a relative newb to off-road like me. I mean I’d done a lot of gravel roads, but nothing more than that. I dumped my bike that weekend. A lot. Like a LOT a lot. I dumped it going uphill. I dumped it going backwards downhill. I dumped when I was pretty much standing still (shut up, you’ve been there too). So this whole ‘feel like you’re rolling uphill backwards’ thing on a bike felt iffy to me.

But ok, whatever. “I’m here, so I better see what’s what” I thought. I asked The Gang what they all wanted to do, and they were all for testing Jules’ fortitude.

The Gang (right to left as that’s the order in which they joined my adventure)

• Moosey from Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan
• Duck from Quwackabeka Falls, Ontario (jk – it’s Kakabeka falls)
• Anne from PEI (duh)
• Lawrence the Lobster from N.S.

OK, so The Gang said “Go for it!” and I rolled out of the parking lot. I followed the arrows, I followed the signs, I watched for posts, and I looked for hills. Pretty soon I was in a residential area and workers were painting lines on the road. What the hell, man?! A) How did I miss it and B) how did I exit into residential when I was following the dang signs? Sigh. OK, whatever. I wasn’t so keen to roll uphill backwards that I wanted to navigate back around this residential area to then find a road to take me back to the parking lot. We headed out to see the Hopewell Rocks instead.

You have to drive through town to access the road to The Hopewell Rocks. I hadn’t planned on this next leg taking as long as it did. Google told me it was only 50 km away, so I figured that would be a quick rip down the highway. Oops. Wrong. Honestly I figured I’d be there between 8:30 and 9:00. In Pembroke, low tide was 9:00 am so I was thinking it’d be the same here. As I got past town, however, I could see water. Awe nuts! This meant it was NOT low tide.

When I parked and wandered up to the gate, the tide notice advised low tide was at 2:30 in the afternoon. Nuts! If you’re going to attempt to see The Hopewell Rocks, do yourself a favour and plan to stay in the area for 2 days. That way you can see the site at high tide and low tide. Obviously low tide is going to be more interesting, but the $50 pass is for 2 days. I didn’t pay just to see the tops of the rocks and I wasn’t interested in spending another day in Moncton. I needed to be in Deux Montagnes to get Jules’ new tires in 2 more sleeps. Skunked twice in one day! Turns out ‘flying by the seat of my pants’ has me foiled again!

But seriously – if you’re going to check out The Hopewell Rocks on your own adventure, I passed tons of accommodations on the way. Do better than I did and be sure to find a cool place to stay nearby so you can drive or even walk to the park. Then, be sure to go back the next day so you can see the difference at high tide. I’ll have to chalk this up to another one for the books for when Brian and I can do this trip together.

Next stop: St. Stephen, New Brunswick to cross into Maine.

The 114 heading west was such a pretty ride! For a goodish while it ran along the coast and the views were so beautiful. I came across a covered bridge, zipped in and effortlessly angled Jules and The Gang for a photo. Remember my frontal lobe freak out on the course? Those memories prevent me from doing things like zipping down a dirt lane from time to time. The PTNJ (Post Traumatic Napping Jules) can be real, my friends! I was quite tickled with myself that I hadn’t even given it a second thought this time. I know. It doesn’t look sketchy at all, but the dirt trail from the highway to this little lane was not much more than a cart path.

Given that there had been over 1,000 covered bridges in NB once upon a time, I figured I’d better get a selfie with this one!

When I got to Alma, I fueled up and had the most amazing seafood chowder across the street. It was a hotel with rooms and a restaurant overlooking the sea. It was a pretty spot for sure. I kind of laughed about the boats sitting on the ground here because it was no low tide. Ah well. Hopefully I get back this way to see the Hopewell Rocks before the crumble to the sea!

Ok so I’m a bit of a dreamer/storyteller/owner of a wild imagination. As I strolled out to see these boats and the low tide goo after my lunch, this is what happened in my brain:

I’m just standing here minding my own business enjoying the sunshine and looking around when all of a sudden some guy runs up to me. He grabs my motorcycle keys from my hand, hucks them into the goo, then runs off laughing maniacally. What the hell am I going to do?! I started looking for access down the rocks onto the seabed. Then I thought about the quickly rising tide. How do I get back out of the goo with keys in hand before I was neck high in salt water?

After I played out all the options in my head, I laughed out loud at how my imagination gets away on me. But I was grateful for it as well. After 16 months in my last stressy gig, my colourful little side-line stories had come to a halt. These little side-line stories entertained my kids while waiting in doctors’ offices, in line at a grocery store, or just hanging out at home. They have kept my friends in tears with laughter, and have brought me joy even when they just stay in my head for my own enjoyment.

They’re back, so I guess this means I’m on the mend.