After several more hours, I stop for gas near Moncton(NB). I ask some of the locals for an approximate time of arrival in Sydney(NS) and share that I need to make the 9am ferry. There's some head scratching as they converse amongst themselves and consult maps. It doesn't sound good. I might just barely make it if I don't factor in gas stops. In addition, I'm gaining on the weather system and visibility will be getting worse.

I stand there and stare off into space, letting this sink in for a minute or two. I mentally evaluate the probable outcome of several scenarios. I know that the battle is lost and feel a momentary weariness come over me as I question sustaining the effort. Should I just call it quits? And then I feel a surge of renewed drive.

It seems that tight deadlines have always had this effect on me for as long as I can remember. Especially when there is an element of the improbable. It just seems to spur me on. I'm not sure that this is entirely good. In fact, there are times when this has been a liability more than an asset. I reflect on that for a moment. And then, I'm off!

4:20am. I'm riding down the Nova Scotia toll road toward Cape Breton. Weather is now a mixture of rain, drizzle, and fog. My faithful Widder vest is set on low simmer to ward off the damp chill. There's no doubt about it. No matter how you dress, heated clothing makes all the difference on an extended ride. I wouldn’t leave home without it.

The miles pass. It's very dark but there's almost no traffic. No sign of civilization either. I've been thinking about my gas for the last 20 minutes and, almost on cue, my reserve light goes off. I've no choice now but to slow down to conserve fuel.

This is going to affect my arrival time. I need to resolve it as quickly as possible. I'm scanning for any sign of light off the highway, but darkness is everywhere. As I pass each lifeless exit, I'm torn between taking it to venture for gas or continuing on this desolate piece of highway.

At this time of night, local gas bars will all be closed. There's no doubt about it. And yet, there's no life on this road. It feels like the proverbial choice between a rock and a hard place.

It's quite striking how bright an amber reserve light can be in the middle of the night. It overwhelms every other light on my instrument cluster, like an emergency beacon lit up. Won't let me forget it for a moment.

It's now 4:45am. I've ridden 40 km on my reserve tank. I need to solve this now. The sun is slowly rising and I decide to take an exit that promises several villages. I'm reasoning that it's better to run out of gas close to a populated area than along the lonely highway. As I half dreaded, I find myself on a desolate country road and I go on a ways. Hmm, I consider stopping by a farm and asking to buy some gas, but it’s still a little early. I'm now riding at just over 50kph. A real struggle as I think about how this impacts my schedule.

Finally, I come across what looks like a rural convenience store. It's more like a big shack, really. The owner's old pickup truck is parked next to the open door. The gravel parking lot is littered with water-filled potholes. I slowly pull in and traverse the fifty or so feet of obstacle course.

I enter the quiet store and find the owner busy getting ready for the day ahead. I look at him, spread my arms out, and blurt out "GAS?!"

I figure that what I lack in eloquence, I'm probably making up for with a sense of urgency. He quietly looks up and takes a moment. I think he's considering the sight of me after having ridden all night in fog and drizzle.

"You're looking for gas?"

"Yes, where can I find some?"

He looks at the clock and frowns as he mentally sorts which locations might be open.

"How far can you go?"

"Not far."

He gives me directions for a gas station that should be about 10-12 minutes away. He thinks they should be open by the time I get there. I'm pretty sure that they'll be open, since I'll be riding very slowly. The question is, do I have enough left to get there?

Fifteen minutes later I pull up to an open gas station. Once again I realize that the battle is lost. But again, this only serves to energize me. It's been like that for me for as far back as I can remember. Easy stuff just doesn't seem to energize me. But something that looks just almost impossible will always get my juices flowing. I guess it takes all kinds. . .

Hitting the road with a replenished tank always feels good. I'm back on rhythm and I know I have some time to make up. There is increasing traffic and it's moving at a good clip. I'm guessing these are travelers who are just leaving their motels on their way to the ferry.

As I move north along Cape Breton, I optimize my progress many times. :)

I arrive in Sydney and encounter bridge construction. Engine off, many long minutes of waiting as I look out over the water.

As I finally pull into the ferry terminal, I'm greeted with good news/bad news. It's now 9:05am local time. The good news is that the 9 o'clock ferry is still in dock. The bad news is that my confirmation has lapsed and the ferry is full to the rafters. It's not even accepting walk-on passengers.

The ticket clerk cheerfully informs me that I can get on the waiting list for the 3pm ferry.

"That'll be great, thanks."

Having taken this ferry several times, I know that being on a waiting list with a motorcycle is almost a sure go. I've been riding for 16 hours straight hours. It's now sunny with a refreshing wind. Basking in the sun is going to feel good.

Bruno
Montreal, Canada