Slow your roll

Seneca Rocks, West Virginia, was nearly 400 miles from our meetup spot in Northern New Jersey. I’d been riding only a year or two and this was by far the longest ride I’d ever attempted. In spite of my riding buddies’ assurances that I could easily reach our destination in a single day, I seriously questioned my ability to stay in the saddle that long.

I made the trip without any difficulty, and with pride, I proclaimed that I was now ready to ride to Daytona for Biketoberfest—a jaunt of about 1,100 miles straight down I-95. That ride took two days, and although it wasn’t a cakewalk, I did the return trip just four days later. This journey was the start of my love affair with long-distance riding.

After that was a one-day 725-mile ride from a campground in Cruso, North Carolina, back to my home in New Jersey. The long-haul rides continued—with the acquisition of my Dyna Super Glide making these trips a lot easier—and before long I found myself riding to Sturgis every year. Several times, due to deadlines and other commitments, I’ve had to make the trip back from South Dakota in three days, averaging about 600 miles each day. I began to pride myself on my stamina, and it didn’t take much prodding for me to recount to other riders (with much humility, of course) about the miles I’d laid down on my road trips, how long I rode between fuel stops and how late I arrived at the campground every night. Explore that cute little country store next to the gas station? No time. Gotta get back on the road.

Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy those long, hard hours pounding the pavement and I derive no small amount of gratification from conquering the challenges that the road throws my way. But when Thunder Press contributor Kenzo invited me to accompany him on a riding tour of Quebec this past summer I wasn’t so sure it was something I’d enjoy. I envisioned white-knuckling my way through long miles of grueling, twisty, treacherous gravel roads every day. It didn’t sound like much of a vacation to me. In fact, it sounded a lot like work.

After a series of phone calls, e-mails, web searches and Google mapping, it dawned on me that this little sojourn might actually be, well, relaxing. The first thing I noticed about the itinerary Kenzo suggested was that our longest day would be only 160 miles. And he’d planned as much touring off the bikes as on, leaving plenty of time for pursuits like lounging at sidewalk cafés sipping cappuccino and sampling pastries, strolling through quaint Quebecan towns and perusing the artwork in galleries and museums.

Once we reached the Charlevoix region, I was pleased to find that all our motorcycle touring took place on paved roads, and was nothing like the dangerous hairpin turns and switchbacks I’d foreseen (OK, I used to love this kind of riding but not since the Sportster was my main mode of transportation.) The panoramic vistas of the St. Lawrence River from gently curving roads far above, combined with the pastoral landscape of forests and farmlands, make this area one of the best motorcycling regions in North America.

And the food. Oh! The food… The Charlevoix is the culinary center of Quebec, and I got to indulge in one of my favorite activities… eating. We visited artisan bakeries, cheese makers and chocolateries as well as restaurants and small inns along the Flavour Trail, where specialty food producers and local chefs have joined together in an effort to put the freshest local food on the table.

I’ve spent 28 years living in and around New York City, and the idea of taking things slow is a foreign concept to me. I caught on quickly, though, and began to enjoy this type of motorcycle touring. Slowing down enabled me to fully enjoy the sights of the cities and towns we visited, to take in the culture and to get to know the people. Everyone has a story, and staying in one place long enough to listen was incredibly rewarding. Experiences were exchanged, friendships were formed, and I felt enriched in so many ways. It was a feast for the soul as well as the stomach.