Riding the Rock via the rail trail

Helping to pick up John's motorcycle for the second time, I seriously began to doubt if we would ever make it. We were only one day in to our off-road excursion across Newfoundland, after riding our 650 cc dual-sport bikes three days from southern Ontario.

This trail was more than 100 years and countless millions in the making. The T'Railway Provincial Park, part of the Trans Canada Trail, exists on the former Newfoundland Railway system.

Sir John A. Macdonald offered to build Newfoundland a railway if they agreed to join Confederation. They refused, and the railway did not get off the ground until 1881. The home-grown rail system brought a sense of national pride and economic development to the colony, opening up the interior and bringing a more diverse economy to this land of fishing villages.

After World War II, Canada once again cast a net to lure Newfoundland into the fold, this time with the promise to build a highway. The railway became part of the Canadian National Railway when the province joined Confederation in 1949. The completion of the Trans-Canada Highway in 1965 was the death knell for the troubled railway.

The last locomotive wheels turned in 1988, with trains assisting in the dismantling of the rail lines. With the conversion of the winding rail bed into recreational use, the right of way is still bringing economic diversity to the province in the form of tourism.

On our very first day, while still in view of breathtaking coastline, we encountered our first "prohibited" vehicle – a Chevy Cavalier!

Soon we began to see the occasional cottage along the trail. These cottages have existed since the days of rail. Cottagers are a problem for recreational users. We had close encounters with a pickup truck and a minivan.

These encounters happened over the approximately 700 kilometres of trail. Positive meetings with locals and other trail users were more numerous. Railways always entered the heart of any town along it, affording us the opportunity to socialize, and to find tasty vittles.

As for the condition of the trail, the worst was in Western Newfoundland. Visibility was poor due to overhanging trees and bushes, and ATVs left a dangerous ridge of loose gravel in the centre of the trail, which would send the two ends of our motorcycles going in different directions. An old collapsed rail bridge near Codroy Pond forced us to backtrack many gruelling kilometres.

We had covered 130 km on the trail. We budgeted 150 km each day to reach St. John's in time to catch our ferry.

On our sunny second day, we made a useful discovery. Keeping our speed up, the bikes (a Kawasaki KLR650 and Suzuki DR650) would skim over the heavy gravel and avoid being thrown around so much. We stayed in second gear and maintained between 25 and 40 km/h.

Our newfound legs meant we could enjoy the surrounding scenery a little more, and the mountainous western end of the province didn't disappoint. A high point was an impromptu race we had with a personal watercraft as we rode next to Georges Lake.

The trail was closed to motorized traffic in the city of Corner Brook, and we rode around on the highway past the Marble Mountain ski resort to pick it up again. We camped that night in Deer Lake.

Watching the trail from a local bar, we saw every manner of recreational user: walkers, hikers, parents with strollers, ATVs and motorcycles. It seemed chaotic compared with typical Ontario trails, with such a large variety of users on the trails simultaneously. We sat there smiling, delighted and amazed such a thing existed.

Rain accompanied the morning light on our third day. After a quick breakfast, it was back on the trail. We were 20 km in when we got to a dam and seemingly the end to this section of trail.

Two Deer Lake employees came along and told us of the "small" water crossing at the bottom of the dam, but due to recent rain, the stream was now a treacherous fording. We found a dirt road leading to the Trans-Canada Highway, and picked up the trail again in Howley.

The coolness of the air was a welcome change from the first two hot and sweaty days. We had been riding standing on the pegs almost constantly since day one, with our legs and arms pumping as the bike danced and weaved below.

Back into heavier tree cover approaching Millertown Junction, we stopped at a mountain spring and refilled our water bottles. We covered 70 km in four hours, and never saw another soul. Truly marvellous.

After lunch and a stop to refuel and lube the chains in Badger, we hit the trail once again for Grand Falls-Windsor – roughly the halfway point. It was raining steadily, so we found a hotel.

After a meal of excellent mussels with garlic butter, we sampled local entertainment at the bar attached to the hotel. I felt low on energy and retired after one beer, while John stayed. He was befriended by locals and dragged on a bar crawl until the wee hours.

Next morning, I started noticing that every time I nodded at someone on the trail, they would shake their heads. This was a "Newfie nod," or in the local lingo "what a' y'at" – said fast enough to meld into two syllables – not an admonishment.

Heavy brush once again encroached, pushing my mirrors in and at times striking the hand guards hard enough to turn the wheel. After one particularly bad stretch, I had to stop and screw in the bolt attaching my right hand guard to the end of the handlebar.

John was leading this section, and he stopped to talk with folks on an ATV. Due to heavy brush and excessive speed, it caught me by surprise. I piled on the brakes, but on the wet surface, the tires simply began to slide. I released the front brake to steer the bike beside him, but there wasn't enough room to ride alongside him on the tight trail.

Scrubbing speed by steering the bike sideways into a skid, I rammed my loaded saddlebag into the back of his bike with my front wheel buried in the bushes. No damage resulted from the hit, except possibly to my pride.

Due to increased grooming activity, we expected trail conditions to improve entering the Avalon Peninsula on day five.

However, large sections of the trail were flooded from one side of the trail to the other.

After a photographic detour to Dildo, we pointed the bikes toward Conception Bay where we had booked a room. Ahead, a deep hole lay hidden by the uniform colour of the trail's dirt. I was almost on top of it before I noticed.

I chopped the throttle to get some engine braking, entering the hole at over 30 km/h. The suspension bottomed, and then I was launched upward with the engine racing, tires off the ground.

Upon landing, an ominous rubbing sound announced that a strap had broken, causing both saddlebags to fall into the rear wheel. My speedometer cable was also broken. Some trailside repairs allowed us to continue.

The trail at Holyrood followed the waterline of the bay, sandwiching us between boardwalk and beach in high winds and steady rain. People on the boardwalk watched us negotiate the large stones. That night we enjoyed local Quidi Vidi brew while attending a festival of Newfoundland music.

The next morning, it was 5C and raining harder. This section of trail was near residential and commercial properties, forcing us to cross many roads.

The hassle was made worse by the KLR's rough engine response. Water had been sucked into the carb by a low hanging breathing tube, a known KLR issue.

We decided our rail trail excursion had come to a close and got back on the road for the short distance to mile zero of the Trans Canada Trail in St. John's.

Our only regret was not seeing a single moose.

On our final evening, we were made welcome by my brother's wife's family for some honest-to-goodness home cooking.

Municipalities in the province, such as Conception Bay, are debating whether to take control of the T'Railway trail to close it to motorized traffic.

On the other side of the debate are the cottagers and the pervasive ATV culture, assuring a strong lobby for the status quo.

If more trails were closed, something would be lost that makes the T'Railway a special experience.

That night felt like the end, but really it wasn't.

After a 14-hour ferry ride from Argentia to North Sydney, N.S., we followed the asphalt back roads home through Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Quebec.

They were good fun, but compared to the rail trail, the reward just wasn't there.