Knobbies on a VFR - long and some VFRC

Spurred on by the PMS therapy recently provided by Greg Verderber's
excellent story telling I decided to pull this tale out from the vault of
the unfinished. This took place in 2005.


It’s becoming clear that a very useful two-wheeled weapon in this part of
the world (Atlantic Canada) would be a machine that isn’t limited to paved
roads or really hardpacked dirt. Hey, some gravel roads are better than a
lot of the paved roads, with the exception of…ah…the paved surface. Just
ask the Routemeister. However, never having been convinced that a dualie
would be an acceptable pavement carver or that the ones that are, are beyond
the present pace of my income, a dual sport has remained on my list of wanna
haves, but never close enough to the gotta have category. That status may
be changing.

So what does this have to do with a VFR list posting? Oh yeah, this is an
account of a VFR and four dual sports - two BMW 1150 GSs and two KLR 650s -
making their way on a circular route from New Brunswick, through northern
Quebec, eastern Labrador, Newfoundland and back. Who am I kidding?
Actually, it’s an account of a VFR making its way to the end of the pavement
in northern Quebec while four dual sports, etc., etc., etc. Now I’ve seen
the video of that guy on the R1 (IIRC) trudging through a bunch of wicked
terrain and aquatic habitat, and I’m pretty sure (ahem) the VFR could have
made it, but I ain’t sponsored and I need to keep my ’97 in reasonably good
shape for awhile longer. But the lure of exploring new roads in a remote
part of N. America was just too much to resist. Especially one described by
a somewhat reputable friend (sorry Rob) as being over 200 kilometers long
and mostly twisties.

The price of admission to this little adventure was a mere Nalgene bottle
full of single malt scotch. So it’s up at 3 a.m. on a Friday morning in
late July to meet the dual-sport crowd in Fredericton, New Brunswick. The
drive up the Saint John River valley along the Canada/US border started out
with that edge that comes with knowing Bambi, Bullwinkle and Smokey like
wandering the roads at early morning hours, too. But hey, all that money
we’ve invested in aux lights, wiring upgrades and hi-power bulbs should
count for something, right? Thankfully, no animals were harmed in the
making of this story. And riding at sunrise is a very special experience.

Our first destination was Rimouski, on the Gaspe Peninsula of Quebec, for a
9:30 a.m. ferry. Leaving the Trans-Canada Highway and into the rural Gaspe
countryside offered some nice touring roads (Highway 232 and others). A 1+
hour crossing of the St. Lawrence estuary on high speed ferry took us to
Forestville, about 100 km west of Baie-Comeau. This apparently is a good
time for marine mammal sightings, and sure enough we saw Beluga whales and
porpoises from the sunny deck of the ferry.

Once you are in this part of the world the French is used almost
exclusively. French is the official language of Quebec, for those of you
who don’t know it, and the government of that province is pretty aggressive
about protecting that status. I’m not going to touch what that constitutes
for fear of stepping into politically incorrect mode. You may be able to
survive with English in Montreal, but in this part of Quebec be prepared to
use whatever French you can pull from the depths of your experience. A
couple of beers usually helps with access to that part of the hard drive.
Honing one’s non-verbal communication skills also helps – and I don’t mean
just the one-finger salute, although that’s useful, too. Two of our crowd
were francophones so any of the more complex social requirements were
relatively easily met.

With the exception of a tail hugging racerboy wannabe in an Acura, Hwy. 138
between Forestville and Baie Comeau along Hwy. 138 was not all that
interesting. It basically follows the north shore of the St. Lawrence River
but you don’t actually get many good views.

Baie-Comeau is the start of Route 389. If I hadn’t neglected to charge the
battery on my camera in the rush to departure I’d have this picture of a
curved road warning sign with “Next 210 km” on it. How many of those exist?
YAHOO! The road apparently was built by Hydro Quebec as access for the
construction of a series of power dams on the Manicouagan River. We were
headed on the first day to the creatively-named Manic Cinque (Manic Five),
etc. There’s virtually no development along that road and it’s pretty
startling to come cranking around a corner expecting to see more woods and
the face of the huge Manic Deux hydro dam appears before you. One can’t
help but be impressed with the technology, notwithstanding the negative
environmental and social impacts that were associated with that project.

The first 100km consists of relatively smooth, medium-radius curves. Taken
at the standard twice the posted speed made for a pretty high grin factor
without the need for peg-dragging. Traffic was almost non-existent, but a
healthy concern about encounters with four-legged creatures at full lean
kept the speed moderated. I have to say that I was impressed with the
performance of the dual sport bikes (and riders) at this point. Especially
Rob with his R1150 GS. With a full load. He was scraping iron but not
falling behind. Granted, he does have the bike outfitted with Wilbers front
and back, and he did admit to working pretty hard and experiencing a fair
bit of puckering, but c’mon…I think he was trying real hard to convince me
of the capabilities of those bikes so he’d have more companions to get into
trouble with out in the middle of nowhere.

At about the halfway point to Manic Cinque is a small outpost with food and
fuel. From here north the interesting road continued, but the good pavement
did not. Being from Atlantic Canada things were just like home. But
getting bounced around for the last 100 km of an 800km day ride that started
12 hours earlier was not the most pleasant experience.

Manic Cinque is a bizarre place. Amenities include a cafeteria-style
restaurant, a motel, gas pumps, a depanneur (beer and snack mart) and a
gravel parking lot built by Hydro Quebec. Tents were set up just off the
parking lot in the shadow of 500 foot high Daniel Johnson dam. Humming
generators. Lights. Molson Export Ale. All the single malt scotch.
Everyone’s Nalgene bottle of liquor gone. Good conversation/sign language
with this German guy Axel who arrived on his KTM at the tail end of a two
year odyssey of the Americas. Get the picture? One note. GIVI E21s make
great beer coolers – just add a bag of ice. Which, by the way, was still
ice the next morning. This is July?


The next morning the VFR was pointed down the 200km of twisties, while the
Beemer-KLR gang headed for their adventures in Labrador. All riders in a
bit of a fog, despite the bright sunshine. Being the weekend there were a
few vehicles on the road, headed to various camps and such, but only one or
two cars were passed in the entire distance to Baie Comeau.

From Baie Comeau I decided to take a different return route, one that would
take me southwest along the Gulf of St. Lawrence, then up one side of the
Saguenay River fjord and down the other. Despite being pestered by
intermittent heavy thunderstorms the whole way from Baie Comeau to the town
of Saguenay the wet roads tempered speeds and gave an opportunity to enjoy
the spectacular scenery. Dry (and twistier) roads on the west side of the
fjord upped the adventure factor however, and I was bagged by the time I got
to St. Simeon, site of the ferry that would go across to the south shore of
the St. Lawrence. Being late in the day I decided to take a ferry out
early the next morning. Then the challenge was to find a place to stay in a
heavily booked tourist town. I managed to locate a nice place just west of
the village owned by a very friendly older French lady. Another opportunity
to practice my limited French language skills. What more could one ask for
after a full day of new road adventures than to sit on the balcony with a
six-pack and a pizza and watch a pod of white Belugas while the sun goes
down?

Another ferry ride took me to Riviere du Loup on the south shore and a route
home via Quebec Hwy 289 and a series of country roads and US 1 in Maine
along the west side of the St. John River. All the time thinking of my
dual sport buddies and wondering what kind of adventures they were having.
Turns out their trip went as planned and without major ‘incident’, despite
being a bit of a struggle for those that opted for dual sport tires as
instead of knobbies. ADVRider and other sites give accounts of the
Labrador trip for those interested.

So…I’m still bugged by the fact that there ARE limitations to the ability of
the VFR as an adventure-tourer. At least when the gravel and mud get more
than a couple of inches deep. How do you think the old viffer will handle
with a set of Metzler Tourances?
Nah. Just kidding. Or am I?


Paul Monti
(looking for a good, used DR650)

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Paul,
In 2003 I was laid off and three days away from
pulling the trigger on a three week plus trip to
explore the maritime provinces of Canada when I got a
call to go back to work. DAMN! When that delayed
northeast trip finally materializes I will be in touch
to tap your terrain knowledge. Thanks for the writeup.

In 2000, on the Alaska Highway, while taking a dinner
break during an extended journey on my VFR, I met a
BMW GS mounted native of Fairbanks. After revealing my
intentions of traveling to the Arctic Circle via the
Dalton Highway, he said, "If it rains, you don't want
to be on that road with those tires!" The specific
brand of street rubber mounted at the time (D205s) did
not really matter. It rained and he was right, but I
survived in spite of the tread limitations. The VFR is
a fair dirt/gravel road conveyance, but when wet, it
is revealed as an absolutely piss-poor mudder. I brag
about it now, but at the time all I wanted was my
Mommy!

On the return leg from the Circle, I hooked up with a
Kawasaki Voyager riding soul who ended up crashing due
to a wobble induced by the muddy ridge created by the
tandem tires of a semi. He made a comment along the
lines of, 'with the right kind of tires, maybe I
wouldn't've crashed.' To which I responded, "They
don't make those kind of tires for that motorcycle."

I don't know if a set of Tourances will fit on a stock
VFR, but I think it would be one of those compromises
that pleases no one. The next time I head for The
Northwest, I'll be on a KLR or its ilk and I'll have
more than just the Haul Road on my itinerary.

Regards,
Greg





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