Read the first part: Initial Challenges here.

Day two dawned with hope and me with a flat air mattress. I’d used it barely a month before on a three day hike of the Appalachian Trail, where it had performed stellar – as always. I was bewildered and more than a little miffed that it had left me flat in half an hour of the first night out. Still, we were in Canada, Raven’s bike was charging, we were on vacation on our motorcycles with our dogs. We just needed to get Raven’s tube fixed. Back in St. Stephen we found sympathy and little else. They didn’t carry a tube our size. Their suggestion was to head to St. John, an hour ride further north into New Brunswick.

Raven had “only” lost 3 pounds of pressure that morning in his front tire. Despite the anxiety of what a sudden catastrophic failure could produce, he was game to head further away from home. In St. John we found rescue in the doubtful home of a Harley dealership. Despite our KLRs being the polar opposite of the dealership’s chosen brand, they actually carried the correct size tube and one mechanic was willing to skip his lunch break to help us out. Give a tip of your helmet to the Harley dealership in St. John if you pass by on the trans-Canada. No matter what brand you ride on, they are great folks and well stocked!

We ended the day with a fabulous spot at one of our favorite camping areas in St. Martin. We had dinner on the deck of a restaurant with the dogs at our feet and walked back to campground along the beach while the pups played. All was well. Except the mystery of my air mattress. A close look had showed no leaks. It seemed to hold air. Cross threaded? Perhaps. The next day was to take us to Moncton for a belated one year check up on my PRK vision correction. All problems had been corrected. Famous last good night thoughts?

Day three dawned cloudy and cool and with a decidedly flat air mattress once again. I swore – to investigate further and get out the patch kit. Surely there was a hole we’d missed. With plenty of time to reach Moncton for my afternoon appointment, we wandered the inland roads. Damp, I switched on my heated grips, loving the warmth.

We were nearly to the trans-Canada when I noticed my blinker wouldn’t come on. I switched off my heated grips guessing I’d somehow drained my battery. With just heated grips? Well, that would certainly fit the trip so far. As I thought about a way to tell Raven, he pulled off to look at a covered bridge. For whatever thoughtless reason, I switched off my bike before telling him of my woes. Of course, it wouldn’t restart. Out in the middle of the Canadian countryside, no houses in sight, an appointment in two hours, we were officially stranded.

Raven guessed dead battery too, but then he decided to check the fuses. Within five minutes he’d forcibly removed my seat (the bolts having not been cooperative). The master fuse was blown. I hadn’t drained my battery, I’d short circuited my bike! Always prepared, Raven had a spare master fuse. With a quick switcheroo, my bike started up nimbly. How many disasters were we going to skirt on this trip? We headed back out. I was only 15 minutes late to my appointment.

The cool day turned dark as we left Moncton. We were going to PEI, after toying with heading down to the tip of Nova Scotia. PEI was so close and after the three days we’d been having, close seemed the safer bet. We had barely ridden half an hour when a mini monsoon pelted in. Prepared this year, we donned rain gear and headed to Shediac. We remembered it from the previous trip as being bumper to bumper traffic, but also with hotels. The weather on the wifi was saying two days of rain. Yippie. Time to hole up and dry off.

We found a hotel that not only allowed wet motorcyclists, but small dogs as well. Nearly packed with the change in weather, we had to go for a suite. Stuck with a washer and dryer, kitchen, wifi, and large bathroom, we endeavored to make the best of it. We hit up the local grocery store and watched it rain.

It was the morning of day four when I pulled out my air mattress, inflated it, and stuck it in the bathtub. The result was devastating. At first glance, all was eerily fine. But the moment pressure was added, tiny bubbles, hundreds of tiny bubbles, formed across the fabric exterior and leaked toward the water’s surface. Catastrophic failure of the airtight lining? I had one tube of silicone and a day of rain outside. The situation was daunting, but not impossible.

By that afternoon, my air mattress was drying out. A new complexion of white polka dots   was smattered thickly across its surface. Faintly sunny skies darkened and torrential rain swept in.  We watched fellow motorcyclists check in, offering one woman shelter as her husband ran to pay and get the keys. We were simply happy to have not stayed for only one night ourselves. It could have been us out there looking for a place to stay once again. As the rain whipped down and the wind picked up, my sense of security departed. We realized the shape of the hotel funneled already strong winds down the parking lot.

The idea was only dawning in my mind when it happened. A good gust picked up my motorcycle, balanced it on the kickstand, and then slammed it down onto the pavement. Raven and I were throwing on jackets and dashing out the door as the rain switched to hail. The bikes were moved against the deck and lashed physically to the railing. We sat out the rest of the storm with worried gazes.

In the end, it was only my clutch lever that broke. No damage to lights or mechanics, thank goodness. Still between the crash, even if I wasn’t on the bike, and the weather forecast in PEI of rain, cool, cloudy, rain, overcast, rain, cool, we decided that maybe this wasn’t the year for Canada. We would head home, recoup, then maybe continue with a little jaunt around Vermont.

With only 412 miles on the trip our spirits were wounded, but not broken. Even as day five dawned with us pointing our headlights back toward St. Martin, Raven was coming up with an idea for a small side adventure . . . .