After ferrying back from Saddle Island, I made the short ride back to the ferry location at Salon Blanc with the intent catching the afternoon ferry to Newfoundland.
The day was not without incident. There was no evidence of a ferryboat ticket office at the landing, so I stopped at the Information Center to inquire as to departure times and where to purchase the tickets.
The young man in charge advised me as to where too purchase ferry tickets, and also informed me that the last ferry for the day (3:00 PM) had already departed. The next ferry was scheduled for tomorrow (Sunday) at 8:00 AM, I departed with a dejected feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My Harley was the sole occupant of the large parking lot adjacent to the Information Center, no fences or posts or signs defined the gravel parking area, the overcast day had been replaced with a slight mist that clouded my windshield and (perhaps) provided an admittedly lame excuse for what was to occur as I proceeded from parking lot.
Believing the area was total open to the roadway, I drove diagonally across the parking lot totally oblivious of the three-foot deep and four foot wide ditch that separated the parking lot from the roadway. Fortunately I was only traveling little more than 5 miles an hour at the time. Unfortunately, I still dropped into the ditch and found myself now precariously perched astride my Harley with both tires buried in opposite sides of the ditch and my feet not able to find solid ground. I remained there for only a second or two before the bike listed to the right and, unable to find Mother Earth in time to support the Harley’s weight, I fell to the ground.
Immediately embarrassed, I looked around expecting to see others bent over in “belly-bursting” laughter. My antics, however, had escaped any viewers; and so, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself at the whole ridiculous situation. How could I (I asked myself) completely miss the driveway and ride straight into the ditch?
This all took place in a matter seconds, and I now was faced with the task of getting out of my predicament. I knew that there was not any way that I could even pick up the bike, much less than getting back on and then riding out of the ditch.
To my good fortune, I was able to get the young man from the Information Center and with the additional help of one of his friends we were able to extricate both myself and my Harley from my – too coin a phrase – “Situational Folly”.
I was now in no mood for any further turmoil, and so, that night for only the second time since leaving Michigan four weeks earlier, I found a hotel (without incident) and got good nights sleep.
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