Homeward Bound: The Fast & Furious Return Voyage of Team Viking

I woke up Monday morning in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, just a little over two hours’ drive from Port aux Basques, where the Marine Atlantic ferry departs for North Sydney, Nova Scotia. The overnight ferry doesn’t leave until 11:45 PM and normally check-in is recommended two hours prior to sailing, but the scuttlebutt around the campfire at L’Anse aux Meadows had suggested that cars with trailers and RVs should be early, so I headed down after lunch. I was 9 full hours early, and I was third in line in the now familiar “goofy lane.” There were many trucks there already, as well, and by dinner-time the parking lanes were pretty full, so I was happy I had been cautious. Until a light drizzle began to fall later in the evening, there was something akin to a festival atmosphere in the lot, especially amongst the motorcycle fraternity. Boarding itself was fairly quick and uneventful, and once we were onboard, most of us in the reserved seating areas were fast asleep, albeit in a slumber interrupted and punctuated by the snoring, hacking, coughing, snorting, sneezing, and spitting all around me, always a bit disconcerting in these (hopefully!) nearly post-pandemic times. It should also be noted that, while Marine Atlantic offers top-notch service in many ways, the reserved seating recliners (while comfortably padded) are simply not built for those with more Jotun-like frames.

This may explain why I awoke about an hour before our scheduled arrival at 7:00 AM. That’s Atlantic Time, by the way, as we had gained back the half hour from Newfie Time during the crossing. I was one of the first off the boat, and as I pulled onto NS 105 West in the early morning mist, I realized that I’d gain another hour when I crossed into the US from New Brunswick. It seemed clear at that point that, kind Norns willin’ and traffic don’t snarl, I should be able to make it well into Maine before dark. This proved to be the case, and after a long but uneventful drive on another beautiful, windswept day—including a fast and friendly crossing at the border—right around dusk I pulled into our Maine base-camp, operated by Team Viking Official Pit Crew Nancy and Bucky Brown. Greeted by Bucky proffering a frosty libation and a steaming bowl of Nancy’s chili worthy of any Viking, I sat down to feast and to fill them in on our adventures. Soon thereafter, I turned in for my last night on the road, determined as I was to make it home before dark, now that the dragon’s share of the journey was behind me.

The final leg of the journey was likewise unremarkable, except for a couple of slight miscalculations that don’t seem to have added any real time to the trip. Just as the sun was setting, I pulled into my home port, nearly 1800 miles and some 84 hours after departing from L’Anse aux Meadows on my solo voyage home. After several weeks on the road, on the water, and in the field, the adventures of Team Viking had finally drawn to a close. Any trip home can seem anticlimactic, but it also may offer to the thoughtful traveler the leisure and the opportunity to process and to reflect upon adventures that may have unfolded in a rush. I certainly found this to be true for me, and in fact it was one of the only true benefits of making the homeward journey on my own. This being the case, .John and I both plan to write final blogs assessing our trip with the benefit of hindsight and considering which aspects we will examine in more detail in our book. Stay tuned for those!

We have plotted many of our adventures on this map:

https://share.garmin.com/IntheWakeoftheVikingsCFee