The Great Canadian Cycling Adventure
Across Canada by Bicycle in the Tour du Canada 2000
Welcome > Atlantic Canada > The Rock
Atlantic Canada: Causapscal QU to North Sydney NS
Day
57: Causapscal, QC to Petit Rocher, NB
August
24, 2000
"There
is no thrill quite like doing something you didn't know you could."
Marjorie Homes
It's
been raining since the wee hours this morning.
I'm in my sleeping bag, nice and warm; it's 5:00 a.m. and I'm listening
to the rain on my tent. "Surely,"
I think, "It'll stop soon and we can ride in the sun again today."
It's not to be. We pack up
our tents in the rain. We mount our
bikes in the rain. We ride out of
Causapscal in the rain. And we'll
ride in the rain and a slight headwind all morning.
Well,
at least it's warm rain. Today's
scenery reminds me a lot of the mountains in the rain.
There are ragged clouds scudding through the valley below the mountain
tops. The valley fades into grey
mist in the distance in both directions. Our
tires hiss along the wet pavement, and the passing trucks make us all but
disappear in clouds of spray and road grit.
At times the slopes of the mountains press in on the road, and the roar
of the passing logging trucks seems magnified tenfold.
We're following the Matapedia valley generally south out of the La
Gaspesie, to where it joins Riviere Restigouche at the New Brunswick border.
The
rain isn't so bad today. I'm
dressed for it, I'm warm although wet, and feeling good. It's only rain. I'm wearing plastic bags over my socks inside
my shoes, booties over my shoes, full length tights over my shorts, a polypro
long-sleeved T under my cycling jersey, a Gore-Tex jacket, and a Gore-Tex helmet
cover. It works well enough.
A ride in the rain always means getting wet. The trick is accept that
you'll get soaked inside and out, and dress to stay warm while soaked.
Taking a spare pair of dry socks along is a real luxury.
The booties and plastic bags only keep the water out so long, and then
the bags simply help to collect puddles in which the feet slide around.
Once the rain stops, I'll put on the dry socks, even though my shoes will
be wet, and enjoy the comfort and warmth.
Along
the way we stop at the covered bridge in Routhierville to take misty pictures of
it, and stop a few other places to capture this rainy mountain valley we're
passing through. I receive a sad
surprise when stopped in Routhierville. Returning
to my bike, I find that my mascot Bucky, his son Jean-Paul, and his dino
sidekick Biff have departed, leaving only a note and fond memories.
(See below for the latest episode of "As the Wheel Turns".)
Jules
and I left camp at 6:50 a.m. this morning, we're feeling tired from yesterday's
marathon ride, and we're taking a relaxed pace so far.
When we reach the Matapedia River valley end at the Restigouche River, we
cross into New Brunswick and stop for pictures beside the "Welcome to New
Brunswick" sign (picture, below left). We've also crossed into the Atlantic time zone, and our
watches go ahead an hour. We gain
light in the evening, and lose it in the morning.
Brook
passes us in the truck, and a little later we climb a very steep but short hill
to a lookout to find Brook, Keith and Catherine there enjoying the view and
taking pictures. Keith snaps a
picture of me as I labour up the last bit of the hill, with a logging truck
passing an arm's length away. I'm
sure the picture will make the scene look a lot scarier than it actually is.
From the lookout we get a great vista of the Restigouche River delta as
it joins Chaleur Bay -- another photo opp!
Leaving
the lookout, Jules and I spin along the highway another 17 km to Campbellton,
where we stop at Tim's for soup,
sandwich and hot coffee. It seems
most of our rainy days also feature a Tim's with hot soup and coffee.
While there, Jon and then Karl join us for a break.
Leaving Campbellton, it's finally stopped raining, and I treat myself to
the dry socks I brought along. We
haven't cycled very far before the temperature starts to climb a little, causing
us to stop to take off all our wet wet-weather gear.
Spinning
down the highway to Dalhousie, we find a couple more big hills to climb, and
then a great roaring downhill on very bumpy pavement. I'm flying down this hill at 65 km/hr with Barbarella
bucking and jumping beneath me. A couple of times I'm sure both wheels
are off the ground at the same time.
This
hill brings us down to sea level where we cross a bridge over the Eel River and
enter the seaside community of Charlo. Jon
and I are riding along and realize that Jules and Karl are not behind us any
longer. We'll find out later that
Jules is having problems with his cogset coming loose, has flagged down Brook in
passing to get some tools, and spent some time in repairs.
Jon
and I continue, starting to press the pace, until I realize that we've still got
about 45 km to go. Jon continues on
while I dial it back a notch or two. We're
running with a bit of a tailwind now, and an average of 32 to 35 km/hr is quite
fast enough for this ol' bod'.
Entering
Petit Rocher, I find the campground, and find that yet again we've got a site
right on the oceanfront. What a
life!
Setting
up camp, I retreat to the laundry area to get all my sodden bike clothes cleaned
and dry for tomorrow. While waiting
for my laundry to cook, I get started on this journal.
Dinner
tonight is a lobster feast courtesy of Robert's family and friends. This is
Robert's home area, and lots of people come by to visit our little tribe.
One of the visitors comes from a bike shop not too far away, and a few of
us send our bikes off with him for a thorough cleaning and lubrication job.
This will be a few dollars well spent!
Even before we get to enjoy a very late dinner, the truck from the bike shop returns and I've got a very sparkling and freshly-lubricated bike. Best $10 I've spent in a long time. Riding in the rain all day ends up coating the bike completely with mud and road grit, the drive train stiffens and doesn't shift well, and it can take an hour or more to clean and lubricate everything. With the shortening daylight, this is not something to look forward to at the end of a long day. Sometimes the question is, "Let's see, laundry for dry clothes tomorrow, or clean bike so I can ride tomorrow." Sometimes there isn't time for both.
Several
people end up having their bicycles serviced this evening, and we're all more
than pleased with the results, the quick service, and the willingness of the
proprietor to open up early tomorrow morning in case anybody needs anything.
If you're on a future Tour, or by this way, and need attention for your
bike, be sure to look up Aurel (owner), Robert or Olivier (mechanics) at
Boudreau Sport/Excellence Sports, located on route 134 in Beresford, about 11 km
southeast of the Murraywood Campground. (ph. 506-542-2905).
You won't be disappointed.
I
finally pile into bed around 10:30 p.m. with laundry done, journal done, camp
all set, bike looked after, belly full; I'm all set to go again tomorrow.
What I'd like for Christmas is an extra couple of hours in each day --
and make those daylight hours, please.
------------------------------------------
BREAK
... BREAK ... BREAK ... BREAK
As
the Wheel Turns
The
last episode of our mascots' adventures had Adventure Bear taken under the wing
of the "foster parent" group, and Bucky pining for Francine after
being reunited with his son Jean Paul.
Since
then, each evening's peace has been disrupted with Bucky's keening for his lost
love. Spending each day riding with
Jean Paul on my trunk pack causes his heart to grow heavier with each kilometer
further from Quebec City that we ride.
Today,
Bucky was strangely quite in the morning. There
was not a peep out of him as we rode out of Causapscal and down the Matapedia
valley towards Riviere Restigouche and the New Brunswick border.
Could he finally be coming to grips with his fate?
When
we stop to take pictures of the covered bridge at Routhierville, I return to my
bike and am shocked to find no Bucky, no Jean-Paul, and no Biff.
There is a note that reads, 'Mon Cher Papa,
Riding with you across this great country has been an adventure beyond
compare. I've seen sights
unimagined in my home pond near Quebec City.
I soared over the mountains with you, shared the cold and hot days, and
kept an eye out for logging trucks approaching from behind.
The adventures we've shared have changed my life forever; you and your
friends are on a proud and noble quest, and your lives will
be forever
changed as well. Being reunited
with my son Jean Paul has also changed my life.
My heart is pulling me back to Quebec City where Francine awaits. So I bid you adieu, Alan.
Jean-Paul and I will swim up the Matapedia River and cross overland to
Notre-Dame du Portage, and then ride the tide up the Saint Laurent to Quebec
City and my love. When Biff learned of our plans, he insisted on coming along.
He would die of loneliness to be left behind.
The three of us go to find our destiny.
We hope you and your friends complete your journey in good health, and
exult in climbing Signal Hill. I
will be thinking of you; your memory will be with me always.
Your good friend, Bucky.
Day's
high: Two
very long days back to back and feeling strong at end.
Enjoying the rain.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Camping Murraywood,
Petit Rocher, NB
Day
58: Petit Rocher to Saint-Louis de Kent, NB
August
25, 2000
"Do
not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." John Wooden
Today
starts too early. My watch and
alarm clock say 5:45 a.m. yet my internal clock is still on EDT and tells me
it's only 4:45 a.m. Oh well! Wet tent to pack up, bio-urgency to attend to, another 150 km
to cycle today -- must get out of this warm sleeping bag!
After a quick breakfast I climb onto my sparkling clean bike and head out of camp a few minutes before 7:00 a.m. It's cool this morning, and as I turn south on Hwy 134, there's a nasty quartering headwind that's not strong yet, but holds the threat of being so. As I contemplate this probability, I spot a Tim's and decide there's only one way to be appropriately fortified for the day, and that's to start with a Tim's coffee. I don't go through the takeout, but I do get back on my bike and sip my coffee while spinning along in a low gear to continue warming up.
I'm
at less than 20 km and still trying to shake the tired, wooden feeling from my
legs. We've done 620 km in the last
four days, with lots of monster hills, a face past, headwinds, and a day of rain
yesterday. I'm ready for a rest
day, and my legs are telling me that. However,
rest day is another 130 km away today, through this headwind.
It's
about this time that Jules catches up to me, and we ride on together.
Traffic is pretty heavy this morning -- we're in rush hour traffic, such
as it is, around the Bathurst area. We've
got a paved shoulder, so other than the odd car wanting to turn off or enter
onto the highway, the traffic isn't a concern.
We cross the bridge over the Bathurst Basin, take a seemingly circuitous
route through Bathurst which I'm sure is keeping us away from busier traffic
areas, then cross a bridge over the Nepsiguit River and back onto hwy 134
leading south out of Bathurst.
Leaving
Bathurst, we're still contending with a wind that's at times a crosswind and
other times a quartering headwind as we head SSE on hwy 134, joining hwy 8 after
another 26 km. Since setting out
this morning, there's been a storm cell moving slowly eastward to the south of
us, and I'm wondering if we're going to get rained on again.
Yet the storm passes in front of us, we don't get rained on at all, and we ride in the aftermath of a downpour -- the highway is running with water for
the next hour. Hwy 8 is a major route with lots of traffic, including
trucks, yet again we've got a decent paved shoulder to ride on.
From Bathurst to Miramichi we're climbing over a peninsula between Baie
des Chaleurs and Baie Miramichi. About
half the 70 km is generally uphill, and the other half generally downhill, with
steeper downs and ups to cross the Tabusintac and Bartibog Rivers.
One of these is a grade that seems to go on forever at about 3%, rivaling
some of the longer grades in the western mountains.
Our climb uphill is into the wind, and there are a few times when we
think we're on level ground yet we're actually still slowly climbing.
Partway along this route we stop at a roadside gas station & diner for
a second breakfast (or first lunch), and then hit the road again to finish the
trek into Miramichi. Coming out
after brunch, the sun has dried off the highway, leaving only a few puddles
along the shoulder.
Coming
down a final grade, spinning for all we're worth and only making about 33 km/hr
downhill (!) into the wind, we arrive at the Miramichi Bridge.
This is a massive and long bridge over the Miramichi River's tidal inlet
and harbour, and we cross it on the pavement with strong crosswinds and moderate
traffic. Not fun.
Half the bridge is uphill, and half downhill (go figure, eh!), and we
have to bunny hop over the metal suspension finger-joints in the pavement
several times while crossing. Once
across, we zoom off the first exit to the right, spiral down the exit ramp and
loop back under the bridge -- we're now in the city of Miramichi.
We spend a little while here exploring, buying postcards, looking for ice cream (unsuccessful) and visiting a tourism info centre before getting back on the highway. We're now on hwy 11, another major road with a good paved shoulder and moderate traffic. Joy of joys! The wind shifts around to the west and becomes a building and quartering tailwind. It remains shifty for a while, yet is generally giving us a decent boost. The next 48 km along hwy 11 just zooms by. I lead for a while, until I'm toasted, and then Jules leads for a while, and then I lead for about the last 10 km. This 48 km stretch takes us just over an hour!
The
ride today has somehow become a personal challenge for me.
I know that tomorrow's a rest day.
I started the day tired. I'm
feeling toasted like I haven't for several weeks, yet I want to see how hard I
can ride this last stretch. In the
lead for the last several kilometers, I just put my head down, elbows in, arms
stretched out on the aero bars, spin at 90 to 95 rpm in a high gear, and bullet
along at 42 to 43 km/hr. As the
kilometers flash by I can feel the lactic acid seeping through my legs and my
lungs starting to burn. My backside isn't so happy either.
But the white burn of lactic acid is a pain that can be ignored, if I
focus on my cadence, spinning technique, and staying aerodynamic.
I'm on the verge of going anaerobic now, but still pushing through the
burn, not wanting to give in yet. Finally,
there it is, the turnoff for hwy 134 and Saint-Louis de Kent, our destination
for today. As we coast to slow
down, I tell Jules, "I'm toasted," and I really am at this point.
Just
as we're about to turn off the highway, Brook pulls up behind us in the truck
and lets us turn in front of her, and then passes us to go on to the campground
about 2 km down the road. My
heart's still thundering and my legs are still spinning, so I know there must be
something left yet. I wonder how much? I
wonder if I can hammer the final few kilometers to camp.
Putting my head down again, I drive the pedals faster and faster,
spinning at 33, now 36, now 38, and finally 42 km/hr, dropping a bit on a few
rises in the road. I can feel my
quads on the borderline of cramping, but they haven't cramped yet, so I keep
pushing. By now Jules knows I'm on
some crazy quest, and just lets me go, doing the sensible thing by slowing down
before pulling into camp - to warm down - and getting off the bike.
When I pull into camp and sort of climb and fall off my bike, it takes
several minutes for my respiration and heart rate to return to near-normal.
I spend a few minutes stretching and massaging my legs to help relieve
the burn. I'm sure I won't be able
to walk easily tomorrow!
As
I lie there, I think of the quote from some days ago: "Your biggest
challenge isn't someone else. It is yourself.
It is the burning in your legs, the aching in your lungs, and the voice
inside that yells, 'Can't do it!' But you don't listen. You
just push harder. Then you realize
that the person you thought you were is no match for who you really are."
So seldom do we get an opportunity to experience the truth of this.
And what a feeling it is to confront yourself and win.
This
was an interesting experiment. I
have not driven my legs this hard in over 15 years, going back to when I was
doing 10K races, marathon and triathlon events, before the onset of hip osteo.
The burn brings back lots of great memories of races toughly contested,
of personal best times, of the joy of running.
That I can push my legs this hard once again, with two artificial hips,
is truly amazing to me. That I can
do this at all when I spent so many years walking with a cane is truly
remarkable, and I remind myself of it
every day.
Our
campground at Camping Daigle is a nice enough private campground, although all
our tents are pitched in an open grassy area -- no shade. The good news is that
the sun is shining, the wind is blowing, and our tents, sleeping bags and
everything else dry out very quickly. Once
this process is started, it's off to the laundry with stuff from today and the
stuff that
didn't get done yesterday.
While
my laundry's cooking, I go nextdoor to the camp office and find a large sunroom area with half a dozen nice picnic
tables, air conditioning, a phone outlet and a power outlet.
And yes, I can make a 1-800 call with my modem using the phone jack.
Bonzer! I'd been wondering
how I'd get caught up on email out here in the boonies.
After
retrieving my email and phoning home, it's dinner time, chores time, and then
time to finish this journal.
Tomorrow
is a rest day. My bike needs a
minor cleaning after riding over wet roads for an hour, but that won't take
long. There's a sea kayaking outfitters and tour operator in Saint-Louis de Kent
about 2 km down the road from camp. I
picked up their brochure at the tourism info centre, and Brook is keenly interested in going out tomorrow.
After she asks around, we've got quite a group expressing interest, so it
looks like we'll spend our afternoon kayaking in Kouchibouguac Bay off the
Northumberland Strait. Should be a
blast! Other than that, tomorrow will truly be a well-earned rest
day!
I've
cycled 772 km at an average speed of 28.7 km/hr over the last five days.
That's truly awesome. That's how we eat up the distance this summer, from
Vancouver to St. John's. We've only
got another 600 to 700 km to ride to finish our summer quest.
We're cycling across Canada! We're
going to zoom up Signal Hill and then back down to dip our wheels in the
Atlantic Ocean, matching the salt stains from the Pacific, dipped so many
hard-won kilometers ago. What a
life!
Day's
high: The
great feeling of overcoming physical pain and breaking through to a tough
finish, knowing I couldn't give any more.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Day
59: Rest day in Saint-Louis de Kent, NB
August
26, 2000
Today
was a rest day, and rest we did indeed! Most
of us were not up until much later than usual, and then to take on the day with
a very leisurely approach.
Karin,
John, Jules, Sue and Ron pile into a car to go and explore the tiny town.
Karl, Jon and I retreat to the camp office to get journals and email
up-to-date. Some others continue to
sleep in until mid-morning.
By
mid-morning, about half the group can be seen cleaning bikes -- me too.
After the great cleaning job two nights ago, all I have to do is hose off
some road grit from riding on just-rained-on-roads for an hour, wipe down the
bike, and lubricate the drive train. Upon
inspecting my tires for new cuts and stone bruises, I discover my front tire has
a number of new cuts. Taking off
the tire, I fish tiny bits of glass out of four separate cuts I don't remember
seeing before. This tire has been
on the front wheel since Vancouver, so it doesn't owe me anything at this point.
The back tire is still in great shape.
I've got two tires left in my spare parts bag.
One is the tire that I took off the front just before starting the trip
with a new one. It's only got about
1,500 km on it, and no cuts at all. Putting
the former tire on the front and throwing out the one with all the cuts gets me
a little insurance against road hazards for the remaining distance. I also put a new tire on the back wheel, using the one I take
off as my spare for the rest of the trip. I've
had good luck with tires so far, and I hope it continues.
Bike
all done, I grab some lunch and gather my things together to go sea kayaking.
Six of us - Eric, Brook, Carol, John, Kelly and I - cycle two kilometres down the road to
Kayakouch where
we've reserved some kayaks for two hours this afternoon.
Kayakouch is a small local outfitter that focuses on Kouchibouguac
National Park. They run an
assortment of guided tours in the area of the Park's outer barrier islands, a
place of seals, endless sand dunes, and warm salt lagoon waters.
For today, we're setting out from their shop in Saint-Louis de Kent on
the Saint-Louis River (also called the Kouchibouguacis).
Eric
and I have sea kayaking experience, Brook and Kelly are master canoers,
so the briefing is quick and painless, other than a patronizing air (only the
men can carry the kayaks to the launching area; the women have to use dollies to
transport them). We're only about
two kilometers from the mouth of the Kouchibouguacis, so the river is equally a
tidal inlet. Right now the tide is
out, so we launch from a tidal flat of smelly slippery clay, knee deep in algae
and weeds. Ugghhh!
Pretty soon though we're in mid channel and paddling downstream and
downwind. After about 40 minutes,
we pull over to a sandy beach where most go for a dip in the brackish water.
Not a pleasant place to swim, but cool nevertheless.
Back in the kayaks, we explore around the next bend, and then turn to
paddle upstream against the wind back to our launching point.
This takes us nearly an hour, yet it sure feels good to give the upper
body some exercise. This is the
first time I've been in a kayak this season. I'd not gone out in the spring like
I usually would since I'd spent all my spare time training on the bike. This feels good!
After
everyone returns to camp, it's time to get the lobsters going.
A few people went off this morning and returned with a couple dozen live
lobsters. Not everybody's
interested in lobster for dinner, but those of us that are can't wait.
I've never had lobster fresh out of the sea.
A very messy dinner, but incredibly good.
Following
dinner, it's time for chores -- getting ready to ride tomorrow.
We're all feeling refreshed, rested and ready to roll once again.
Tomorrow is a shorter ride -- about 133 km along the shoreline to Murray
Beach, near the Confederation Bridge to PEI.
Looking forward to it! Gotta
go now; gotta shower off the kayaking slime and lobster mess, and get me to bed.
Day's
high: Sea
kayaking; fresh lobster for dinner.
...alan
Saint-Louis
de Kent, NB
Day
60: Saint-Louis de Kent to Murray Beach, NB
August
27, 2000
"Things
turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out."
Art Linkletter
It's
4:30 a.m. and returning from the washroom I notice the brilliant stars lighting
up the crystal clear sky. Bonzer!
Back in my warm sleeping bag I wake up again about 5:30 a.m. -- probably
hearing someone else's tent or sleeping bag zipper.
I'm perfectly relaxed, perfectly comfortable, at peace with the world. I lie still, listening to the camp slowly coming awake, and
then unfortunately it's time to get up and join the world once again.
By
6:00 a.m. my tent's down and packed up -- the fly soggy wet from dew as usual.
Packing the fly in a plastic bag in the tent bag at least prevents all
the other stuff in the bag from getting wet.
After a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, blueberry yogurt and a banana, I
leave camp on my own at 6:50 a.m.
The
air is just a touch cool until I'm warmed up; it's about 14C out here, just a
slight W wind, and no traffic. Not
everyone likes to get up and out early, but I sure do.
I like it so much because early in the morning the traffic is much
lighter, the wind hasn't come up yet, it's cooler than it will be later on,
there are no bugs in the air, in the summer one avoids late afternoon t-storms,
it provides more time for stops and exploring along the way, and finally, it
allows one to get into camp in good time, leaving free time before dinner.
Today's
route follows hwy 134 for a while, crossing the Kouchibouguacis where we went
kayaking yesterday, then enters Richibucto.
I stop at Richibucto harbour to take a picture of lobster pots and boats
in the early morning light, a peaceful scene.
Just exiting Richibucto, I meet up with Jon. He'd left just after me, and passed me while I was taking
pictures. Jon and I ride together
through Rexton, Sainte-Anne-de-Kent, Bouctouche and into Cormier Corner.
The
route winds along the shoreline, jigging inland to cross over tidal inlets and
streams. Most of these bridges are
very old wooden trusses with pavement applied over the wooden roadways.
The bridges are narrow and look rickety, but feel pretty solid, even when
sitting on a bike with cars crossing as well. When close to the shore and
crossing tidal inlets, we get great views of Northumberland Strait, with PEI
just a faint smudge on the horizon.
In
Cormier Corner, Jon stops at a convenience store, and I keep spinning along at
an easy pace, enjoying the day and the ocean scenery. I travel along route 133 through Cocagne, turning towards
Shediac, and then enter the city. The
traffic in and around Shediac is pretty heavy for a Sunday morning.
Lots of tourists are out and about, and lots of local folks too.
At the town limits, I come to "The Big Lobster".
To add this to my collection of "tacky Canadian statues" I ask
someone to take my picture beside this 50 ton sculpture.
My collection now includes the dinosaur in Drumheller, Husky the Muskie
in Kenora, Winnie the Pooh in White River, the goose in Wawa, and Big Lobster in
Shediac. I've only missed the
statue of Wiarton Willie in Wiarton.
Shediac
is a larger city, complete with it's own strip malls. It's not big enough to have repeats, however.
On the south side of Shediac, nestled in with Ronnies, Wendy's and the DQ
is a Tim's. Stopping for 20
minutes, I enjoy a hot coffee and blueberry cheese danish, then return to my
bike fuelled to pick up the pace somewhat.
I've
only got about 45 km left to go today, and a good chunk of it is along hwy 15, a
major highway with not much traffic and very smooth shoulders. I've got a
reasonable quartering tailwind and dropping to a tuck, spin up to the high 30's
to mid 40's for a 20 km stretch -- this feels good. Taking the exit for route 955 to Murray Beach, I find a
winding road that goes back out to the coast.
Cresting a small hill and coming around a bend, I see the Northumberland
Strait again, and see in the distance the ribbon of Confederation Bridge linking
New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island.
Our
campground today is at Murray Beach Provincial Park. It's a small park with
decent facilities situated right on the shoreline. Part of the shore is a red rocky bluff, and the rest is a
long crescent beach. The tide has
just started to go out, and over the next couple of hours I'll see the beach
grow from about 40m to 140m. I'm
here a couple of minutes before noon -- well before Brook will likely arrive.
Getting
back on my bike, I coast 1.5 km down the road to a general store for ice cream,
chocolate milk and potato chips as my reward for the day.
Returning to the park, I spend a few minutes walking on the beach and
around the headland to look down the coastline to the Confederation Bridge about
15 km away. Then I write up some
journal notes, and lay down for a snooze on the grass.
I'm awakened about an hour later by Jon and Jules arriving.
They missed a turn today and ended up doing an extra 20 km. Pretty soon Brook arrives with the truck, and we can set up
camp. Around suppertime, the sky
clouds over and a t-storm moves through. Luckily,
we have a picnic shelter today, so have a dry place to cook and eat.
Our tents are wet again, but they'd get wet from dew anyway.
We're used to packing up wet gear now.
Today
marks a milestone for me. I passed
10,000 km for the season. I've
never done anywhere near this distance in one year.
Even when training and competing in triathlons, I only cycled about 2,500
km in my best season. 10,000 km on the bike this season!
Bonzer! Must reward myself with an extra-scoop of ice cream tomorrow.
Tonight's
dinner is a special one. We've
collected a "gratuity" for Brook to thank her for everything she's
done for us this summer, and for doing such a great job for us.
We've got a few presents as well, and a big cake.
This is going to be fun; we put candles in beer bottles and hang bunches
of balloons from the roof of the picnic shelter.
We've even got tableclothes. While
we're doing all this, Brook is in a tent with Jon and Tacia playing cards.
Finally, everything's ready, and we call Brook and the others for dinner.
Is she ever surprised! Craig
makes the formal thank-you presentation, and then we each get to say a few words
if we want. Brook is touched by the thanks, the effort, the presents and
the cake. She has done a remarkable
job melding our group and routines into a smoothly-running effort, and she
deserves every bit of thanks we can put forward.
Then it's time to eat: Brook's request was macaroni and cheese.
We've also got tuna to go with it, red and white wine, beer and rolls.
Another simple but good feast. 
The
best part is the cake which Brook cuts and distributes piece by piece.
It's hard to believe our little tribe will only be together like this for
another three nights. Then we join with the other two groups for the night
before the ferry crossing, the transit to Nfld, and the final ride to St.
John's.
Tomorrow
we cross to PEI and travel through yet another province.
Only a few days to go. We're
cycling across Canada. What a life!
Day's
high: Passing
10,000 km for the season - something I've not done ever before.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Murray
Beach Provincial Park,
Murray
Beach, NB
Day
61: Murray Beach, NB to Brackley Beach, PEI
August
28, 2000
"We
don't know who we are until we see what we can do." unknown
It's
midnight and it's raining so hard that it wakes me up.
It's 3:30 a.m. and it's raining so hard that it wakes me up once again.
It's 4:00 a.m. and the rain has stopped but the wind is blowing so hard
the tent is bending in the wind and it wakes me up.
It's 5:00 a.m. and the need to visit the washroom gets me up.
It's no longer raining, the wind is howling off the Northumberland
Strait, the sky is clear, and everything is bone dry again, even the grass.
A big high pressure system must be moving in.
It's 5:45 a.m. and it's time to start getting up.
The sky is still clear, the first blush of dawn has yet to creep up from
the horizon over Confederation Bridge in the distance, and everything is still
dry, including my tent. Bonzer!
A dry tent to pack up!
This
morning we've got a short run to the Confederation Bridge terminus at Cape
Tormentine to start the day. The
bridge is about 13 km across and very high over the water. Due to high wind conditions and the length of the bridge,
pedestrians and cyclists are not allowed to cross by themselves.
Instead, there's a free shuttle service provided -- a van with a trailer
that carries six bicycles. Jules,
Karl, John, Karin and I set out together just before 7:00 a.m., the second group
to leave. With the roaring NNW wind
pushing us, we've got an easy ride for about 12 km to the bridge shuttle depot.
The first group to leave, including Tacia, Jon, Jeff and Robert are still
waiting for the shuttle to depart, and Jules and I catch a ride with the first
group.
This
bridge is one impressive structure. It's
been in operation for about 2 years now, was built and is run by a private
consortium under contract to the PEI government, with federal subsidy equivalent
to what the ferry service used to cost. The shuttle driver also worked in the construction of the
bridge, can answer all our questions, and tells us that the amount of traffic to PEI has increased
considerable since the bridge opened -- no surprise there!
On
the PEI side, we're now in our 8th province of this trip, with only Nova Scotia
and Newfoundland left to go. Tacia,
Jon, Jeff and Robert are taking a trip to Cavendish and the Anne of Green Gables
tourist stuff, which Jules and I aren't interested in.
Taking a tip from Isabelle, we're going to add some distance to the
official and short TDC route for the day by taking the "Blue Heron
Drive" scenic route around part of the south shore, and then visiting
Charlottetown for lunch and to explore a bit.
We're fortunate that today's route is a short one and we've got lots of
time to do this.
Leaving
the bridge terminus area, we spin down a short stretch of Trans-Canada
Highway 1 before turning off towards the shore. This shore route is very pretty, and there's no traffic at
all. Our first detour loop takes us
through Cape Traverse, Augustine Cove and Tryon before returning to the TCH.
Tryon is an unsual name, made more so when we see the local church with a sign
reading, "Tryon United Church" and "Tryon People's Cemetery"
beside it. No thanks, not yet
anyway.
After
a short stretch on the TCH we exit again on the Blue Heron Drive route to run
through Victoria-by-the-Sea, a very pretty little village and harbour with
quaint shops on the wharf. The town
was founded in 1802 and was once a major shipbuilding town.
Apparently this town turned out more than it's fair share of sailing
vessels, sailors and captains.
PEI
is very green with lots of deciduous trees, crops and grasses.
Under today's sky the water is a shimmering blue.
The shoreline is mostly red bluffs along here.
The gravel roads are all red too. A
common question is, "Why are the roads red?"
The answer lies in the underlying geology.
Most of PEI is made up of sedimentary materials consisting mainly of soft
red mudstone, shale, sandstone, conglomerate and concretionary limestone. The
red colouring is due to iron oxide in the soil and rock structure, some of which
dates to the Triassic Age. The
"red mud" tends to get in everything. An old custom in PEI is to take off one's shoes at the door
to avoid tracking in red mud. Over
the years, apparently, Islanders have struggled to get the red stains out of
clothing -- it's very difficult to remove.
They say that if the farmer next door is ploughing, don't hang out your
laundry. This is so intriguing that
when I see some "red mud" t-shirts, dyed with PEI red mud, I have to
get one to wear as a souvenir.
Leaving
Victoria-by-the-Sea, the Blue Heron Drive returns us to the TCH, which we take
for the remainder of our run into Charlottetown. If you think PEI is flat, think again. Just before Bonshaw, and again between Bonshaw and
Cornwall, we climb (and descend) two hills that are each an 85m climb.
These hills are as good as any we've seen anywhere -- PEI flat?
Ha!
In
Cornwall we take a banana break outside a Tim's for a few minutes, we're looking
at the map of Charlottetown, and a local fellow, a cyclist, comes by to chat.
He offers suggestions for a good route into town, a good place for lunch,
and a bike path to take us out of Charlottetown afterwards.
Following his suggestion, we don't take TCH into Charlottetown from the
outskirts, but instead follow local roads along the waterfront, past Victoria
Park and the old battery, to the harbourfront area.
We go through some very nice residential districts, and through an older
historic section of town where residences date to the 1700's and 1800's.
Lots of trees, lots of green -- very pretty place indeed.
The
waterfront is a people place -- lots of boutiques, restaurants, and a big
marina. We enjoy a great lunch on a
terrace overlooking the wharf, and then Jules treats me to an ice cream cone as
payment for losing his bet with me about weather a few days ago.
A double scooper of "turtle cow" and "chocolate
monster" in a chocolate-covered wafer cone is just great.
The ice cream is from "COWS", purportedly the best ice cream in
PEI. They've even got a big COW
statue out front to exclaim this. This
is yet another opportunity to add to my "pictures of tacky Canadian
statues" collection, and we do.
Meeting
up with John, Karl and Karin who've just finished lunch somewhere else, we ride
a few blocks uptown to Province House, the birthplace of confederation, and to
browse some arts and crafts shops along Richmond Street.
When
we've had our fill of Charlottetown, we ride up to Kent St to get onto the bike
path. This is an old rail bed that's been converted to a bike trail, and runs
north out of the city for about 5 or 6 km.
Our run north to the Brackley Beach shore is only about 23 km, so using
the bike trail keeps us off the roads for quite a way.
As well, most of it runs through scrub vegetation which cuts the NNW wind
to a tolerable blast.
Exiting
from the bike path onto highway 15, we've got about 15 km directly into a 25 -
30 km/hr headwind. But it's not
far, it's only mid-afternoon, and it's warm out.
This is a good chance to challenge the headwind, which we do. 
The run is
fun and over soon as we enter PEI National Park -- a system of parks that
encompass a long stretch of the north shore beaches.
The dunes are red, the waves are crashing in -- what a wild and scenic
place this is. The campground is
not so great. We're in a group
camping area, which automatically means second class facilities.
For three group camping areas, there's one washroom, and the showers are
about a kilometre away. A couple of
us simply shower under the hose -- it's cold, but no colder than a swim in the
ocean, and it saves a long walk.
As
usual, with the rapidly shortening days, once dinner is over, there's barely
time to get organized for tomorrow before it's dark. I'm writing this journal entry in a picnic shelter where
fortunately there's light and power.
Tomorrow
we travel 80 km across PEI from the central north shore where we are now, back
through Charlottetown, to the south-east corner and Wood Islands.
From there we'll take a ferry across to Nova Scotia, and then have
another 50 km ride to Lower Barney's River where we'll find Cranberry
Campground. Until then, goodnight!
Day's
high: (1)
Very scenic and delightful ride through PEI from the red bluff of the south
shore, through Charlottetown, to the red north shore beaches. (2) Delighting in
hammering directly into the 30 km/hr headwind running NNW from Charlottetown to
Brackley Beach.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
PEI
National Park,
Day
62: Brackley Beach, PEI to Lower Barney's River, NS
August
29, 2000
"I
love the smell of PBJ in the morning, at lunch, and in the afternoon."
anonymous cyclist
Last
night was clear and cold -- down to about 10C I think. There was also a heavy
dew once again, and you guessed it -- wet tents to pack up this morning.
As Jules and I ride out of camp at about 7:00 a.m. we stop at the
beach, climb over the dunes, and take pictures of the shore with huge waves
crashing in, driven by the strong NNW wind of the last day and a half.
This morning the wind is much lighter and from the NW initially, backing
to the west later in the day.
We
have a quick 26 km run south to Charlottetown, retracing yesterday's route.
There's quite a bit more traffic this morning -- I guess we're in rush
hour. To think that one could live
on the beach we just left, and be a half-hour commute from downtown
Charlottetown! Once we enter
Charlottetown, we head over to Richmond St to a coffee house for a quick break.
Then, back on our bikes, we bid farewell to the birthplace of
confederation, and take the Trans-Canada Highway southeast out of the city.
Our
route today takes us to the southeast corner of PEI, to a little place called
Wood Islands, the terminus for the ferry to Nova Scotia.
From the Hillsborough Bridge in Charlottetown to Wood Islands is 50 km.
While most of the route is along the TCH, the map does give us a scenic
detour along a country road through Tea Hill and Alexandra before looping back
to the TCH. The detour provides us
lots of views of the Strait, tidal inlets and rolling countryside patched with
fields of potatoes, wheat, oats and other crops, all under a clear blue sky.
PEI really is a "garden province" and a very beautiful one at
that. More than one vista leaves me a little overwhelmed by it's
beauty, much like the mountains out west; each is very different from the other,
yet each is beautiful and leaves me in awe of the diversity and beauty of this
Canada we call home.
When
our scenic route comes back to the TCH, we're on a smooth, wide paved shoulder
the rest of the way to Wood Islands. The grades are gentle, the pavement is very
smooth and fast, and we've got a bit of a tailwind most of the time to give us a
nice little boost. The final 35 km along the TCH is done in under an hour, at an
average of around 38 km/hr. At
times we're scooting along at 45 and 50 km/hr -- this is rockin' and rollin' --
what a blast! The only other
traffic on the highway is a light stream of vehicles headed for the same 11:30
a.m. ferry we are.
Arriving
at the Wood Islands ferry terminal, we check in at the gate and get our
pre-arranged tickets, and then treat ourselves to ice cream at the terminal
building. We just have time to
finish it before they start calling boarding time.
Like the Manitoulin-Tobermory ferry, bicycles are on first and off first,
so we get to board ahead of all the vehicles and ride through the empty cavern
of the ferry body right to the other end where we tie our bikes up to an upright
support. This ferry is an
end-loader. The stern and bow both
lift up. Vehicles drive on at one
end, and drive straight out the other at the other terminal.
The
ferry ride is 75 minutes long, which isn't long enough to find a quiet sunny
corner on deck and have a nap. Instead,
we get some maps of Nova Scotia and check out our routes for the next couple of
days, have a snack (good ol' Schneider's Oktoberfest sausage on a bun is always
a hit), and chat for a while. John
and Karin made it in time for this ferry too.
They were a tad later leaving Charlottetown than they thought they'd be,
and really had to boot it to get to the ferry on time.
It sounds like they spun at about the same speed we did.
Also here are Big Bruce and Isabelle.
This is surprising since they were on galley duty this morning, and so
were the last to leave camp. They
tell us that they managed to get away by 8:00 a.m., a new record for a breakfast
crew in these darker mornings. They also made pretty good
time to cover the 78 km, including the slower route through Charlottetown, in
three hours. Big Bruce is now
"Turbo Bruce"!
As
the ferry pulls into port at Caribou, just near Pictou, in Nova Scotia, we go
below deck to get ready to roll again. Once
the bow lifts up and the gate opens, I'm the first one off the ferry, riding up
the ramp and straight out through the staging area and onto the highway.
Just down the highway is a big "Welcome to Nova Scotia" sign
where we stop for official pictures. One
more province down, and one to go!
Jules
and I separate from the others and pick up the pace a little.
Our first challenge is to navigate a traffic circle, or roundabout, going
270 degrees from our entrance to our exit.
Good thing the traffic is light! These
things can be intimidating in a car, traveling the same speed as everyone else,
never mind on a bicycle going 30 km/hr!
It's
a short ride into the town of New Glasgow, where we stop for a quick lunch.
This area of Nova Scotia was settled by immigrants from Scotland, and the
heritage is evident in place names everywhere we turn, and in the churches and other architectural touches. However,
after PEI, this corner of Nova Scotia appears somewhat rundown and economically
depressed in comparison. This
impression will be reinforced as we pass through small towns with many
boarded-up homes, places for sale, and generally run-down appearances.
The
roads tell the story too. While the
TCH is in great condition, the secondary roads are definitely not.
One long stretch we travel has big potholes and frost heaves that have
long gone unrepaired. Another 13 km stretch has deep frost cracks every few
seconds, and each one is a butt-jarring, spine-jolting crunch as we ride over
them. When Jon enters camp later,
we'll find out that he actually broke his bike saddle on this road!
And people wonder why bikers have sore butts!
On
the road from New Glasgow, we pass Turbo Bruce sitting in the shade on a nice
patch of grass beside the road, eating a bag of fresh, juicy, cold plums.
We join him for a few minutes and enjoy his plums too before continuing
on.
This
afternoon, like other afternoons recently, Jules and I aren't in sync.
He gets energized in the afternoon, while I tend to have more energy
mid-morning. Usually we can work
this to our advantage, using each other to work harder.
This afternoon though I'm just dragging for some reason, and Jules keeps
pulling away every time we hit a hill -- and they're not even big hills, just
rolling little ones. Finally I accept how I'm feeling and let Jules pull ahead and
keep moving -- I'm sure I'll meet up with him again not too far down the road.
Sure
enough, rounding one final corner, there he is standing at the entrance to the
camp. Before riding down the gravel
road into camp, we trek down the road a hundred metres or so to a gas station
& convenience store to get an icy cold drink to counter the heat of the
afternoon. Then it's down the
gravel road (ouch on the sharp stones --
please don't bruise my tires!) and into camp.
Our
camp is situated right on the water, on Lower Barney's River which is more of a
tidal inlet than a river. This is
yet another scenic campground, as the pictures will show.
John and Karin arrive a few minutes later, and then Turbo Bruce rolls in
too. John, Karin, Jules and I are
on galley duty tonight and tomorrow morning -- our last stint (hurray!).
Writing this journal, I can't even remember what we prepared, but it was
very well received by everyone. Once
again, dinner was ready at 6:00 p.m., right on time, but there were very few cyclists in yet. We put
dinner on hold until 7.
A
little while later in comes a large group of cyclists including Brook.
Yep, Brook cycled the 143 km today, on her mountain bike -- a first for a
distance like this. She had been wanting to ride with us for a day, and had
arranged for another driver to take the truck today.
Our driver for the day was Charles, who drove for three separate smaller
tours in the CycleCanada organization this summer. Brook comes in looking a
little beat, but clearly victorious at finishing the distance.
This is one tough and capable young lady!
Dinner
over, it's time to get chores done to be ready for tomorrow, make phone calls
home to connect with family, and write up this journal for the day.
It's now 10:20 p.m., yet if I don't write up this journal each and every
night I lose the details by the following day.
Just like I can't keep track of which day of the week it is, our days,
campgrounds, routes and everything else are one big jumble of memory fragments.
Only the journal will let me recall individual days, and hopefully relive
some of these amazing adventures. Indeed,
amazing they are -- we are 24 strangers, now a little family, cycling across
Canada. What a life!
Tomorrow,
to Cape Breton Island. Now,
bedtime.
Day's
high: Scenic
PEI; Brook cycling the route with some of the group today.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Cranberry Camground,
Lower
Barney's River, NS
Day
63: Lower Barney's River to St. Peters, NS
August
30, 2000
"Think
big thoughts but relish small pleasures." H. Jackson Brown
My
alarm goes off early this morning - 5:40 a.m.
We're on our final breakfast galley duty, and one more round of
"toad in a hole" (a.k.a. one-eyed Egyptian) is cooked and served to
two dozen hungry cyclists. TDC organizer Bud and partner Margot were with us last
night, and join us for breakfast. Five
dozen eggs gone in a blink! After
cleanup, Jules, Karin, John and I get away at about 8:00 a.m.
After
examining the Nova Scotia roadmap and our trip map for the day, we elect to take
a somewhat different route. The
trip map, as usual, keeps us off the main highways and provides scenic routes.
Unfortunately, the roads are sometimes not in the best condition, as we
discovered with the road into camp yesterday.
Rather than continuing on that road, we choose to take a more direct
route back to the main highway, and then follow the highway all the way to our
destination. Just as the four of us
turn off the route onto our "shortcut", Bud and Margot pass in their
truck and stop to ask us if we know we're off the route.
"Yep," is the answer. Smiles
and nods, and we're on our way.
The
first 15 km is a bit hilly until we reach the highway, and I'm feeling depleted
this morning, just like yesterday morning.
My legs feel okay; my energy level is just way down for some reason.
Perhaps I didn't eat enough last night or for breakfast; perhaps I didn't
drink enough yesterday; perhaps I'm coming down with a cold or something.
In any event, I'm going to ride, and ride hard today, so I start drinking
copiously and dig into my bananas and a Cliff Bar early.
My body will just have to stop complaining and come along for the ride
whether it wants to or not today.
Once
we're on highway 104, we start to spin along nicely. There's a reasonable amount of traffic, yet we've got a great
wide, smooth shoulder to ride on, and the kilometers pass quickly.
One thing we do miss going this way is the scenery along the coastal
route. The highway passes through
scrub land without scenic value at all. I'm
surprised by this corner of Nova Scotia. After
passing through southern Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick and PEI where the land
is well developed for agriculture, I'd expected Nova Scotia to be the same. Yet the area we're passing through is generally wild and
scrubby with little land use apparent.
After
an hour or so we enter Antigonish and stop at a Tim's for coffee, donuts,
cinnamon rolls, and whatever else looks good.
Tim's outlets in the Maritimes (and elsewhere) are on a blueberry blitz
right now, with blueberry muffins, blueberry cheese danish,
blueberry fritters, and so on. As
blueberries are my favourite fruit, I can't pass up the opportunity to top up
with a blueberry this and a blueberry that.
Bonzer! Leaving Tim's we
ride through town looking for a photo store for Jules, and spot a number of
other riders in another Tim's, taking a break and filling up.
After asking for directions, we end up in a mall, find a photo store,
Jules has his film, and we're back on the highway.
Spinning
along at a good clip for another 55 km of smooth highway shoulder, up and down
several long grades (one we climb is 85m high), we finally descend a long grade
to the Canso Causeway to Cape Breton. The
causeway is pretty narrow, and we're fortunate the traffic is light and there
are no crosswinds funneled by the surrounding hills; otherwise it could be
pretty treacherous. There's a
ViaRail passenger train coming the other way, the tracks less than 10m from, and
paralleling, the roadway. As the
train approaches I wave at the engineer and pump my fist asking for a
"toot", receiving a horn blast in return. That just makes my day; life is good when you can get a train
toot just for asking.
On
the north side of the causeway, the first place we enter is Port Hawkesbury,
purportedly the deepest ice-free ocean port in North America.
Perhaps, but the town doesn't appear to be a bustling shipping centre.
Other than the usual strip mall development where several highways come
together, there doesn't seem to be much going on here, and we have trouble
finding a good restaurant for
lunch. Instead, we end up at Tim's
for "soup and sandwich" special.
It's cheap, it's good, it's tasty, it's wholesome and nutritious, and
it's quick. Beside Tim's is a DQ,
which Jules can't resist. I can't
stand to see someone eating DQ alone, so I join him for a blueberry sundae (a
small one). Fully fortified, we're
ready to hit the road again.
Surprisingly,
I'm feeling much better than I have for over a day. The day before, it was a shorter distance and I'd ridden
without my Camelbak. In doing so, I
hadn't been automatically sipping an ounce or two every few minutes, and I guess
I'd been under-hydrated since yesterday lunchtime.
Having downed about 2.5 litres this morning, I'm now much better hydrated
and feeling a lot more energized as a result.
I'm constantly amazed at the resilience of our human body systems, yet at
the same time the narrow tolerance for temperature, hydration, caloric intake
and so on, if one is to be able to perform well physically.
In
any event, as the four of us hit highway 104 again with about 48 km to go, Jules
and I move ahead strongly and leave John and Karin to their own pace for a
while, sure we'll meet again down the road.
Fully energized and feeling good, riding on smooth pavement, a light
tailwind to assist us, and knowing that we've got less than 50 km to go and it's
only 2:30 p.m., I take the lead and gradually spin up to about 35 km/hr then 38
km/hr. This is still feeling good,
and after about 20 minutes, I'm thinking that this is a good chance once again
to see how strong I might be today, with a few days' cumulative drain in my
legs. Thinking like a solo
time-trial rider, even though Jules is with me and we're together all the way, I
get into a sort of Zen state -- focused, steady aerobic rhythm, cadence in a
very narrow range around 90 rpm. The
kilometers just spin by. We've got
some very long slow grades up and down, and long flats in between.
When we ride together like this on a wide shoulder, we usually ride side
by side, or switch lead occasionally to set the pace.
Today, Jules senses that I'm on a mission again, and just lets me ride in
front. Along one long gentle
downgrade, we spin up to about 50 km/hr, and hold it for a couple of kilometres
on the following flat, only losing it when the next uphill robs our momentum. The kilometers fly by until we finally see the exit for St. Peters.
Checking the cyclometer, we've just done about 45 kilometers in just
under an hour and ten minutes -- an average of about 40 km/hr.
Totally awesome! What a
rush! What an incredible feeling to have legs, heart, lungs and
mind all working in rhythm to produce this kind of performance.
Approaching
St. Peters is a larger hill which gives Jules the opportunity to sprint ahead
and set the pace into and through the little town. There are several short rolling hills which he just loves and
excels at, and he quickly pulls ahead as he powers over each one without losing
stride. Ahead is the turn onto the
road to camp, and we cross a short bridge with a very open metal grate decking.
This would be very treacherous in wet conditions!
As it is, my tires are squirming around.
Once onto such decking however, one can't stop, but must keep moving
forward as evenly as possible. A
fall here would be disastrous -- like falling onto a cheese grater!
Bridge
behind us, we find the campground and enter to see the truck, Brook, Jon and
Karl already here. After setting up
camp and getting cleaned up, we all sit down to our last group dinner.
The next two nights we'll be together with the other two TDC groups, so
this is our last time sitting together as our own little family.
As
we're finishing the main course, Carol provides a personal perspective on what
this trip has meant to her, and invites everyone around the table to do the
same, which we do. The most common
observation is the group dynamics -- how 24 strangers can come together, give
and provide support to each other, form a harmonious interdependent
relationship, and all come out richer for the experience.
We all came on this trip for different reasons, yet as with most things
in life, the journey is more rewarding that actually reaching the goal.
This is all the more special given what we hear about problems some other
groups are having, or have had in the past.
For me, the three things I comment on are the group dynamics, the
incredible experience of Canada coast-to-coast up close, and the personal quest.
I know I will find the arrival at Signal Hill quite emotional, given this
is a long-time dream I had thought I'd never be able to do.
Dinner over, we all help clean up, and it's all done in record time. Time to sit and chat, reminisce, swap stories, and get ready for tomorrow's short (100km) ride to North Sydney.
Just before turning in, I visit the camp office where they earlier agreed to let me use their fax phone line to plug in my modem and send out my journals and collect my email. While I sit on their floor while my little handheld PC talks to Rogers @home servers, I chat with the family about our trip and some of our experiences.
We've
cycled across most of Canada now, only a little left to go.
What an experience! What a
life!
Day's
high: Incredible
fast run in afternoon.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Joyce's
Campground,
St.
Peters, NS
Day
64: St. Peters to North Sydney, NS
August
31, 2000
"Establishing
goals is all right if you don't let them deprive you of interesting
detours." Doug Larson
I'm awakened at 4:30 a.m. by raindrops bouncing off my tent fly. I roll over, trying to ignore the fact that it's raining, and go back to sleep until my alarm wakes me again at 5:45 a.m. The rain has stopped, and a breeze out of the west is already blowing. Surprisingly, my tent fly is already dry, and I get to pack things away dry this morning. What a treat! The mosquitoes, however, have a different agenda, as they've had for the past several evenings and mornings. Even though there's a breeze blowing, the mosquitoes are up at the same time we are. As we enjoy our last group breakfast - french toast and fuit salad - the mosquitoes enjoy one of the last meals they'll get from me this trip.
Today
Jules leaves early by himself, feeling like riding his own pace today.
I think we're all a little dragged out as we usually are on the day
before a rest day. It's just the
accumulated hours on the bike since the last rest day.
Karl and John go out in a blast, however.
They're riding very light today -- only one patch kit and pump between
them, minimal water, and no extra clothing.
Our route today is mapped out to be 100 km, and they're out to have a
very fast ride, challenging the hills.
I leave at the same time, by myself, also planning to be content riding
solo and enjoying the route and scenery, and playing to my own energy rhythms.
Karin leaves a few minutes later, and the others leave at various times
over the next hour.
As
I leave camp, it starts to rain again -- it's warm rain, and it's not raining
heavily, so a helmet cover and rain jacket are good enough for now.
Pedaling off into the light rain, I rejoin highway 4 outside of the
campground, heading east and then north through the centre of Cape Breton
Island, along the eastern shore of Bras d'Or Lake, to North Sydney.
I
can see John and Karl in front of me pulling ahead quickly, and disappearing
around the next curve. I'll not see
them again until the end of the ride. Today's
route is hilly, and the first hill comes up before I'm even warmed up.
It's followed by another and then another as the road winds over the
ridgelines between the Canso Strait shoreline and Bras d'Or Lake in the centre
of the island. The vegetation
appears pretty scrubby, like in the part of lower Nova Scotia we came through
yesterday. I'm guessing that this whole area was logged clean, and the secondary
growth simply doesn't have the lushness that the area once had.
Each
time I come to the top of hill, spinning slowly but steadily (I won't win any
speed awards today, that's for sure!), I notice a rider approaching the bottom
of the hill. Yet when I'm down the
other side or spinning along the occasional flats, I never see the other rider.
It's someone who's overall pace is much like mine today, yet doesn't go
as fast downhill, and goes faster uphill. I
figure it must be Karin, who'd asked if we might ride together today while her
usual riding partner John was off racing with Karl.
I'd admitted I was looking forward to a solo ride.
Now that I see her slowly gaining on me, I'm glad for the company.
Together
we spin along, stopping to take off our rain jackets as the sun tries to break
through, the day warms up, and we warm up with the effort of the never-ending
succession of hills, some of them pretty big.
The two biggest hills in the first 40 km are 65m and 80m high according
to my GPS altimeter, and they have great downhills on the back side of them.
Cresting one of these, we get our first view of Bras d'Or Lake.
I'm sure that under a sunny sky this would be a great view. However, the black clouds of the retreating rain, topped over
with a patchy overcast, give the lake a cold, misty, gray look.
Nevertheless, before descending the big slope down to lake level, I take
a few pictures from a "lookover" (that's Nova Scotian for
"lookout"). Karin has
continued on ahead down the hill, so I spin up to catch up to her.
This is a great long downhill, and I've got no traffic behind me.
Taking over the centre of the lane, I let gravity do what it does best,
and then add some spin power to take it up to 76.5 km/hr before running out of
hill. I'll learn later that Karl
took it up to 76.9 km/hr before running out of hill.
Catching
up to Karin, we continue at a moderate pace for a while as we pass
through the occasional little town or vacation enclave.
We pass through Big Pond, and look for Rita MacNeil's tea house where we
can stop for a break, yet I don't see it as we pass through.
I must be blind because I find out later that everyone else saw it,
stopped, and had a great early morning snack there.
A little while later we pass through East Bay, and look for the balloons
marking the turn to Catherine's mother's house, where homemade fresh blueberry
pie and cream awaits TDC cyclists today. Alas,
we don't see this turnoff either, and find out later that several others did,
stopped, and enjoyed a real blueberry pie feast.
Drat! Blueberry pie is my
favourite too!
Feeling
deprived, we stop at a roadside bakery for some cinnamon buns and cookies.
The cookies are good but the cinnamon buns only rate about a 4 on a scale
of 1 up to 10. Oh well! Back on the
road, we follow the shoreline of the lake north towards Sydney.
Traffic
is getting heavier now - there's a reasonable amount of vehicle traffic coming
the other way, including campers and RV's, and some of the traffic is impatient
and aggressive. Several times we
have people passing while approaching us. While
this road is generally good smooth pavement, it is a hilly, windy route, and
there's no paved shoulder, making it a little tricky at times.
Going in our direction there are occasional transport trucks and that
scourge of all cyclists -- dump trucks. I
don't know what it is about dump truck drivers -- they all seem to have gotten
up on the wrong side of the bed, or their mothers were all frustrated stock car
drivers or something. They've only
got one speed -- as fast as they can go; they're noisy, dirty beasts that spew
as much unburnt deisel into the air as they burn, and they've no respect for
anyone else on the road. I'm sure
that not all dump truck drivers are like this, but by far the majority we've
encountered are. As an example, on
one long flat stretch of road with good visibility and no oncoming traffic, one
dumper roars up behind us, leans on the horn, and then passes with seemingly
inches to spare. He had a whole
road to use, but chose to bully us. Perhaps
he's jealous of our ability to scoot along and enjoy the ride?
And then there are the overly-cautious car drivers who don't believe they should use the other lane to give themselves room to pass,
and follow along behind us at 20 to 30 km/hr waiting until they've got a minimum
10 km forward visibility before swinging out to pass, and then usually only when
traffic behind them gets impatient. Then
there are the professional truckers who usually look out for us -- I've written
about them before, and still can generally say only good things about their
courtesy and care on the road. We
get a warning horn toot from some, and in one case, we see two transports coming
up behind us, we're on the crest of a hill they likely can't see over yet, and I
can see a procession of RV's coming the other way. Not a pretty picture.
We do the good thing and get off the road onto the gravel shoulder to
give the truckers room to pass. We've
all got to be aware, cautious, courteous and smart about how we share the road,
and we'll all get along just fine. No trucker wants us as a hood ornament, and
we don't want to be one.
As
we get closer to Sydney, the traffic gets heavier, and we get a shoulder -- very
nice. Entering the outskirts of
Sydney, we check our route map, take the freeway underpass, and then turn left
on a secondary road through an industrial area that loops around Sydney harbour
to North Sydney on the northwest shore. This
is not a scenic road. We're going
through a run-down industrial area of what appears to be a not-too-prosperous city.
And the traffic through here is almost as aggressive as one finds in the
worst place we've been so far -- around Toronto.
Turning
onto this route also turns us directly into the west wind that's now blowing at
about 25 km/hr. Nothing to do but
put down the head, get into an aerodynamic position and low gear, and spin along
at a good cadence while actually moving quite slowly -- 20 to 25 km/hr.
We
finally turn north again to follow the western shore of Sydney harbour, crossing
a wooden bridge with planks missing. Potholes
on a wooden bridge, eh? Entering
the town of North Sydney, we spin along the shore road between the waterfront
and a line of stately residences. This little part of the city seems quite nice.
However, entering the downtown area, we see another story.
I'd describe the town as appearing to be struggling.
No overt signs of economic downturn -- boarded up stores or lots of
places for sale, yet at the same time no overt signs of prosperity.
As an example, we look around the downtown waterfront area for a decent
looking restaurant for lunch, but don't see anything at all obvious.
We're retreat to Tim's for soup and sandwich.
Nothing wrong with that, yet we'd been hoping for much better.
After
a quick lunch, we return to our route to the campground, and see Karl, Jules and
John merge into the lane ahead of us, and then zoom on ahead into the wind in a
paceline. Karin and I mosey along
at our own pace, reaching the campground shortly after them.
Driftwood
Campground is on the shore of St. Andrew's Channel, one of the openings from
Bras d'Or Lake to the ocean. Bras
d'Or Lake is billed as the largest salt-water lake on an island in the world.
In reality, while it appears to be a lake, there are at least three good
navigable channels connecting it directly to the ocean, and it has tides in sync
with the surrounding ocean. Cape
Breton Island with Bras d'Or Lake in it is more like an archipelago when
examined more closely.
There
are three TDC trucks in camp tonight. One
TDC group left Vancouver a week before us on a 74 day trek, adding extra days in
the mountains and saving time for the Cape Breton Trail.
The second group left the day before us, on the same route, and we're the
third group. For the first time,
we're all together, nearly 70 riders of TDC 2000.
The trucks are being re-organized since only one truck is going on the
ferry to Newfoundland, due to the expense.
We've got a fair-dinkum sized list of logistics on how to sort out our
stuff for the ferry ride and the next day after that (our last!).
This is really tough for all of us.
The routines we've carefully refined over the last 64 days, and can do in
our sleep without thinking, are broken.
This is a harsh slap back to the real world almost.
I've got to unload everything I've got off the truck, pitch camp, and
then sort everything out into the pile that goes on the one combined truck, in
my two baskets; the pile that's going into my "tent duffle bag" to go
on the truck on the ferry; and the pile of stuff I want on the ferry for the 16+
hour trip tomorrow. Most of us
procrastinate for an hour or two, enjoying a cold beer or three, before tackling
this task.
Dinner
tonight is prepared and served by Bud, Margot and our three truck drivers. After
a great feast, we're treated to a fashion show of TDC apparel. From our group,
Neri does a great job of modeling jackets and t-shirts, strutting his stuff on
the walkway. Priming Brook with a $5 bill
to slip into his waistband, and Carol with a note for the same action, that's
got a phone number on it and the message, "Give me a call. Tonight!"
adds to the fun. It's pretty easy to
see that our group has an easy camaraderie and joie de vivre that the other
groups seem to lack by comparison. Once again, I
see how fortunate we've been with our group dynamics this summer.
Dinner
and entertainment over, we're treated to a spectacular sunset over the lake, and
then retreat to our tents as the nightly mosquito hoards form up into their own
dinner squadrons and come looking for blood.
Tomorrow
we'll be up early to be at the ferry by 7:00 a.m., about a 6 km trek from where
we are. Unfortunately it's 3 km
uphill and then 3 km downhill. By
the time we arrive in Argentia and get settled it'll be close to midnight.
So while tomorrow is really a rest day, it may not be very restful.
Yet, somehow that doesn't matter. We
didn't sign up for rest days. Rather,
we signed up to cycle across Canada. And
the day after tomorrow we'll cross a corner of our last province, Newfoundland.
The weather gods could give us a sleeting nor'easter, and we'd still be
happy -- for we're cycling across Canada, we've done over 7,300 km so far, and
we've got one more day's ride to go!
Day's
high: Beautiful
sunset over Bras d'Or Lake.
Daily
Stats:
...alan
Bras
d'Or Lake,
North
Sydney, NS