Surprise Encounter

Tom and Della, our gracious hosts

A hundred Miles to go!

Whitbourne, NF August 27

Today, 100 km. Total 3026 km

Up late last night IMing with Valerie. She has been making plans for her trip to meet me in St. John's, and now has everything organized. She will be flying overnight via Montreal, and should arrive in St. John's early friday afternoon. I am so looking forward to seeing her. We will stay in YYT for the weekend to celebrate with the crew and take care of getting my bike shipped home, then we will rent a car and spend a few days exploring the coastal towns. Looks like we will have good weather, except for Sunday when the remnant of hurricane Duncan is expected to pass through.

After my late night, I didn't rouse until 7:30, but no matter as everyone else slept in too. Finally got the bikes on the road (Pete, Ryan, Bill and I) at about 10am, immediately hitting some good climbs with a strong cross-wind that kept veering to a headwind. I found this a struggle; my legs were pretty tired, as if they new that the Odessey will come to an end tomorrow. The group stayed together for a few miles, then Pete and Ryan broke away as usual. A bit later, Bill dropped back so I was on my own.

The cross-wind made for some hard riding, especially as the narrow shoulder had a wide rumble strip - every gust tended to push me into the bumps, especially when entering any open area. The constant roaring in my ears was itself tiring, and the wind had a way of turning against me on the many long climbs. I tried to vary my effort by getting out of the saddle, but mostly I would just drop into the lower gears on the middle ring, grit my teeth and crank myself upwards.

Judy did a great job in the support car, constantly feeding me coke and cookies to compensate for my smaller than usual breakfast. Several times, I stopped at hill crests to eat more sugary treats, and I even got into one of the emergency energy gel packs that I bought in Quebec City- this seemed to help.

At one of these refreshment stops, a car stopped behind me, a man got out and said "You must be Barney" Ana amazing thing to happen inthe middle of the Newfoundland back country! Turned out tht it was Pete and Judy's friend Tom with his wife Della. They had driven 100km from St.John's to meet us. We introduced ourselves, and it was as if we were long lost friends.

Tom and Della headed off again to look for the rest of the crew, and I resumed my painful push into the wind. After a while the highway turned from south to east, so the crosswind became a tailwind, an I realized that I was starting to pull the hills in my big ring. However, my legs were still really tired, and I was glad to meet up with the gang at an info centre. We decided to call it a day and drive into St John's for the night to stay with Tom and Della at their house. Tomorrow we will drive back to finish the final 80km of our ride.

Tom and Della have a house in Torbay, North of St. John's with a marvellous ocean view. They are incredible hosts. They sat us all around the kitchen table, and brought bout pot after pot of food, plied us with beer, and stood back to enjoy watching us eat. The meal started with bottled moose ( a kind of tasty stew that is sealed in containers to preserve it) with home-made bread, then poached cod followed by abundant steamed mussels and pan-fried scallops. All of these dishes were copiously refilled. Just when we thought we would burst, in came an enormous paltter of barbecued steak. And last but not least, a tray of my favourite date squares. No fuelling problems for tomorrow's ride!

Tom and Della are fantastic hosts, and kept us entertained through the evening with their lively conversation and Newfoundland humour.

As I write, everyone is turning in - in a few minutes, every couch, bed and section of floor will be occupied by a groaning, snoring satiated figure.

And so to bed. Tomorrow will be the last day of the epic ride, and I will be reunited with my Valerie. I realized today while riding that, after all that I have done, experienced and enjoyed in the last five weeks, I am now ready to finish. What a fantastic trip this has been.

Goodnight all,

Barney

PS Pete's blog, http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/

Back to Reality

Clarenville, August 26

Today, 104 km, total 2926 km

A dewey morning. Everybody woke up to find little pools of water on tent floors, and various objects dripping with water. Even Pete and Judy, sleeping in the back of the van, noted that the insides of the windows were steamed up ... but maybe that's another story.

First sound heard this morning was the pumping of the Coleman stove, and by the time my eyes were fully open there was coffee on the go and eggs in the skillet, and Judy handed me a bowl of yoghourt and granola. Thanks, Judy, what luxury!

Definite cahnge inthe wetaher today. The following wind that has served us so well for days`hs swung around, and tody we are pushing into the teeth of it. The weather has turned colder, and the skies are leaden. I broke out the woolen jersey that has been hidden in my gear bag for nearly 3,000 km, and added the goretex jacket to cut the chilly wind.

Our plan had been to make the 140km to Arnold's cove today, which would have made St John's reachable tomorrow, but given the changed conditions, it was obvious that that would be a tough ride. Pete and Bill headed out first, and Ryan and I hung back for a few minutes while he tried to call his daughter, Quinn, on her first day at kindergarten - he missed her by a couple of minutes but left her a message.

Judy resumed her sag duties, stopping every 10 miles to make sure everyone was on track, handing out cookies and soft drinks as needed znd keeping us informed haow evryone else was doing.

We headed off into the wind, taking it in turns to pull and maintaining a decent pace of about 24 km/hr. The terrain was the familiar wooded heathland, with occasional lakes, long false flat climbs with the occasional steeper pitch to keep us warm. After an hour or so, we caught up with Judy and the other riders at a gas station. Bill decided to load his bike on the car, and Pete and Ryan took off at their usual higher speed, while I followed up in the rear. I felt good, but having been accustomed to the rocket boost of the last few days, every rise just seemed that much harder.

Pete has been showing me how to ride out of the saddle, which I find helps a lot on most types of climb. The idea is to shift to a higher gear, then use your weight to pedal with more effort but lower cadence to maintain speed and use a different set of muscles. This has the effect of allowing muscle recovery, and also significant relief for the seat bones. The trick is to keep a controlled pace and a comfortable motion, which doesn't come naturally and needs some practice, but as I work at it I find that it really conserves energy and improves comfort.

Around 1pm, I stopped at a gas station for a coke and some jerky bars, and called Valerie on my cell phone; haven't been able to get a good signal or internet for some time. When I got back on the road, it started to rain, and at the same time the road started to steepen into long straight climbs, pretty hard going given the headwind. By this time, the others had reached Clarenville, and Pete and Judy came back in the car to check on my progress. I waved to them, and they said that they would wait for me at the tourist centre.

When I arrived, Pete asked me if I wanted to press on to Arnolds Cove. I answered ... NO ... and he said that's good because they had already found hotel rooms in Calrenville. So back for a relaxing shower, internet catchup and dinner at the hotel.

Expecting rain overnight and early morning, so we will probably make a late start. We have 180 km left to St John's, which we will split into 2 days. Really looking forward to meeting Valerie on Friday. I can't believe this great adventure is nearing its end, but I'm excited to think of a few day's sight-seeing with my lovely wife.

Until tomorrow

Barney

PS Check Pete's blog at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Through Gander Like Corn Through a Goose

Definitive view of Newfoundland from Trans Canada Highway

Gambo, Newfoundland August 25

Today: 148 km, total: 2822 km

Got up this morning to find Pete and Ryan sharing cold leftover pesto penne pasta out of a ziplock bag. Ryan upped the ante by scoffing half a bag of Chunks Ahoy chocolate chip cookies, then declared that he felt sick and that he would drive sag today. Rest of the crew expressed sympathy - not!

Ryan and Judy drove to a gas station restaurant at Bishops Falls, and the rest of us followed by bike. Pete and Bill, who seem to have shaken off their sinus infections, sailed straight by, while I stopped for a more conventional breakfast. Then Judy took of in the van to ride with Pete and Bill, and I carried on solo.

The terrain was more of the customary interior highlands, but conditions were great under a blue sky with the same stiff tailwind, so I kept up a good speed, chasing cloud shadows along the road to Gander. Bill and Ryan met me at the tourist info and fed me Coke and fig newtons, then took off while I hung around to check email.

Sorry to learn that Marilyn Ohrn, Tetrad's receptionist/clerk/everything person was taken ill in the office and rushed to hospital. Best wishes to you, Marilyn, I wish you a speedy recovery.

After my lunch break, I carried on at the same rapid pace. The hills here are still the same long false flats, usually ending in a steeper kick that I could mostly manage in high gear by getting up out of the saddle. Ran into a nasty construction zone where the surface had been ground off for about 10 km. The shoulder was more or less intact, but covered in debris, with abrupt drainage channels cut across the surface so they couldn'tbe avoided. I learned later that Pete had hit one of these at speed, and got a nasty whack on the ankle when his pedal unclipped.

Closer to our destination of Gambo, we ran into a couple of long steep climbs. By this time I ws starting to get tired, so I slowed down and just spun the lower gears. At the Gambo turnoff, I say Judy waving from the overpass, and we turned off on Joseph Smallwood Drive to find the campground that Pete had already speced out. (Note to non-Canadians: Joey Smallwood was Premier of Newfoundland and brought the province into Canada in the 1940s. He was born in Gambo).

The campground is a clean and attractive park forested with small pine trees and a ground cover of moss and what I believe to be Labrador Tea. We all headed off for a great dinner at Shiela's Home Cooking restaurant - I had an enormous meal of split pea soup with dumplings followed by a real turkey dinner and partridge berry pie.

Now sitting at the picnic table. The nights are getting colder, and we have a fire going in the pit. Evidently Fall arrives early in Newfoundland.

No sign of wifi within 50 miles, so I will post this when I get a chance.
Good night
Barney
Pete's blog: www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Blogging in the Dark

Domestic Scene - Judy and Pete make Pasta

Bill Travels Light

Obi-wan bug shields

Grand Falls-Windsor, NF August 24

Today 114 km, total 2674 km
Here's Barney. Barney is blogging in his tent. No internhet here, so who knows when it will get posted. Blogging in a tent is a pain in the arse. Actually a pain in various body parts, depending on strategy. I can sit upright with the computer between my legs, but with no back support, it soon becomes excrutiating. I can lay on my side and type with one finger (instead of my usual two) which doubles the time. Or I can just say the hell with it, which I have so far managed to resist.

My little one man Hubba tent is actually amazingly efficient. I have quickly evolved a system for setting up. First pitch the tent, then take the gear out of my panniers that I will need overnight - washup kit, non-biking clothes in a mesh bag, washup kit, camping odds and ends like flashlight in plastic bag, and handlebar bag that contains essentials like my camera, cell phone etc. Each of these goes into a specific place, left or right of my feet, and I can find anything I need, even in the dark. I inflate my thermarest sleeping pad, unroll my down sleeping bag, and stuff my clothing bag into my pillow case. My panniers, containing gear not immediately needed (bike tools, riding clothes etc.) are sealed and left outside in the tent's vestibule. That's it. It's amazing how little you really need to live comfortably.

As I sit here in the dark, I can hear the loons calling across a nearby lake. I love that sound.

Our ride today was pretty much a re-run of yesterday, but with blue skies and a few white fluffy clouds. Bill was still a bit under the weather, and chose to drive the sag wagon, and Judy, Pete, Ryan and I headed out at about ten o'clock. Today, I had the happy legs,and had a fantastic ride. Although our route today changed direction twice, starting NE, then turning south and finally east, the wind was cooperative, and we seemed to get a significant boost on every leg. I was riding big ring virtually all day, and working on my out-of-saddle technique on every rise. The result was a non-stop run (feet never touched the ground) of 114 km, at an average speed of 30.3 km/hr. I have never ridden so far so fast in my life.

Arriving in Grand Falls, we hit the Sobeys store and picked up the makings of a fish pesto pasta dish. Judy had brought cooking gear from Ohio in the van, and she cooked us a delicious dinner, washed down with plenty of wine and beer and accompanied by witty and perhaps ribald conversation.

So now, I am ready to don my silk PJs, crawl into my sleeping bag and say...
Goodnight
Barney
Pete's blog http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/

Baie Verte

Baie Verte, Newfoundland August 23

Today, 145 km,Total, 2560km

Difficult start today. First sign of life was Bill packing his stuff, of which he has a lot. Bill likes gadgets. Because he isn't travelling self-contained, he doesn't have the same weight restriction as the rest of us. He furnished his spot with collapsible bed, chair, table, as well as a complete bike workshop. Very comfortable and useful, but it requires a fair bit of management skill to get it all packed away each morning. By the time I stuck my head out of my tent, he had everything neetly packed, waiting to be loaded in the van.

It had rained on and off overnight, and the whole site was pretty soggy with squishy mud under the cover of grass. all of our tents were wet from rain and grungy tree drippings on the outside, and from condensation inside, and our clothes and sleeping bags were steamy and humid. I roused myself andstarted packing, but no rush as there waws no sign of activity from anyone else.

The casualty-count from unrelated sinus infections is now three: Pete, Ryan and Bill, so everyone was happy to declared a delayed start. In fact Bill's legs were so shot from yeterday's ride hat he offered to take over sag duty so that Judy would have an opportunity to ride.

Finally got everyone mobilized around nine o'clock, and we drove to The Jungle Jm restaurant at the Comfort Inn, and enjoyed an OK breakfast in the company of stuufed monkeys and fake palm trees.

Finally hit the road at 10:30 for a rerun of yesterday's ride. The Trans-Canada Highway in this part of the province is, let it be said, monotonous. Mile upon mile of moorlands covered with scrubby pine trees and low shrubs. The road runs arrow straight for miles at a time, with long false flat climbs, usually ending in a steeper kick for a couple of hundred metres. We started at a good pace, with me sitting between the rear wheels of Pete and Ryan to get a good draft without being soaked by the spray from the damp road, and we kept our speed in the 30+km/hr range for best part of an hour before I finally got dropped on a steeper climb when I shifted down to my middle ring. The tailwind was still there, a little reduced, and the climbs were a bit milder than yesterday.

Bill dropped Judy on the road about 50 km ahead, the idea being that we would catch her and ride with her, which worked well except that by that time I wasn't part of "we". However, I was having a great ride, and my feet didn't touch the ground until the 90 km mark, at which time my average was 30km/hr - way out of my usual range. Bill was waiting in the van and I stopped long enough to drink a coke then carried on.

The original plan was to ride to Springdale at the 170 km mark, but at 145 km, I caught up with the crew outside a motel. Everyone was tired, and although I could have managed another 30km, I was happy to go with the flow and stop for the night.

We sat outside and had a couple of pops, then went into a dinner of various fried fish features. While we were eating, the first rainstorm of the day got going so we were happy not to be tenting (except Ryan who chose to sleep out back rather that listen to Bill and I snoring).

All talk was of Hurricane Bill, which although downgraded to a category one storm has been causing havoc in the maritime states and provinces, with people being swept away in coastal Maine and evacuations called everywhere. However, current indications are that we will be bypassed.

So with hatches battened, Goodnight all
Barney
Pete's blog www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Corner Brook

Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Aug 22

Today, 120km, Total, 2415km

First one awake, at 7am. only the odd snore to hint that there could be othr humans on the planet. Warp three wind blowing directly along our route, probably related to Hurricane Bill, which is heading up the eastern seaboard straight for Newfoundlad. Skies pretty leadfe3n, but could be a dynamite ride today.

I had my tent down and gear packed before anyone stirred, and sat at the picnic table thinking about breakfast. Finally, around 8:30, bleary faces started to emerge. Nobody in a particular hurry, so I decided to solo on my bike to the Irving Oil gas station restaurant a couple of clicks up the road. had a coffee and read the local weekly, and was waiting for my trucker's breakfast with short stack side order when the others arrived in the van.

All squeezed around my 3 place table and ordered variants of the big boy. While we were eating, a huge rainstorm came though, wth a wind that blew over my bike parked outside, so we sat and drank a few coffees until it had gone by, then back to the campground to pack the van and hit the road with Judy driving sag.

Right from the tart, this huge tailwind grabbed us from behind and pushed us up and down the never-endibg succession of moorland hills. I felt like superman, racing up long climbs in big ring, and upshifting to ride out of the saddle on the steep pitches with almost no reduction in speed. The downhill sections seemed pretty ordinary, ubtil a glance at the computer showed 50-60 km/hr or more.

I started infront of the group, and was going gangbusters for abot 15 km, then I heard the creaking of Pete's saddle behind me. Pete and Ryan, still both suffering from sinus infections, blew by me and were soon receding a kilometer into the distance. I upped the pace, and was able to haul them in and pass them, but then on a long uphill, they wound by me and were gone again. Those guys are strong!

We hadn't really discussed a destination for the day, but it became obvious that Cornjerbrook, at 120km, would be easily attainable, and Judy confirmed this when she stopped by to give me a coke.

Around Stephensville, I caught up with a guy we had passed yesterday. He was wearing a Tilley shirt that looked freshly pressed, and long pants, whiched looked pretty odd given the impending rain, wet road and truck spray. He was carrying a huge load in panniers and other luggage, and was going so slowly that he looked in imminent danger of falling off. He seemed disinclined to talk at first, which I realised was due to a language problem, but I pressed him and found out that he was from Taiwan, and had left Toronto June 29th and was heading for St John's. Last year he did Victoria to Toronto. An amazingly determined individual.

As I pulled away from him, he called "sir, sir!" and I let him pull up beside me again. He pointed at the deep grooves ground into the narrow shoulder and asked me what they were for. I explained that they are rumble strips, intended to jar any driver who falls asleep and wanders off the road onto the shoulder. He had a lot of trouble pronouncing he word, and even after I spelt it and he repeated back R U M B L E, the closest he could get was "number". he hated these devices, which he emphasised by spitting on the offending strip; I can see why, as they are horrible to ride on; they shake your whole bike to the point of losing control, and when they are full of water, you get a good splashing as a bonus. When the soulder is narrow, you often have less than a foot of smooth shoulder to ride on, and with his outsized panniers, he couldn't help wandering into them. It's often safer to ride in the traffic lane.

Coming into Corner Brook Judy came by one last time and called to me to wait at MacDonalds, which I did. My bike computer showed 120km at average speed of 29km/hr - I have never done anything close to that before. After an Angus Burger and a couple of shakes, she came back with the rest of the crew. We all went down to the info booth to look for accomodation. The best we could get was basement room in a fleabag hotel, with a 3am disco on the floor above - thanks to the hotel clerk for giving us a heads-up on that. Accommodation is limited due to the cancellation of mainland ferries for 3 metre wave heights related to Hurricane Bill - lucky we came across when we did!

So back to plan A - found a rustic campsite and settled in for the night. Hoping that the threatened bad weather holds off for a day so that we can get in another overdrive ride.

Goodnight till then
Barney
Pete's blog is at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Travelling Light

Why it's worth getting kevlar-reinforced tires!

Crabbies River, NF August 21

Today, 95km. Total 2,295km

Pete and I waited in the Ferry building until about 8:30, then Pete went up to the vehicle entrance to wait for the rest of the crew to arrive and give them their boarding cards. A few minutes later, I saw Ryan at the window, looking fit and relaxed after his vacation with his daughter Quinn in California. Hard to believe that he as been away for 2 1/2 weeks, and how much has happened in that time.He had had some great family time, and gave Quinn her first surfing lessons.

We quickly went out to meet Judy and Bill. I have spoken to them both on skype, and now was able to match faces and voices. They had driven non-stop from Cleveland, over 24 hours, aqnde were pretty bagged, so we all set about packing all our gear, including 5 bikes, into Pete's Van. That done, we were able to board the ship.

The trip from North Sydney to Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland is over a hundred miles, on a route that can be stormy; however, tonight the water was calm. The ferry is a huge ship, with restaurants and a casino. We chose to sleep on the couches in the saloon, rather than take cabins.not the most comfortable way to spend a night, but a professioanl entertainment duo was there to help pas the time with Newfie music and, of course, jokes. It was apretty good show. The food we got from the snack-bar was so-so, mostly prepackaged sandwiches, but e were able to wsh them down with a few beers from the bar.

None of us slept well, and we were all pretty groggy; this was not helped by the fact that we have now entered the NF time zone, which is an odd-ball 1/2 hour ahead of Atlantic time. When the ship docked in the sunny and picturesque Port-aux-Basques harbour, Our first act was to drive the streets to look for breakfast. Although it was after 8am, with lots of other travellers on the same quest, everywhere was closed, except Tim Hortons, which had cares linedup for several blocks. We eventually found a hotel,which provided a good meal, with amazingly slow service. Welcome to island time!

Fed, we went to the Tourist Info to get maps, and chnged into our riding gear in the washroom. Pete and Judy had been here before and wanted to show us a trail on an old railway bed the wound along the coastline with beautiful beach vistas. Unfortunately, the gravelled surface had been ruined by ATVs, and it was really heavy going, even without our touring loads, which we had left in the van. In places, the ballast was several inches deep, and I actually fell off twice trying to negotiate it. After 20km, we were all getting tired, and ready to get back onto the trans-canada. Judy rode back to get the van and the rest of us pressed off along the highway.

The 800 Km ride to St Johns will be a slog if today is anything to judge by. We had a mild headwind that at least provided cooling across the interminable series of power-climbs ofer the rolling heathlands After 90 km, we all met outside a campground and decided to call it a day. Pete and Ryan are both suffering from sinus infections, and the rest of us were just bonked.

I'm writing in my tent with no wifi, so I don't know when I will be able to post this.
Until next time,
Barney
See Pete's blog www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Farewell to Nova Scotia

North Sydney, Aug 20

Today, 100km. Total, 2280km

Last night, we decided to pay a visit to the pub down the road for dinner, and listen to some Irish singing by Fran Doyle, the chap I had met (in another bar) at lunchtime. The logistics were a bit complicated; we couldn't use our bikes because it would mean a Clockwork Orange ride over several miles of darkened highway back to the campground.  There was always the possibility (however remote) that we might accidentally be overserved during the course of the entertainment.  After careful analysis of the situation, we decided to hitchhike to the pub, and worry about getting back when the time came.

The pub had an attached restaurant, and we got some of the best sea-food we have seen so far.  Bellies full, we went downstairs to the pub, where Fran had already started singing. He is a good entertainer, and enjoyed organizing drinking races between some of the younger patrons; we, of course out on our "boys will be boys" facesand watched the procedings with detachment. Fran has a good baritone voice and a wide repertoire of Irish and Canadian maritime pub songs, and doesn't let the fact that he doesn't know all the words get in the way of his act. He has an interesting way of inserting "didley-dum" syllables as required, and you wouldn't notice if you weren't paying attention - most of the audience weren't.

It was a fun evening,helped by the fact that it was "wacky wednesday" with pitchers of beer for $10. Unfortunately, the rickards red keg ran dry before our first pitcher was filled, which completely flummoxed the server, who was apparently equipped with read-only memory.  We stopped her from pouring away the half-full pitcher, and explained how a different product could be used in subsequent refills.

As it got dark outside, the sky was lit by an electrical storm, making us happy to stay in these cozy surroundingsuntil the rain subsided. The restaurant called a taxi for us, which took us into the campground and dropped us right in front of our tents, and so to bed.

This morning dawned cool and blue, perfect biking weather.  We decided to ride to the lodge for breakfast, to give our tents a chance to air before final packing.  Pete was in good spirits as today marks two landmarks in his epic ride - his Judy is joining us tonight, and this is the last day he will have to drag his 80lb bob trailer up a mountain (it will be in the back of the SAG wagon for the trip across Newfoundland.

Spent an hour creating the usual devastation to the lodge's buffet; I upped the ante by adding fruit, yoghourt and home-made granola to the usual fry-up, while Pete, who is more of a purist in these matters, stuck to making multiple trips to the hot trays and baked goods.

Following standard procedure in these parts, the day's ride started with a stiff climb over a height of land called Cape Smokey, a grinding little-ring ascent to about 850 feet. None of the ultra-steep 15 percenter pitches of the  climbs in nthe northern part of the trail, however, so I was able to top out with no problem, stopping only occasionally to admire the view. My new 27-tooth gear, and the out of the saddle pedalling techniques that Pete has shown me bothe helped me in a big way.

The back side of the ridge was a different matter, an amazing descent that rival in steepness, if not in length, anything we have encountered on Cape Breton.  We both agreed that we probably chose he kindest direction to circulate the Cabot trail, though the choice would be a tough call.

With Cape Smokey out of the way, the road followed the coastline with the usual succession of power-climbs, nothing too serious.  Pete saw a moose crossing the road, the first one we have encountered. We stopped for a snack at the celtic tea-room in one end of a church - unfortunately no chocolate eclairs.  This area of the coast looks pretty badly hit by the economy, lots of boarded-up businesses.

We saved a 16km detaour by taking the little ferry across the narrows cearted by a sand-spit in St Annes bay.  This is an interesting craft which drags itself across the strong tidal rip by a cable fastened to the shore at both ends.

One more long climb over he ridge that separates St Annes Channel from Bras d'Or lake, then ncruise control with a nice tail-wind into North Sydney.  By the time we arrived, I had developed a craving for a chocolate milk-shake, so while Pete made his usual pilgimage to the Subway shrine I searched the entire town for a milk-bar.  Eventually found what I needed at MacDonalds, and immediately downed two large ones.  Never did that before.

Managed to phone Bill, Judy and Ryan in the car.  They were three hours out from North Sydney, and will be here before tonight's ferry leaves at 11pm, so we have moved our reservation forward by a whole day.  This will save staying in North Sydney, which has rather limited attractions, and will hopefully give us an extra day's riding before the expected tropical storm hits (!)

Pete and I are waiting in the ferry terminal, showered, shaved and looking fairly respectable for a change.

Tomorrow, another province!

Best wishes, Barney

PS Pete's blog www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Lazy Day

Ingonish, NS
Day off
First one up today was Ralph. He wanted to get moving before the heat and get back to his car, which he had left at Baddeck. Nice, friendly chap.
Pete and I struggled to our feet at about 7:30, both feeling petty limp after yesterday's exertions. Neither of us wanted to go back to last night's restaurant, so we rode over to the Keltic Lodge, a classy resort operated by the NS government. Nice dining room with an all-you-can-eat buffet; felt a bit out of place in my scruffy, oily biking garb and did notice that the polo-shirt set were viewing us with interest - from a distance.
So we set about eliminating the restaurant's daily profit margin. Actually, the cost of the buffet compared well with what we have been paing for double-down breakfasts in the roadside cafes.
A man from a nearby table came over and asked us where we were going today. we said we had to be in North Sydney tomorrow, and he looked amazed then rushed off to tell his wife. He asked the wrong question.
Went and sat in the comfortable chairs in the lobby and scammed some free wifi for half an hour. Pete suggested that we stick around in Ingonish for another day, and much to my relief, I agreed. temperature was already getting into the nineties, and we were both ready for a recovery day.
Sitting in the lobby, we were amused to hear a young man, apparently with the use of all his limbs, asking the bell-captain if the hotel had a shuttle to the parking lot. "Of course, sir... step this way".
When I got back to the campground, I met a young couple who were biking the Cabot trail in the opposite direction to us. I made a remark about the stiff climing ahead of them, and they said they did that yesterday. I realized that they were talking abou "big smokey" a ridge that we will be crossing tomorow, and nothing compared to French Mountain and North Mountain that we crossed in the last two days. They are in for a reality-check! You will never hear me criticize anyone who has the gumption to get out and ride these roads. But those who don't research or prepare even slightly for what they are getting into must surely enjoy the experience less because of it.
Now we had declared a day off, Pete decided to hang out at the beach, a beautiful crescent of golden sand that stretches right across the Ingonish Bay. I waited until the respectable hour of noon, then hit the Keltic lodge bar for a pint of the local brew. Got into conversation with Fran, a guy from Dublin who entertains at a pub a few miles down the road. We plan to hitchhike down there tonight and grab some fish and chips so we can hear him.
This afternoon I hiked along Middle Head, a narrow spur of land that juts into the Atlantic from Ingonish for about 4 km. Beatiful walk, with sheer granite cliffs on both sides tumbling down into the waves. Sat at the tip for an hour, watching the waves and the birds, and watched a pilot whale swim leisurely around the point.
Hiking back, I got a great chocolate milkshake at the lodge concession, then found Pete in the camp shelter, writing his journal. Quick ride into town for some brews, then I joined him. And that's the news as it happens, folks,
More tomorrow,
Barney
PS Petes blog: http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/

Shoulda had the Pancakes!

Each turn in the road a triumph.

Topping Out.

Piped in to Cape North.

Ingonish, NS Aug 18
Today: 76 Km, Total: 2180km

Awoke before 7am in our coed dorm room - me, Pete, a quebecois motorcyclyst, a cyclist named Ralph and a lady from Manitoba. The lady slipped out early, probably because she knew what to expect when the motley assortment of room-mates finally stirred. I was next out, and while sitting on the porch with my OJ and vitamins, the lady came out and offered me a cup of coffee. She told me that she was in the area for the hiking, and had already explored 16 of the local trails. I made a pre-emptive apology for my snoring, and she was kind enough to say she had experienced much worse in similar circumstances.

When Pete emerged, we decided that since we were planning another short day we would walk the kilometer to the nearest breakfast place and return to pack. In the restaurant, we met Ralph, who is doing a solo tour of the cabot trail. Pete and I ordered the hungry man breakfast, but this time we passed on the pancake option.

Back to the hostel and on the road about 10am, while Ralph took to the road straight from the restaurant.
We had been forewarned that this morning's ride would cover the toughest part of the Cabot Trail, and sure enough after a brief 4 km warm-up, we were heading for the sky. The sign at the start of the climb told us what to expect - 6km at 11% grade. This is unusual; grades are only usually posted for downhill sections. Nothing to do but crank her into low gear and start pedalling.

Due to my higher gearing (pete has mountain-bike ratios) I passed Pete on the starting pitch, but I knew that wouldn't last long with his superior strength and technique, and sure enough after a few hundred meters he was in front and I was struggling to stay on his rear wheel. The slow-motion chase continued until I ran out of breath and my pulse-rate started to red-line and I stopped for a breather as Pete headed for the skyline.

This was a climb where it didn't matter if you were having a good day or a bad day - it was just plain bloody hard. I plodded on pitcha after pitch, stopping frequently to catch my breath and to marvel at the vistas unfolding behind me. Time after time I would look ahead to where the road seemed to level out temporarily, but always the apparent flat stretches would curl up before my eyes into another grinding climb. On and on, with the stinging sweat running into my eyes and soaking my clothes. Even the cooling effect of the strong tailwind couldn't stop the torrents of perspiration running down my face and arms, dripping off my bike frame and onto the road.

The suddenly it was over. Less than 10km from our starting point, there was Pete with his camera capturing my final efforts, and the road leveled out into the same plateau-land of moose-pasture we had seen yesterday. I ground on past him until we reached th sign anouncing the summit of North Mountain at 445 mketres. We stopped to relish the moment, we had conquered one of the most fearsome climbs in Canada - few places have such a relentless ascent compressed into such a short distance, and there we were at the top, with all our camping gear and paraphernalia intact. Today, I would have benefitted greatly fom the boost of a side of pancakes and a pint of maple syrup!

Nothing now but to enjoy the relaxing ride across the plateau, scanning the bushes for that elusive moose, then the exhilaring 1500 foot plunge into the village of Cape North. Arriving inthe village, we met three people, a young piper in full sporran, his mother and the local mountie. They were all interested to talk to us, and it wasn't hard to coax the piper into some choruses of "Road to the Isles". The mountie told us that there weren't many camping or dining opportunities in Cape North, so we decided to press on the additional 40km to the village of Ingonish.

Stopped off at the local store to polish off a pound or so of date squares. The cashier told us about an alterantive "scenic" coastal route which we decided to explore. It was ceratinly scenic, and Pete was able to get some great shots. However, scenic translates into hilly, and this road had some doosies, just climb after intense climb. In at least one spot, I was completely flat-lined: lowest possible gear and standing on the pedals using every ounce of muscle and weight. And each time, just when I was ready to say "uncle" we would drop out into a pictureesque little cove filled with colourful fishing boats.

Finally, the scenic route merged back into the main highway, and we continued over the well-maintained surface through the National Park. Just as I reached the white wooden church at the approach to Ingonish, I became aware of a strange floating sensation. Sure enough, my first flat of the trip. I sat on the church steps, took all my panniers offf and soon fixed the problem - a ripped valve connection - but as I was reassembling, I noticed a more serious problem - a deep cut in the tire tread exposing the inner kevlar casing for several inches. Nothing can be done, but Pete offered me his spare Schwalbe Marathon. Hopefully we will be able to replace it soon, but at least the damaged tire holds air and we can use it as a backup.

At the Ingonish Campground, we met up with Ralph. Pete went off for beer while I changed my tire again. When Pete came back, he had provisioned for the three of us, but it turned out that Ralph is not a great beer-drinker. However, we were able do devise a paln to accommodate the over-supply.

We all ended the evening at the local seafood restaurant; unfortunately rather mediocre, expensive and dreadful service. By the time we left it was dark, and we had the interesting experience of riding back to the campground under IFR.

A tough, rewarding and crazy day,

Barney
PS: Pete's blog http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/

Timb to climb

For once, Barney gets to the top first for a photo-op.
We just did a 6k 10% cimb

We did that!

Still smiling.

Pleasant Bay, Nova Scotia, August 17

Today 40km, total 2104 km

We planned a short day to begin the "interesting" part of the Cabot Trail. This was a matter of necessity, as facilities are limited, and the next place we could stop is Cape North, which was reachable but it would have been a hard first day. were not in a hurry, as we don't have to be in N Sydney to meet the rest of the crew until Thursday or Friday.
Might as well relax and enjoy the scenery.

So, a leisurely start to the day. We tried to clean the abrasive dust from our drive-trains that had accumulated on yesterday's rail-bed run, then walked to the restaurant for breakfast with wifi.

Coming out of Cheticamp, the road starts to climb almost immediately into the misty highlands. We stopped to pay $15 for Natioanl park passes, which I thought was like having to buy thr bullets for your firing squad. The man told me I could get a refund if I did it in one day.

The first climbing pitch took us to a pullout at about the 450 foot level. I got into my stride immediately, and was feeling great; felt like I could climb forever. Just cranked 'er in to four-by low range and went at it. This is the first time I used my new 27 tooth cog, and it makes a difference. I could spin up a brick wall.
At the pull-out, we met Jean-Sebastian, a young guy who started his ride in Alaska. Always someone to one-up you. He was going strong, also heading for St John's but was planning a longer day than us, so likely we won't see him again.

In the sea far below, we could see a pod of whales breaching and diving.

Pete was not feeling quite as sprightly as me today, and was happy to make several stops to shoot some pics with his big Nikon. Not often that I get to wait for him at the top of a climb. We were now on a pitch called French Mountain that runs up to 455 metres over 6 km, so nothing to do but keep spinning. The day was hot and humid, and I had to make two or three stops, not to rest, just to get the blinding sweat out of my eyes. At times, I literally couldn't see a thing, and the stinging in my eyes was quite painful. The vistas forward and backward along the road were spectacular, and somewhat intimidating, but once I got going, it was just one pitch at a time.

As we climbed, the scenery unfolded. The soft sandstones and shales of yesterday's coastal plains gave way to the more resistant Precambrian slates and granites that form the Cape Breton massif. The vegetation was mostly a low spruce forest, with deep river-carved valleys.

Quite suddenly, the steep climb ended and flattened into a plateau of boggy moose-pasture. We didn't see a moose, but a motorist a few minutes behind us had seen one crossing the highway. We stopped for a long while at a summit lookout, enjoying the view and eating beef jerky, then descended the roller coaster into Pleasant Bay. Perhaps for my own good, I got stuck behind a carload of sight-seers, so had to keep my speed down to about 50 k. I could have passed them, but I'm much too grown-up to do stuff like that...

In Pleasant Bay, we found an inviting hostel, with wi-fi and reasonable rates, so we will be sleeping in shared dorm accommodation tonight. I hope Pete doesn't embarrass me by snoring. We have been sitting in the common-room for an hour catching up with email and blogging. Now off to hunt for food. If we have any adventures tonight, I'll tell you about them tomorrow.

All for now,

Barney

PS Pete's blog is http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/

Salt Marsh Near Mabou
Yet another spoke

Cheticamp, NS Aug 16
Today 102 km, Total 2064km
So the plan was... Get an early start and do the 100km to Cheticamp before the day warmed up. Do the 40km to Inverness before breakfast, as the place in Port Hood didn't open til 9am. My suggestion, which Pete agreed to without much enthusiasm. Didn't rouse myself until 7:15, after which it was a simple matter to futz around until 9am. The best laid plans...
Got to the restaurant, and they let us in 15 minutes early (same place that let us in 15 mins late last night). Ordered the standard Big Boy breakfast with a side of pancakes, and Pete got the fish cake breakfast ditto.
I knew when the pancakes arrived that I had met my match. These were the real McCoy monster flapjacks, 10 inch diameter, half inch thick, two containers of syrup. The big boy lived up to its name too. Half an hour later I admitted defeat with half a pancake, a small mound of potatoes and couple of slices of flax toast left behind. Pete, of course cleared all his plates.
We hit the road at about 10, off to a roaring start, just chewing up the hills as they appeared, with a slight headwind that cooled us rather than impeding us. Twenty-five km in, we met up with the railway trail that we had seen yesterday. The surface was good, finely crushed granite, so we decided to give it a try. The trail at first followed the shoreline at a distance, mostly through woodlands with the occasional bridge across marshy salt-water inlets, very pretty. 10 km in, the surface started to deteriorate into lumpy, rocky ballast, and the fun was over. Too far in to turn back, and the occasional cross road that might have taken us back to the highway looked in worse shape than the trail. In some places we were riding over the ridges left when the railroad ties were removed. To make things worse, the dreaded "ping" as another spoke snapped in Pete's rear wheel due to the rough surface.
Finally, after about 20km we crossed a paved road. Flagged down a truck towing a horse-box to ask which way we should turn. The truck was carrying a two wheeled racing cart, probably coming home from the big harness race we had heard about in Charlottetown. The road took us down to Inverness, a pretty coastal village where we stopped opposite a bakeshop while Pete fixed his broken spoke.
By the time we got going again, I had lost the rhythm from the earlier part of the ride. I was getting up the hills OK, but it seemed like work, and the final 60km to Cheticamp seemed to take for ever. There were, however, some rewarding vistas across the gulf: in one place I could convince myself that a smudge on the horizon was PEI, 60km away.
Coming into Cheticamp, we were surprised to see French signs, and the red, white and blue Acadian flags. I hadn't realized that there is a francophone community in this part of Nova Scotia.
Caught up with Pete at the entrance to town, and he grinned and handed me a cold beer. A passing motorist had stopped to chat, and given him a couple of cans.
We decided to spring for a motel so that we would be close to downtown. The sign said free wifi, but neither of us could connect to it. We picked a sea-food restaurant down the road, I had a lobster and Pete had an enormous crab - both very good but hard work to disassemble.
I talked to Valerie, and she gave me the sad news that our friend Judy Griffiths is in the last stage of her battle with pancreatic cancer. Judy, I send you love. You have been an inspiration to all of us in the way that you have lived through these incredibly difficult years, with your sense of fun and your dedication to your family. We will never forget you.
Now it's morning, it rained during the night but it looks like the good weather will come back. I'm sitting writing in a chair outside the room, hoping that we can score some wifi later today to upload.
Until then,
Best wishes,
Barney
PS Pete's blog is at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Good Samaritan

Canso Causeway

Port Hood, NS Aug 15

Today 106km, Total 1962km

Up bright and early, pretty much packed before any signs of life from Pete's tent, so I headed down to the campground rec hall to get some internet. Door was locked, so I plugged into an outside power outlet and sat on the doorstep using wifi and charging my batteries. Pete came by after half an hour, and we rode the two blocks into Main Street for breakfast.

Inner men satisfied, we headed east, alternating between highway 104 and the "old" highway four.

After about an hour, we were standing at a turoff debating which way to go, when a man pulled up in a pickup with the customary "hows she goin, boys". we told him we were trying to decide between the short or scenic route. He showed us which way to go, saying "its not really scenic, just farms and houses". We followed the route anyway, and the combination of just houses and farms, rolling hills, deserted roads and a wind that managed to give us a good boost as well as a cooling breeze contributed to a spectacular ride all the way to the Canso causeway. Some people don't realize what treasures they have.

Cape Breton Isalnd is separated from the Nova Scotia mainland by a narrow channel that connects St Georges bay in the north to Chedabucto bay in the south. In the fifties, a causeway was built to accommodate road and rail traffic, with a swing bridge to allow large ships to pass through. This posed an interesting engineering problem, as the causeway caused a tide difference of up to a meter from side to side, which would cause very strong currents through the shipping channel. This was solved by building a large lock to raise or lower ships as big as great lakes freighters from side to side. Our day's target was Port Hood,about 45 Km up the west coast of the island, chosen because it was the only place with a campground within a reasonable distance.

The road was two-lane highway with no shoulder to speak of, with some moderate climbs which we polished of easily with a slight cooling headwind in the 30+ temperatures. A rail-to-trail route paralleled the route, and we tried it for a few km until the fine crushed granite turned to lumpy railroad ballast. However we then picked up a nice coastal road, with long sections of new surface that served us very well all the way to Port Hood. We stopped at the Port Hood beer store for a cold six-pack, and asked the way to the camp site. We were told that the site ws for RVs only, which gave some consternation but turned out to be untrue.

Just as we were finishing our liquid reward, Jocelyn a biker-lady from France arrived with a flat tire. We offered to let her share our camp site which she accepted, and helped her fix her puncture, which turned into a bit of a gong-show as first Jocelyn and then Pete managed to damage new tubes - rather aan awkward situation when you're trying to help somebody. We managed to rustle up another tube, and Pete and I headed off in search of dinner. Several restaurants in the area, but we soon found out that they all close at 7pm - even on a saturday night - and it was now 7:05!

We knocked on the door of one palce and pleaded for an extension, which was granted after we played the good-samaritan card, and had a pretty good meal of clam chowder and sandwiches. Jocelyn showd up 45 minutes later, but was out of luck as the cook had gone home, but she managed to find some fish and chips at the takeout down the road.

Turns out that Jocelyn had picked an interesting route to Canada, starting in Scotland and taking ferry via Iceland.

Don't know if I will be able to post this blog tonight, as the camp's wifi was wiped out by a lightning strike a few months ago. I'll give it a try on Pete's air-card.

I'm typing at a picnic table by flashlight, with a strong warm wind blowing in from the south - if it keeps up tomorrow, we'll be flying.

Best wishes to all,

Barney

PS Check Pete's blog at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Antigonish - update

Bit of a disappointing evening. Finished blogging in the campground, assisted by a six-pack of the local hoppy pop, then headed out to hit the high spots. First pub we tried was dead as a dodo, nobody there, nothing going on, so we headed out and asked each of the locals we met for a recommendation. After three or four tries, we met a group having some kind of party in the subway parking lot, and the told us that there is a tractor-pull going on just outside of town, and the whole population of Antigonish is over there. Guess we p0icked the wrong night.
Anyhow, we ended up at the A&W, where they were having a two-for-one on Mama-Burgers. Pete had four of them. I was more moderate. Then we hit the local 7-11 equivalent (called "Needs" here and "Couche-tard" in Quebec) where I stocked up on Beef Jerky and trail mix for the Cabot Trail.
And so to bed...
Barney

The Hector, replica of 18th century ship

The town of Barneys River consists of a sign... and that's it!

Antigonish, NS August 18

Today 90km Total 1856 km

Pete didn't have the get-up-and-go this morning. Just one of thoswe days when you could pull the covers over your head. anyway, eventually the sounds of Barneys' zips and velcro fasteners roused him and we got into the eight-km ride to Pictou for breakfast.

Quick city tour, including a reverse one-way along the main drag, where we were greeted by a comittee of locals, many wearing white beards. One of these worthies turned out to be the mayor. All were very interested in our journey, and his worship presented us with official Pictou lapel pins to commemorate the meeting.

After our usual hearty breakfast, we did another tour of the city. One last reverse one-way, where I commented to the council that they seemed to have arranged the street system so that once you got into town it is impossible to leave.

Pictou is the real thing. Everybody seems to know each other, and although the downtown has been extensively renovated, it's still a living, breathing village.

Stopped at the tourist info centre to pick up some good maps, and some advice on how to organize our Cape Breton tour so that we will arrive in North Sydney by net thursday to meet the rest of the team.

We originally planned to get to Cape Breton Island today, but once we got onto the 106 highway, with its succession of long grinding climbs, we realized that this was not to be. After about 30km, we cut off on highway 4, which gave a much more scenic and pleasant ride away from the freeway traffic. This route was a really special ride, just rolling through the countryside. At one point I rode alongside a river for at least half a mile acompanied by a kingfisher that flew from rock to rock alongside me. He's my totem - gave me some legs today.

By the time we reached Antigonish, we were starting to run out of steam, so after a subway lunch, we checked the tourist info for a place to stay. Jackpot, a downtown campsite on Main street next to all the pubs and restaurants our hearts desire. The info lady told us that we couldn't miss it - Antigonish is so small that if we took a wrong turn we could just circle back and meet ourselves coming the other way!

Off now for some grub, and maybe a couple of brews.

Catch you later, Barney

Don't forget to check Pete's blog at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Pictou, NS

Pictou, NS August 13
Today, 80 km, Total 1766
Bit of a slow start this morning. This was partly attributable to the generosity of our new friends in the pub last night - they set us up with another round of drinks just about the time we had reached our respective theoretical limits.
After sitting up in bed for half an hour pecking at yesterday's blog, I decided to test a new personal threshhold, the foot-long mega breakfast sub. No trouble putting it away, but not really my thing. Give me the Gaspesian special with a side of porridge any day.
WARNING: boring biker guy stuff coming. On our way to the pub yesterday, we spotted a promising bike shop, so we decided to take the time this morning to check it out. We both had some things that needed to be fixed before we tackle the highlands of Cape Breton in a couple of days. Pete has had a persistent wheel wobble since his last broken spoke episode, and I have been concerned about the condition of my drive-train.Pete's wheel waqs quickly fixed. My chain had stretched out to its critical limit, as I suspected, and I decided to replace it as well as the rear cluster, as it is always best to replace them as a unit. This also let me go from a 11-25 cluster to a 12-27, which should give me a little more reserve on the big climbs.
I had also been developing some shifting problems, which I expected waere due to a stretched cable, but when the mechanic started to adjust it, he found that the cable had frayed down to a couple of strands, ready to break any second. Lucky I didn't have to deal with that on the road!
Finally got going at noon, which was too late to do the 60+km to the 14:30 ferry to Nova Scotia from Wood Island, so we set our sights on the 16:30.
Don't let anyone tell you that PEI is flat! Right off the bat we were into an endless series of power climbs, which were pretty draining even though we kept a fairly conservative pace. The last 20km or so was back on a section of the Confederation Trail, but even though the gradients were less, we still had what seemed like a never-ending false flat climb to deal with.
By the time we got on the ferry for the 90-minute crossing, we were both bagged, and fell asleep at a table in the cafeteria. I'm sure I was the centre of attention; at least once I woke myself up with a loud snore.Disembarking, there was no sign of an info booth, and we didn'n have a map, so we followed the signposts to a provincial campground. The attendant told us that the nearest place to eat was at Pictou village, 8km down the road, so after some grumbling we left our gear at the gatehouse and headed off on unloaded bikes.
Pictou is an attractive little village with lots of old buildings, said to be the birthplace of New Scotland. A nice steak and a couple of beers set us straight, and we even summoned the energy for a little time-trial back to the camp-ground!
A useful day in all, putting us in a good position for the coming challenge of Cape Breton.
Good Night to All
Barney
Don't forget to check Pete's blog at www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

I Love this Country

Breakfast time at Cap Pele

Confederation Bridge

Beautiful PEI

Charlottetown PEI Aug 12

Today, 118km, Total 1686km

I have realized in that in the last two and a half weeks, I have seen more of the real Canada than I did in the last forty years. The variety of cultures, landscapes and of course language really comes home when you see it at ground-level like this. There is so much more to this country than I realized.

We started out this morning following the coastal route along the shore of Northumberland Straight. The plan was to take an easy day, and we just pedalled easily into a moderate cross headwind, admiring the scenery. Eventually, we rounded a point, and we could see the arches of the Confederation bridge crossing the open water to the distant Prince Edward Island. As we got closer, our route joined the main Highway 11 to the bridge approach.

Bikes are not allowed on the bridge, so we had to wait for a special shuttle and load our bikes onto a trailer. The shuttle is a 12 seater bus, and we were accompanied by some families going across as pedestrians for the day.

At the north end of the bridge there is a complex of refreshment and souvenir stores. The first thing we noticed was the large number of Japanese tour groups making the pilgrimage to the shrine of Anne of Green Gables. This novel, set in rural PEI, has for some reason captured the imaginations of the Japanese and has become a major torist attraction.

We went into the tourist information office for help in planning our route across the island. After discussing the highway options, Pete mentioned that he had heard of a dedicated bike route system on the island. The clerk immediately produced a trail map - why he would not do this automatically when he sees a couple of bike tourists, I can't imagine. We could easily have missed this major resource.

The Confederation Trail system follows the line of an abandoned railway system that runs from end to end of the island. It is immacculately maintained, with a fine crushed gravel surface, a little slower than asphalt, but a great ride. The trail winds through beautiful pastoral scenery, prosperous farms with livestock, mixed crops and of course potatoes. Very reminiscent of the southern English countryside.

Although we had planned a short ride, it was easy to keep going. at about 5pm, we were getting hungry, and lo and behold we passed a trailside bakery in a village called Hunter River. The smell of fresh baking was like a magnet, and we refreshed ourselves and decided to press on to Charlottetown.

Just before the city, we met a young bike tourist, who told us that we could stay in the residence at University of PEI, right next to the trail as it entered the city. Perfect.

So how to end this perfect day? Pete had met a guy in Edmonton who recommended Gahan's pub, a microbrewery in the city, so we walked the 2 km downtown to check it out. Charlottetown is a very pretty city, and even on a weeknight there is a variety of free entertainment on the streets, with stages set up on the sidewalk for musical groups.

Gahans was a hit, great beer, great food, and we spent a couple of hours swapping stories with the locals. By the time we walked back to the residence, it was after midnight, but we decided that we would work on our blogs. Pete was more successful in this than me, as I was snoring before I hit the first keystroke, and he rescued my computer before it crashed to the ground from my knees.

So this morning I have caught up, and we are heading out for a breakfast sub.

Best wishes,

Barney

PS: Pete's blog at http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Man of the century

The great navigator

Cap Pele, August 11

Today 168 km (including beer-run) Total 1568 km
OK here is where I toot my own trumpet. 100 miles in a day. Last time I did that was when I was 17, 46 years ago! That would have been when Norman Perrin and I rode from Ilford to Walton-on-the-Naze and back. And we weren't hauling camping gear then. There's life in the old dog yet.

Woke at 7am. Pete was sound asleep with his head under a pillow, so I guess I won. Come to think of it, I didn't hear a snore out of him all night, so I probably kept him awake.

I wandered down to the coffee shop for breakfast. It was full of politicians and business men there for a conference. Wearing suits and ties at 7:30. Made me feel all the more comfortable in my gym top and river pants. I tucked into my raft-man special with a side of porridge while they nibbled on their weight-watcher specials.

Back in the room, Pete had already nipped across the road for a footlong sub and coffee, so in a few minutes we were ready to roll.

We had discussed my plans for a century, and today Pete let me take the lead all day so that I wouldn't compromize my effort by drafting him. For the first 30km, we took the inland route 11, basically a series of long false flats through forested moose-pasture. Pretty boring, but we made good time doing 30-35 km/hr with a nice cross tailwind. When we reached the turn-off for Kouchibouguac National park we took it to get a change of scenery: more moose-pasture. There are probably some nice beaches there, but that was not on our radar.
However, we finally found our way down to the scenic coastal route trough Ricibuctou and Bouctouche, and this was truly spectacular, miles of desrted seashore road, good wind at our back, what biking is all about.
Coming into Boctouche, we both got the jones for some chocolate eclairs. Talking about it didn't help so we asked a local. No bakeshop in town. But there is a Timmy's so we ordered a dozen donuts and a coke apiece and polished off the lot.
Ended up in Cap Pele, which was exactly at the 100 mile mark. Just to be on the safe side, I pedalled another 8 km to get beer4 and snacks while Pete got us a camp site.

Turns out that when I unroll the tops of my rear panniers, there's rom for a six-pack in each one, and you can stuff in a few bags of chips for good measure. Ortlieb think of everything.

From the campground, you can just make out the terrain of Prince Edward Island, 20 km waway across Northumberland Straight. Tomorrow we will cross the enormous Confederation bridge to the third province of my trip.

I'm typing in my tent using the campground wifi. a miracle of technology, but excrutiatingly uncomfortable,

so goodnight all,

Barney (centurion)

PS: Pete's blog at http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com

Miramichi

Miramichi Centennial Bridge

Miramichi August 10
Today 110 km, Total 1410km
Woke up at 7am by something falling on the fly-sheet. Slipped a hand outside - nope, not pine-needles. "Pete?", "yeah". At 8:30, Pete suggested calling out for pizza delivery. Maybe not. Eventually, the growlies got me, so I dug out the rain-gear and heded into town. At the 6km mark, I noticed that Pizza Delight was open. Coincidence? Turns out it's a full-service restaurant. Grand-slam breakfast contains the "and" word just like in Quebec. Pete is right, a day off does nothing to abate the appetite.
Grabbed a breakfast sandwich for Pete and heaaded back to the campground. The middle-aged lady in the Subway store was asking me about the trip, and wanted to know if we were at Rocher Perce. She said she went there for her vacation last year, and it was so beatiful she burst into tears when she saw it. If you stood on achair at the back of subway on a clear day, you could see it with binoculars!

By the time I got back to the campground, the rain had abated and Pete had broken down his tent and packed hs gear, so I followed suit and we got on the road at noon.
The coastal road from Caraquet to Miramichi (pronounced miramashee) heads south and the southwest, so we gradually veered back into the same old headwind. The road is pretty flat,l ined with the same white houses on acreage lots, and frankly rather boring. We rode en echelon for the first hour or so (Barney getting a nice draft from Pete), but after a while I stopped to chane my glasses and Pete disappeard over the horizon. I didn't see him again for the rest of the day, so he must be getting his legs back. Although we hadn't planned to ride separately, I knew we would not have a problem linking up; Pete would wait for me at the first Subway in the destination city.
In fact, Pete arrived in Miramichi about an hour ahead of me, and after a few subs he headed back along the highway to meet me. I was pretty pleased with my ride: even after leaqving at noon, I completed the 110 km in about 5 hours. We agreed that it was a good move to get that leg out of the way today, this could mean that we will have time to do our planned side-trip to Cape Breton before Pete's girlfriend arrives in North Sydney with Ryan to meet us.
Miramichi is one of those towns thatseems to move away as you get closer. First you see tantalizing hints in the form of billboards for local businesses as you continue to ride through unspoiled rural areas. Then you see a sign marking city limits - still no change in the scenery. And you ride and ride and ride until suddenly, there you are in the usual strip mall wilderness.
We decided to cross over the river before looking for a place to stay. The Centennial bridge is a spectacular landmark from a dista nce but bike-friendly - not! The access is via a 2km loop of access roads, not a big deal in a car, but an eternity with a day's riding behind you. The sidewalk is a couple of feet wide, full of potholes, patches and ominous steel hatches secured by empty boltoles that bounce and rattle as you ride over them, wondering if yo will drop through to the river 200 feet below. A wobble could be disatsrous - a handlebar=high railing on the right and a 9 inch dfrop-off to the roadway on your left, with loaded semis roaring by inches from your shoulder. Makews Burrard Street Bridge look like a bike super-highway,
On the southside of the brige we turned off what had become a freeway into the old town of Chatham, where we found a nice-looking motel. The room rate started at 135, which was immediately reduced to 116 on the grounds that I am a government affiliate (I pay taxes). When we asked if there were any cheaper places around, we were offered the Senior's rate of $88. Age has its compensations.
Pete alreadey had his sub fix, so I headed for the Irish pub dow n the road. This area is a nicely restored heritage area in the shadow of the bridge. At the bar, I had a massive plate of barbecued ribs (not an Irish dish in my recollection), and i had a nice cat with Valerie on my cell-phone.
And that was the day,
Barney
PS: Pete's blog at http://www.transcanada09.blogspot.com/.