Epilogue

Vancouver, September 8th, 2009

Well, it's been a week and a half since that last day of riding. In my last blog, I tried to describe my feelings as I covered those last few miles, and the emotions I experienced as I realized that we had reached the end of the road, and it was time to part company with my new friends. Now that the dust has settled, I re-read my journal, and realized that I did not do justice to the celebrations that followed our arrival.

I described the fiasco of our arrival in Cape Spear on the Friday; how the group managed to get split up at the last minute. This was not the end of the ride that we had wanted, and we were all disappointed that we missed the chance to ride the last few miles together and relish the end of our adventure. However, we all eventually calmed down and realized that it was just one of those things that happens; nobody's fault, and the only thing to be done was to put it behind us and carry on. After a few pints at O'Reilly's tavern, we were all feeling better, and we drank many toasts to our achievement, as well as to the lovely ladies, Valerie and Judy, who had supported us from the home front.

On the Saturday morning, we all returned to Cape Spear with Tom and Della. Out on that windy cape, we congratulated each other, reminisced about the highlights of our trip and took dozens of photos to immortalize the occasion. The sky was blue, the Atlantic was wild and the world was perfect again.

The Hipditch Cottage in St. John's was the perfect place for us to relax and to enjoy the last hours of our time together: cozy and somehow "real Newfoundland" but with enough space to be able to begin our return to normal life and to prepare for the inevitable parting of the ways. In a few hours, the place was festooned with drying laundry, with tents and sleeping bags airing on the deck ("bridge" in Newfoundland parlance).

On the Sunday, we had been invited to Tom and Della's house for another Newfoundland feast, but unfortunately an emergency occurred in their family and this was not to be. We all wish them well, and thank them again for their amazing Newfoundland hospitality.

Sunday dawned with a dose of real Newfoundland weather. Hurricane Danny was passing through, rain was lashing sideways, and we were happy to stay warm and snug in the cottage. Eventually, we ventured out in the car to pick up food and drink for the day. We loaded in codfish, salmon, fish cakes and mussels for an impromptu "last supper", and all sat around the table for hours, eating, drinking and talking over the trip, the world and the universe. A bottle of local rum (known as "screech") let us complete the formalities with a "screeching in", all downing a healthy shot in one gulp to become honourary Newfoundlanders.

And on Monday, it was time for the goodbyes. The van was packed, bikes were loaded, hugs were shared, tears were shed, and Valerie and I waved as our friends disappeared down the winding lane on their trip back to Ohio.

Valerie and I spent one more night at Hipditch. We picked up a rental car, and made a tour of the Avalon Peninsula before heading off on a weeklong tour to explore the eastern part of the province. We had arranged to stay at two more restored cottages, the E. J. Sooley house at Heart's Delight on Trinity Bay, and the Thomas Mouland house in Bonavista. Both homes were furnished just as they would have been fifty years ago when they were occupied by local families.

Our neighbours in Heart's Delight were all related to the Sooley family, and had many tales to tell of their lives and the local history. Everywhere, we enjoyed the friendliness and inclusiveness of the Newfoundland people.

The Mouland House was built 100 years ago, and is of historical significance in the area: Mr. Mouland was a survivor of the 1914 sealing disaster, when 132 men were stranded on the ice and two-thirds of them perished in a blizzard.

We spent a wonderful week, exploring the outport villages, meeting locals and sampling the local cuisine (although I must admit that cod tongues seem to be an acquired taste!) We had to keep reminding ourselves that we were still in Canada - the scenery and culture could easily make you believe that you had strayed to the west coast of Ireland.

So, now we are back in Vancouver with our memories, our photographs and our blogs to remind us that this adventure really happened. I will try in the coming days to respond to all of you who sent so many messages of support during the trip.

This time in Newfoundland was a great way for us to celebrate our coming 38th Anniversary.

Love to all

Barney and Valerie

End Game

Goodbye, dear friends.

Screeching In

The Three Musketeers at Cape Spear

Cape Spear, St. John's: The last ride

Today, 75 km. Total, 3101 km

This is it. The end of the road. The last blog, and the hardest one to write.

We awoke on Friday Morning at Tom and Della's house. The bending trees and fluttering clotheslines in the neighbourhood told us that our old friend the tailwind was here to say goodbye. We loaded up the van, and Judy drove us back out along the Trans-Canada Highway to the point where we had stopped the day before. We unloaded at a highway overpass. Pete, Ryan, Bill and I were riding, and Judy followingin the van.

The wind was constant and about the strongest we have seen. As the road turned, the apparent wind direction would change, but the blast was mostly a cross-tailwind. Following Bill, I could see his whole bike and body leaning into the wind. As we passed embankments or open spaces, we would feel a lull or a renewed blast, both of which would threaten to pitch us off the narrow smooth shoulder into the rumble strip or the gravel berm, and occasionally a strong gust would require a swift reaction just to stay on the bike (later on, we met another cyclist who had been blown right off her bike). But did we fly! For long periods we were doing over 40km/hr, and the rolling hills of the freeway hardly slowed us at all.

Before we knew it, we were descending the steep hill to St. Johns Harbour.

Here's where things went a bit sideways! Somehow, we had lost contact with Judy in the van. We stopped at a traffic light, and Pete went off to look for her. The rest of us retired to a nearby bakery, leaving our bikes outside so that Pete would find us. Right at that time, my phone rang; it was Valerie, who had just arrived at the airport, so we gave her our location and she took a cab to meet us. It was wonderful to see her drive up after our 5 week's separation. After our welcoming hug, Valerie was greeted almost as warmly by Ryan, they had not seen each other since June in Penticton, where they had developed a special friendship.

We went back to the bakery to wait for Pete... and wait... and wait... Later on, we learned that Pete and Judy had come back, but somehow missed seeing our bikes, so they had gone out to Cape Spear by themselves and then headed back to Tom's house.

Eventually, we realized that we were not going to be able to link up. Tom called us and said that he was in the neighbourhood, so he came and met us, and we all decided to head out the 15km to Cape Spear to finish the ride. Tom would take Valerie (and her luggage) in his car.

A fantastic last segment. The road out to Cape Spear is a series of stiff climbs, but my bike seemed to have wings. I have never before experienced the sensation of running up grades that must be around 10% so effortlessly. An ego trip for sure, and my body seemed to be celebrating this final run through the beatiful rugged coastal road. I will never forget it.

Finally, we managed to make contact with Pete, and he drove out from Tom's house with the van to bring us back to town with our bikes.

Before Valerie left Vancouver, she had researched places to stay in St. John's, and had found Hipditch, a little fisherman's cottage right on Signal Hill, looking out over the harbour. Enough space for the whole crew, and time to reflect and celebrate our accomplishments.

And celebrate we did. St John's is a wonderful, vibrant city with a night-lif the like of which I have never seen anywhere. George Street is a city block in which every building is a pub, each with its own brand of live entertainment. Every night the street is closed to traffic, and is thronged with people of all ages, from teenagers to grandparents who are there for one purpose - enjoyment of life. What better place to finish our journey.

We settled on a recommended watering hole - O'Reilly's Irish pub - that just happened to be featuring one of Newfoundland's favourite modern Celtic bands, the Masterless Men, blasting out their own brand of Irish music. The place was packed, the shoulder to shoulder clientel overflowing onto the dance floor, swaying and singing along word for word with every song, parting as necessary to give space to the dancers.

End of ride.

The next three days, we all stayed at Hipditch, decompressing and enjoying each other's company. What an incredible experience this has been for all of us. Pete and Ryan have crossed the entire continent using their own muscle power, well over 10,000 kilometers. How can anyone understand the magnitude of that experience? My congratulations to both of you. And I am amazed at what my old bones have done, 1,100 km in British Columbia in June, and 3,100 km from Quebec City to Cape Spear. And not done the easy way, we chose the mountains of BC, the demanding climbs of Gaspe, detour through the Acadian Peninsula, the challenge of the Cape Breton Highlands and the trek across the centre of Newfoundland - and those are just the parts that I saw. For Pete and Ryan, add the ferocious climb across the Icefields, the lonely spaces of the prairies and the never-ending hills of the Canadian Shield. We can be forgiven for congratulating ourselves on accomplishing what few have attempted.

What incredible good fortune for me to have made that chance meeting with Pete and Ryan in Hope, BC three months ago. When Valerie and I saw these two bikers, dragging their trailers along the main street while I sat in a cafe fortifying myself for the climb up Allison Pass, little did I know what would be in store for me. In those few days that we rode together to the Okanagan, we forged a friendship between us all that I know will endure for the rest of our lives, and when I flew to Quebec to pick up their trail, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

You have changed my life, Dudes. Pete, with your determination, your ready wit, and your willingness to share your knowledge and experience. Ryan, with your up-beat attitude, your joy in discovering new experiences and your love of life. Thank you for making me part of your great adventure.

Good-bye, Pete, Ryan, Judy and Bill. This adventure is over, but it's not the end of the line. I know our paths will cross again.

And finally, thank you Valerie for your patience and support. Without your help, I don't know how this trip could have happened. You recognized the importance of this trip in my life, and you encouraged me in every step. You let me see the way to make it happen, and I know how hard it was for you to be left alone, especially during the emotional time supporting your dear friend through her own journey.

I hope that you have all enjoyed reading my journal as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As I look back through the pages, I can't believe the variety and richness of this experience, and I hope that I have been able to convey at least some of the wonder of it all. Thank you for your support, my dear family and friends.

My love to you all,

Barney

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