8/20-8/21 We did PEI

8/20/15

A mad dash to Pictou to catch the Prince Edward Island Ferry within minutes of its departure, started our day. Engulfed by numerous bus tourists, Jules and I sat on the deck outside and tried to find shade from this continuing heat wave. The ferry was so packed that I wondered where all the people would fit on the island.

Riding off, we headed straight for " Information" to check for motels. Our original plan to ride the west corner of the island was ditched because of a week-long airshow in Summerside that had all the rooms booked, so we headed to East Point. How fortunate for us, because our new route took us through agricultural PEI.  Potatoes are big business and we rode past miles of perfectly groomed fields, many in blossom, that were farmed right up to the edge of the sea.  The deep red dirt of PEI contrasted with the healthy green plants. Mussels are not the only economy here.

And we also saw mussels. Seeded beds of "mussel socks" lined the highway in low tidal areas. Identified by rows of small white buoys, the beds stretched out into the gulf. 

Riding was relatively carefree here. No moose or deer reside on this island and the only road hazards were potholes and other drivers. Singing Sands was our end game for the day as we closed out with the required bowl of mussels. After all, that's why we came.

8/21/15

Fog paved the way for our early morning ride to the East Point. The many working lighthouses we have seen on this trip define the dangers to boats and sailors along the coast. It has been estimated that between fifteen and twenty thousand ships have crashed along the shores of Eastern Canada. Without the ever present signal lights, one can only imagine the losses. 

Having reached the furthest point east, we had no choice but to head north and then west around the top of the island. Another day of excitement for Jules unfolded as huge equipment accomplished some serious farming. With no irrigation, potatoes, grain and other crops flourished in weedless fields. We saw first hand how PEI lives up to its nicknames, The Garden Province, The Million Acre Farm and Spud Island. Because of its location between the strait and the gulf, the growing season is longer and milder than most of the Maritimes.

Heading toward Charlottetown, the traffic and the sky became heavy. Storms had been forecast for the evening and we were hoping to beat them off the island. Outside of Summerside, we stopped for our picnic and were thrilled with a free view of the airshow! Fighter jets flew over our heads in perfect formation, roaring straight to the clouds, then silently falling off in stalls and as we sat alone under our shady tree, we felt like they were putting on the show, just for us. But the sky was loading up with dark clouds as well as entertainment, so we stood up the bike and headed west.

The eight mile Confederation bridge was built in 1997 to connect PEI to the mainland and we hoped to cross it today. But, at our first view, three distinct, angry storms touched down across the span. While debating wether to cross or wait out the storms, a motel with vacancy miraculously appeared. Done deal! 

Tomorrow we will cross to New Brunswick and wind our way through the moose to head back to the US. Canada has been a great friend to us in our travels.  We will miss the amazing exchange rate for the US dollar that has gone from 20 to 30% while we were here, but far above that, we will miss the scenery and the residents.

Newfoundland tops the list in happy and kind people. Always willing to have a chat (although many times we couldn't wade through the accents), the Newfies enhanced our visit with the love of their rock. In Nova Scotia and PEI we also felt very welcome, but in populated areas, the pace was faster. Always helpful and always smiling, the folks of the Maritimes added so much to our experience here. Add the stunning rides along rocky coasts up into tightly knit forests and our Canadian adventure becomes priceless. 

A ferry good ride

In the hold

A ferry good man

Prince Edward Island

First stop!

Picnic by the ferry

Ahoy

Waiting for my captain

And then there was this farm

This is why we came

Sunset on the island

Foggy morning at East Point

Mussel Flats and the village beyond

Air show!

Mussel socks

Farming to the sea

 

8/19/15 Birthday Ride

Eagles, loons and seagulls were the alarm today as we crawled out from the covers and into a glorious morning.

Lingering in our "View with a Room", we watched the owner of the motel try in vain to lure in the resident eagle with a mackerel. Last evening, that magnificent bird had strafed across the lake, putting on a show for us. Today, the seagulls were the only ones that showed interest in the fish.

The Englishtown Ferry gave us an unusual ride across St. Ann's Harbour via cable. A short wait and a shorter ride got us on our feet for a few minutes. Intrigued by a ferry run by cable, we enjoyed our time on board checking out the technology.

Legs over the bike, we put the tape in reverse and backtracked the Cabot Trail. As thrilling as this road was when we entered Cape Breton, our ride today outdid the last. Instead of ominous clouds, we had clear sailing and an open road. Riding over French, McKenzie and North Mountains, Rascal and her riders flew out over ocean cliffs, then up into deep forest. At intervals along this highway we noticed emergency cabins. It was reassuring to know that if a blizzard stranded us, there would be shelter, complete with firewood and beds. At 85 degrees, it didn't seem to be an issue.

From Gaelic to French then back to Gaelic, the road signs, the flags and the population changed. Fisherman all, they speak the common language of the sea. The Cape Breton National Highlands Park rules the coast, but small towns fade in and out of its boundaries, and these define the life here.  Fishing villages, strewn with buoys, traps and old scows huddle between the edges of the park, making abrupt changes to the scenery and offering the few chances there are to gas up.

Ending the day in Port Hastings, the bottom of the island, we ate dinner watching a cloud in the shape of a dragon breathe the fire of the sunset over the calm waters of the Strait of Canso. My guide and my ride had teamed up and worked with all their hearts to give me a birthday filled with thrills and beauty. No bows or wrapping paper, only love enfolded the gift of this day and for that I am eternally grateful.

St. Ann's wake up

Looking for the eagle, mackerel in hands

Our cable ferry 

Fishing boats, fishing boats!

The beauty of the Cabot Trail

Another milestone!

 

8/16 8/17 8/18 About Face

A heavenly view of St. Anne's  Harbor woke me on my birthday , and as I watched the gulls cross the sunrise, the whirlwind of our last few days on The Rock is finally subsiding.

8/16/15

Reluctantly turning our backs to the North Atlantic, we headed west on Sunday. There were roads yet to be ridden and we decided to try a few more. Our first venture was a ride around the Penninsula that juts into the Labrador Sea. Conception and Trinity Bays treated us to yet another stunning aspect of Newfoundland. Dotted by small towns with names Hearts Desire, Hearts Content and Dildo, we smiled our way through the morning. 

Back on to Route 1 , we made fast tracks across the island. Again, this "highway" gave us a changing panorama of lakes and mountains at every turn. Having done this section in the rain coming into St. John's, it was a much better  experience for us this time as we rode into the sun.

Our destination for the night, Gander, was coming up too quickly, so late in the afternoon, we decided to make one more detour along the Kittiwake Coast, named the Road to the Shore. Rumbling along a bumpy, pock marked road, we soaked in our final views of coastline for the day. From Gambo to Gander the long way, we added another 150 miles to our ride and it was worth every jolt.

Over wine at dinner, we counted the days left for us on this trip and contemplated Labrador. In denial about leaving Newfoundland, we concocted impossible plans and routes. At least the daydream was fun!

8/17/15

Sober over breakfast, we ditched our Labrodor plan and booked the ferry to Nova Scotia. Packed and ready for a six hour ride on the TCH, we roared out into full sunlight. Another day in this Newfoundland heat wave greeted us. No detours today, only a brief lunch stop where we scrambled for shade. 

For 100 miles, from Stephanville to Port Aux Basques, no towns or villages bordered the road. The rugged green mountains that enchanted us a week ago performed their magic all over again. Twisting down into our final destination on Newfoundland, we realized that we could never tire of the endless changing beauty of this island.

8/18/15

Back on the ferry! The bikes were loaded first, so we rode on with a group of adventurers from North Carolina. They had ridden to Labrador. Once there, they had a 60 mile ride until the road turned to dirt and then a return. The appeal wore off with this story. We had made the right decision and Rascal was now strapped in for our return to Nova Scotia. A dark and dirty cocktail completed my immersion in Newfoundland, giving me my first taste of Screech, the rum of the island. 

A much different voyage than our rough trip over, the strait was perfectly calm and record temperatures allowed us to bask in the sun on the observation deck. Gaining a half hour (only one of two places in the world were the time zone is split ), we rode the sunset into North Sydney. After a flawless ride and departure, we throttled onto the twilight highway toward our reverse trip on the Cabot Trail. 

We celebrated my birthday eve with lobster and wine at the tip of St. Ann's Harbour, nesting for the night in a "View with a Room" as our motel touts, and they are spot on!

We are going home, but we are not done! Our glass is half full and we intend to drink it to the dregs as we find new ways to enrich this trek into the north.

Conception Bay

Road to the Shore

So many lakes

... And mountains

Riding in to Port aux Basques

Our ride for the day

It was windy!

North Sydney at landing

Unstrapping  the bikes in the hold

Riding into the sunset

A view with a room

Birthday lobster!

8/15/15 We did Ireland

The overwhelming smell of spruce, the tundra, the fog, and the thwarted hope to see some caribou outlined our trip around the Irish Loop of Newfoundland. 

We rode out golden with a clear sky as our guide. Our intended route for the day was the Irish Loop, a road that travels around the southeastern Penninsula in the Avalon region - and I felt like we were in the Avalon of ancient myth. As we entered the first leg of the loop into deep forests of spruce, the deliciously pungent smell of these evergreens gave credence to their botanical name- picea pungens. We filled our lungs with their wild aroma and soared into the day.

Passing through villages with names of Bay Bulls and Witless Bay, the road wound us along the distorted coastline, dotted with small houses and fishing boats. Legions of gulls worked the edge of the ocean, fishing to live, just like the human residents.

Gradually forests diminished and a rolling tundra ruled the landscape. As we neared the coast, fog draped the sky in the distance. Then we were immersed in a deep and thick mist as the temperature plummeted 15 degrees. Herds of caribou inhabit this area, but none came out to play today. When we stopped in Trepassy, at the bottom of the loop, for lunch, we whined to our waitress that we hadn't seen any caribou. She said we should be glad because the herds are huge and they often stand in the road and cannot be moved. That would have prolonged our day a bit!

After a lunch with a view, we started on the back of the loop. Jules sniffed out a haunting deserted inlet,  bulkheaded and jettied for the few boats docked there. Fogged in and alone, we explored the crumbling docks while listening to the sea pound against the walls. The fog was so clean that we drank it in huge gulps, savoring its purity. Revived, we rumbled up the stony incline to continue our ride.

As we climbed up the edge of yet another inlet, houses perched dangerously close to the bumpy road and the cliffs, just as likely to tumble down the hill as us. Living on angles must be very difficult, but I'm sure the view more than compensates. Cruising back to St.John's, we were joined by the continued warmth of the sun. Newfoundland is having a heat wave, and we are so lucky to be surfing it.

Mother Nature gave us CPR today and renewed our bodies and spirits. The rush from soaring into the perfume of the spruce, mixed with the deep cleansing of a dive down into the fog, detoxed us from any lingering baggage we brought with us onto the island. We have been made whole again by Newfoundland.

The Shores of Avalon

Lonely

Fog waits to pounce

It was closed

Fog on the coast

The haunted bulkhead

Can you see me now?

Bridges of Avalon

Afternoon break