August 10, Day 80, NFL ferry in Argentia to Holyrood, Newfoundland. 92km

Cool!

Oh, I don’t just mean that this experience is cool. I meant that it felt cool when we finally got off the ferry. Chilly! I added another layer of clothing before we headed off. Our fellow ferry-mates tooted and waved as we rolled away, in their same direction but much, much slower. 

Welcome to Newfoundland and Labrador! That was a photo-worthy sign. We are both a bit in awe, a little stunned that this is it! This is our dream (almost) realized!  

The morning was very misty but the weather report said it was going to be nice with a high of 20 degrees. Can’t ask for better than that. Perfect cycling weather! Through the mist I could see a gigantic hill with the last cars from the ferry winding their way up effortlessly. We applied ourselves and worked our way up. It was slow but sure. We’ve got this! 

Around the bend were a group of young girls selling hot dogs, chips, pop and Gatorade for fundraising donations to help one of them , Kaitlin, go to Ontario to play interprovincial fast-ball.  They lined up for Charlie to photo. Kaitlin, Madison, Emma, and Madison. Must have been a shortage of names that year……

” …tout seul, comme une grande fille!” (Translates to “…by myself, like a big girl!”) A group of 4 people in their late, late 60’s or early 70’s were standing outside the information centre at Placentia. Charlie rolled in and went inside, and I arrived about a minute later. One of the women came over to me and, in French, asked me about our-ride. Proudly I told her how we’d started May 22nd, and blah, blah, blah…. She nodded and smiled, then told me she’d done the same trip last year, by herself, ” like a big girl!” Oh no! Does that mean I have to do it all over again alone to be a big girl? We congratulated each other! Age is no barrier! Way to go awesome woman from Rimouski, Quebec!

We met another cyclist too; a tall, blonde, blue-eyed, muscular, tanned…..oh, I couldn’t describe him. I barely noticed him, as you can tell. He was from Belgium and had been cycling for so long he was on his second Brooks saddle. He was going to the ferry to get to Nova Scotia. We stopped to chat for a while. Alan,the Aussie from last night passed us too. He stopped and asked us where we were headed tonight and told us he’d meet us there. He says he loves travelling on his own, but I know, it can get lonely too. 

The roads were great! Nice wide smooth shoulders. Lots of hills but for some reason I felt like I was cruising up them; like there’s some kind of magnetic pull drawing me up and towards our final destination, or like the world is on a bit of a tilt and I’m just charging along the highway. It was work and it was hard, both of us were sweaty, but it felt good, right, enjoyable. Doable. We rode along the highway until exit 35 and took that into Holyrood. Abruptly the pavement became knarly, and the shoulders disappeared. At one downhill part I dismounted and walked my bike, it was so bad. The girl at the info site who had suggested this highway had said the traffic would be light. I don’t think she’s been this way recently. 

As promised, Alan was there on his motorcycle waiting for us. We discussed our days. His had been frustrating and confusing. He’d gotten lost despite his GPS and he found St Johns to be wild with activity. He’s not a fan of cities. We wished him well and parted ways. 

Holyrood boasts a few places to eat and judging by the number of cars outside The Station House, that was the one to go to.  They have a large deck overlooking Conception Bay, the seats of which were all full. That’s fine; we are outside most of the time anyway. We sat inside and ordered Iceberg Beer from a local brewery. It’s a good one. Light, crisp and pure. Then we ordered dinner. I had 2 fish tacos with fries, Newfoundland style, which means that they put turkey dressing or stuffing on top, then cover them with gravy.  It tastes good but you can feel your arteries harden with every bite. Oh well, a one time Newfoundland thing, right?! Charlie had, yet again, a3 piece fish and chips, his fries also done Newfie style. 

Mary Walsh frequents the Station House a few times a week. They know her by name there. I recognized her right away, but wasn’t absolutely sure. She was standing a couple of feet from our table and I said, ” Your face seems familiar to me…?” (I know….it was a dumb thing to say.”) She replied, “How would I know what’s familiar to you.” Touché 

We are camping at the edge of an old tennis court on someone’s property. We asked permission of the owner and she said yes, she’d be happy to let us camp there. Well, I sure hope she’s  still happy in the morning. I just made an emergency exit from the tent. I lost those fish tacos  and Newfie chips and iceberg beer on the side of her property about 4 feet from the tent. It was as far as I could get.

I feel a lot better now.