Some days, some moments in our lifetimes, are unforgettable. Often they are turning points, shifts in either our life circumstances or our attitudes. Sometimes they are due to unforeseen, unplanned, serendipitous or catastrophic events but often these memorable pinnacles have been planned, brooded over and then finally put into being by painstaking effort. Such was the case today.

I have wanted to bike across Canada since I was 22, ever since my brother, Kevin, and I cycled from Banff to Vancouver. The circumstances have to be right, of course. Most of my years were spent just working, trying to stay afloat, trying to save a bit of money, going to school, raising my son, (now, that was not work! That was a joy and my total pleasure), going back to school, working, working, working….  A huge turning point for me was when Charlie came into my life 13 years ago. We’re best friends, kindred spirits, as they say, my partner in every plan, my refuge when times get rough, my lover, my confidante. He’s a great support and my biggest cheerleader. He’s also super smart and while he often needs to be asked to please change his shirt, he’s practical, organized and visionary. So, when I meantioned that I wanted to do this, he took it on as his own ambition. We planned, schemed, dreamed about it. For years, we did. Then last fall we started to think very seriously about it, realizing that if you don’t take hold of your dreams and make the effort to make them realities, they will remain as they are, dreams, vapours. Charlie asked for an earlier release from work at the school he teaches at and I am grateful to my employer, Dr Curtis Rytz, for giving me a 3 1/2 month leave of absence from my position as a dental hygienist in his practice.

Nice weather, this final day of cycling across Canada. We were headed into St John’s after camping on the edge of someone’s property on Butter Pot Road, Holyrood. We got back on the TransCanada Highway as soon as we could, off the nonexistent shoulders and dastardly potholed pavement. Smooth riding on the main highways right into St John’s. We went right down to the harbour where there were ships moored.   Lots of hills! This city would  be a challenge to bike! As we had our lunch on a bench, who should walk by but that woman cyclist I’d met the day before. She, her husband, her brother and sister-in-law were exploring St Johns on foot. We were mutually delighted to see each other again as yesterday we had not even shared our names. She is Aline Berube from Rimouski, Quebec, and she did a solo bike ride across this vast country last year at the age of 69, “Seoul, comme une grande fille”.  I will email her and ask her for her blog site; she couldn’t remember it off hand. 

Charlie coached Kayla Kalischuk for soccer for 5 years and she and her parents, Kathi and Rocky, and two friends, Marissia from Calgary and Albane, from France were to meet us at the summit of Signal Hill, our final destination. Rocky, Kayla’s dad, is actually working here for a few years and the family visits back and forth between St John’s and Calgary every month or so.

We were a bit early so we stopped at Tim’s. Rebecca, our sister-in-in-law called. “Have we finished?” Willy, Charlie’s youngest brother called from work, “Were we done yet?” No, but soon. He went onto Googleview so he could see where we were headed.

We left Tims and almost immediately started to climb towards Signal Hill. There were switchback hills leading up to it. I was shaking a bit as I climbed, not only from the effort, but also because of emotional overload. It was very, very steep but there was absolutely no way I was going to put a foot on that pavement. I’d biked throught the Rockies, across the prairies, through never-ending and challenging Ontario, hospitable Quebec  and the mainland Martimes, pretty PEI and now on this final ascent in Newfoundland, I’d be damned if I’d walk my bike up any part of this last formidable hill. Charlie dropped back behind me, so that we could finish together. The shaking continued. Finally we were reaching our goal, completing our ultimate test. The last part inclined sharply but suddenly I had a renewal of energy and I jacked it up, as I reached the top, Charlie beside me! We did it. We crossed Canada, our vast and amazing country by bicycle on our 10th wedding anniversary year and Canada’s 150th!

Wow! Now what? Charlie and I laughed and embraced, our bikes motionless beside us.
A few people stopped and asked us where we’d come from. The guys that we’d met on the ferry were there and they came over and congratulated us.  But it was strangely quiet…..we were done….          Suddenly there was a loud congratulatory call and Kathi Kalischuk appeared with Rocky, Kayla and Kayla’s two friends. They gave us big hugs and started to take some pictures of us and of all of us together. Charlie wrote the number of kilometre we’d ridden on our (now former) cutting board and our motto, EFI, adopted from a CBC broadcast I’d heard about an 80 year old man who’d cycled from the most western point in Canada to the most eastern and also from the most northern part of Canada to the most southern. His motto was EFI. ” E” stood for “every” and “I” stood for “inch”. Insert your own favourite F word in the middle. While we were standing there, I saw two women approaching, flowers and champagne in hand. Janet March and Karen Hood, two friends of Jol’s, were there to meet and congratulate us! What a lovely way to finish!! We shared the bubbly, hugged and just enjoyed the moment. Thank you Karen and Janet and thank you Kathi, Rocky, Kayla, Marissia and Albane for being there for us! 

Sue, Charlie’s sister-in-law from his first marriage and Ken, his brother-in-law live  in St John’s and offered to host us while we are here. We rode to a famous restaurant in these parts, a place called Chess’s, which is famous for, you guessed it, fish and chips. Sue and Ken live within a few minutes walking distance. They joined us just after we’d eaten an appetizer of deep fried cod’s tongues. Yes, usually a principle I follow is not to put anything in my mouth that’s been in someone else’s, but well, since this is another Newfoundland thing, I tried them.  They were fine. I’d never have known they were tongues. When Sue and Ken arrived we all had fish and chips, my last meal of this sort for the rest of this holiday. I’m craving vegetables and fresh fruit, healthy foods. After dinner we walked up to the Templeton’s spacious, comfortable home. We talked for hours. Ken reminded me, that even though Charlie and I were together, I’d done every pedal stroke and had gotten across the country under my own steam.

Yes, “comme une grande fille” I did it by myself.  ………Really?……….  ?????

Of course not! I had tremendous help and support every step of the way!!!! There’s no way I did this all on my own! There are so many people, friends, family and total strangers who went out of their way to help us on this trip. I am grateful for everything they did and for every blessing and good wish sent our way.

God had his hand on us throughout the trip; of this I am sure. We were never sick, injured or in need of anything. Thank you Lord.

We are grateful that we were able to take time off from work. Thank you Dr Curtis Rytz. Thank you that I have a great job to go back to, as does Charlie.

Thank you Willy and Rebecca for your support during the coldest, soggiest part of the trip between Kenora and Thunder Bay. It was such a comfort to stay with you in your RV and eat everything Rebecca put in front of us.

Thank you home group for your encouragement and support. We look forward to seeing you soon.

Thank you to all our “Warm Showers” hosts. You took us in to your homes and treated us like welcome family members. You made our trip far more enjoyable and helped us so much. We appreciate all that you did to help us on this journey. Thanks to the host’s we never even had the opportunity to meet who still gave us shelter for the night in their homes.

Thanks to the friends we got to visit along the way: Traci and Rob, Sandra and John, Geri and Les. It was fun and we hope to see you again soon. Sorry  Carolynn and Ed that we changed our route and didn’t get to see you two.

Thank you to the family members who checked in with us regularly and who came out along the way to support us, feed us or shelter us: Jol, Maura, Rebecca, Willy, Pauline, Mark, Ian,  Kevin, Fraser and Christie, Chantal, Robyn, Dad and Jeannette. Thank you to Sue and Ken Templeton for giving us a great place to stay in St John’s, NFL and for giving us the grand tour. Thanks also to friends who kept in touch.

Thanks to the random people who did what they could when they could to help us out. Thanks for your words of encouragement. Thanks to Don who reminded me that I didn’t have to tackle the whole mountain at a time, only the few metres in front of me.

Thanks to the hotel managers and bike repair guys we met on our way.

Thanks to the truckers! You guys rock! Every trucker gave us as much room as he or she possibly could. Truely professional drivers.

And I am especially grateful for the constant companionship, unwavering support and love from Charlie. He did all the work finding us “Warm Showers” hosts and figuring out the best way to get from point to point. His enthusiasm, even when things were tough never waned. He was and is the best man ever!

I know there are many others to thank too. I have a heart of gratitude!

So, did I did I do this on my own? Ha! No way! I did it with you!

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.

Blueberry muffins with  cardomen. Interesting combination. I might have to try that at home. We said our goodbyes and thank-yous to Chantal and Aria and went on our way. Charlie had an appointment at a lab again and usually the earlier you get there, the shorter the line-up. The hospital was not far and when we got there, there was nobody in line up for blood work. He was in and out in about 15 minutes. We made and ate our breakfast outside, chatting with the people who came over. People are friendly. We’ve yet to find otherwise. 

Our next destination was a bike shop where Charlie had his brake pads changed and things tightened up after the accident yesterday. We wandered through the downtown. There were only a couple of places that drew our attention. At a craft/art store, Charlie saw work done by a former Mt A student. More mundane tasks; we biked to North Sydney near where we were to catch the ferry and got groceries. Our ferry ride was 16 hours and undoubtedly food would be expensive onboard.

The ferry was in a bit late, so our departure was delayed. I took the opportunity to call my dad to tell him where we were. Dad was in the Royal Canadien Navy so he knows what it’s like to be at sea. The motorcycles board first  and Charlie and I lined up behind them. We felt like “the big boys” and Charlie rolled up right in amongst them, silly boy.  The motorcycles all have to be secured to the floor using heavy hooked straps. We secured our bikes against the walls as well before we headed to our cabin. As we were facing 80 km riding hills  the next day, we splurged for a cabin and I’m glad we did!  There are 4  dressed bunk beds and a bathroom with a shower. Signs on the chairs in the lounge read ” No sleeping allowed” which would make for a long and uncomfortable night. We dropped off our things and headed down to  the 7th ( of 10!) floors. This was where the restaurants,  lounge, shops, etc., were. There is also a children’s play area , an arcade and access to the outside deck. We plunked ourselves down in the lounge beside Alan, a motorcyclist we’d met in the lineup to board.  Alan, aged 68, is an Australian. Last year he motored throughout Australia, this year he was taking 5 months to travel throughout North America. He was having a great time. Travelling solo, he said, was the best way to meet people. His wife lives in Victoria, Australia and they face-time daily and he has a gps tracker. Every day he pushes a button that lets Lynn know where he had lunch and then again at night, where he was sleeping. She can zoom in on that spot. Incredible. He told us of how he’d met her at age 21, she 19. They were both affected by wanderlust and went to Toronto, he from “Down Under”, Lynn from England, where they met. Some time after, Alan set off to the USA to motorcycle and on his return to Toronto, received a letter from Lynn saying that if he really wanted to see her again, she would be at Heathrow airport at such a date, and such a time. He said” Smartest thing I ever did was to show up.” They’ve been married 45 years and have a 44 year old daughter.

Luckily we had bought a whole chicken. We had plenty of food to share with our new friend. That, salad, buns and potato salad, (which he wouldn’t touch because he dislikes mayo).  We had a feast. There was entertainment in the lounge and I just had to get up and dance with another woman, she clad totally in white. Maybe she was “Mr Clean’s” partner.  The ferry rocks a bit and it’s tricky to keep a firm step but I danced anyway. It was close to 11 pm and we went outside before retiring to our cabin. It was brisk on deck and black on the horizon. There were lights around the ship and we watched the waves or wake created as the boat surged forward through the water. It’s huge, this thing. The bottom 3 or 4 floors are full of vehicles and there are more than 600 people on board. I shudder to think of what would happen in any kind of emergency. The panic, the congested hallways….. Don’t even go there Wend…….

Anyway, we are snug and comfy in our cabin and sure of a good nights sleep.

“Go ahead, if you’d like. It’s not a great shower but it’s a shower. You can go in and have one if you’d like.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. This from our camping host, Dale, of “Chippin’ Dales” famous fish and chips. We’d gotten up later than usual and were dressed and packing up our sleeping bags, tent and personal items. We showered, then hung out a bit as Dale lamented his current love life and showed us pictures of his daughter and son, his properties, and his graduation pictures from years ago. He asked us to stay another night and while we enjoyed his company, we really did have to go. But we didn’t have to go far. 

The sky was dark all day. We didn’t need rain gear but we hàd it at hand. Hills again ahead. Nothing too killer though. All-in-all, a pretty relaxed day.

Tim Hortons really is that iconic gathering place/coffee house and, once again, we spent some quality time alone together there. The day wore on and we stayed put, both of us content and focused on our electronics. An hour or so before we were expected by our “Warm Showers ” hosts, we reluctantly peeled ourselves off the plastic seats and headed to the grocery store. Once there we purchased food to make a salad and some things for lunch for the following day.

Sydney on Cape Breton Island does not appear to be a prosperous city. Buildings are generally old and in need of TLC, or more. Even the downtown area and boardwalks  where people disembark from cruise ships, itching to spend their money, are in shoddy shape. There’s not much to see and there’s nothing much that people would want to buy. Charlie and I discussed how unimpressed we’d be with a stop in Sydney if we were on a cruise. As we were headed to our hosts home, Charlie in front, me tailing about 6 metres behind, a guy opened his car door directly in front of Charlie. Charlie was knocked off balance, tried to recover and failed, landing on his back. His head, fortunately helmeted, cracked hard against the pavement and the bike fell on top of him. If the next car had been going faster it would have driven right over him, but thankfully it was moving slowly and was able to stop in time. Charlie was on his feet pretty quickly and I ran to help him, checking him out head to toe. He had a cut at the back of his right leg but otherwise seemed ok.   The guy who “doored” him said, “Sorry , my bad” before he disappeared into the adjacent smoke shop. I took pictures of his car and licence plate, then waited outside for him to come back out. No sign of him. I looked in the window. There he was , so I motioned for him to come out. He ignored me, so I motioned for him to come out again. Finally he did and I asked him why, after injuring someone he hadn’t stuck around to make sure that the person was alright. He avoided answering, instead calling me a dick head. Anyway, he drove off. Charlie felt fine but because sometimes injuries become more painful later he decided to call the police to make a report. Three emergency vehicles showed up, with a total of 7 people. The EMS checked Charlie out and he was, as we knew, fine. He declined a hospital visit and we went on our way. We just wanted it on record should a problem arise later in relation to this injury. The EMS and police were very kind and professional.

Chantal and Aria are celebrating 25 years together this year.  They’ve lived in Finland,  Aria’s homeland, Africa and in several different areas across Canada. Sydney, Cape Breton, has been home for them and their two children for 3 years now and they’re considering another move in the near future. They said they weren’t expecting us until the next day but that coming today was way better for them anyway. Phew! They made us feel very much at home, directing us to an attic bedroom, pointing out a shower and when we were both clean and shiny again, putting a beer in our hands. It was from a local brewery ( they are springing up everywhere! ) Anyway, this one was from “Spruce Tree Brewery” and it tasted just like a spruce tree. 😫 Aria made pasta carbonara while I made a salad. Their adopted son Felix, age about 9, was very enthusiastic about it, especially the bacon.  The family has a big ol’ dog named Murphy and 2 guinea pigs. I told Felix how the Inca people believe that the gods gave the people guinea pigs to them for food and that in Peru, guinea pigs are a food staple. Felix ran over to his guinea pigs and said ” You are NEVER going to Peru!” It was quite cute.

After a lovely dinner we enjoyed some conversation in the living room before heading to the attic.  I awoke several times during the night and heard the rain pounding outside. Thanks to Chantal and Aria, we were snug and comfy on the inside. Tomorrow we will ride to North Sydney and then take a 16 hour  ferry to Argentia, Newfoundland. We’ve been planning this for years and now it’s going to happen. So exciting!

“What time are you usually up”, Pat asked us the day before. “Around 6am”, replied Charlie. I could have given Charlie a kick under the table. But it’s true. We usually are up and getting ready around then.  These days are more leisurely as we have less than 100 km to do and 3 days to do them so we can putter a bit and certainly, we could sleep in for an extra hour. “Well, it’s a bit early for us but I’ll be up making you a hot breakfast. Gonna send you off right, with a hot breakfast in you.” Thre was no talking him out of it. We told him we didn’t really have to be up that early and we told him we had our own food. He said that he’d keep us on our usual schedule and there was no way we were going to leave without him cooking for us.

So 6am we were up. The smell of bacon and sausage wafted downstairs. Mmmm…    “How do you like your eggs? Poached? Yes, that would be great. “And raisin toast, Just help yerself.” Another example of the kindness of strangers. As we ate together, Pat talked,  his voice booming and  I wondered how Sharon could sleep through it. “Oh, she won’t be up until 10 or 11. She likes ‘er sleep.”   He’s so quick witted, he had us both laughing. He told us about the new bed Sharon insisted they buy. The whole head raises at the push of a button and he told us how he slides down the bed until his feet and legs stick out the bottom. Then he has to clamber back up, only to slide down again. He has a big personality. Very sentimental,  he was teary-eyed when he spoke of his deceased parents and friends, He believes that God put him on the earth to try to do good whenever he could.” Well, he and Sharon were sure good to us!  

We were off. There were hills to climb! Don’t let anyone ever tell you that Cape Breton is flat! Sometimes as I’m climbing I do a little assessment.

Feet…..how are you doing?        We’re fine, we’re fleet, reply my feet.                                  Calves, what about you?             Pumping, pumping, pumping…..                                            What about you thighs?             Optimized, say my thighs.                                                     Butt….what about you?               Uhh…I could do with a little more circulation but I’m ok.

Arms?                                             We’re holding tight.                                                                   Head?                                              I’m tired! How much further can this hill be? My water tastes weird. When are we gonna stop? I want a snack. I’m hot…….

Shut up head. You’re the weak link. Go back to counting or singing all those songs you don’t know.

Big Pond, Cape Breton is a tiny little town on Bras d’Or Lake (Biosphere Reserve UNESCO—largest saltwater lake in the world) where Rita McNeil spent time as she was growing up. She converted an old schoolhouse into her home and then eventually into “Rita’s Teahouse”. Unfortunately Rita died in 2014 from surgical complications but the teahouse, now operated by her son, is not only a nice place to stop for a break and an expensive pot of tea and/or other treats, but it is also a museum depicting her lifetime: from her birth in 1944 with a harelip and cleft palate, her youth where she was ostracized, her interest in and promotion of women’s rights in the 60’s and 70’s, the births of her two children, her love of Cape Breton and her rise to fame.  My mom and I saw Rita in concert in Calgary probably 17 or so years ago. Being here evoked feelings of nostalgia. Ahhh……. 

Back to the hills. The day was slipping on. We needed a place to stay where we could get food nearby. Oh, a vacant waterside lot….lets ask next door if we can pitch a tent there for the night. No? Oh, ok, thanks anyway. You suggest the sand bar? Ok, we’ll go check it out.    

The sand bar was windy. We and the tent would have been swept into the lake, I’m sure. The ground around it was either weedy or marshy. No thanks. We went on. 

Eventually we came to a corner. There was a gas station that sold baked goods, coffee, beer and everything else a person would need. On the other side was “Chippin’ Dales, famous fish and chips”. Dale, the owner, invited us to camp on his property which extended way back to the tip of the lake.   Fantastic! In the meantime we went for a swim a few kilometres away, again in crystal clear water under a bridge.  When we got back we bought a canned Caesar for me and beer for my man and had some pretty darn good fish and chips. Charlie had 2 orders of 3-piece fish meals and 1 piece from mine. Where does he put it? How fair is that?! We hung out with Dale a bit, then set up our tent. Another peaceful beautiful night.  

“Well, hello there. Good morning to you.” I opened my eyes to find this little fellow on the INSIDE of our tent!  “Out you go”. I gently picked his soft little body off the tent with a piece of tissue paper and put him back outside. Two months ago I would have been way more upset about it. Now I’m just glad he’s not something that bites.

Overcast skies and a brisk chill wind. A fine mist of rain with the looming prospect of a heavy downpour. The day ahead was looking more and more like the kind of day that should be spent curled up with a good book. We packed up our things from camping beside the manse. Even though the ground was a bit damp, as was the air about us, the tent was quite dry. Best to get it dismantled and packed away before the rain starts.

It was early and we hadn’t decided what we wanted to do for the day. We have less than 100 km to ride and 4 days to do them in before we catch the ferry to Newfoundland so we can afford to linger around a bit. Besides,there were festivals going on right here in St Peters for the Tall Ships and for something else, I can’t remember the name. We went to Tim Hortons to look over the map and explore our options.

A man at Tim’s came over to our table and asked about our trip. He said “You can’t leave without going down to the canal to see the Tall Ships. And there’s a swim too, you’ve gotta see that.”

We tentatively planned the next few days, then took the man’s advice and headed towards the canal. We planned on making and eating our breakfast down there and then checking out the watercraft. The weather remained overcast and Enviroment Canada confirmed our concerns. Rain was expected throughout the day, continuing into the night.

On our way we passed a sign that read,”St Peter’s Church. All are Welcome.” We usually go to church on Sundays at home. Let’s go to this one since it’s starting in 20 minutes and we’re already here anyway. We made and ate our breakfast on the stairs of the building beside the church and were ready to walk in at the top of the hour.

It was small but very welcoming. The music was good but secretly I’d been hoping that they’d sound more Rankin-ish. After the service we hung around a bit and talked with a few people. Charlie was talking with one couple, Pat and Sharon Sutherland, and they asked where we were going to stay tonight. We told them we had an offer from someone up the way, Claire Rankin to camp in his field if we chose to stay another night in St Peters. We still weren’t sure what we were going to do. Hotels/motels/B&B’s are all totally booked up these days by vacationers. Pat and Sharon told us they had a downstairs bedroom and that we’d be welcome to stay with them. Since we have some leisure time banked, we decided to do just that.”Come on up to the house” Pat said, “and you can get settled in.” 

We spent a good part of the late morning, early afternoon talking downing cups of tea, raisin bread and cheese, talking, but mostly laughing. Pat is so funny. He’s from Cape Breton and he’s known and loved in this community. He’s a fast talker and with his thick accent, I found myself having to process what he said, so I wouldn’t “get it” for several seconds after he’d spoken. Charlie, though, had tears streaming down his face from laughter.  He wrote down a lot of the quick things Pat said. Oh, and he loved to talk! They both do and we learned so much about their families and jobs and animals and, and, and….  But it was fun, and we couldn’t have had a better time. Pat had to leave to go to Halifax to pick up his niece, so mid-afternoon, as he left, he tossed the car keys to his second vehicle to Charlie and told us to take it out for a drive. Pretty amazing, we thought.  They have never met us before and not only have they opened their home to us, now they’ve leant us their car.  We asked Sharon if we could at least make dinner for them and while Pat would have to have leftovers much later, we 3 could have dinner together. She said that she’d enjoy someone else cooking for a  change.

The past few weeks almost every seaside town has been boasting about the Tall Ships. We’ve either gotten there too early or too late to see them, but today there were 4 in the harbour. We drove there, taking extra special care; if you’re going to have a fender-bender, it’s best to do so in your own car. There were lots of people there exploring the decks of these tall sailboats.   One, the “If and When” was built by General Paton who planned on sailing around the world with his wife if he made it through the war. Tragically he was killed in a car accident before he was able to realize that dream.  Many people were swimming the canal. There is a lock system mid-swim and they had to wait for the water level to even out before their swims could be completed.  We were recognized by the gent who we’d met at Tim’s.  When he saw us he started waving madly. We thought he was waving at someone else. Who knows us here?

We made dinner for Sharon and ourselves and had a very good time chatting. Pat’s sister came by for tea. She explained the “Chase the Ace” gambling game that we’re seeing every where in Cape Breton. Soon after Charlie and I excused ourselves and went downstairs to bed.

 It rained during the night. Hard too, apparently. We were oblivious to it, thanks to Pat and Sharon.

Watch! I think there’s a wasp’s nest somewhere around here.

Charlie was cleaning and oiling our bike chains and I was packing my bike outside of Dutchie’s house. The insects were swirling around, just two or three, then suddenly twenty, thirty and more of them. Charlie got stung on the wrist. We looked around and finally spotted an enormous paper globe under the deck.   Good thing we did too because this deck is one that the local kids like to hang around as it’s the deck leading up to the store. Most of Linda and Dutchie’s sales are low-cost cigarettes (supposedly for the First Nations people) but they also sell the usual nutritious stuff like chips, ice cream bars, pop and little brown mystery bags of candy. I bought one. It was jammed full with gummy, sugary treats. I don’t eat things like that often and Charlie, never, but I confess; I really like Maynards sour wine gums. If I buy them I’m liable to make my jaw sore from eating them, one after the next, until they’re gone. So I don’t buy them……often. Another reason it was good we’d discovered the nest was because Dutchie planned on staining the deck this weekend. Maybe that won’t happen….

Charlie and our host had gone to meet Maura and Jol at a nearby intersection to retrieve our panniers. Once again we were fully loaded but we had everything again. We have very little as it is but really, we have what we need.

Today we were headed to Cape Breton Island.  I sang small parts of Rankin Family songs to myself all day. I can’t remember whole songs, only bits of them, and those parts reverberated in my head over and over and over again.  
Interestingly, we are hearing a lot of country and western music in this region. We passed a home with a sigh that read:  “Little Nashville” and stopped to take a picture. An older man came out the front door and we chatted for a while. He plays guitar and spoke of the big parties they used to host. “Oh yeah, there are some good singers around these parts”.  

When we got to the sign welcoming us to Cape Breton, we were held back by the rotation of the bridge.  As we waited, who should appear but Craig, the English guy we’d met on the ferry.  He was still in touch with the two young guys, Chris and Matthew who kept inviting him to “wild camp “with them. Age, I think changes us a bit. He, like I, prefers camping at a campground where there are showers, laundry facilities and other people. He also enjoys going out to dinner at a nice pub. I’m in agreement with that too.

Our situation tonight ticked off half of those criterium. We did go to a pub for a pint and fish and chips.  

We had a good wash at the sink in the restaurant and now, since the campground is full, we’ve pitched our tent at the manse, in the shadow of the old Catholic church. We went to ask directions from the house beside the church and were invited to pitch our tent on the lawn.
Now I just have to hope I won’t have to pee in the night. But I know myself. I will….. So I’ll just try not to pee on their flowers.

I don’t like old houses. I don’t like how the basements smell, how the windows don’t quite fit, how drafty and miserable they can be in the cold weather. I don’t like stained ceilings from leaky roofs, or slow, temperamental plumbing. And I don’t like choppy little rooms.

Ian Cameron’s house in Meadowville, Pictou County might be the exception. The outside, as most of these older homes do, could use a new paint job; a monumental and expensive proposition.   The inside, though, has been updated somewhat without jarring the ambience. The woodwork is extraordinary. Beautiful, natural, albeit unstained, unpolished wood floors layed in rectangular log cabin patterns here, and longitudinally there. Solid, carved wooden staircases and railings. It’s a lovely, classic old house. 

Ian lived there with his parents until they died not many years ago. Alex, Ian’s brother told us that when Ian was in his mid-twenties, living and working way up north as a researcher, he was in an aeroplane accident that claimed the life of the pilot and changed Ian’s life forever. He suffered but a few scratches on his body but had a serious head injury and lost most of his vision and hearing. Still, he did well, farming Island cattle and he’s a handy man. We were very blessed to enjoy his hospitality in his home and we slept very well in an old wooden bed upstairs.  

After our usual breakfast we thanked Ian and Alex picked us to take us back to the roundabout. EFI, no cheating allowed! Away we went, our bikes lighter as Maura had taken our excess gear. She and Jol were going to Cape Breton on Saturday and we would meet up and collect it all then. In the meantime, our bikes were lighter and we were free!

“Wind”, I said under my breath between gasps, “We checked the weather network and you’re supposed to be with us today”. “I”, gusted the wind about me, “I, will blow where I want and rustle or ravage as I please.” Well, there’s no arguing with that, so we knuckled in and drove into its force. That, coupled with the hills, which rose and fell like Christmas ribbon candy, made for a challenging morning. Eventually though,  the wind came around and gently ousted behind us.

We stopped for lunch under a bridge in Pomquet. There was a clear, cool, inviting river and we just had to go for a swim. Easy for Charlie. He jumped in wearing his underwear. A little more complicated for me.  Look left, look right. Whump, down go the biking shorts.Whip, up goes the bathing suit. Inch it up, up. Quick, quick, unclip. Toss that T-shirt, fling that bra! Ah, there! Done and no one witnessed it. I’m a quick change artist. And really, if someone did catch a glimpse, it’s okay; they’ll recover, lol. 

Jack de Wilde has an interesting story. As a young man in Holland, he was interested in the culture of Native North American people. He met a First Nations woman from South Dakota and moved there to join her on her Reservation. He spent several years there and one time during a Sun Dance he was called upon to replace one of the dancers. According to tradition, if/when that happens, the substitute dancer is “adopted” into the family.  The First Nations dancer was from Afton, Nova Scotia. Eventually Jack moved to Afton and lived with his adoptive family in their crowded home.  Linda (who we were not fortunate enough to meet as she was away) lived not far where she had lots of space. He left the family to live with her and now they’ve been married 25 years. Their grown son, another Charlie, lives in Bedford, Nova Scotia and currently works in construction. He started at university but is more suited to “hands on” work. His parents hope he’ll return to school to learn a trade and get his certificate.

Jack, or “Dutchie” as he is known locally,  kindly hosted us through “Warm Showers”.  He is an enthusiastic cyclist as well and is soon leaving to cycle Newfoundland with 3 other guys. He makes an awesome lasagna, by the way, if you’re ever out his way! 

The TransCanada Trail on PEI is a great and wonderful trail, if you are prepared to take a long time to get to where you’re going. It is wide, nicely cleared, quite flat as it winds between the hills and was originally graded for trains and it’s covered in reddish gravel, that is perhaps just a little too thick to roll through at any decent speed.  That’s what we took out of Charlottetown, after our trip to the hospital for Charlie’s blood tests. We had said our goodbyes early to Mark and Suzane, leaving without eating.  It was my job to assemble our breakfasts together while Charlie waited in line  for his turn at the lab. When he was done, we ate, rinsed our bowls and were on our way!

It was slow going on this beautiful morning. We had lots of time and the air was warm, fresh and ocean-infused, the scenery, pretty but similar all along; many wildflowers and thick green foliage.  We pushed our way through that gravel. Because it winds between the hills , it’s the longer way to take, Occasionally it criss-crossed the highway and reaching such am intersection, we decided to take that for a while.   Immediately we faced an imposing hill. We climbed it and then, there was another hill. That was the choice. Slow going gravel or hill after hill. We stuck with the hills for an hour or so, then went back to try the gravel again. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. The time was being eaten up and it wasn’t long before we had to go back to the hills. We had to be at the ferry and ready to board by 3:30.

We got there in plenty of time. We made our lunch and as we were waiting another cross Canada cyclist pulled up. Originally from England, Craig  now resides in Vancouver where he’d started off his trip on June 9th. Then two young guys pulled in, laughing and chattering. They were from Toronto and having a whale of a time. Matthew was enjoying his summer before returning to university in the fall. He’s taking business at a small religious university in Hamilton, Ontario , and he applauds the class sizes, saying that it gives him the opportunity to know the other students and the professors better and that it’s an atmosphere conducive to learning. The other, Chris,  had just finished his first summer of tree planting and he described it as” The worst experience I’ve ever had. It was  terrible. We were hot,  the bugs were awful and we were covered in bites and scabs. I don’t know if I’d ever do it again………and yet, it was the most amazing, the most incredible, summer I’ve ever had.”  

The ferry from PEI to Caribou, Nova Scotia takes about 75 minutes. We were inside for most of it, Charlie plugged into his Amazon Fire, blogging, me attempting to read, failing and nodding off. Just before we landed on the Nova Scotia shores I went outside and let the wind whip the drowsiness out of me. We debarked, said goodbye to our other “tribe members” and headed to the rotary, or roundabout in Pictou county. Mark, one of Charlie’s brothers, (3rd brother), and Pauline, his wife met us there and drove us to Ian Cameron’s home. 

It was great to have some time with these elusive Hunters. For many years Mark and Pauline lived in Japan, then in Madagascar. Now, retired and young enough to really enjoy it, they split their time between Georgia, and Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. Their daughter, Abbey, a redhead who inherited her flaming locks from both parents, is fluent in Japanese and is working as an OT in Halifax. 

We arrived at Ian Cameron’s home minutes before the arrival of more Hunter/Cameron clan. Maura, our sister-in-law, married to Jol, drove up with two of her adult kids, Emily and Matthew. Then, walking from across the field, Maura and Ian’s brother, Alex and his wife, Cheryl arrived. They and their 4 kids had just gotten back from a camping trip. Maura and Pauline had prepared a lot of food; fresh home-made, hamburger buns, hamburger patties, potato salad, broccoli salad, bean salad, and apple crumble. Everyone is always so glad to see Charlie as he so seldom gets out this way these days. Every time there’s a get-together it’s a celebration!   

It was a very nice evening.

Veronica and Adam are up extra early every morning. They have to get themselves ready before awakening their year old twins. They were up! We heard the occasional loud squawk and the thumping of tiny feet but no crying, no real fuss. Quickly, we stripped the bed, dressed, packed, and carried our bags upstairs. We wanted to leave as soon as possible and cause no interruption to their routine. We expressed our gratitude and rode off. But I do have to say, whether it’s nature or nurture, those kids are incredibly well behaved!

What a morning! There was no need for a sweater right from the get-go, although it was fresh when we were riding. The morning was curtained with fog and we could only see 3 or 4 car lengths ahead of us. The sun was trying to pierce through the mist and was covered in a heavy haze. It would soon burn off but it leant a mysterious appeal to the fields about us. I risked losing Charlie to take a few pictures.  

Breakfast was assembled and eaten down at the waterfront. A maintenance man stopped to chat. He had noticed us the evening before at the Chinese Buffet, Now he was excited to run into us again. He talked about his wife, his  kids, (2 and 1 on the way), his work, the townhouse he rents and how he manages to make his money stretch working only seasonally.  Many people really struggle to get by. We recognize that and respect them for their efforts, and at the same time are appreciative of how fortunate, how blessed we are.

It was still early and none of the shops in downtown Charlottetown were open. I wanted to wander a bit today; just look in all the little shops, see what they had.

We headed to Tim’s, located a little more centrally. I had my coffee, Charlie some OJ and we blogged. A man and his grandson stopped by and the elder told us about his cross Canada biking trip two years ago. He also reported that he’d benefited from a great number of astounding and unexpected acts of kindness and generosity , he agreed that truck drivers are the best, and that Ontario  was not a great place to ride a bike. We seem to be like magnets these days; anyone who has ever been on or thought of taking a bike trip comes over to tell us about their journeys. That also includes people that have had other adventures, like hiking the West Coast Trail or something similar. I love to meet them and hear their stories. Dave, “The Wandering Canuck. com” who we met in Manitoba and who is walking across Canada calls all these people “my tribe”. I know how he feels now.

We left Tim’s fully fuelled and ambled  down the street. Finally I asked Charlie if he could go find something to do. I wanted to look around the shops unhindered. We made arrangements to meet 3 hours later.

Freedom! I was in and out of little places as I pleased. I ate a Cows ice  cream cone, and  took pictures. It was fun but I ended up going to the wharf and finding Charlie early. We rode around a bit, then went to the very busy “Chip Shack”. We’d heard that they made the best French fries and lobster rolls in town. It’s just a tiny little place on the water’s edge with a long, long lineup.   We ordered a lobster roll with chips to split. I’m a little leery of lobster. I’ve had it before but I wasn’t  sure just how much I like it. I like it sorta, kinda, I think.  But given the choice between lobster and Alberta beef,  the beef wins hoofs down, every time.

Suzane and Mark were ready for us when we showed up at their home around 5:30, armed with a bottle of Argentinian Wine from A valley in Salta, a north western province of Argentina. We had actually been to this valley! That’s why I picked this wine. It had nothing to do with its colour or clarity, whether it’s “nose” was fruity or oakey or even if it was good! I didn’t know. But I knew we’d been to where it was born!

Yesterday after  Mark and Suzane had invited us to stay, Charlie said “We’re going to have fun with them!” And we sure did!   They were animated conversationalists, with lots of stories to tell, often interrupting each other and bickering in that fun way some people who have known each other for a long time do. Not in a derogatory manner, but in a kidding, lighthearted way. They met in grade 9 when he had to repeat the grade. She sat behind him and remembers how he used to toss his hair. She’d have nothing to do with him, despite his repeated attempts to capture her attention.  Suzane had a part time job and was always happy to see a particular man. He became her favourite customer. One night she went to a party at Mark’s house, just as a friend, just as a friend, and who should open the door but her favourite customer, Mark’s dad. Now she says she only married Mark because of his dad! We had dinner, drank the wine and talked like old friends. They have 4 kids all grown up and living independently, are semi-retired, exchanging their old jobs, (she as a day care provider, he as an engineer) for new responsibilities, renting out 2 Vancouver  and 1 Charlottetown homes with AirB&B. Hopefully we will get to host them when they next travel through Calgary. I want to hear more stories!