The Great Canadian Cycling
Adventure
Across
Canada by Bicycle in the Tour du Canada 2000
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The
Rock: North Sydney NS to St. John's NF
Day
65: North Sydney, NS to Argentia, NF
September
1, 2000
"We
cannot discover new oceans unless we have the courage to lose sight of the
shore." anon
It's
10:20 a.m. Newfoundland time, I'm sitting on the ferry Joseph and Clara
Smallwood, we're an hour out of North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and the ship has just
started to roll noticeably in the larger swells of the Atlantic Ocean.
We're on our way to Newfoundland for our last day's ride of this summer's
odyssey.
The
day started very early this morning, with the chimes of alarms and the clink
clink of tent poles coming down shortly after 5:00 a.m.
Last night the wind blew hard out of the west for most of the night, and
the stars were almost bright enough to see by.
By 5:00 a.m., with sunrise still nearly two and a half hours away, the
wind has shifted to a next-to-nothing south breeze, the sky was overcast, and
there was just a trace hint of drizzle in the air.
Nevertheless, we got to pack up our gear almost dry.
Our
gear packed into the "to Argentia" pile and the "for the
ferry" pile, Jules, Jon, Dave and I left for the ferry at about 5:50 a.m.
We were preceeded by a few, and followed in quick succession with other
small groups of riders as we quickly deserted camp for the very short trip
across town to the ferry docks.
A
quick stop at Tim's to pick up coffee, and we arrive at the ferry docks to join
others in a tailgate continental breakfast out of the back of Bud's TDC truck.
Several bikes go on the rack on top of Bud's truck, and the rest of us
ride our bikes onto the ferry. This
is a distinctly different operation than that on the ferry from Manitoulin.
The ship is much larger, and the outfitting clearly designed for bigger
seas. There are provisions for
chaining down all the vehicles, and there are tugmotors for hauling transport
trailers on and off the truck deck. There
are two full vehicle decks. The
ship can carry 370 cars, 77 transport trailers and 1,200 passengers.
It's driven by four
thrumming big diesels at a max speed of 22 knots (40 km/hr -- about what we spin
on the flats when working really hard without a tailwind).
The
ferry left North Sydney on time at 8:00 a.m. Atlantic time (8:30 a.m.
Newfoundland time). As we backed
out of the loading dock, the bow doors dropped closed and the ship gently moved
back, diesels causing the entire ship to thrum in harmony with their power.
A number of us go out up top on deck to watch us depart.
Once backed out a few hundred metres, with the bow thruster working hard
to assist, engines go ahead and our wake starts and then grows in length as we
move out into the harbour lanes.
Before
long we're clearing the harbour entrance, then the headlands, and we start to
see the misty coastline of northern Nova Scotia stretch out on both sides.
To the east, we can see the shaftheads of the Sydney and Glace Bay
coalmines -- sites of economic prosperity and disaster in the past.
To the west, the huge bluffs of the Cape Breton highlands off toward Cape
Smokey rise out of the sea. One
rider in the 74 day group described some of the 5 and 6 km-long hills with
grades so steep they had to stop for rests three and four times on the way up. That would be some challenge!
It's
now 10:45 a.m. Nfld time, and I'm writing this journal entry sitting in the
lounge area. The ferry is lightly
loaded today and we've got lots of room to spread out -- and we do.
We've got another 12 hours to while away.
Some are sleeping, some are reading, some are watching movies, some are
wandering the ship. I'm going to
finish up this journal, calling it "done" for today, catch up on some
postcard writing, and then just read, snooze and eat in various permutations and
combinations.
It's
now later in the day -- 9:00 p.m. Nfld time.
Most of us are a little stir crazy after all these hours. We've all eaten
lots -- too much probably, seen too many bad movies, looked over the railing at
the sea for hours, eaten, read, eaten, snoozed, eaten, and so on.
The ship is running on three out of four engines; one was shut down
because the clutch was acting up. The
stabilizers were also deployed around noon when the seas got to be about three
metres and the ship started rolling. Consquently
we're only making about 17 kts, and our ETA will be between 11:30 p.m. and
midnight. By the time we get
settled, there isn't going to be much of a chance for a decent sleep. We're all sleeping in the ferry terminal building tonight --
thermarests and sleeping bags scattered around on the floor.
It'll be a snore-fest for sure.
It's
now 10:30 p.m. Nfld time and we've just passed the first major light port abeam.
Might be St-Pierre or a lighthouse on the Burin Peninsula.
To starboard we've now got the first shore lights visible on the Avalon
Peninsula. Getting closer....
The
next entry will be written after tomorrow's ride from Argentia to St. John's.
It's 143 km of twists, turns and hills.
It'll pass in a blur I'm sure, since all thoughts will be on powering up
Signal Hill to end our cross-Canada odyssey.
Many of us are talking about taking an easy ride, using the time to
reflect on the summer, trying to recall and match names, places, campgrounds and
so on out of the blur of memories. I'm
anticipating a tough day, mentally, physically and emotionally, depending to
some extent on how much sleep we get, and the weather tomorrow.
Day's
high: Moving
onward, by ferry, to Newfoundland, to finish our odyssey.
Day's
low:
This end-to-end trip is over 18 hours long -- a long day.
Daily
Stats:
Official
distance: 6
km Distance
actually cycled: 6 km
Distance traveled: about 306 km in total, most by ferry from North
Sydney, NS to Argentia, NF
Total
distance cycled to date: 7,357 km
Bananas
consumed to date: 198
...alan
aboard
the MV Joseph & Clara Smallwood
somewhere
between North Sydney, NS and Argentia, NF
Day
66: Argentia to St. John's, NF
September
2, 2000
and
Celebratory Brunch on September 3, 2000
"There
is no thrill quite like doing something you didn't know you could."
Marjorie Homes
Last
night the ferry finally docked near midnight.
Shortly thereafter, the ramp on our vehicle deck was lowered and we were
able to walk off the ferry with our bikes, onto the cold, dark and windy
terminal parking lot and around to the terminal building.
General chaos developed as our combined group of about 60 moved in like
an invading force, intent on our getting our bikes stowed away, retrieving our
gear from the truck, staking out a patch of floor as "sheltered" as
possible, finding the washrooms and getting bedded down.
Other walk-on passengers and those meeting them at the terminal likely
didn't know what hit them -- the building full of bikes, people in funny clothes
spreading out sleeping bags on the floor, hushed voices with the occasional call
for, "Are the lights going out now?"
I'm not sure what time the lights were turned out in the building; I was
in my sleeping bag and fast asleep by 12:45 a.m.
It's
6:00 a.m. and I'm roused from a deep sleep by unusual noises.
It doesn't sound like tent zippers and tent poles coming down, there's no
wash of waves on the shore or rustle of wind in the trees.
Instead I hear doors, and people walking around, and there are multiple
suns shining in my face. Oh yeah,
I'm on the floor in the ferry terminal, the lights are on, it must be time to
get up already.
A
quick check tells me my bike is still where I left it, with my water bottles,
helmet, gloves and everything else ready to ride. Getting dressed in my sleeping bag (no small feat in a mummy
bag!) with bike shorts and jersey, I wonder what the weather's like outside.
It's strange not to know immediately, as when waking in a tent.
First order of business after the washroom is to stick my head outside,
where the final traces of sleeping bag warmth are sandblasted from my face by a
cold wind roaring out of the NW under a lumpy leaden gray sky.
The sun's not up yet, and with this sky, I'm not sure I'd know it even if
it were. Oh well, we've cycled in
worse, it's not raining, and there was no rain in the forecast.
Yesterday on the ship I'd asked the purser for the marine forecast from
the bridge. When she called the
bridge crew the first report was, "dark overnight followed by gradually
getting lighter towards dawn." Everyone's
a comic! The second line was,
"fair weather with NW wind at 40 kts."
40 knots! That's about 75
km/hr. I remember walking away
thinking that couldn't be right, or at least not wanting to believe it.
Walking outside now to get some pancakes from the tailgate breakfast
crew, and seeing the flags flying stiffly, I can see that the wind is easily
about 15 to 20 knots -- roughly 25 to 35 km/hr.
This will be a wild ride.
Stuffed
full of pancakes, washed down with real (or at least passable) coffee from the
terminal cafeteria, I finish packing my things into my duffel bag, stacking it
with others to go back onto the truck. I pull out a polypro long-sleeved T to
put on under my jersey, pack my rain jacket away, and put on leg warmers, a
cycling vest and nylon windbreaker -- this could be a cold day.
Putting my trunk pack, GPS and camera on my bike, I reach for my helmet
and find a surprise waiting in it. There's
a little stuffed orangutan and a note. Oh
no! I thought I was free of the daily machinations of "As
the Wheel Turns" after Bucky left. Looks
like someone still thinks I'm an easy mark for some fun!
The note says that this is Francine.
This is the ugliest beaver chick I've ever seen! See below for another
episode in this continuing adventure. Strapping
Francine to my Camelbak, I go out to face the wind and the highway.
Around
7:45 a.m., Karin, John, Jules, Karl and I get blown out of the terminal parking
lot, along the access road, and out to the highway -- an easy downwind trip so
far! We've got about 145 km to go
today, generally in an ENE direction from Argentia to St. John's, across the
Avalon Peninsula. We'll have NE,
WSW, E and N legs as we follow the route map, so this roaring wind will be a
tailwind occasionally, and most of the time be a fierce crosswind.
There will also be a few northerly stretches where we'll be battling a
headwind.
You'd
think after 65 days on the road that we'd be a bit better at interpreting our
route maps for the day, and matching them to road maps which most of us carry as
well now. Well, that's just not the
case at all. At our first highway
turn, we zoom off downwind and downhill and find ourselves at Placentia Bay,
where there's a spectacular early morning view of the bay -- a picture-taking
moment for sure. As we're being
blown nicely up the hill out of Placentia, this route is beginning to feel not
right. There's some kind of sixth sense that works amazingly well at times --
when the direction doesn't feel right, even with twists and turns and hills, it
usually isn't. Sure enough, part
way up the big hill, a couple of riders meet us coming the other way -- they've
discovered for sure we're on highway 100 that turns to head southbound, when we
want highway 100 that turns to head NE.
Turning
around, we have to pedal down the hill against the wind, around the bay that
looked so pretty with the wind behind us, back across the steel grate harbour
bridge with the tide surging through underneath, and back up the humongous hill
to the highway crossroads. There's
about 8 km we didn't need to ride today! Taking
the other highway turn, we figure we must be on the right road as we encounter
and pass a number of the slower and later-departing riders in our group.
Passing through Dunnville at about 15 km, we know we're on the right
track now.
We
follow highway 100 generally NE with a stiff crosswind for about another 30 km
until we meet up with Trans-Canada Highway 1 (TCH), and get on it heading east
with some ESE stretches. For the
next 40 km we've got a quartering tailwind and occasionally a stiff tailwind.
We've got a wide, smoothly paved shoulder and little traffic yet early on
this Saturday morning. We're riding
through pretty rough and rugged countryside.
The hills are the same heavily glaciated granite ridgelines we crossed in
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia -- Cambrian or
Pre-Cambrian mountains at the northern end of the Appalachian chain.
There are scattered hills of aggregate deposits, and fields of massive
boulders, errants dropped out of the ice of retreating and melting glaciers
10,000 years ago. The rock is covered with lichens, mosses, scrub weeds,
blueberries, and were there is soil, stunted and wind-blasted spruce and pine
stand together in tortured defiance of what must be a perpetual wind.
This is a very rugged land indeed. I'm
told there are no farms at all on Newfoundland, and that any vegetable gardens
are made with imported soil. This
must have been a forbidding place to settle, and it's easy to see why all the
settlements are along the coast where there was access to the real treasure of
this land -- the sea and the fish in it.
We're
spinning at a good clip along the TCH, and playing speed games with the
tailwind. On the downhills and
flats we rev up to high speeds, trying to pass each little group of cyclists at
as high a speed as we can. One or
two larger groups we pass are doing about 25 to 28 km/hr with the tailwind, and
we go flying with a wave at about 50 km/hr.
I'll likely pay the price for this high energy burn rate later on in the
day, but it sure is fun now. The
Scandinavians have a word for this speed play, "fartlek", and speed play
it is indeed. Jules, Karl and I
have left John and Karin behind somewhere to ride a more intelligent pace, and
we pick up Jon and Robert from one group we pass.
The five of us scoot along the TCH, flying down the hills and across the
flats, and pressing up the long upgrades.
Coming
to the intersection with highway 90 to Holyrood and the coast road, we've got to
decide whether to follow the TDC route map, taking the more scenic and shorter
road through countless small towns for the next 50 km, or stay on the TCH --
described as longer and hillier. From
local knowledge, we've been told that the TCH is actually shorter, and the
difference is really that the scenic route has rolling hills that are shorter
and steeper, whereas the TCH route has long grades, some of them higher, like
the TCH out west in the mountains. We elect to stay on the TCH where the traffic isn't bad at
all, and we've got a wide and smooth shoulder to zip along.
With
occasional stops at the top of very long grades to regroup, eat PBJ and get
rehydrated, we make pretty good time. As
usual, Karl and Jon power up the long grades, and I'm left to my own slower
pace. I catch up on the occasional
rest stop. I also stop to take
pictures of lakes and a few road signs, trying to capture the spirit of this
place in photos. That too puts me
behind and I push hard on the flats to stay within easy catch-up distance of the
others.
Some
of these grades are just like those in the mountains. We started the day at sea level, and at the top of one grade
we're at 200m above sea level. Most
of the bigger grades are in the 3% range and a couple of kilometres long, so
they're not too bad except when we're grinding into the headwind. This happens
more and more as we approach the outskirts of St. John's and the highway rounds
to head north for a while. The
traffic is getting a bit heavier too; it's not enough to worry about, except
when we've got the 30 km/hr wind as a crosswind.
Our path weaves down the shoulder as we balance and lean against the
crosswind, and when larger vans pass, the wind disruption they cause makes us
dance a little to stay upright. Now
and then a particularly strong gust hits, and I can feel myself heeling over
noticeably as I try to track in a straight line. Where we were zipping along at
40 km/hr with a tailwind before, we're now doing 22 - 25 km/hr and struggling at
times.
Ahead
now is a series of interchanges for St. John's. One of them is our exit -- to Topsail Road.
Finally, we're out of the headwind!
The plan for the day called for all of us to meet at Tim Horton's on
Topsail Road by 4:00 p.m., for a group ride to Signal Hill.
Well, it's just reaching 1:00 p.m. and we're at Tim's.
What to do? After a quick
lunch, we decide to leave and head off on our own. While we'd like to ride up
the Hill with our own group, we don't really have any affinity to the larger
combined group, and a troop of 60 cyclists heading through town isn't appealling
to us. We decide to head off, visit
the TCH mile 0 marker, dip our wheels in the harbour, and take Signall Hill.
Then we'll wait around our hotel -- Battery Hotel part way up the Hill,
for the others and ride up again.
Leaving
Tim's we've now got a great ride down Topsail Road into the city core.
It's downwind and downhill all the way to the harbour.
We zip along Topsail Road and Waterford Bridge Road all the way to
Harbour Drive at the same speed as the traffic.
Once in the downtown area, we find the signage for "Mile 0" of
the Trans-Canada Highway, and stop for celebratory cheers, hugs and pictures. A
couple of friends of Kieren, a Labrador rider in the other group, are there
looking for him, and kindly agree to take all five of our cameras and take our
pictures against the sign.
Then
it's back on our bikes and down the harbour, where we ride along the waterfront
looking for a place we can actually get at the water to dip our wheels.
Discovering tiny historic Harbouside Park with it's own dock, we take
turns dipping our wheels and taking pictures.
From the dock we can see Signal Hill, our hotel part way up, and the
steep road climbing through switchbacks to the top.
From the dock where we're at sea level, it's 165m to the top -- a
daunting climb.
Navigating
the short streets from the dock to the bottom of The Hill, we begin our climb
with a .44 kilometer section that climbs 47 m - an 11% grade!
After coming 7,500 km however, none of us are going to be denied by a bit
vertical road, so up we pump, legs, hearts and lungs straining.
Part way up this firt bit to the hotel, we round a bend and can see the
full stretch of Signal Hill ahead; awesome! To our right is the entrance to the hotel parking lot.
Jules, Robert and I detour to the hotel to shed our trunk packs, water bottles
and any other excess weight we don't need to carry up this Hill.
Karl and Jon power on ahead, and will be at the top when we get there.
Robert,
Jules and I head out from the hotel with light bikes. What a difference this is!
I'm 7 kg lighter than when I started the trip, and I've left about 4 kg
of load in the hotel. Together
that's more than my bike itself weighs! I
feel like I'm dancing on the bike now.
From the hotel parking lot to the top is just over a kilometre, with another 50
m to climb, and then another little climb from the parking lot up to Cabot House
at the very top. This starts with a steep grade out of the hotel parking
lot for 100m, before the road levels out to about a 5% grade for a short distance.
This is hard work, no doubt, but so much easier with a light bike that's
responding to every pedal stroke with a surge forward.
Cresting this short steep piece, we can now see the rest of the
Hill in front of us. 
And we can see
the top! There at the top, I can
see a small group of cyclists -- looks like four or five.
They see us! The cheering
starts! Robert! Jules! Alan!
Robert! Jules! Alan! We're
cheered up most of the rest of the hill. Robert
powers on ahead. A grade up past
the interpretation centre, a steep switchback curve to the left, an 6% climb for
a couple of hundred metres to a seemingly vertical switchback turn and we're in
the parking lot. The grade
continues across the parking lot as we accelerate towards Cabot House right
at the crest where our biking buddies are standing, cheering us on. Jules and
I are racing now, racing up the path where we're greeted with high-fives as we
coast over the crest. I'm so
focused on the crest, the finish and not running into Jules that I don't even
see who's there greeting us.
Through
the group to the parkette on the top of the Hill, I'm finally overwhelmed by the
realization that I AM AT THE TOP OF SIGNAL HILL ! As my body recovers from the climb, I don't even notice.
I don't even notice the view yet from up here.
I'm in a daze, and overcome with emotion at the reality of what I've
accomplished with the support and help of family, friends, modern medicine and
cycling buddies. Turning to meet and greet the group, I can't believe this --
C, my wife, is walking towards me! This
is too much; wrapped in an embrace, I'm just jelly now, completely overwhelmed
by the events. The others give us a few minutes, and then it's hugs all
around. John and Karin are here,
having skipped Tim's and passed us to get here
first. And Brook, Jen, Karl, Jon
and Robert are here too.
Pictures,
pictures, pictures, all the permutations and combinations of pictures
imaginable; we take them all, shivering, freezing cold in just our TDC jerseys
in the biting cold wind atop SIGNAL HILL! We're
here! C's here!
I still can't believe this!
After
a while, some depart to descend to the hotel, and Robert, C and I watch them
bomb down the hill. The three of us
go into Cabot House and climb the staircase to the very top watch deck, outside
where we have a sweeping view of the harbour, the open ocean to the east, and
the mountainous terrain around St. John's. Despite the shivering cold, Robert and I are clearly of the
same feeling here -- we don't want to take the stairs down.
It'll mean the summer is over, the trip is over, and the adventure is
over. And for Robert and me, we're
awash in the disbelief that we've actually done this.
Several years ago, Robert and his daughter were in an horrific auto crash
in northern Ontario. Robert's
daughter was in a coma for weeks (she's fine now), and Robert had to have his
left leg rebuilt. He was in the
hospital, in a wheelchair, and on crutches for a very long time before having to
go through long physiotherapy to learn to walk again.
Today he's a competitive Masters cross-country skier, coach and cyclist
who's just finished 7,500 km across Canada.
We are both very well aware that it's a miracle that we're standing here
looking out from the top of Signal Hill, having cycled from Vancouver. We've covered every inch of it, in hot and cold weather, in
no wind and in roaring headwinds and tailwinds, up impossibly steep hills and
down steep hills at crazy speeds. And
we did it without crutches or wheelchairs or canes.
We did every centimeter of the way under own power, on the bike, without
walking a single hill. 7,500 km.
Realizing
finally that if we don't descend we'll slowly turn into ice sculptures, we turn
and climb down the stairs inside. I
stop to get some postcards for nieces, nephews, friends at work, and my
daughters -- the final installment in a long series of postcards sent from a
succession of places across the country. Robert rides on ahead down the road to
the hotel, and C and I walk down the hill slowly together.
C tells me how she came to be here, since we'd talked about the
possibility a long time ago, but I'd thought nothing further came of it. C's
dad and his wife Sandy, along with our daughters L and R and her good
friend Natasha, were having dinner together at our house a week ago.
After a few glasses of wine, they convinced C that coming to St.
John's was the only thing to do. As
she raised each difficulty in making it happen, each person volunteered a
solution they'd take on. Before she
knew it, they had her Mastercard out, had phoned the travel agent, and had made
the arrangements for her. She came
in on a late evening flight, arriving at the hotel at 2:30 a.m.
This is the best friend I am blessed with in this life. I could not have embarked on this journey without her
support, and her trip here shows that depth of support.
Once again I'm speechless.
(L-R: Robert, Jules, Karl, Brook, Alan, Jon,
Karin, John)
Back
in the hotel, C's already got a room for us, and I pick up my gear from the
bag room and take it to our room. When
C checked in early this morning, she discovered a congratulatory balloon
bouquet waiting in the room, and a card with it. Opening the card, I find it's from Barb, a friend at work,
who's on vacation visiting family here, and was looking for me. There's also a
phone message to give her a call. This
stop is also our final mail drop, and I find a card from Deb, another friend
from work, congratulating me on this achievement.
Such support from all quarters is quite humbling; I am one lucky person
indeed.
Karl,
Jules and I are planning to wait for the group to pass, and to climb the hill
again with them. While waiting,
C and I take my tent outside and spread it out in the drying wind, then
repack it. C leaves to walk up
the Hill for the third time today, while Jules, Karl and I wait for the peloton.
We spend a few minutes picking and eating handfulls of blueberries beside
the road, until we get so cold we seek shelter behind a cannon sitting at the
entrance to the hotel parking lot. While
we're sitting there, a van pulls in, and there's Barb, my friend from work.
After hugs, she tells me that they've been out cruising the highway
looking for us, finally found a few cyclists, connected with some more at Tim's,
and were told that I likely would have pressed on to the finish rather than
waiting. After chatting for a few
minutes, she climbs back in the car to go back up the Hill to Cabot House to
wait for the group to arrive.
It
isn't long before we see first one, then two, then half a dozen, then a steady
stream of cyclists struggling up the hill to where we are.
We cheer them wildly and shout encouragement as they pass.
Jules hops on his bike and escorts the lead group up the Hill.
Sue, a very strong rider, looks like she's having a tough ride up this
last hill, and Karl rides with her to offer encouragement.
Second last is Keith, swearing and muttering all the way as is his nature
when he doesn't like how things are going, which seems to be a lot of the time.
Last in the peloton is Neri, and I start cheering Neri! Neri! Neri! and
jump on my bike to ride up with him. Neri
is one tough 70 year-old, and I ride slowly with him as he slugs his way up the
steep pitch, across the grades and around the impossibly steep switchback
curves. There are lots of riders at
the top of the Hill now, and all we can hear is, "Ne-ri!
Ne-ri! Ne-ri!
Ne-ri!" Keith's just up ahead and I coax Neri to push a little bit
more, to pass Keith and leave him in the dust.
This helps to unleash Neri's competitive streak a little and he stands
even harder on the pedals. Urging
him all the way, I watch him power around the last switchback into the parking
lot and then we ride together, arms interlinked, across the lot.
Neri's got a huge smile on his face.
At 70 years young, he's achieved something remarkable, and everyone knows
it. It seems our whole group is
standing in front of Cabot House cheering, "NE-RI!
NE-RI!" As Neri cycles
into the crowd of well-wishers, I stop short and watch him enjoy his rewards.
What an accomplishment! I
hope I can tackle something this tough when I'm his age, and have as much fun
doing it as he's clearly had (Alan and Neri, picture below right).
Now
that everyone's finished, it's picture pandemonium time. There are sixty people,
sixty cameras, and everyone wants pictures of every permutation and combination
of the group. Bud, Margot, C, Barb and our drivers are pressed into action,
each taking several cameras. It
isn't long before all the hugs, all the pictures, all the congratulations
succumb to the biting cold wind, and people start to head down the hill.
I ride down with Karl, ready to bomb the hill.
Unfortunately, gravity doesn't get it's fill today as we didn't leave
enough space behind the cars in front of us and have to slow down to their speed
part way down the hill. It's a good
thing anyway because the chill effect of 80+ km/hr of wind at about 12C is below
zero and freezing cold. Along with everyone else, we head to the hotel to soak
in steaming hot showers before meeting to go out for dinner.
For
dinner that evening, Karl, Jules, Ron, Sue, John, Karin, Dave with wife Lill and
friends, Jon, C and I all go the The Cellar, a great restaurant in downtown
St. John's. We go through lots of
good wine, made better by our toasts to cycling, friendship, and everything else
imaginable. I've taken Barb's
balloon bouquet along and it decorates our table.
When we're stuffed with wine, great seafood and desserts, it's time to
call it an evening. C and I walk back to the hotel, the the same seemingly
impossible hill I cycled up earlier. This
is one tough hill even when walking, especially after a few glasses of wine and
"special" coffee. I'm
feeling pretty mellow about now - content with the world, peacefully tired, and
warm in C's company. Sleep
tonight is easy to fall into, and easy to continue the next morning long after
I'd usually be awake, on the road, with 20+ km
behind me to start the day.
Sunday
morning seems cool and rainy outside, and we'll go out anyway to play tourist
later. Before our brunch, we say
goodbye to Karin and John as they head off for an early flight home.
Then we join the organizers, drivers and other cyclists and a few guests
for a TDC brunch in the hotel. Bud
addresses the group to congratulate us on our achievement, and each of the
drivers hand out individual certificates to members in their groups.
The 74-day group has composed a great ballad about the trip which they
sing for us, receiving thunderous applause in return.
Brook talks about our group a little, and then presents us each with our
certificate. After one final round of group pictures, Bud and the drivers cut a
special cake, and we enjoy our last TDC dessert together.
As
we're eating our cake, the room is interrupted by a hotel porter with a special
delivery. It's not clear
what's going on, and Brook is summoned to see if she can help. Brook calls me to the door, and I'm surprised to be handed
Bucky, Jean-Paul and Biff, my mascot companions who left in Routhierville many
days ago to return to Francine. Francine
and Bucky have a great re-union and our group enjoys this little finale to
"As the Wheel Turns" (more below).
C
and I spend the afternoon playing tourist, exploring the small shops and
galleries along the harbourfront and downtown St. John's. Then I return to the
hotel to pack up my bike and other things while C takes a walking tour of Quidi Vidi village and lake just down the road from the hotel.
She returns as I'm just about finishing taking my bike apart to pack into
the cardboard box, bearing two bananas. Eating
these for "recovery", I'm at 200
bananas for the Tour. At
about 130 calories apiece, that's 26,000 calories, an average of 472 calories
per riding day from bananas alone. As
one of my swimming buddies quips, perhaps there's some correlation between body
hair and eating so many bananas ?
That
evening, our group meets in the hotel lobby to go for dinner once again.
Testament to the bonding in our group is that everyone who hasn't left
yet shows up for another group dinner, and that's almost the entire group since
only Dave, Karin, John, Jules and Brook aren't still around this evening.
This evening it's The Hungry Fishermen where we exchange swipes of credit
cards for a great meal, and then we all walk back to the hotel and hang around
in the lobby for a few minutes. C
and I will be leaving early the next morning, and I bid farewell to my friends.
I'm sure that we'll stay in touch for a long, long time.
I'll be talking with Eric to find out more about sea kayaking on the BC
coast; perhaps Karl and I can arrange a snowboarding weekend at Mont Ste Anne's;
a number of us are thinking about a tour of New Zealand, with Craig as our host;
and I'm positive Jules and I will cross paths again before long, somehow,
somewhere.
Monday
morning, Day +2, and C and I are up early to catch a taxi to the airport.
We're given a running tour commentary by our friendly driver, who helps
to carry my heavy bags into the airport. St.
John's is another of Canada's jewels; I'll have to come back here as well as a
few other places, to explore
and experience more of this great country and it's people.
My
flight had been booked months and months ago, using frequent flier points, and
I'd booked into business class to give myself a more relaxing ride.
C's last minute booking was for hospitality class. Wanting to sit
together, I explain my trip to the Air Canada agent, C's surprise trip to
greet me, explain I've got lots of points and upgrade certificates but they're
all at home and that we'd really appreciate seating together on the flight.
He says if it were up to him he'd give it to us right now. Instead, all he can do is put a request note on our seating,
and it's up to the gate agent to make last minute changes.
Arriving at the gate a little while later, I explain my request to the
gate agent, asking for her support for a nice finish to our romantic story.
As the plane boards, she calls our names, and presents us two boarding
passes for business class. Say what
you will about Air Canada, they have great people working for them.
We're
on the plane, winging across lower Newfoundland, and we can see the highway upon
which I rode into St. John's yesterday. Somehow
that already seems so long ago. From
the air, the land looks flat; there's no hint of the wind, the cold, the long
grades and steep hills. Perspective
is everything, eh?
BREAK
... BREAK ... BREAK ... BREAK ... BREAK
As
the Wheel Turns
In
our last episode, Bucky the Beaver left with his son Jean-Paul and pet Biff the
dinosaur from Routhierville to return to Francine in Quebec City.
Two
days ago, Kelly received the latest issue of People magazine with some editorial
content changes. The cover story is
about Adventure Bear, his exploits and secret affair with Turkey Bear.
Bucky is exonerated at last. It's
confirmed that Adventure Bear is a he, and Bucky's honour is saved.
Read all about it in the official source -- People Magazine.
In
the ferry terminal in Argentia, I ready my bike for the final day's ride and
make sure all my gear is together: bike, Camelbak, water bottles, camera, trunk
pack with tools, spares, etc, helmet, gloves, sunglasses and so forth.
Taking one last trip to the washroom, I return to my gear and start to
put on gloves, leg warmers and so on. Reaching
for my helmet, I discover a brown furry lump inside, along with a slip of paper.
It's a note that reads, "Hi Hal-Lan (you gotta read dis widda Nord-Ontario
french lumberjack accent). I'm
Francine de Quebec, tu sais! Bin
oui, le Bucky came back to moi wid petit Jean-Paul but he his very sad to be
separated -- you know, like Quebec, bin oui, sacrebleu -- from toi his papa.
So mi came in search of you - ee tol' me soo much good tings about you.
But he love me too even if I am a (deleted) fille de nuit - tu sais?
So me tink like we could all shack up togedder, you know?
You may be shocked because I am a holder woman, but I love Bucky very so
greatly. I came ahead of Bucky and
Jean-Paul, swimming across de cold Gulf - m'audit, c'est frette - to see (how
cute you are) if it be like okay to do whad I say before, you know?
What you say? Love, Francine XOXOXOX"
I
am flabbergasted to say the least. This
little bundle of fur is Francine. This
is one ugly little Beaver Chick. Not
knowing who she is, I'd swear she's an orangutan, not a beaver!
Oh well, love is blind I guess, eh?
Francine
rides with me from Argentia to St. John's, all the while pining for Bucky's safe
return. She joins me at the TDC
brunch the next morning, sitting at the table anxiously.
Later that morning, there's a call for me about a special delivery, and
Bucky enters the room. Well, Francine and Bucky are just elated.
They see each other and embrace fondly, happily reunited at last.
Bucky, Jean-Paul, Biff and Francine (pic, left) -- what a cute (?) little family.
What
adventures will this little group get up to next? Will they go on another cycling trip? Will they cycle New Zealand?
Will they sea kayak BC's coast? With
the future uncertain, they stand united, and in that they take comfort.
Perhaps "As the Wheel Turns" will return for another season.
Stay tuned. Pictures at 11.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day's
high: Being
met by C at the finish; the ride up Signal Hill, cheered on from the top.
Day's
low:
Having no bananas available in the morning for the day's ride.
Daily
Stats:
Weather:
High
of about 14C; wind from NW at about 35km/hr; mostly overcast.
Official
distance: 143
km Distance
actually cycled: 148.6 km Avg
speed on road: 26.9 km/hr
Cycling
time: 4:00
Trip time: 9:00
Total
distance cycled: 7,505.2 km
Bananas
consumed to date: 200
...alan
The
Battery Hotel
St. John's, Newfoundland
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