Borden-Carleton to Charlottetown ‚ 62k

Everyone did different distances today as we tried to maximize our visit to PEI. Dave and Al went to Summerside before going to Charlottetown, George went to Kensington, Eric and I rode on the former rail bed to Charlottetown and met Ken on it a few times. Dave and Mary took the highway so they could get to Charlottetown faster. Harry did, too. Inge and Sandy did a combination. Every time Eric and I thought of going on the highway instead we would see a big hill on the road that the rail grade avoided, plus cars splashing up the rain puddles, so we stayed on the trail.

When we got to the residence Harry was asleep in the bike room, a bedroom set aside for our bikes. Then he nagged the rest of us to get moving and shower so we could sightsee downtown. The trouble is Harry was the only one to get a nap!

I forgot to put in the Shediac entry, that Harry was the first one of the group to dip his foot in the Atlantic Ocean. Brendan, Al and Dave did a full body immersion, but Harry touched it first.

The rooms seem to be much bigger at this residence than they have been in other cities and it is not a long walk downtown or to Walmart. It is our first experience with a province that doesn’t allow Sunday shopping, and since Sunday is our only rest day here it’s a bit disconcerting.

The day we arrived Mary and Dave went off on their own to visit yet another medical establishment, this one telling Dave to eat red meat and drink four Ensures instead of one. Great help!

Sandy and Inge walked downtown with Harry and arranged to meet anyone who wanted to dance at the Old Dublin pub at 8 p.m. Eric and I rode our bikes down first to get an ice cream at Cows and go to a bike shop to replace a missing screw in my pedal. The two young men at the first bike shop scrambled through boxes of screws and couldn’t find the right one. They sent us to another bike shop nine blocks away, MacQueens on Queen St. I walked in the door and the owner said, “You’ve cycled from Vancouver, haven’t you.” When I asked, stunned, how he knew that, he said, “By the lilt in the way you walk.” He said he was a big supporter of the CCCTS and had followed the trips from the very first one. Later that night, when Ken, Harold and Harry were walking back to the residence from dinner and stood looking in the bike shop window, the owner, Gordon MacQueen guessed they were from the same group and said the same thing to them, then invited them to his backyard patio and poured them wine. What a reception!

After Harold, Harry and Ken left the Irish pub, Sandy, Eric and I chatted there until Al, Dave, Frank and George arrived for the dancing. Eric actually left before it started, deciding he was too tired. Frank arrived with a horror story that we’ve all been dreading. His bike was stolen in broad daylight from in front of the residence. He didn’t know there was a bike storage room and had left it outside, unlocked. George thinks he saw the people who stole it, three young boys who looked about 13 who he talked to while he was moving his bike in. They were just hanging around.

Frank may buy a bike at Walmart on Monday morning to complete the trip, since there are only seven more cycling days and only two of those are over 100k. He also may go to a local flea market the next day and see if his bike is there.

After getting a terrible cramp in his leg when he tried to jive, then getting his Guinness knocked over at the table, Frank decided to cut his losses and go home to bed.

The rest of us danced ourselves silly. George told one of the band members that we had cycled from Victoria and they announced it over the sound system to the amazement of all the other dancers. We got accolades for the rest of the night from all the young partiers.

They had a 50-50 draw and asked me to draw the ticket. Al won $125! He bought a round of drinks with some of it, and we also told him he was on the hook for the taxi fare home. Later, George found $10 on the floor that everyone was stomping on during the dancing. Late in the evening, two young stud muffins cut Sandy and I off from our three cycling partners to all of our amusement, and Sandy had trouble getting away from them to get back to our group. They were young enough to be our sons. We left 10 minutes before the pub closed at 2 a.m. to get a taxi back and all had to try to sneak quietly into our rooms, since everyone of us was sharing with a non-participant in the evening’s hilarity. Wasn’t that a party!

The day off was Sunday and, since PEI doesn’t have Sunday opening, it was a quieter one than usual. The bike shop was open because it rents bikes and the library was open in the afternoon, so with laundry facilities at the university, we spent a lazy, meandering sort of day.

Eric and I sat at an outdoor cafÈ by the library, talking to the locals at the neighbouring table and he mentioned that I had ridden across Canada. One of the women said, “I don’t believe you.” I got up, crossed over to her table and said, “Feel those muscles.” She did and said, “Okay, now I believe you.” The man at the next table, sitting reading A Year in Provence, had also looked suitably startled at the information about the cross country trek, so Eric said to me as I was returning to my chair, “He wants to feel it too.” The poor man immediately said, “No, I believe you now, too.”

Harold, Ken, Eric and I went to an Italian restaurant for dinner, and on the way back to the university, saw Dave, Al and Wayne’s bikes in front of another restaurant, locked together with two locks, but not locked to anything solid. Eric and Ken picked all three bikes up as a package and walked by the window where our three cycling partners were eating. The startled looks on their faces were worth the prank.

Charlottetown to Pictou, N.S. 72k

Short, uneventful day with a straightforward ride to the ferry off PEI. We packed all the bikes into the Budget truck and drove onto the ferry in Chris and Anita’s motor-home, when we found out you can take all the passengers you want for nothing, but it is $16 each for a passenger and bike. A short, 7k ride to our campsite at Pictou, Harbour Light Campground, found us on a beautiful waterfront, looking across at a small village. We were met for the first time by a sweet young woman, one of the managers, with two trays of meat, cheese, crackers and luscious green grapes and bananas, with bottles of cold water

Eric cooked dinner for the first time, with his new cook team of Brendan and Wayne and we enjoyed a fabulous meal of pepper steak with corn and potatoes, followed by chocolate Èclairs accompanied by red wine, a gift from him. Brendan also had bought wine for dinner, so there was more than enough. Sandy and I enjoyed ourselves too much, as usual, with our glass and a half of wine. (Sure! says Ken.) All this exercise has decreased our capacity for wine, but not for enjoyment.

Harold, Eric, Inge, Mary, Sandy and I went for a long walk through beach grass and ended up chatting to a dozen campers about our trip until after dark, when we stumbled, flashlightless, back to our tents.

Pictou to Antigonish ‚ 80k

Horrendous wind and horrendous rain. But at least it wasn’t too cold, due to Al’s marathon experience. He dressed me up in a garbage bag, after he modeled his suave wear, and several others followed suit. My Goretex has long since lost its waterproofing due to the torrents with which we have dealt.

Everyone was in the campsite at Antigonish very early, drying out wet tents in a windy, sunny afternoon. Eric and I went to the campsite at Whidden’s in the middle of Antigonish to get the address in our luggage of the friends where we were spending the night, about 20k further along our route. We spent the night in luxurious surroundings on a private mile-long beach with warm ocean water to swim in (didn’t!) enjoying the treat of barbecued salmon at Brian and Barbara Hoar’s house. We went for a drive after supper to feed our ice cream addiction, getting wonderful cones at a tiny kiosk along the road.

The next morning Brian cycled the first 18k with us to show us a shoreline route we could travel to meet our group further along. It was a warm, sunny, stunningly beautiful ride along the coast with very little traffic. We met Harold and Frank in a tiny village, when they had come off the main highway to find a restaurant. We had another breakfast in the little fish restaurant, before the Canso causeway.

We were warned about a huge hill before a long ride down to the causeway, but we never found it. On the way down, I kept thinking it would start going up again just around the next bend, but it never did. On the other side of the causeway, we were supposed to follow Route 4 to St. Peters but I was the only one who did. Everyone else went on the main highway. Eric wanted to go the faster way to dry our tent and gear, which had been wet since the previous morning, but I wanted the quieter route.

St. Peters to North Sydney ‚ 130k

The decision was made to avoid Louisbourg, since we would only have had a few hours there instead of the day or more it deserves. It has also been subject to a rotating strike by federal employees. The KOA campground at Seal Island was arbitrarily picked because it was listed as Little Bras d’Or in the campground bible we were following. Unfortunately, it was much further than we needed to go that day so we had a lot of cranky campers by the time we got there. The first part of the day was fun with a tail wind. The only problem with the journey was not knowing where it was going to end.

North Sydney to St. John’s ‚ 135k

Inge, Mary and I decided to ride with Anita into North Sydney instead of cycling since we had already been by the ferry terminal and cycled an extra 30k past it the day before. Besides, I needed their help to buy presents for the windup party in St. John’s. The ones who did cycle had a tail wind and a very fast trip into North Sydney. Many of us checked our email at the library whose personnel made us very welcome, got haircuts, visited Timmy’s at least once, and had a pub lunch, where for the last time, my camelback exploded over the floor causing a lake.

The water was calm for the ferry trip to Newfoundland. We ended up rehashing the trip at a long table in the cafeteria all evening, then Frank and I sat at another table amusing ourselves writing a song for the windup party. Brendan poured a glass of wine for everyone who wanted it and Dave M. distributed his Grand Marnier, probably helping us have a wonderful sleep on the ferry.

In the morning we left the ship to fog and rain. When we saw a sign saying St. John’s 118 k, Brendan polled the group, riding back and forth to see if we were all agreed we would go into St. John’s instead of going to Butter Pot Campground, then on to Cape Spear, since the weather was so miserable. Agreement was unanimous. When we got to St. John’s which was a bit further than the sign said ‚ that was obviously to the outskirts ‚ I got my first and only flat tire. I drove across a long piece of tire which had exploded into a million pieces from a truck and the tiny, needle-like pieces of metal in it punctured my tube.

This leaves Harry as the only one to make the whole trip without a flat tire. He wants it said, that he made the trip on a Trek 520 bike with Armadillo tires and recommends that combination as the only way to go.

Harold met us fixing the flat on the road and came with us into the campground, the last three to arrive. I got bear hugs from all the gathered cyclists amid great roars of, “We did it.” What a feeling! Mary said she had cried a bit when she got in and got all her hugs. All I was able to say was, “I had a flat. After all this way, I got into St. John’s and got a flat.” But I did it. I didn’t realize, fortunately, that no one in the group had thought I would be able to make it in the first few weeks. They didn’t know then how stubborn I am. Not an experienced cyclist, not a fast cyclist, but the most stubborn one. (I also promised Brendan weeks ago that at some point I would put in here that I am actually not a wuss after all. He says the group talked about it and if they had a vote I would win the grittiest rider. So there, Harry! See Schreiber entry if you are lost here.)

Most of us went into St. John’s famous George St. pub area that night to get screeched in, to celebrate. We went to Trapper John’s where we had a few pitchers of beer before the ceremony started. We were all given a small plastic souvenir glass filled with screech which we had to down while reciting an incomprehensible Newfoundland traditional toast, with something like long may your big jib draw in it, then kiss a puffin. It is supposed to be a cod you kiss but we all know there are no more cod, so puffins replace them. The puffin was flashed over to kiss its rear end instead of what was expected, to more hilarity, and at the end we were presented with a certificate making us adopted Newfoundlanders. Afterwards, Harold was determined to find some food for me who had whimpered as usual about being hungry, so he, Dave M., Eric, Ken, and I trudged along trying to find something open. Timmy’s had just closed. We found a new place selling pub food with good musicians on a lousy sound system and nachos or hamburgers. Everyone else took an earlier taxi home and we followed.

The next morning, we discovered from Wayne, that Frank, who had stayed home with George from the screeching-in had walked into the cook tent to have someone put their hands over his eyes from behind and he said “who is this?” ‚(Wayne says he asked – Is it Nancy?” but he denies that ‚ Nancy has become Ken’s generic name for all of us); only to turn around and discover his wife Gail had arrived to surprise him. Our finish a day early had made it impossible for her to be at the camp to surprise him when he arrived. We were all touched by Wayne’s description of Frank’s joy.

That incident reminds me I forgot to put in one of the name mix-up stories that had Sandy and me in hoots of laughter at the time. We were having spaghetti one night when Sandy and I had both been served more than we could eat. We were both playing with our food when I let out a sigh. Ken said, “Nancy are your eyes bigger than your stomach again?” Sandy looked up from her barely touched dinner to ask, “Which Nancy?”

We had started making phone calls in Charlottetown to arrange a place to have dinner and celebrate on the 22nd and to find presents for Ken and Wayne for all they had done for us. Luckily, I had friends in St. John’s who we were able to dragoon into doing all the legwork for us, Dan and Susan Rubin formerly of Lasqueti Island, B.C. We had expected to arrive on a Sunday and didn’t know what would be open or how to shop in the very few hours that would be available.

The place they picked for our dinner was the Bagel CafÈ because they serve Newfoundland food and the owner was enthusiastic about having a group of maniacs who had cycled from coast to coast. It was a brilliant find, mainly due to our waitress who was a stand-up comic who brooked no nonsense from us, and kept us howling with laughter. We picked a variety of food, the wine was supplied from the surplus in our beer fund, and Chris Chan and Anita who joined us, donated an ice cream cake with suitable sentiments written on it.

The Four Lads and a Lass, Frank, Al, Dave Mann, Harold and I sang the song Frank and I wrote to the sentiments and tune of “Moments to Remember.” Ken suggested I put it in here so our group can read it later.

That first day's uphill mountain ride
The Coquihalla where we sighed
We will have these moments to remember.

Those early morning zipper sounds
The days we tore the cook tent down  (voice over, Come to Me)
We will have these moments to remember.

The quiet walks, the ice cream fun
The country dancing that we done
We will have these moments to remember.

The winding roads we pedaled slow
Through scenery we hoped to know
There is no scenery to remember.

The swimming Al did every day
The coffee breaks that faded away
The tinkling of V8 juice every evening.

Though we were bloated at the start
But know now we are strong of heart
With shapes we no longer resemble.

Though summer turns to winter
And the present disappears
The laughter we were glad to share
Will echo through the years.
When other nights and other days
May find us gone our separate ways,
We will have these moments to remember.

Throughout the evening, there were many toasts, with the most heartfelt being to Irene who we all miss and wish was with us. And while I’m on the subject of Irene, I found the note with the ambulance attendant’s name on it who helped so much at the accident. Thanks to Michele Paradis of St. Alphonse-Rodriguez.

After the song, Al presented Wayne with a gift from all of us to thank him for his incredible volunteer effort to get us to St. John’s. As Al said, the trip would have fallen through if Wayne hadn’t agreed to drive the truck. He got a hooded sweatshirt with a Newfoundland train design on it and an engineer’s cap because of his background working on trains. Ken gave out certificates for the trip and Wayne’s certificate said he had the best vocabulary. (Heckler in the cheap seats: and that was only up to the letter F!) The gift that went with the certificate was, coincidentally, a train whistle.

The other certificates which Ken presented started with Chris Chan for lying down on the job, (his recumbent) then Al McLean for re-routing city buses, (after an incident in Thunder Bay where he phoned the head office of the bus company and got the bus sent back that had passed him without stopping!) Harry got a certificate for first in, first out, which was accompanied by a present of an apron for his constant discussion of what was women’s work whenever we did dishes. Brendan’s certificate was for emulating the Roadrunner, George Fralic’s was for a girl in every camp (he knew someone in communities all the way across Canada). Harold Bridge’s was for remembering the date ofä.. Frank Thompson’s was for finishing without his bicycle — he borrowed Wayne’s when his was stolen in Charlottetown. Dave Herlt’s was for aspiring Iron man ‚ not – since he has been anaemic. Mary’s was for beating the sun to the coffeepot; Dave Mann’s was for misplacing almost everything; Sandra Larson’s was for beating down camp operators (she became a genius at getting us great deals); Inge’s was for participating in every cook team; Eric’s was for being the best dressed cyclist; Anita Chan’s was for sharing her Fig Newtons the night Marilyn went to the hospital; mine was for most improved cyclist, and Ken’s was for establishing schedules no one followed. My presents with my certificate were a set of noisemakers so I can continue my partying, and a bungee cord to attach myself to Eric’s bike so I can keep up with him. Ken’s gift with his certificate was a package of Fig Newtons because of his constant problem of trying to get people to take their share of cookies and leave some, especially Fig Newtons, for others. He passed them around the table and they disappeared as fast as the ones on the Budget truck did. He also got another card with a zipper in it, so whenever he misses us, he can play with the noisy zipper, and the feeling will go away.

The last present was for Ken from the group and before I had a chance to make the expected maudlin speech, Brendan saved the day by saying how much we all appreciated everything Ken did for us on the trip. We gave Ken a cycling jersey from Newfoundland with the provincial flag on it.

After the party, most of the group went home, but Inge, Sandy, and I went to a Fifties pub to dance, where we found Dave Mann, Brendan, Al and his wife who had arrived after flying standby and spending unwanted time in two other cities when she got bumped. We were stunned to discover what an incredible dancer Inge is. We were sorry we had let her get away the other nights we went dancing since she joined us in Ottawa. Hidden talents. We burned up some more energy, then made the mistake of going to another pub which turned out to be a downer, so we went home to bed, early, at 1 a.m. ‚ our last night of dancing.

Over the next few days everyone packed up their tents to catch their flights home and disappeared one by one.

After Wayne, Harry, Sandra and Ken had all left, over two days, the last highlight for the rest of us was meeting for lunch at Auntie Crae’s. Every Tuesday noon hour, local musicians have a jam session there. It was a special experience to hear live Newfoundland music from people who were obviously enjoying making music and didn’t need the rest of us there clapping and cheering. Some of the musicians knew each other. One man, a frequent visitor from Ottawa, sang and he was incredible. The other musicians played accordions, fiddles, bodhran, mandocello, and mandolin.

We went to the glass fronted Geo Centre, or as locals call it, the Gordon Pinsent rock museum, after lunch, and were overwhelmed by the place. (All the videos, which Inge and Eric slept through, star Gordon Pinsent). Ken, we were going to send you a postcard from there saying people in glass houses shouldn’t show stones.

We did it! We did it!

Quebec City to St. Jean Port Jolie 120k

Our full day off in Quebec City left us enchanted with the city. Sandra says Quebec is her favourite province for cycling, and Quebec City her favourite city to visit. Al, Sandra and I left the residence mid-morning to walk the 5k to the old city on a beautiful morning. Most of the others had chores to do which included bike shops before touristing. We met Dave M., and Frank in front of the Chateau Frontenac watching one of the many buskers. Al became an assistant to one of the acts ‚ a unicycle rider who was funny in both official languages. We visited the Basilica as a group, lucking into a tour given by a man in 16th-century peasant costume. We wandered around the old city gawking at the sights and getting pictures taken with people in period costumes, a salute to the Festival of New France.

We met Wayne and Ken at the busker’s area after they had taken care of shipping Irene’s bike home, and the bunch of us went to a Thai restaurant for supper before going back to the residence. The only ones we didn’t run into in the middle of the city were George and Mary who were also there. Dave H. was recuperating from feeling lousy at the residence. Harold, Ken, Mary, Frank and I found various computer rooms at the university to check our emails and do other chores, and were allowed to walk in, use computers and leave without being questioned, whenever we wanted, a rare treat.

Leaving Quebec City, and the residence at Laval, we all turned right but Frank turned left. There was confusion among the ranks finding the Pont Quebec, the only bridge cyclists are allowed to cross, with the whole group to-ing and fro-ing. The weather was great with mixed sun and cloud and the temperature in the low 20s. Once over the bridge Brendan found a cycle path beside the river that sounded like a treat to ride. The rest of us were on the highway with a record number of stoplights that at least kept us together. We rode through an artsy area that was really busy with tourists to our campsite at a hidden road for Au Bonnet Rouge. That evening most of us went for a walk to a long breakwater and back via a sculpture garden. St. Jean Port Jolie has an international contest for sculptors every year and the sculptures make a permanent installation around a large garden. It felt like there were hundreds of structures in the area with artists representing countries all over the world. During the day many of us tried poutine because it is a Quebec treat ‚ French fries with gravy and cheese curd. Ken and Frank liked it. Al said he’d never bother to try it again. Me too. Sandy has tried it before and says she likes it, but she wasn’t eating it. Al drafted behind Harry for the first time and he says it was the easiest day he’s ever had.

To Riviere du Loup ‚ 97k

Today started out with a head wind and rain and ended up great in sunshine. One of the group called it Quebec weather. Always the mornings are bleak but by afternoon the sun comes out. Sandy had a fast day, drafting behind Al. Dave and Mary drafted behind Frank. Glorious scenery. Just another day beside the St. Lawrence!

There was lots of chain cleaning and oiling tonight, getting ready to go on the Trans-Canada Trail tomorrow. There was a bike route from the campsite to the ferry terminal and around a higher point of land that several cyclists made after getting tents up, ending with buying ice-cream cones. Riding an extra few kilometers to get an ice-cream doesn’t seem like a big deal anymore, after a 97k day.

Dave H. is starting to look a lot better after a dreadful bout of stomach flu-like symptoms.

Riviere du Loup to St. Jacques, N.B. ‚ 135k

A long, hard day on the Trans Canada Trail ‚ beautiful trail, no vehicles but with the gravel surface it made for much more arduous cycling than paved roads do. Harry went on the highway and avoided the trail. Brendan had the right bike for it and had a great day on the trail. Frank and I had a relaxed but long day with our muscles protesting the change in surface. I loved the long tunnels of trees but Frank found them tedious. Harold, too, changed from the trail to the road to make faster time. Mary and Dave, with their thin tires were unimpressed with trails.

Sandy had an experience getting her legs felt up by another cyclist; a tall, dark, handsome cyclist, who didn’t believe she had cycled all the way from Victoria and grabbed her leg to check her muscles! He was suitably impressed. And Sandyä

When we reached St Jacques, the hose worked overtime at the campsite to clean all the mud off the bikes. We all complained about how tired we were at supper, but got a second wind when we went for ice-cream and heard live music starting. A vocalist sang while music played for dancing with nobody on the dance floor. Our group sat in the front row of chairs with at least 100 campers at the very large Panoramic site ranged in smaller groups in the dark behind us. The cyclists, who had ridden 135k that day, were the only ones to get up and dance, and dance exuberantly, except for a few women we didn’t know who were line-dancing. Mary and Dave danced, with Sandy and I the only other two women for all our guys. Nice odds for us! Our enthusiastic and accomplished dancer George danced with some of the other women campers as well as all of us, but the rest of ours guys stuck to our group. The music sent Inge to bed without tempting her to dance.

Sandra was dancing with George at one point and said, “I guess Harry is saving his million dollar legs,” so George grabbed the mike, teasing Harry who was sitting in the front row with Brendan, not participating, by saying, “What are you doing, Harry, preserving your million dollar legs,” The first time Harry said he had million dollar legs, George said, ‘Yes, and a $50 body.’

St. Jacques to Four Falls 86k

An easy day that felt like a day off. Cloudy skies, threatening rain but it held off until we arrived and pitched our tents.

Four Falls to Woodstock 100k

Frank got a flat just as we were leaving. Later he went to Perth Andover and came down 103 through Florenceville and met 7k of gravel and Harold. Other than Harold, he didn’t see anyone all day, unusual for us. Mary and Dave cycled with George and he took them to meet a friend of his from home who is a cabinet-maker. They were impressed with the technology and machinery that is used to make kitchen cabinets. We all made separate visits to the longest covered bridge in the world, most cycling through it or taking pictures of us at it.

David M., Ken and I made another foray onto the Trans Canada Trail, but this time sections of it were in a pretty challenging state. I got lessons on dealing with loose sand and gravel.

We stayed at Yogi Bear’s Kosy Acres, a comfortable campsite with all the amenities we need and more (like the hayride with Yogi Bear). The only drawback was that the cooking area was a good hike away from the tents.

Harold put new thinner tires on for me in an effort to speed up just a little more. They all keep telling me that it is 90 per cent the cyclist and 10 per cent the bike, but I’m still looking for any help I can get. Now the pannier and the kickstand are gone there isn’t too much more I can remove.

Supper was chicken breast in a sensational sauce invented by David M. Sandy, on his team, supplied a box of wine that turned an ordinary evening into one of hilarity and needed relaxation.

Woodstock to Fredericton ‚ 92k

Hot day following roads that weren’t on the map to a dam that wasn’t on the map. It was scenic and enjoyable because not too busy. This is the day that my husband, Eric O’Higgins, joins us after cycling from Moncton. We figured he couldn’t make it by the time we would get into camp because he had a longer ride and he would likely start later in the day. Wrong. He rode 240k in one day, yesterday, and rode forward to meet us, but he followed the route map and we took assorted other roads. We ended up not connecting until an hour after Ken and I rode in after stopping at a roadside stand to buy berries.

There were lots of hills on our way, to gorgeous area on a lake formed by a dam on the St. John river. On the beach below the highway Frank, Ken, Mary, Dave and I sat on a precarious rotten log. Frank waded and Mary dangled her feet in the water. We met up with George, Inge and Sandra at the dam George had promised us we could ride over. Frank had promised mayhem if the road didn’t go through because it didn’t show on the map. George delivered. We tried to get ice-cream at a kiosk near a beach thick with swimmers, but a sign on the counter said “sorry, ice-cream is too hard to serve”. We bought water because Dave and I ran out due to the heat.

The campsite at Fredricton, Harrt Island Campsite, was noisy with cars, trucks and motorcycles roaring past until late at night.

Fredricton to Sussex ‚ 126k

Highway 105 along the river was gorgeous all the way; #10 over the hills south to Sussex was brutal. A headwind made going a little tough and drafting essential. Eric and I started off drafting behind Al and Ken and at 35k Eric had his first flat, on his first day with us. I still haven’t had one so the toll is down to Harry and I. Some people have had eight or more flats. We found a marvelous restaurant at 45k for a second breakfast, not knowing it was the last chance for a restaurant until about 80k.

Sussex to Shediac ‚ 107k

Fabulous, fabulous day along a secondary road. Amazing tailwind, little traffic and hills that let you coast up them and get a fast run down, sending you up the next one without needing to change gears. It was the kind of exhilarating day that restores your love of cycling if you lost it and would make you fall in love with it, if you hadn’t. Everyone was high from the wonder of the day. Campsite at Shediac was close to Micky D’s and hot fudge sundaes so some people ‚ Mary – made multiple trips.

Shediac to Borden-Carleton ‚ 64k

A short day starting out with sun and deteriorating by supper into an ominous sky. We waited for two hours for the shuttle to take us across the Confederation Bridge so three of us, Al, George and I cleaned our bikes as well as we could without equipment. There’s live music here tonight.

Ottawa

After we eventually got our rooms in the residence, we were given a large conference room where we could keep our bikes and where we could set up our sodden tents to dry indoors. The first night, Irene and I walked for a couple of hours to get our bearings, then took a double-decker bus tour of the highlights of the city. We arrived back at the residence to find Al, Dave, Sandy, Frank and Harold about to go to the Bytown market for something to eat. We ended up at a Scottish pub, where we sampled Harold’s haggis and decided it wasn’t as bad as we expected. Irene and I decided we were going back to have haggis before our stay in Ottawa was up. The Highlander ‘where all the men wear kilts’ serves a tot of single malt whisky at 9 p.m. every night and a gong sounds when everyone present toasts Scotland. It was so much fun we all went back on our last night in Ottawa and this time Dave M. and I practiced “Just a wee Doch and Doris” all the way there, and several times throughout the evening. The haggis was delicious. Our singing of every Scottish song we could think of, ending in a chorus by all of Auld Lang Syne, may have driven the patrons closest to us away, but the staff acted like they enjoyed our enjoyment. Mary and Dave H. joined us this time at the pub after a visit from their daughter, husband, and two grandbabies who came from Vermont for their first full day in Ottawa. We had another ice cream cone at one of the many home made ice cream establishments to fuel us for the walk home and a dance on the corner that narrowly avoided me getting an icecream in the middle of the forehead.

One of the highlights of the Ottawa visit for Irene, Sandy and me, was a trip to Notre Dame Basilica with its incredible wood carved interior. Irene and Sandy also went to see the changing of the guards in front of the Parliament buildings, followed by a tour of the buildings.

Al was most impressed by the Museum of Civilization but thinks he would really enjoy it if he lived close enough to get it in small doses.

Harold liked the aeronautic museum the best and would have liked another visit to it to do some photography. Wayne agreed with him.

Harry’s wife Verena joined him at the University of Ottawa residence; Wayne’s brother and sister-in-law came from Sudbury to see him, and Ken’s wife D’Arcy Bader joined him at a hotel, besides the Herlt’s family visit, so we were scattered for most of the time off.

Dave Mann’s favourite part of the city was the bike trail in the parks. Sandy’s was the tour in the Parliament Building and the woman who re-enacted the first woman appointed to the Senate. Irene’s and mine was the Basilica, Brendan’s was bike trails around the Rideau canal; Harry’s was walking through the city and all the buildings.

On our second evening in Ottawa, the local branch of the CCCTS put on a fabulous barbecue for us at the home of Peter and Margaret Wood. Lots of wine and incredible barbecued salmon and chicken with an amazing variety of salads and desserts were inhaled by our always-hungry group. We were all blown away by the view of the water from Peter’s house and by the hospitality of their group, some of whom have done the coast to coast trip before. Thank you to all of you, for riding in with us, for picking us up and driving us back from the barbecue and for all your kindness and interest in our experiences (and weight loss!) Many of the group took the opportunity to get weighed for the first time since the trip started, since there was a locker room with a weight scale right across the road a little bit from where we were staying. The loss probably totalled hundreds of pounds if we added it all up.

Our last morning started unusually late for us because there was nowhere open to get breakfast until 7:30. It was actually great to get on the road again, even when it started pouring. It rained all day, sometimes harder than other times, but continuously. We all met at Tim Horton’s for our break, then 30k later Harold and Ken and I took the opportunity to use our minimal French and have pea soup and pie and icecream. In rehashing the day later, we discovered that many of us had taken different routes to get there and there was much bragging about whose detours were the most picturesque. Brendon won with his rambling day beside the river which took him 97miles, not kilometers. (He hasn’t made the change to metric yet.)

We passed into Quebec today and most took the chance to take pictures of each other at the dinky Quebec sign on the bridge from Hawksbury. I managed to get Ken and Harold lost at least three times so we were by far the last ones to get into camp at Lachute.

Lachute to Joliette, 107k

Irene got hurt today. There was no shoulder on the road and the highway itself was in a broken and pot-holed condition. Somehow she hit a fault in the road and went over her bike onto her head, then her shoulder and elbow. She was only lucky in the circumstances of her accident, in that the car behind that saw what happened contained a paramedic and her husband, a fireman. A police car was also coming by and stopped so an ambulance was dispatched as fast as possible. Unfortunately, it was a weekend and she had to wait a total of 10 hours before she was seen by a doctor. At first she was told six hours, then more time kept getting added. Dave H. accompanied her in the ambulance, then Al and Dave M. who were the first on the scene before the ambulance left, went to the hospital and Al stayed with her, and then Mary spelled him off and Dave and Al came to the campsite in Joliette. The rest of us wandered around the campsite snapping at each other and not knowing what to do to be helpful. The next day was Irene’s birthday, her 60th, and the reason she was doing the trip. Irene arrived back at the campsite at 12:30 at night with the diagnosis of a broken elbow and an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon at 8 in the morning ‚ and the advice that she would be better to fly back to Edmonton for treatment, than to stay at the tiny hospital in Joliette.

Irene was told at her appointment in the morning that she needed a pin in her elbow. Chris and Anita took her to her appointment at the hospital, and then on to the airport to try to make arrangements for her to fly home. She could have made a flight in the afternoon but Air Canada wanted an astronomic price for it, so she ended up staying at a hotel overnight and flying out in the morning. Some birthday.

We are having to cope without her and it is hard. She kept us all cheered up, jockeyed us into doing our chores so that even the reluctant ones did the dishes, made us feel special and important, was always happy and energetic and was an incredible addition to the group.

Joliette to Champlain 114k

For the first time that I have been aware of, we have had a troop of cranky campers in the morning, all upset over Irene’s accident. Ken gave Irene her birthday card that we had all signed when we thought we would be having a celebration. We all said goodbye to her at Chris’s motor home where she had spent the night. With her bruised hip she couldn’t climb in and out of other vehicles. Once she was in Chris and Anita’s place she was there to stay.

Smooth road, wide shoulders, sunshine, picturesque houses and farmland, fields of tobacco and sunflowers those of us concentrating on the road in front of us didn’t see, and a covered bridge that some of us also missed. Lunch on a picnic bench by the St. Lawrence with a wind knocking windsurfers over in front of us, and freighters spaced out travelling down the river. Cycled with George, Inge, Sandy for the first 30k and Inge at one point said, ‘It’s George and his little ducklings.’ Since then I have quacked every time I caught up from way behind. It was a beautiful day but only a one-icecream cone day.

Champlain to Quebec City ‚ 118k

Another beautiful day for weather. Cloudy and threatening but sun later with the rain and thundershower never happening. Ken woke to another flat tire. The rest of us were on the road by 7:10, a record. He caught up, averaging 28k, after travelling over a metal bridge where his front handlebar bag fell off, spilling cell phone, camera and assorted goodies all over the bridge. Fortunately nothing fell through.

George and his ducklings got separated by coffee break, when Harold and I found a restaurant to go in, leaving the others at a picnic table. It wasn’t a day for wonderful French cuisine, but hopefully that will come. The university residence in Quebec City is great and most of the group went to the old town for dinner, leaving Ken and Wayne trying to find a bike box to send Irene’s bike back to her, Mary, Dave and George to eat at the university cafeteria and me wasting another block of time on this !@#$% computer.

Snippets:

Or things I forgot to put in at the right time.

Al saw a big semi advancing on him in his mirror at the same time as he saw a billboard through the corner of his other eye proclaiming: “Prepare to meet thy maker.”

When Marina was getting ready to leave us in Winnipeg Ken gave her a card that we all signed and in his farewell remarks said she was aptly named as Queen of the Sea only it should have had a p in it instead of an s. Marina gave each of us a gift of a container to put our lunch in and candy hugs ‚ appropriate since she was the queen of hugs which I miss since she left. She also wrote a touching and individual letter to each cyclist. George, her riding partner, also gave her a card and a pin from the farmers of the prairie provinces for her determination to fertilize their crops with nitrogen.

At Winnipeg we were joined by Marilyn from Ottawa who has already done most of the route but because of an accident in the Sea to Sea in 2000 was short the route from Nipigon to Sault Ste. Marie. We have rarely seen anyone as focused and determined not to let anything get in the way of completing her trip across Canada, cut short by breaking her little finger in a crash with another cyclist, resulting in a air ambulance trip to Thunder Bay and the first of three operations.

When we reached Sault Ste. Marie, Marilyn bought a couple of bottles of champagne and invited everyone to her room at our hostel, the Algonquin Hotel, where we spent our rest day, to toast the completion of her mission.

We couldn’t have picked a better time for a rest day. Sault was buzzing with Rotary Festival, with different music venues and non-stop entertainment only a few blocks from our hostel. A midway was part of the fun so I made sure I got a ride on a ferris wheel after a group of us had dinner at a waterfront restaurant. The night we arrived eight of us ate at a Chinese smorgasbord while the rest went to an Italian restaurant, except for George who discovered Mary’s, a bakery-restaurant which so impressed him he ate there five times, joined by others for some of the meals, and everyone for breakfast on our final morning (except for Sandy who bought one of Mary’s cinnamon buns the night before to heat up so she could sleep in). Mary’s special breakfast came on two plates, it was so large.

Sault to Iron Bridge 130k

Local knowledge told us to take Highway 638 instead of 17 on the way to Iron Bridge, that it was quieter and no farther. Wrong. The road was quiet but extremely hilly, and the surface was bumpy. One of the hills was as bad as anything we’ve seen, and that’s saying something. It probably only added 10k to the day but it made it a hard day. Harold disagrees with this and thought it was a wonderful side route ‚ very like England. Viking Tent and Trailer Park at Iron Bridge had a soothing swimming pool to wipe away the aggravation of the day.

Iron Bridge to Espanola 130k

A beautiful day, with the first section of the road as close to idyllic as possible ‚ beside a river, wonderful shoulders, slight tail wind, sunshine and about 24 degrees. It became the usual Highway 17 unpleasantness eventually, with too many trucks too close to us, with 10k of road under construction to add to the joy. After an icecream break at Massey, several of us took a highway to Espanola, again under local knowledge, but this time it was a happy occasion. It rolled through picturesque farmland, (and so did we.)

Espanola to South Baymouth 108k

Manitoulin Island was long, uneventful, and hot. Irene says it wasn’t as pretty as we expected. She liked 10-mile Point best, visiting it with Al, Dave M. and Ken, Mary and Dave. South Baymouth was a pleasant camp site with a superb ice cream selection down at the ferry dock of local Manitoulin-made icecream. Raccoons got into our garbage and Irene cleaned it all up before we got up.

South Baymouth to Hope Bay 62k

Ferry ride was through smog rising from Southern Ontario but was flat calm and a neat change from setting out for a hard day’s ride early in the morning. We had a short ride by bicycle ‚ only 62k ‚ to Hope Bay. After dinner, everyone went to the resort store for an icecream cone and sat on the deck for the evening chatting in the usual catching up on the day way, and waiting for the stream of people to use the telephones.

Hope Bay to Thornbury ‚ 97k

Marilyn went to the hospital at Thornbury to get a nasty sore on her ear looked at and we didn’t take everything we needed off the truck to prepare supper first. While waiting for Marilyn and Wayne to return so we could start supper, we ate two boxes of Fig Newtons donated by Chris and Anita, drank Nancy’s single malt and Sandy’s vodka, then visited a neighbouring camper after deciding to order pizzas. While we waited for pizzas to be delivered, we danced. There was to be an Elvis festival in Collingwood the coming weekend and the campground had a number of people staying there who got there early for the festival. Country music came from a few spots, but one in particular had a genial host who didn’t mind us dancing at his front door while he played the music and watched. George turns out to be a terrific dancer, with the women waiting their turn to dance with him by dancing with each other. Dave Mann and I were enthusiastic participants, if not as smooth as the others (definitely not Dave’s fault). Mary and Dave joined the dancers along with Irene and Sandy. Harry and Frank stood watching, looking amused but making sure they were far enough away not to get dragged onto our dance-grass. Brendan read in his chair, ignoring us. Ken stood out by the gate waiting for the pizza truck, but probably just wanting to avoid the dancing. The pizza truck arrived at the same time as our Budget truck returned with a bandaged Marilyn and patient Wayne. At some point, most people have thought they were getting bug bites on their right ears which usually turned out to be sunburn.

The same night, after we went to bed, we heard a lot of crashing and bashing around the cook tent. Raccoons were visiting. Irene thought it was Harry up and starting breakfast earlyãat 2:30 in the morning. Brendon had left his shampoo out on a picnic table and it disappeared. It must be the cleanest raccoon in town, Brendon says.

One of the earlier nights (and I’ve forgotten which campsite it was,) there was the usual sound of water swishing into what we all thought was a V-8 bottle, regularly every half an hour. Irene thought to herself, “We have to stop all this beer drinking.” We all lay there awake thinking someone had an incredible bladder, not realizing it was a motor home’s air conditioner.

Thornbury to Alliston ‚ 90k

Pleasant ride, not too stressful. At one point, some of the men riding with Irene, Sandy, Mary, and Marilyn took off, leaving Ken to guide them. Irene looked around as they studied the map with Ken, and said, “It’s Ken and his Barbies.”

Camp site called Rolling Acres Farm Camp turned out to be a boggy spot in the middle of a bunch of permanent trailers. On our way in the gate, Irene managed to not trigger it to go up and smashed through it, breaking it off. She wasn’t hurt, luckily but it could have been serious. Management was profuse in apologies to her and replaced the lifting board immediately. We wonder how many times a day they have to replace it, because in the middle of the night a rescue truck came through it smashing it again, followed by a fire truck. Then at 4 in the morning the garbage truck came through and emptied the big containers. Not a great night’s sleep for anyone. A tom cat was prowling and howling until George yelled: “Go ahead, Irene’s not coming out.”

My friend Kathleen Redmond who saw us off in Fort Langley turned up to take me out for supper ‚ too late because I had already eaten earlier but it was great to get together with someone from the West Coast.

Alliston to Port Perry ‚ 100k

Day started off beautifully with the first 14k to Collingwood on the Georgian Trail, a converted rail bed that meant no cars and we were able to ride side by side. There were lots of dog walkers but every dog was well trained and sat at its owners side as we passed. Another part of the route was picturesque and peaceful, through Bethany. The day ended not so great with a section of road under construction in Port Perry and a truck carrying a wide load honking at us to get off the road, then with me hurling head first into the gravel shoulder to avoid it. We all walked up the hill on the new section which isn’t finished yet and Dave H., Ken and Chris lifted our bikes over a very tall cement barrier at the top. Chris stayed at the back with me, nursing my wounded ego until we made the last 10k into camp and his support was very appreciated.

That night, my sisters Beth Mariglia and Shirley Imaizumi brought dinner for the group and joined us along with their husbands Vince Mariglia and Court Elliott. My niece Susan appeared with her husband Bill and two little guys, my grand-nephews, but we’d eaten all the food. The little ones made us realize how much we all miss our grandchildren. We had a fabulous meal of lasagna, barbecued Italian sausages, meat balls, garlic bread, salad and two cakes, a chocolate one and a lemon poppyseed as well as copious quantities of wine, a present from me. It was such a treat for me to see them all, but it was much too short. Shirley and Court came all the way from Toronto and the others from Bowmanville and Ajax to see us.

Port Perry to Colbourne ‚ 126 k

Beautiful day. Al said it was his favourite day of cycling yet. Highway 28 was hillier than expected and too busy but once we hit Port Hope we all fell in love with Southern Ontario. The old houses, brick and stone, the charming streets, the stores and main streets, were all unfamiliar to those with West Coast roots, used to frame construction not older than 20 years. Al went for a swim in Lake Ontario at Port Hope and decided its reputation for cold wasn’t true ‚ it was at least in the 70s. Harold and I went into at least three restaurants besides the shady roadside space we found to eat our lunch. It may have made the day longer but it made it seem a lot shorter.

This was Dave Herlt’s birthday so a Black Forest cake with sparklers was produced for dessert with lots and lots of good wishes. After dinner, Mary, Dave, Ken, Irene and I went for icecream with a walk back to the highway. Can’t let a day pass without at least one icecream.

Colbourne to Adolphustown ‚ 83k

This was Brendan’s birthday so he spent it riding with us instead of leading the pack. He drafted me for a while so I said, “It’s your birthday but I get the free ride.” Lovely ride along Lake Ontario with some of it taken along a trail before we went back out to the highway.

Ken felt sorry for a bird eating road kill on the highway, so he kicked the carcass off the road to keep the bird alive. It had in a previous life been a skunk. He was told he could sleep in his tent but his shoes had to move a long way from the other campers. He spent some time scrubbing one shoe and now they look like they are from different pairs.

Adolphustown celebrates the United Empire Loyalists and a billboard on the highway before we turned into our campsite announced afternoon tea at the Queen Charlotte house museum. After tent pitching and showers, Harold, Ken, Wayne and I went for afternoon tea. For $7 we got a pot of tea in a choice of kinds, raisin scones with clotted cream and rhubarb and strawberry jam, and a dinner sized plate with two each of a dozen different treats, from date squares to tiny cheesecake, pound cake, apricot squares, etc., for each two people. We took a plate of treats back to Brendan for his birthday and he shared it with everyone else before dinner. Al decided to go swimming instead of out for tea and regretted it ‚ he cut his foot in clean Lake Ontario.

Dinner included a mocha cake for Brendan’s birthday with sparklers but we haven’t quite got the hang of lighting sparklers yet. We need more practice and more birthdays.

Harry recommended exploring the UEL cemetery on the highway at the corner where you turn in to the campground so Harold and Ken walked back after dinner to look at the old stones, some 200 years old, trying to read dates.

Adolphustown to Kingston ‚ 50k

Lovely, short ride to Lake Ontario Park at the edge of Kingston. Everyone was there before lunch with tents put up, then headed for the bus into Kingston. Ken said Kingston was his favourite day off (and of course it wasn’t a real day off but felt like it.)

Nine of us took a tour bus from the information center to get the highlights of Kingston and it was well worth it. We saw John A. Macdonald’s many homes, the fort, the Royal Military College, etc. Al, Dave Mann and I went to the Maritime Museum but it wasn’t as good as the one at Selkirk.

There were two homemade icecream places on the main street which found customers, and a pub serving German beer imported in casks where Harry and Brendan found it necessary to make a repeat visit later in the afternoon.

Kingston to Johnstone ‚ 118k

It was pouring when we woke and had to pack our tents ‚ a rare occurrence for us. We rode on the Thousand Island Parkway. It took us longer than on the faster road, but was much more relaxing. Marilyn came along in a car and told Mary, Irene and Dave that she wouldn’t be rejoining us for cycling after all, that she was staying with her sister and would see us in Ottawa. Harry said I had to put in the journal that he was disappointed that she wasn’t coming back to help him with the cooking and unloading the tent but he was offered help by all the other women to make up for his cooking buddy’s disappearance. (Marilyn later said that she did feel guilty about it.)

We went into a movie theatre at the National Park on the parkway and saw films about the area while we ate our lunch. I fell asleep and had to be woken up by Sandy and Al when it was over.

Johnstone to Ottawa ‚ 93k

A speedy trip to Manotick where we arranged to meet members of the Ottawa club to ride in with us. They kindly showed us the least busy route possible for getting to Ottawa and then the bike path to the University of Ottawa where we actually sleep for three nights in a row in a real bed. Inge, who will join us for the last leg of our trip starting Saturday met us first and was a welcome addition. More details about our rest days in Ottawa in the next entry, probably at Quebec City.

In Thunder Bay our friends at the bike shop told us we had to eat at Hoito’s restaurant while we were there. Ken and I were the first ones to find it at breakfast on our day off. I had salted fish which turned out to be delicious salmon which came with mashed potatoes and a bowl of clabbered milk that tasted like buttermilk. Ken had the pancakes they are famous for. It is a Finnish restaurant in a building that housed the Finnish Labour Temple. The restaurant started in 1918 because young Finnish bushworkers at Kallio’s camp near Nipigon had no trouble finding a room to rent but had difficulty getting a decent meal at a fair price. The restaurant has a very large step-on scales to weigh yourself when you enter and again when you leave to see how much you ate! We told Dave and Mary Herlt and Irene about finding it when we met them at the library so they headed down there to eat before going back to our camp. They ran into Dave M. and Al on the street so they went there too. Al says he practically stripped to his BVDs before he got on the scale. Marilyn went to the same restaurant coincidentally, when friends took her there. She hadn’t even been at the bike shop to get the sales pitch the day before.

Thunder Bay to Nipigon ‚ 93k
God bless the trucker’s momma!

The trepidation in the air was palpable as everyone gave each other advice about the best way to handle transport trucks on what is the worst and one of the busiest highways in Canada. I warned everyone that I (Nancy) planned to ride in the truck after coffee, that the book I read said everyone should go through the U.S. or get a bus from Thunder Bay to Sault Ste. Marie ‚ that the road was too dangerous to cycle.

The first 15 k was rolling and quiet, and an unexpected treat. After 15k when we joined 17 and 11 it was about as bad as predicted. The giant trucks crowded us, there were no shoulders and the road itself was in bad shape. But it still wasn’t as bad as we expected. Then at 30k Wayne was on the highway with the coffee, across from a truck stop where we were able to use the washrooms. Irene chatted up one of the truck drivers, telling him she was riding her bicycle across Canada. He said “why”. She explained was the way she was celebrating her 60th birthday. She told him her son drives a big rig and that she’d appreciate it if he would tell the other trucks there were a lot of cyclists on the road. He said he would as long as we rode in single file. There was no possibility of doing otherwise! From then on, the trucks all gave us a wide berth. The rest of the day was a joy compared to before coffee break. Irene found another trucker to thank later in the day, and again the next morning, stopped one to say how much we appreciated their consideration.

When we got to Stillwater Park at Nipigon we were touched to discover a sign out on the road in big letters proclaiming Welcome Cross Canada Cyclists. We trooped out to the road after supper to have our picture taken in front of the sign, then almost all indulged in frozen yogurt at the Stillwater store

Nipigon to Schreiber 98k

After a cloudy beginning we had glorious sunshine with a little less truck traffic than the day before but Irene worked her magic with the truck drivers again. The hills were long enough to break up any monotony and the views of Lake Superior were stunning. Irene had a flat at the bottom of a hill making it now only three people out of 14 who haven’t had a flat. A group of us had a picnic at what looked like the height of one of the hills with a wide view of the lake but set off after lunch to discover around the bend, the hill kept climbing. There was a debate about whether the long free wheel downhill was worth all the uphill but Mary refuses to believe it is.

Many of us took a side trip into Rossport, a pretty lakeside community, and went into the Serendipity cafÈ, some for brunch, later, others for dessert. The cafÈ was almost hidden by the flowers in front and the desserts were stupendous. For instance, Cloud 9 was made up of two meringues with frozen yogurt in between, fresh strawberries on top and sauce over it. Others had sundaes and still others chocolate cake with raspberry sauce on. Wow!

Schreiber to Marathon 96k
Wussday.

Dense fog. Icy cold. Miserable.

It would have been a beautiful day had it been sunny, Marilyn says. There were a lot of view points that were probably spectacular if you could have seen them. The fog was thick enough to keep the visibility at feet instead of miles.

We planned to ride to a campground that was shorter than usual, 70k, but when we got there it was still before 1 p.m. the camp washrooms were smelly, the ground boggy and there wasn’t really enough room for the tents, and the weather was still thick fog and bitterly cold. The fast men rode down to a provincial campground to see if conditions were better there, but the showers would have been a kilometer away from the tent sites. The group decision was to cycle on to Marathon, another 20k and see if the Lion’s campsite was any better.

I chickened out. I’d ridden as far as we planned that day and I was cold so I decided to ride in the truck. Did I ever learn to regret it! When I got out of the truck at the Marathon campsite I was met by a chorus of ‘Wuss’, and clucking sounds from Harry and Brendan, plus instructions on how to do the chicken dance from Dave Mann.

“You have to tell everyone on the website that you are a wuss,” Harry said.

So here it is. I am a wuss. It was only about 16k from the one campsite to the one we ended up at, so I could have done it. But I didn’t.

Now, Brendan says I need two good riding days then I’ll be rewarded with a tot of single malt.

Snippets

Al saw two moose, one right in the middle of the road and one on the side. He thinks he might have got both of them in his photograph. Other wildlife sightings ‚ a fox with a chipmunk in his mouth followed me down the highway. Between Schreiber and Marathon several cyclists saw a bear on the side of the road. I did when I was alone and much too close-the distance of the gravel shoulder away. When I saw the bear, it was on the far side of the shoulder from me (eight feet) munching away on grass and contemplatively staring at me. I was saying, ‘Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God’ as I was passing him. He’ll think his name is Oh my God.

Biking back from Marathon to the campground a bear crossed the road behind me. George was turning out of the campground and yelled ‘turn around, look at the bear.’ I thought he was kidding but finally looked, and sure enough, it was.

Marathon to White River ‚ 97k

A perfect day. It started with more fog and uphill for 4k to the highway but the fog burned off by 9 a.m. and it was a glorious day. Lots of gentle hills, views we could see for a change, and temperatures that went up to about 35C. Our first really warm day. Dave Herlt had the first broken spoke. Dave and Mary had a magic tool in their kit for an emergency repair on broken spokes, a Kevlar cord that replaces the spoke until you can get to camp and do a permanent repair. It was another of Mary’s finds on the internet. Every time we ask her where she got something we like, the answer is “On the internet.”

The day was warm enough for Al to take a break for a swim at a lake on the way and Al, Dave M. and Brendan headed for another lake just down the road in White River. Sandy, Marilyn, Mary and Dave H. took pictures at the Winnie the Pooh statue. White River is famous for being where the bear cub named Winnie was bought by a soldier for his regiment’s mascot and taken to England in the First World War. A.A. Milne became enchanted with it when it was loaned to the London Zoo when the soldier’s regiment went to France.

White River to Wawa ‚ 95k

Another mosquito haven. We went from cloud to hot sun to marine fog. Most of us stayed in a motel in White River because there wasn’t a campground but a few like Harry, George, and the Herlt’s put up their tents anyway to avoid the crowded motel rooms. The tent dwellers survived a lightning storm and downpour.

During the ride, Ken and Frank startled a vulture feeding off a dead moose. Everyone else coming along smelled the moose.

Wawa to Montreal River ‚ 110k

Lots and lots of uphills and downhills. Sunny, warm weather although a thunder storm threatened early in the day. Montreal River is famous for the long, long, ride down to lake level at the end of the day.

Sandy came on a wolf eating a dead moose and was nervous about passing, since the wolf moved to guard his meal. He was on the bank and the kill was in the ditch. Sandy says she was worried if she moved he might decide she was dessert. She waited for a car to come for added support.

The Montreal River campsite is right along the shore and except for seeing through clouds of blackflies, the view is stunning. Al went for a swim in Superior and looked like he just about got towed off by the current. Most gathered at a picnic table on the bank above the water to watch a glorious bright red sunset.

Montreal River to Sault Ste. Marie ‚ 120k

Gorgeous day ‚ sunshine, tail wind for lots of the time, long stretches of gentle downhill interspersed with some flat stretches. Mary, David, Marilyn, George, Ken and I had lunch at a stunning sandy beach along the shore. Then 10k later, Ken and I had icecream at a cafÈ where Dave M. and Al were having bacon and eggs, all of us to get the strength for the climb up what we were warned was ‘one mile hill’. It was intimidating because you could see it for so far before you reached it, but for survivors of the Coquihalla, it really wasn’t that big a deal. Harold had his pedal fall apart and had to ride in the truck.

We are spending our day off at the Algonquin Hotel (a hostel) in the Sault, a centrally located, comfortable spot. We divided into two groups of those who wanted Chinese food for supper and those who wanted Italian. We are lucky that two blocks away in the Rotary Festival with free jazz concerts, country and rock concerts, a midway, a display of the Bushplane museum, a flea market and tours of the locks. Everyone is busy finding things to do as well as the usual laundry and bike repairs.

A bunch of us bused into Winnipeg from Selkirk and sightsaw. We bought out the bike department at Mountain Equipment where we all met by coincidence. Bike shorts went flying into change rooms, Canada shirts, in honour of the next day, July 1, many cans of SuperLube, bike cleaner, etc. etc. Mary showed us that she had accidentally spent the day wearing one Teva sandal and one bike sandal, complete with clip on the bottom. While talking about absent-minded adventures, earlier Dave Herlt took his helmet off to get rid of a bee and didn’t realize he’d put it on backwards until Sandy asked him much later why his visor was at the back. Some of us missed the best museum to visit which was right at the campsite in Selkirk, the Manitoba Maritime Museum.

Selkirk to Rennie ‚ 130 k

Set off on beautiful tour of Selkirk on way to Rennie, but took a slight detour to the west instead of the east at the start. Fortunately Ken’s sense of direction told him the sun was in the wrong place. Once we all turned around and headed in the right direction, we still added a lump of time because of a gravel road that the map showed us taking. Wayne went the right way and was waiting with the coffee at Beausejour but nobody turned up. He thought we’d gone past or gone another way and wasted a frustrating day backing and forthing trying to find us. We didn’t connect until the middle of the afternoon. The wind was against us except when we were going the wrong direction. A frustrating day for all.

Rennie to Kenora ‚ 92 k

The mosquitoes stop at the Manitoba border! They started at Manitoba Narrows and kept up their annoying thick irritation right to Kenora where we had a covered area. Kenora was bustling with tourist traffic and finding Anicinibe campground was difficult for everyone but once we got there realized it should have been easy. The campground was a beautiful spot under cover and rain dumped the minute we were all there. The next morning was sunny and beautiful with loons crying. On a 5 a.m. walk Mary found a dinnerplate-sized snapping turtle laying eggs.

Kenora to Nestor Falls ‚ 123 k

There isn’t any flat land between Kenora to Nestor Falls. It’s all hills. Most people stopped for food or ice cream at Sioux Narrows in warm sunshine with tourists celebrating both Canada Day and Independence Day. We can get very tired of all these head winds. Arriving at Nestor Falls everyone except the last two cyclists went too far and had to double back to find Clark and Crombie Camp. The last two saw the sign saying C & C Camp and went into the office to ask if it was the right place. Ha!!

Nestor Falls to Fort Frances ‚ 121k

A tail wind at last! It was only at the start of the ride until we turned direction, but still…Our usual head wind was present for the last 70 k. Mary and David with their cooking partner George cooked us an American July 4th dinner ‚ hamburgers, hotdogs, corn on the cob, baked beans, chips, potato salad, macaroni salad, with strawberry shortcake for dessert. Fabulous! At dusk Al surprised our South Carolina partners by making them look out of their tent to see the Roman Candle he set off.

Fort Frances to Atikokan ‚ 147k

Not a happy day. Very, very long and all head winds. Harold had been putting up with tendonitis in his leg and it played up enough that he decided he needed to be rescued by the truck. We asked a couple of people cycling by on recumbants to tell our faster people ahead to send Wayne back. Instead, they got their support vehicle driver to go to the police station in Atikokan for directions and they gave her a police escort to our camp site. It must have been a shock to the early arrivers to have a police car arrive and a relief to them to find out it wasn’t more serious. We decided to have pizza that night as it was too long a day to put up the cook tent and get dinner.

Atikokan to Kashabowie ‚ 100k

Long ride in on a dreadful gravel road at Kashabowie only to discover it was well worth it. The resort where we thought we would be camping on an empty field with two rustic cabins needed for showers turned out to be luxurious by our standards. Any night we don’t have to put up our tents turns out to be a treat. The men’s cabin slept nine with a kitchen where Brendan and Wayne cooked their magic producing spaghetti for us, and breakfast with real toast the next morning. The women’s cabin (that we really can’t call that because Dave and Mary had one of the bedrooms) was an unexpected delight.

Kashabowie to Thunder Bay 113k

A great day with rolling terrain, a bit of tail wind or at least neutral winds followed by a nerve-wracking ride into Thunder Bay traffic where we all hit the bike stores. A group of us found a new store where the owners and his mechanic were unbelievably helpful. They were interested in our trip and told everyone who came into the store what we were doing. They changed all the chains on our bikes, installed bars on mine to make me faster (every little bit helps) spent three hours trying to fix Dave Herlt’s bike unsuccessfully because they didn’t have the necessary part. The owner actually left the store and drove to two other bike shops for things they didn’t have that we needed ‚ tires, specific chains, gloves, so we wouldn’t have to ride our bikes to other stores. When in Thunder Bay say hello to the people at Rollin’ Thunder for us, especially the owners Allison Carroll and Brian Coutts.

We are staying at the KOA campground for our day off and there will be the usual flurry of laundry-washing, library visiting for internet access and restaurant visiting.

Father’s day in Saskatoon was marked by presents given to the men in the group by the five women, with Marina making a funny and articulate MC. Each of the presents had been purchased several days before the event and we forgot why some of them were appropriate, so we had each man guess why he was getting his gift. Harold got a sewing kit and we think it was because he needed one the first day at Fort Langley. Brendan’s was the most successful. He got a pair of large, funny sunglasses with eyes on it (because he’d be in trouble if he lost his contact lenses). He used the glasses to make everyone in the park in Saskatoon laugh, and he’s kept it up for the group for the next several days. Ken got a bubble blowing teddy bear that he mounted on his bike and now he says he has a panda in front and a bear behind. Wayne also got bubbles to blow simply because we thought he would have the most fun with them. Frank got a fan because he was always too warm, George got a deck of miniature cards because he’s a card, Al got a gear clip, David got a wallet to keep the beer money in because he can never find the beer money, Dave got springy clips to attach things to himself because he’s always losing things, Harry got a package of marshmallow bananas because his signature is that he drops banana peels on the road every day, presumably so we won’t get lost.

The next day in Saskatoon, Larry McGuire, his wife Shirley and club member Lloyd took those of the group who could climb on their bicycles for a tour of the city, bike shop and pubs, then back to Larry’s house for a party. The rest of us got a ride from Sandra’s Duanne except for the intrepid Marina and George who walked. The McGuire hospitality was so generous and made us all feel so comfortable and welcome that we were overwhelmed. Larry and Shirley barbecued smokies and hamburgers for us, poured copious quantities of beer and wine and then topped it off with sweet, luscious strawberries with ice cream.

Saskatoon to Lanigan and Lanigan to Foam Lake were beautiful days with varied winds. We realized again that the numbers on the map saying how far we are going are irrelevant ‚ all that matters is the direction of the wind. At Foam Lake the young park attendant came to warn us that the roads people had just put down gravel for a kilometer down the road. It was actually about 16k we discovered early the next morning, and the trucks racing down it provided black out conditions of dust.

A tail wind flew us from Foam Lake into Yorkton before lunch ‚ 93 easy kilometers, giving everyone a whole afternoon to explore Yorkton. At dinner, Ken said we’d be losing Irene for a week and a bit and asked how her cooking team wanted to manage without her. Marina explained Harold offered to help since he had missed two meals when he should have been cooking, and Brendan, in his usual sardonic way on said, “Gee, we’re drowning and you throw us an anchor.”

Yorkton was where the wood ticks started attacking us. Ken showed us what they looked like by walking into long grass and coming out with many of the little critters walking down his leg. He brushed them off but missed one climbing down into his sock that firmly attached itself. From then on we’ve been brushing them off and picking them off each other. The minute we hit the border we started hitting clouds of mosquitoes to add to the ticks. We hit Vermillion Park in Dauphin and the head nets got frantically searched for, making us look like a convention of beekeepers.

We had a beautiful 118k ride to Lake Manitoba Narrows but our shadow rider, Chris Chan missed a turn and did a total of 188k. The truck was also missing after it delivered Irene to the bus station to go home to Alberta for her daughter’s wedding. (She is sadly missed, even though we know she will return to us in Thunder Bay.) Almost everyone bought a beer from Lake Manitoba Lodge and sat on the dock avoiding mosquitoes and awaiting Wayne. The ground was too soggy for tents so cabins were rented for the night. Wayne arrived with a tale of woe about being captured by weigh scales operators and given a ticket for Budget. We had dinner in the Lodge dining room since most of us wanted to try pickerel. Our lovely mosquito-free bedrooms were appreciated more because we had spent so many night in tents. Off on the bus from Selkirk to Winnipeg. More from us on the next rest day!

The way out of Drumheller was up, of course and the first 21k was accompanied by a side wind. Turning right to Hanna we faced 11k of construction but with a fabulous tail wind. We all arrived at Hanna by 12:30. Why do we always have a tail wind when we have a short day. We found a campground that wanted us (instead of the sour people running the RV camp where we thought we were going) and tried to put up our tents in a wind. Cyclists were chasing ground sheets and tents all over. Two tents were put up in the cook house and the smartypants in them thought they had the best deal until a mouse ran over my face during the night. Sandra talked to the volunteer attendant at the Lake Fox and said what kind of a deal could they give this non-profit group of cyclists. How about zero, he responded. We are very grateful to Ken Fleischaker, Hanna and all the volunteers at the campsite.

Harry offered to give us all haircuts and there were four eager takers. He said he had the right equipment with him. “Oh, were you a hairdresser,” one of the group asked. “No, a sheet metal worker” was the reply. The haircuts waited.

When we stayed at the campsite at Kindersley, again a beautiful sunny day with a tail wind, a ball tournament was being set up at the field next to us. Someone started throwing firecrackers after we were in bed giving us dreams of tents catching fire. One trailer had a loud party which some of us didn’t hear.

Kindersley to Rosetown was again a flying trip with a tail wind. Brendan and Harry got in while a parade was taking place for their annual jamboree and joined the parade. They made it into a lot of photographs of people who probably wonder who they are. A local talent show that night attracted a number of us, watching fiddlers, tap dancers and singers. At the end of the evening Rosetown put on a lengthy fireworks display which some people watched from their tents, others actually got up and went outside, and others of us were not aware that it happened. We were all charmed by Rosetown, not the least because it has a Dairy Queen.

We left with a memorable side wind interspersed with a head wind making our trip to Saskatoon harder than the Coquihalla, according to a few people. It was a long, long day.

Memorable lines to remember ‚ Marina waking up in the morning, stretching and saying, “ah, coffee and ibuprofen, the breakfast of champions.”

Now we are in Saskatoon for a day off and no one is eager to get on bikes. Dan McGuire’s brother, Larry, turned up to welcome us last night and this afternoon is going to take us on a tour of bike store, camping store and a couple of pubs, ending up at his house for a barbecue this evening.

None of us could get over the herds of elk right outside our tents in Jasper. A nursing mother kept sidling sideways to get away from all the gawkers with baby firmly attached.

With all the bear warnings issued by the park, and the bear cage waiting by the front gate, we all put everything the park list told us to lock up such as toothpaste and power bars into the truck.

Harold decided in the middle of all the bear hysteria to try out his bear spray and make sure it worked. It does. He felt terrible when Irene came around the corner unexpectedly and walked into a drift. She had to spend the next 24 hours bathing her very sore, red eyes. Something you might not know ‚ water makes it much worse, at first. Everyone else had a coughing attack whenever we went near the cook house or the truck.

Most of us went out for a super meal at the Jasper House resort right across the road from Whistlers campground where dinner was accompanied by many scatological jokes. Amazing how porridge for breakfast every day leads cyclists to become very involved in Grade 4 bathroom humour.

On a higher note, Harold entertained us with a poem during dinner:

A cyclist stood at the pearly gates
His legs were worm and old.
Meekly he asked the man of fate
For admission to the fold.
What have you done, St. Peter asked
To gain admission here
Ive been a cyclist sir he said
For many and many a year.
The gates were swiftly opened
St. Peter rang a bell
Come in and grab a harp he said
You've had your share of hell.

Jasper to Columbia Ice Fields was an 80 k slog followed by the brutal uphill of Sunwapta Pass. The longest person (me) took 9.5 hours. We were unimpressed with the facilities at the Ice Fields Chalet and that they stop serving dinner in the cafeteria at 6 p.m.

Friday we woke to rain to do the steep downhill to Saskatchewan River Crossing. In 24 hours we saw a herd of caribou, rams of the long horn sheep variety fighting everywhere, goats, and Brendan saw a grizzly bear. He was smart and dawdled until a car came by and he cycled beside it on the wrong side of the road, keeping the car between him and the hump-backed bear.

At Kline river, we were allowed to pitch our tents inside a gigantic tent and looked like a tent city. You can guess the weather stayed changeable.

On our trip to Olds, many of us hid in an abandoned building when a storm blew up. However, four of us had decided to add an extra 20k to the day by exploring another route to get there and had to turn back when we hit gravel that lasted another 18k. We were unprotected when the storm hit, then we added more mileage to our day when we didn’t trust a dirt road on our map that actually was only 3k long (and included the shelter the others were in). Our total for the day, (Mary and David, Harold and me, Nancy) varied up to a high of 157k. We were thrilled to arrive in Olds and find we were booked into the Best Western because of a flooded campground, drowned or tired riders, and a unanimous desire for a hottub and comfort.

On the way to Drumheller the next day we were again hit by an electrical storm. This time Harold and I were approaching Orkney and decided to sit it out on the porch of a church. Harold left while the storm was still on because he was on the cook team that night. I had tried the handle of the Orkney Presbyterian Church to find it was unlocked and sat inside ‚ falling asleep — until the storm died down.

Harold got into camp after an extremely fast ride with the wild wind behind him, to find the others had been chasing ground sheets and tents that were flying around. They all sat in the back of the truck drinking Irish whiskey and being surprised at what a fine singing voice Harold has, waiting for the storm to end.

I left the church when the torrential rain and wild wind died down and cycled in flooded roads but calm air. The truck arrived to pick me up 10k out of Drumheller ‚ the first person to be rescued this trip. The next day, our day off, was spent at the Tyrrell museum and doing the usual bike and laundry chores.

Haven’t decided whether this is the Irish Whiskey tour or the Bag Balm tour. Most of us have a personal tin of Bag Balm and swear by its wonders on sore butts. I told Harry, who insists it has to be massaged in for at least 20 minutes, that that sounds more recreational than medicinal!

The agony and the ecstacy, that’s how Mary Herlt sums up the Coquihalla for the Shore to Shore 2004 group heading for St. John’s, Newfoundland. The agony was the burn of the never-ending climb and the ecstasy the view along the way seen in brilliant sunshine.

Six of us started a few days earlier in Victoria at Mile 0, while others in the group did the island part earlier in the week. The six, Mary and her husband David from South Carolina, Harold Bridge from Port Coquitlam, Sandra Larson from Duncan, George Fralic from Brooklyn, Nova Scotia and me, Nancy O’Higgins from Port Clements in the Queen Charlotte Islands with Eric who will rejoin us in Fredricton, N.B.

We met the others in the group at Fort Langley at the Hub and Spoke. They are chief honcho Ken Smith, Burnaby, Harry Balke from Pender Island, Frank Thompson, Richmond, Dave Mann, Burnaby, Brendan Kennelly, Surrey, Irene Hanson, Tofield, Alberta, as well as Marina Bakker-Ayers, Qualicum and Al McLean, North Vancouver . We were saddened to have Art Jackson from Courtenay withdraw after the first day to Hope when health concerns forced him to leave.

After this in this journal, I will call everyone by their first names, having arbitrarily decided Dave is Dave, David is David, Harold is Harold and Harry is Harry.

The trip to Hope was livened up by can-can dancers at the Albion ferry shouting their encouragement while many other CCCTSers rode with us to Mission.

The Coquihalla on the official third day was the brute it was always worried about, but the group met at the summit to clap and shout for the last ones to whinge their way the top. Every single person made it without resorting to the support vehicle driven by Wayne Hand from Maple Ridge.

We are a lucky tour with not just one but three support vehicles. Sandra’s husband Duanne only intended to stay with us for a few days but had enough fun to stay until Jasper. Chris Chan who is riding a recumbent bike on the tour isn’t considered official because he is sleeping in a luxurious motor home with his wife Anita every night and not in a tent like the sufferers.

Some of the highlights of the first few day ‚ Dave who wore his shorts backwards for a whole day without noticing, as well as the same Dave who got in a panic after the truck was packed trying to find his bike lock key only to discover in a high-theft area that he hadn’t locked it after all.

Faye Wilson in Merritt drove back along the route to see that everyone was all right and said she would bring dessert to the campsite. We persuaded her to let us order pizza and beer and eat it in her backyard followed by a sensational rhubarb crisp with ice cream. I even begged a long, hot bath from her before our dinner.

Lunch the next day was an accidental treat. Most of us met at a spot on Stump Lake and ate our packed lunches with our bare feet in the water. None of us can get over the quantity of what we are eating. One of the campsite was 100 metres from a Dairy Queen so dessert was an ice cream cake with “Happy Trails Shore to Shore 2004” on it.

Now in Jasper, the bear warnings have us all clustered with our tents close together even though we are paying for widespread sites. The truck was loaded with bags full of shampoo, toothpaste, vitamins, overnight and locked overnight – $2000 fine for leaving those things in tents.

Faye Wilson of Merritt reports that the Shore to Shore 2004 tour arrived in her town yesterday, all in good spirits and good form. They gathered at Her and Barton Howe’s place for a pizza dinner after the long second day of the tour, 113 km over the 4068 ft (1240 m) Coquihalla Summit from Hope.

There are now 15 members cycling across the all-Canadian route – one cyclist had decided to abandon.