No wonder they call 'em "Trails"

The ride back across the Confederation Bridge was, well… interesting. It was significantly windier than crossing over towards PEI a few days before. I couldn’t help but wonder what the ferry ride would be like. If we ever take the bike back there, I may just insist we find out.

PEI is beautiful. Because it is so small, every inch of it has been used up. There are really very few un-manicured natural areas. The contrast you find in Nova Scotia is quite dramatic. You know how in PG we say, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes.” Well the same could be said of the scenery in Nova Scotia. One minute you are riding along an ocean beach and then you are passing a large dairy farm and suddenly you find yourself driving through an untouched forest. I was surprised to find so much red dirt when we crossed into Nova Scotia. Somehow I sort of imagined that PEI had sole rights to it or something.

The roads along the Glooscap and Evangeline Trails were really narrow, no shoulders and crappy pavement to the point that the outside line was sometimes just sprayed on the gravel edges where the pavement had broken away. The lanes were hardly wider than the trailer and it was interesting following behind Jim and Barb. However, the center of the lane was fairly smooth, the roads quite hilly and lots of corners so it was a great bike ride.

When we arrived at the campsite near Kentville the trailer looked like a burglar had ransacked it. I guess we’ve gotten sloppy in hunkering things down before traveling.

We attended a dinner theatre in Halifax on Monday, which was the holiday. We arrived a few hours early so we could do some sight seeing and shopping. Not. Most things were closed for the holiday. We wandered around the harbour and saw some tall ships and even got to see Theodore 2.

I was surprised by downtown Halifax. There are lots of really old buildings and everything is really quite dirty. Trashy even. It looked like Hastings Street in Vancouver except there were noticeably no street people. Even the Tim Horton’s that we killed time in was grubby. I wish I would have taken my camera into the bathroom. There was hair in the sink, feathers (yes feathers) all over the floor, garbage, dirt piled up in the corners, brown stained toilets etc. It looked like a gas station bathroom out in the middle of nowhere.

The dinner theatre was “All in the MacFamily” a take-off on the Archie Bunker family who are visiting family in Cape Breton. It was really well done and the actors were the ones to serve dinner so they really interacted with the crowd. I’m glad the food and theatre were a good experience because I didn’t want to leave feeling disappointed with Halifax.

Week 3 Photo Album on Facebook

I got more pictures of our third week uploaded to Facebook


Click Here for week 3

or here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10924&l=e6640&id=700982680

Now this is camping ... BC style.

Our little detour to Glenn’s Cycle Shop meant we never did get to the coast that day and ended up camping at a little lake in the middle of PEI, simply called Ben's Lake. It was the first time since leaving home that we felt like we were camping: few campers, lots of trees, quiet waters, no pavement and playgrounds and swimming pools. No one yelling “Attenti-on! Attenti-on!” at 8 o’clock in the morning. We stayed two nights.

The little privately owned lake was stocked with fish and you could borrow fishing gear and fish without a license. We had trout for supper. It didn’t quite measure up to the lobster, scallops and shrimp we are getting used to, but it was a fun and relaxing day.






The second day at that site we all went in the truck and did the coastal tour we missed out on the day before. Good call to leave Betty behind. The rainstorm we got caught in on the way back was incredible. Even the truck had to slow to a fast crawl. The lightening show God put on for us that night was amazing. And loud.

Retiring Betty.

Betty is the bike. I don’t know that I have called her by name on the blog since we left.

We were heading from our campsite in Brackley Beach down the coast to destinations unknown with a stop in Morell to meet up with Neil Breum. We stopped for gas at some one-building town and there was someone fixing a flat tire in the parking lot. The power of suggestion (God has probably been called worse things) caused Alb to look down at the tires of the bike. With all the saddlebags and things there is only about a 3 inch gap where you can actually see the back tire. And there, right smack dab in the middle of the 3-inch gap we could clearly see the head of a nail. The tire seemed to been holding air so off we went with the intention of keeping an eye on it.

We got about 30km down the road to Morell and stopped at a little shopping complex on the outskirts so Barbee could phone Neil and arrange to meet him. Albert check the tire pressure: 17lbs. Should be 41 or something. We were losing air fast.

We went into the NAPA we were parked outside of and asked if anyone fixed bike tires. This led to a big discussion between all the locals about whether they should call Henry or send us to Glenn’s Cycle Shop in Charlottetown. Perhaps Rob could do it; he had some bicycle tires at his place, maybe he’d have a motorbike tire too. It was rather comical in a Corner Gas kind of way.

We decided it would be best to lighten the load and I'd have to ride with J & B to meet Neil while Alb headed off to find Glenn’s Cycle Shop, which turned out to be only about 40km away. I never did get used to how close everything is on the island – it’s really really small.

This totally changed the course of events for the day for us. We sat outside the bike shop for a couple of hours while Alb and the great mechanic (whom we will call M) dismantled the bike and replaced the back tire.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, there are tons of motorbikes in the Maritimes, but very few “biker” type people. M was a biker type people. At one point I took the camera into the shop to get some pics for the blog. When M noticed the camera he turned to Alb and said quietly said, “I’d better not end up in any f-ing pictures.” Ooops. I tucked the camera in my pocket, not letting him know I’d already taken one.

Albert responded, “Oh, you’re one of those camera shy types, eh.”
M says, “Ya never know where yer gonna find me on America’s Most Wanted.”

Before the end of the episode M thanked Alb for his help and offered to keep him on.

Mechanic and Alb gettin' their hands dirty re-tiring Betty

Thank God for Glenn's

Chatting with Neil, a displaced PGer.

Pouting on the seat over having to ride to the cycle shop in the truck.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

To all you who have either posted a comment or else emailed, or added a facebook comment: Thanks!

I am absolutely loving this vacation and I really am enjoying the blogging - it kind of makes me really think about the things we are doing and the things I see. But it is work and it kind of throws a kink into where we decide to camp (need places with internet, if possible.) so I need to say here and now that i appreciate the comments encouraging me to carry on.

The first time is always the most memorable.

Ever since we hit New Brunswick we have been asking around for the best place to eat lobster. The answers vary slightly but for the most part it has been, “What??!! You are joking. You have never eaten lobster? Never? Oh my gawd!” followed by, “The first place I would suggest is New Glasgow Lobster Suppers.”

We arrived at their door at 3:50 on Thursday all starving. Apparently they are only open from 4 until 8:30pm so we waiting on their stoop.
There are 2 floors for dining in what looks like a wide open wedding hall or something. The upper floor being the “family dinner” section and the lower being licensed dining.
Good call. No kids allowed and the lower floor was nice and cool while the upper was stifling hot.

Being the first ones there we got the best table that overlooked the grassy fields and small river winding past the building. For $29 we got an amazing 5 course feast. Everything but the lobster was all you could eat and young Mitch was almost offended that we only ate one gallon-sized bucket of mussels and only one of us ate two bowls of clam chowder. The buns were still fresh and hot from the oven and they even gave my homemade bread a run for the money. He brought us a “small salad.” This was a plate holding a green salad with a scoop of fantastic potato salad on the side and a little cup of coleslaw.

The desserts (also all you can eat) consisted of homemade pies (about 5 or 6 varieties) strawberry shortcake, white cake, chocolate cake, few ice creams, yogurt … and excellent strong dark coffee to wash it down.

What an amazing introduction to seafood. They definitely deserve their reputation that spreads far and wide across the Maritimes. You should go.

Never trust the hand with a latex glove on it.

The first night at Brackley Beach we were just chillin out by the fire. Perhaps there was some wine being drunk. Jimmy suggested that this be the night I streak his hair with blonde. While I have done this before for him, it has been a couple of years and it has never been with a glass of wine in one hand.

I think it looked okay when all was said and done. It was getting a bit long and he needed a trim. I wasn’t willing to tackle this for him. I had been whining for a week about needing a haircut, so we decided to find a hairdresser in Charlottetown the next day.

As we sat there side by side in barber chairs I had to endure the not-so-filled-with-praise comments the woman made about my hairdressing skills. “Uh, exactly what pattern was she going for here?” and “I could tone this down some for you” and “How about if I just dye it red for you?” I dunno what her problem was. Her hair was the same – dark with a few random chunks of white-blonde in no particular pattern that I could see.

I didn’t feel so much like my hairdressing skills didn’t measure up later when Barbee made the comment that this was the worst hair cut Jim has ever had. While I felt better, it didn’t help Jimmy any that he had his worst haircut AND a bizarre colour job.

My hairdresser paid me back when she misunderstood that I wanted an inch taken off and she left it an inch long. Seriously. I have no hair.

I like it in my little bubble of reality.

Confederation Bridge is very long. It wasn’t scary as such, but it really gave me the heeby jeebies. It’s a feeling I cannot describe. I hate bridges. (That’s a little insight into the secret life of Liana.) Even in my car, if I have to stop on a bridge I feel like puking. On the bike you are so exposed and vulnerable. All I can say is that I am glad I had my full face helmet on. It somehow becomes my little bubble of security.

I tried using my half helmet once we got to New Brunswick. I lasted an hour and hadn’t ever been so glad that Jimmy takes frequent pee stops so I had an excuse to stop and change helmets without admitting to being a wimp. Just leave me alone in my little bubble and I’m okay. (I think I was an ostrich in another life.)

Prince Edward Island is absolutely beautiful. The highways are great biking routes. Lots of hills and lots of corners. The pavement is pretty decent. We camp at Brackley Beach for 2 nights.

I need a hair cut.

Monday July 30 we arrive in Shediac, New Brunswick. If I recall, in an earlier blog I commented on the great highways in this province. I recant. The Acadian route along the coast is beautiful. The road probably looks beautiful from the air. It’s kind of like a quilt, with patches of black, grey and red asphalt. It’s bumpy and it’s windy. But the sun was shining and the ride was good.

Shediac is a little artsy fartsy town that increases in size from 6,000 to 40,000 in the summer. There is no Wal-Mart, no Canadian Tire and no Payless Shoes. The streets have few traffic lights and are totally over-bogged with vehicles but somehow, once again, the traffic and pedestrians do an amazing job of sharing the road. I could easily retire here. I resisted the urge to find a real estate paper.

We stayed in another mostly permanent campsite with yet another laundromat that ate all our change and still left us with wet clothes. From now on we find a real laundromat or else throw away dirty things and buy new – it would be cheaper.

Our campsite was walking distance to Parlee Beach. Ahhhh! The water was as warm as some baths I have taken. Apparently this is the warmest water north of Virginia. I wouldn’t argue that.

Barbee and I got a few strange looks in the public washroom as we were dying our hair. I really, really need a hair cut but felt somehow dying it would make a difference. – It was another one of those “you should be smarter than that” moments. I’ll find a hair dresser on PEI.

Tuesday evening we hung out on Pont du Chene Wharf. Fantastic view of the sunset. Amazing “biker” bars and restaurants. Captain Dan’s caters to bikers and there’s a huge parking lot only for motorbikes. I took a picture but for some reason it is the only completely blurry and unrecognizable picture I’ve taken in 2 weeks. The bar was crammed, but I kept thinking “Ted would find us a spot.” Well maybe Ted coulda, but I couldn’t. We ended up at the Sand Bar. This was a blessing in disguise. It was far less crowded, had great food, fantastic waiter and live music. The “band” was just two young guitar players with longish hair playing some older stuff. They reminded me of Glen and for a brief moment I was homesick for my kids.

There are so many bikers in this area it’s amazing. And by “bikers” I don’t really mean bikers. It’s more like normal people who ride motorbikes, most of which are Harleys. Bikers are scary people who sell drugs and kill people. We don’t see many of those.

Save your cash for Tim Horton's.

We arrived at the Atlantic Ocean. On two wheels. It seems almost unreal after all this time of planning. But on the other hand it just seems right that we are here. Our campsite in Miramichi was right on the ocean. As I look out over the waves rolling in and smell the salt and kelp and other weird ocean scents, I can’t help but feel I belong here. I don’t like boating, I can’t swim and I’m afraid of water. But I feel like I belong on the ocean. What up with that?

It’s been two weeks since we left home. It feels like forever yet feels like “holy crap we have to be home in just over four weeks.”

Since arriving in New Brunswick it feels like we are on vacation. The pace has slowed dramatically and we don’t feel like we have any destination we have to arrive at by any specific time. Truthfully we have no idea where we will be the following night. So far we haven’t had any problems finding somewhere to park our butts at night without a reservation.

I am pleasantly surprised by New Brunswick. Well, I don’t know that I am “surprised” because I didn’t really know anything about it, so it is just all new to me. I suppose what surprises me is how French it is. Some towns (Miramichi included) the signage is in English first, then French, but everyone is very fluently bilingual – with French being the first thing they say.

Even in Quebec we haven’t had too much trouble communicating. This is totally due to Barbee saving our butts. The other 3 of us probably would have drove without stopping for 3 days just to get to Englishland had she not been with us to bail us out. Everywhere we go the French people don’t believe that she only knows very little basic French, because her accent is so accurate. Me, well I totally froze when someone started speaking French to me in a store. I know how to say “I only speak English.” And I know how to say “I do not speak French.” But I totally clammed up. She probably thought I was German or something.
Oh. And another thing Tim Horton’s doesn’t take debit. Huh?? Isn’t this 21st century Canada? Apparently not.