Pet Peeve

Although I am probably biased since I was born on the island so I think it is one of the prettiest places in Canada but what the fuck is wrong with people who drive around and toss trash on the side of the road?!????

Do they think there is some legion of road fairies who come along and magically cause to disappear all the beer cans, pop cans, coffee cups, KFC boxes, etc, etc, fucking etc.

We were out on the back roads today more than following the Confederation Trail because we wanted to check out Georgetown, Montague and the Three Rivers area. This Sunday morning was beautiful and sunny and the roads were nice, rolling ones with little traffic.

The idyllic countryside made the visual offense of the roadside litter all the more irksome. The province really needs to do an awareness program for these recalcitrant motorists (admittedly, I've seen the odd bit of trash on the edge of bike paths obviously generated by cyclists but that is a rare occurrence) in order to shame them into some civic pride as it detracts from the image of the island portrayed in all their ads. 

In any event, we had some really nice riding in hot but pleasant weather. On our way to Georgetown we passed through Cardigan before picking up a spur of the trail that would take us all the way to the end of the line at the train station converted into a restaurant.

Georgetown has a pamphlet that provides information on some of the historic homes and buildings in town, which was a pleasant way to stroll around while also checking out the various craft and artisan shops. 

You can't load too much onto a bike but I did pick up some Bacon Peanut Brittle from the Maroon Pig that was yummy.

On our way out of town, we stopped for lunch at Eden's Gate. The restaurant doesn't look like much from the outside but the food was very good especially the tomato based seafood stew that was brimming with fresh mussels in the shell and had nice chunks of lightly toasted bread for dipping into the broth.

It was a bit difficult to get moving again but we headed out of town on route 3 and then picked up the spur trail leading into Montague. We passed over one bridge that gave a nice elevated view of one of the Three Rivers.

We reached Montague in no time arriving at another end of the line, this one with the remnants of a railway turntable just before the train station that was now a welcome centre and cafe. We welcomed a couple of coffees and an Apple-not-so-Crisp before strolling around the harbour. Apparently, the end of June is the last day of the lobster season in this area so a lot of traps were already being pulled from the water.

Our visit to the local museum was very brief since it turned out to be closed on Sundays.

The shadows were starting to lengthen and that was our signal to start heading back to St. Peter's Bay. The most direct route was on the 4 road and then the 313 or Cardigan road so we got to ride by even more litter strewn along another rural road.

Still, once we got off the 4, there was some sweet riding on the quiet, straight road with the temperature coming down with the setting sun and the kilometers vanished under our wheels. 

Unfortunately, we didn't make it back to town before, Rick's, the only restaurant in town, closed at the uncivilized hour of 7 pm. So, we headed home and made do with the remnants of our food stuffs from the previous evening, which turned out to be just perfect when matched with the perfect companion. 

An excellent day of riding where we clocked up 90K and still had lots of time to visit a new section of the island and taste some yummy seafood and Bacon Brittle.

Mission accomplished. 

Somewhere down the lazy river

Today, we took a break from the bikes, well, other than fixing a flat and riding back and forth to Morell.

At Morell, we checked out the Farmer's Market right by the river and bought some tasty rhubarb tarts and double chocolate cookies. I also got a souvenir scarf from a lady who was very pleased to show me a knitted baby outfit similar to the one she had sent to William and Kate for Prince George, and how she had received a personal thank-you letter from them.

We had booked a river kayaking excursion on the Morell river through Kingfisher Outfitters. Donna, who runs the business that also rents bikes, sells ice cream and books as well as generally promoting the area; provided a full service experience. She drove us to the river, helped bring the kayaks down to the river and even provided drinks and chocolates for a snack. She also looked after our bikes and gear while we kayaked. 

The drop off spot was about 10 kilometers upstream of the town at Indian Bridge.

The next three hours was spent very pleasurably with birds and nature to accompany us and the sun shining brightly. 

And those chocolates did not go to waste as we got to use our arms instead of our legs for a change. 
The river gradually widens out and becomes brackish as we approach St. Peter's Bay.

The shores are pretty much devoid of human presence until near the mouth of the river though there was one cottage that had obviously been towed into its location.

Soon enough we were at the haul out spot where we left the kayaks and walked back to pick up our bikes, picking up a bottle of wine and some provisions for a makeshift dinner in our room back at the Bnb.

But not before Donna offered us a complimentary ice cream. And then a relaxed bike ride along the trail back to our temporary home.

After the fun at the Circle Club dance the night before, we were tempted to head out to Goose River for the Saturday night dance but decided not to brave the country roads at night. There was pleasure enough in a nice glass of wine, some smoked mussels and an excellent partner to share it with.

Points East

Back on the bike again with my new partner as we head out on the Confederation Trail for the day to our next stop at St. Peter's Bay.

The trail is well maintained in this section though there is a bit more grass growing through in sections and, of course, the gates of Hell to contend with at every road crossing. There are more information panels along the trail here.

And there was even a wheelchair accessible port-a-pottie at one point though I'm not sure how a wheelchair would fare on the crushed stone trail.

At one point we passed fields of wild blueberries but were cautioned by signs that it was a farm and not to pick them. So, how can they be wild, I wondered? But the boxes of bees situated in the fields kept us from stopping too long.

Still, I had to stop and take a picture of these bizarre blue tents in another field.

My only guess was that they were situated at the corners of a pentagram for some midnight Satanic ritual. Not wanting to investigate further, we carried on to Mount Stewart where we stopped by the side of the Hillsborough river for a picnic lunch.

We finished lunch off with coffee and a cinnamon bun fresh out of the oven at the Thoughtful Squash Cafe.

It took a little while to get rolling again but we managed to pedal off a few more kilometers and made it to Morell where the ubiquitous Maritime activity of grass cutting was in evidence. I don't think I've gone more than an hour on this whole trip without coming across someone feverishly fighting to conquer the green.

After Morell, the trail followed the south shore of St. Peter's Bay all the way to the town of the same name.

Our Bnb for our stay is located just outside of town near Cable Head and, of course, requiring us to ride up a hill to get there but we eventually do and there is a welcoming sign at the front.

We get settled in and showered and are off again into town to find some supper at Rick's Fish and Chips. Apparently this place was featured on a Food Network show for its fish and chips. We thought they were ok but it was the marinated mussels that really blew us away. We even asked for some bread to soak up the liquid and then devoured the leaf of lettuce at the bottom of the plate.

After dinner, we headed over to the Circle Club for its Friday night dance and Ceilidh. For only four bucks each, we were treated to an evening of downhome music and dancing with a mid-evening lunch of tea, tea biscuits and pastries thrown in.

We were made to feel very welcome by the regulars and it was pretty amazing to hear many songs that my mother use to sing around the kitchen table. Sarah got a kick out of me knowing the words to these old Country and Western songs. Songs I use to hate as a kid but somehow have stayed implanted in my memory through hearing Mom sing them over and over again with her guitar.

We had thought there might be some square dancing during the night and there was but they did not have a caller so we didn't join in. It was fun, though, to watch the people dancing the steps and swinging their partners without any need for someone to sing out what to do next because they had been doing it their whole lives.

It was dark by time we left and had to bike the 3 kilometers back to the Bnb along the dim road. It was a bit disconcerting but the beautiful night sky full of stars compensated for it and finished off a great day on the island.

Lennie Gallant is it

Our last day in Charlottetown spent walking through the rain in mall parking lots (sidewalks are a hit and miss affair where the motel is located) and historic sites such as Beaconsfield House.

The house is on the corner of Victoria Park with some lovely gardens overlooking Hillsborough Bay.

The tour of the house is absolutely worthwhile guided by a very knowledgeable guide who answered all our questions. 

She even knew what this was:

Lunch was had at a very nice German bakery and restaurant called Leonhard's Cafe located near the Confederation Centre for the Arts. But, for my money in the PEI German Pastry challenge, there was nothing to compare to Angelika's Strudel in Hunter River.

After lunch we got back to the motel so Joe could get ready for his flight home. I'm sorry to see my biking partner fly off but it has been a memorable trip and he has his lady waiting for him after three long weeks separated. 

To finish off our visit to the island capital, Sarah and I shared a lobster roll at the Confederation Centre's restaurant prior to catching the preview performance for Lennie Gallant's new show called "Searching for Abegweit".

This was a shot in the dark when I booked the tickets since I knew nothing about his music but it was an absolutely wonderful show full of humour and stories and music. The fact that two of his nephews were part of his band along with images of his sister's artwork projected on the screen behind the stage made for a real downhome experience.

You can keep your Anne of Green Gables. If you want the real PEI, Lennie Gallant is it.

http://www.lenniegallant.com

Best Value Bike Shop

Sarah arrived yesterday at Charlottetown airport with her bike all boxed up. Joe is flying out today so we were hoping to be able to bring his bike to the airport and just switch the bikes in the box and leave it with Air Canada until his flight.

Of course, AC won't take items the day before and they wouldn't even let us leave the empty box there so we had to cab it back to the hotel and set up a portable bike shop in the motel room.

Not the easiest job with a multi-tool and a small wrench especially as the bike shop in Montreal had half dismantled her bike. 

In any case, we did eventually get hers put back together and Joe's into the box before the sun set and headed into Charlottetown for some lunch and a bit of sightseeing.

I quite enjoyed my Moroccan chicken sandwich at the St. James Club and finally got to have some Cows ice cream on the waterfront. 

The Confedetated Gates of Hell

Goodbye Summerside. 

Joe and I are on the bikes again after three days sightseeing. The plan is to take the Confederation Trail all the way to Charlottetown where Joe's journey will end as he flies home.

We pick up the trail two minutes from the hotel and start heading east. It is a very well maintained path of crushed red stone through lovely farm country.

However, it intersects many roads along the way where gates have been installed to prevent motorized vehicles from accessing the trail.

A nice concept except the gates are quite close together and overlap slightly so with panniers on the bikes it is quite the slow, frustrating, slalom job to get around them, which detracts from the enjoyment of the trail.

The wind is behind us and we quickly get to Kensington.

It's a bit early for lunch so we carry on, planning to stop at one of the small villages on the trail for something to eat.

Except we roll through Freetown and then Emerald with nothing but farms and a few houses in sight. And while there are rest stops along the trail, we did not come across anyplace to get water until we got to Beadalbane where there was a sign for washrooms directing us to an old railway station.

In Quebec, these buildings are often found along rail trails so we stop for a break. However, the door has a friendly sign telling us to go to the Community Centre across the road for washrooms and to fill our bottles except we see nothing but houses across the street. 

Not in the mood to go searching for the mythical CC and with Joe's knee starting to act up again we decide to take the 231 to Highway 2, which should cut a few kilometers off the trip and make for easier riding on the paved shoulder compared to the crushed stone on the trail. 

The idea is good but we do have to contend with the highway traffic and the rolling hills. 

Surprisingly, there isn't much on the highway for services except one closed restaurant until we get to Hunter River where we spy a sign for a Pastry Shop.

Seeing that it is a German shop, we decide to stop and give it a try.

What a smart move!

The shop doesn't sell sandwiches, but it does sell bread and the very nice German lady, Angelika, offers to make us a couple of sandwiches from what she has in her own kitchen.

We gratefully accept and as we pass the display case of delicious looking desserts we are already imagining what we will select post-sandwich.

There is a picnic table on a little terrace in front of the shop and we wait while she brings out the various items from her fridge to decide on what kind of sandwiches to have. We settle on a beef and edam cheese along with a smoked salmon and creamed cheese sprinkled with capers.

You can probably guess that, when the sandwiches came out a few minutes later on thick cut German bread, they were absolutely delicious and disappeared in moments.

We quickly set about choosing our desserts. Also on offer was cappuccino, which we readily added to this wonderful eating experience.

As we sat back down at the table watching the cars and trucks speed by at 70 kph in this 50 zone, we laughed at our good fortune at having left the trail at the right moment to have chanced upon this oasis of culinary wonder in the middle of PEI and we laughed at all those motorists speeding by to the next Timmie's oblivious to what they are passing just on the road beside them.

Oh yes, that cake and strudel met the same fate as the sandwiches though we did our best to savour them as our forks kept automatically returning to the plates. There was also a rhubarb coffee cake hidden behind the chocolate cake that we had planned to take with us but it didn't survive the onslaught of our forks.

We thanked Angelika and her elfin helper profusely for our Wagnerian meal and, as they kindly filled our water bottles, we steeled ourselves for the task of biking the remaining 20 kilometers to Charlottetown.

Needless to say, we got there eventually, with visions of Rhinemaidens covered in Bavarian cream lingering in our thoughts and the Confederated Gates of Hell all but forgotten.

The Dark Side

Our last day in Summerside we decided that, in order to see as much of the area as possible, we went over to the dark side and rented a car for the day.

To compensate, I drove as slow as possible in order to piss off as many drivers as we would have had we been on our bikes.

We saw how really beautiful this island really is.

From Indian River

To Malpeque

To Cabot Park Beach

To Stanley Bridge

To the Evangeline Peninsula

You can't go home

It's the tired saying that your home is never what it once was when you go back. Particularly the main street, Water Street, which has few reminders of the buildings from my childhood.

The railway station near my parent's first apartment now turned into a library but keeping some of the charm of its station shape when the trains still ran.

The barber shop where my grandfather and my father had their hair cut though it is now a beauty salon. It was nice of the owner to keep the barber pole on the corner of the building.

Unfortunately, the street has suffered the fate of most downtown streets throughout the country as people gravitate to the ease of the malls on the outskirts. 

The solution most towns seem to come up with is to paint a mural of what the good old days were like and wonder why it isn't like that now.

Even I had to venture out to the mall strip to find a laundromat, passing the local cinema on an aptly named street.

Still, the people are as friendly as they always were and there was a lot of down home feeling at the Summerside Raceway even if it only happens once a week now and the racetrack is on the other side of town from my memory.

And we came away big $12 winners on the day!

This bridge is bound for glory

Subtitle: Zombie cows of New Brunswick 

Today is our last day in New Brunswick as we set out early on the road with another tailwind to speed us along.

The restaurant at the motel doesn't open till July so Joe and I start out on an empty stomach towards Cap Pele looking for breakfast. 

It seems like everything is closed up and we start to think we might have to resort to one of our energy bars when, out of nowhere, a massive Timmie's appears with, of course, every car from the surrounding area in the parking lot and a lineup at the drive thru that extends onto the road.

Like two aliens from another planet, we land our bikes at the door and enter amongst the Timmonians. Joe tries to order the oatmeal and yogurt from the healthy choice menu but, surprise, they don't have any. The locals studiously ignore us as they get more confirmation of our alienness by this aberration of ordering off the healthy choice menu.

Anyway, we get some calories into us and continue on, even finding the Cap Pele bike path with the popular Acadian flag telephone poles beside the road. 

We decide to get onto Route 15 for the next stretch to save a few kilometers and it is some smooth riding on a good wide shoulder where the bikes seem to be pedaling themselves. We were almost sorry to say goodbye to this main road as we turned onto the 955 shore road that will lead us to the Confederation bridge especially as we bumped along this old, bumpy road strewn with potholes.

Still, it won't be long before we are at the bridge and it is nice farm country amongst the wooded areas. Some of the farms are dairy farms and we wave at the cows...until we notice that they are all staring at us with dead eyes and, as we pass a second farm with a field of dead-eyed stares coming at us, we realize that these are ZOMBIE COWS!

You would think that the sight of zombie cows would have filled us with horror but the fact that real cows are so slow moving so the zombie version are pretty well immobile means that the only way one will eat your brains is if you lie down in front of it.

Not planning on stopping, we roll along and finally come to Northumberland Strait and the grey band on the horizon, which is our first sight of PEI.

This spurs us on to get to the bridge when just a few minutes later we are flagged down by a fellow on the side of the road with a clipboard. I figure he might be a tourism NB survey taker wondering why we are leaving New Brunswick (Zombie Cows! for starters) but it turns out he is an avid cyclist who has just come back from riding Route 66 from Mexico to Toronto. We chat about touring for awhile and he mentions that he also did the Pacific Coast Highway a couple of years ago, which gets my mind thinking ahead to a next possible tour.

Eventually, we say our goodbyes after he lets us know how it works at the bridge to contact the staff for the shuttle bus warning us you can be waiting an hour or more to get across the bridge.

We get to the turn to head for the bridge just as it starts to rain and our friendly tailwind is now a salty, wet crosswind that soaks us in the 15 minutes it takes to get to the Information Centre to catch the shuttle.

Sure enough, when we call on the phone (discreetly hidden around a corner) the fellow tells Joe that it will be an hour before he shows up.

It gives us time to dry out a bit, have a coffee and for me to grab a shot of the bridge once the rain shower has passed.

The shuttle bus arrives a few minutes later and we are loading up for the trip across the strait.

Of course, the skies are clearing as we ride across the bridge and PEI is resplendent in its green and red glory.

We grab lunch at the Lobster Shop before heading onto Route 10 and our last leg of the journey to Summerside.

We come across a church and cemetery at Seven Mile Bay and I can't help but stop and see if I recognise any names since one of my great, great grandfathers worked on a farm near there at the beginning of the twentieth century. 

We ride on. It seems like we should be close and the turn for Water Street should be just around the next corner but the road seems to go on and on.

Finally, we see Summerside come out from the trees across the bay and then we are here.

Freaky Friday

Last full day in New Brunswick and I head out to load up the bike to find the rear tire flat. Thirteen hundred kilometers without a problem and my first flat of the trip in the heart of Acadia and the birthplace of K C Irving.

Still, it is going to be a short ride to Shediac to meet up with Joe and then a few kilometers more to the hotel before our run tomorrow to the bridge. 

Turns out to be a tiny bit of glass lodged in the tire but 15 minutes later I am on the road with another tailwind once I pass the Irving Arboretum with an impressive dry stone wall.

I leave Bouctouche on the 134 and then turn onto the 535, which follows the shore to Cocagne. For once, this is a shore road where you actually see the shore and the water most of the time and with little traffic it is pleasant riding on an overcast day for the first hour until...

Another rear tire flat! Unbelievable. And it turns out to be a tiny sliver of metal smaller than a staple.

Anyway, mechanical work completed once again, I have to boogie now to get to Shediac so NB decides to give me some rain to remember her by.

Finally, get to the massive Timmie's in Shediac and reunite with Joe. He recounts his adventures in Moncton over lunch and then we are off to Cap Pele for our last night in the province.

It's hard to believe that tomorrow the travelling portion of the trip will be over and the biking will be only for pleasure. In one sense,  I'm happy to have succeeded in my goal but, at the same time, I feel the desire to keep riding over the horizon.