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Waves of weather
It's raining.
It's always raining in Canada's maritime provinces. Rain dive-bombs from above, it sloshes under-wheel and it materializes out of thin air—or, to be more literal, out of thick air. Waterfalls don't send up mist because there's no space for mist in this air. There's only space for me, curling over my handlebars to make myself hydrodynamic.
The sun peeks out one day in New Brunswick. Its heat makes my camera lens so foggy I fear I've lost my window to the world. Life returns to normal soon enough: the lens and rain restore themselves simultaneously.
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Feeling the finish
Soon I'd turn northeast and the wind would push me. For now I was climbing my last hilly, gusty challenge, 50 kilometres from St. John's.
How would I feel when I ended my ride? I hadn't been sure for the first 88 days of my trip. I pondered the question one last time—and I figured it out.
It would feel like finishing a great book.
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Home stretch
The Cabot Trail in Nova Scotia is a cyclist's paradise with leg-defying climbs and brake-defying drops.I'm fewer than 600 kilometres from finished.
Please be patient while I enact my new strategy: bike like mad. Once I'm done, I'll tackle my queue of blog topics:
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Fury Cycling
The Adam of Canada Day was in a foul mood.
For one thing, there weren't enough nice people. When a friendly old man chatted with him after second breakfast at a diner, the conversation turned to politics Adam had to hide his anger. The man disliked New Brunswick's requirement that government employees must speak French. Adam thought, but didn't say, that the policy seems reasonable because a third of New Brunswick's population is natively French-speaking. Adam made three polite attempts to extricate himself from the discussion: first by donning his gloves, second by walking over to the counter to pay for his meal, and finally by riding away and shouting goodbye over his shoulder.
The bad day began with a rotten night before. Adam had chosen to treat himself to a motel room, which the owner offered to cyclists at $69 instead of $89. As he showed Adam the room, the man had complained about cyclists demanding cheap fares. He'd pointed to the second bed in the room and told Adam that if he so much as touched it, the fare would rise by $20. Ditto for the second towel in the bathroom. Adam had fantasized about peeing on the second bed and stealing the towels, but in the end he'd done nothing.
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Vive le bicycle libre
Quebec is the best province yet.
This is only partly because it's my home. The language perked my ears even before I entered the province, a French with such a unique accent we call it Quebecois.
I crossed a bridge into the province, and wham! A bicycle lane greeted me at the first intersection.
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Cappuccino neverland
I ordered two pieces of focaccia, a salad and a cappuccino.
“Have you ever ordered a cappuccino here before?” asked the cashier.
I hadn't, as a matter of fact. This was the Modern Bakery in Revelstoke, a ski town in British Columbia, and I was only stopping for lunch.
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Food food food
The day I visited Sault Ste. Marie, I didn't go to bed hungry. That's because I stopped early, at 5 p.m., and ate until dark.
Food Carbs Fat Protein Energy Omelette with spinach, chicken, english muffins (breakfast #1) 76g 18g 38g 618 kcal Pancakes (3) (breakfast #2) 114g 24g 33g 804 kcal Loaf's worth of PB&J sandwiches (lunch+supper) 414g 120g 72g 3,024 kcal Bottle of thirst quencher (lunch) 58g 0g 0g 234 kcal Granola (lunch+supper) 35g 6g 5g 206 kcal Ice cream cone (snack) 43g 23g 6g 394 kcal Half-box of pasta with half-jar of pesto (supper) 143g 113g 19g 1,665 kcal Apple cider, from two packets (supper) 42g 0g 0g 166 kcal Apple (supper) 25g 0g 0g 100 kcal Box of cookies (supper) 210g 60g 20g 1,460 kcal Total 950g 304g 173g 8,671 kcal A typical person needs 2,000 kcal per day.
I spend over $30 per day on groceries and meals.
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In momery
Early explorers paddled through the rocky, lake-y, swampy Canadian Shield. Then came dynamite, then trains, then roads.
Today, 1,500 kilometres of narrow Trans-Canada Highway weave near lakes, cross rivers and climb hills, taking frequent shortcuts through blasted outcrops.
The outcrops are miniature echoes from Rockies roads, some 10 metres high, others peaking below my shoulders. Couples have eternalized their love on them by spray-painting hearts and their initials.
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Because
For the confused among my readers, I'm working on my Next Big Thing: a bicycle trip across Canada.
I'm riding from the west coast to the east coast.
Mile 0 of the Trans-Canada Highway is in Victoria. There are thousands of miles (and even more thousands of kilometres) between there and the end. -
Facet of Life: A Place to Stay
I wake up and my first thought is, is somebody pissed off at me?
Welcome to my home. It's a one-man, super-light tent pegged forcefully onto an ancient gravel road that nature is reclaiming. I looked to the sides of the road for a perfect spot once I began yawning last night and, one kilometre later, I found this. It's flat and peaceful. My food is tied into one of the thousands of enormous trees that hide me from traffic.
I dress myself and exit, and I find I'm still alone with my bicycle. Good.