On a very wet day

Note for future reference: Decide where you are going to have supper before having a preprandial doze. It clarifies things later.

Yesterday evening, I had a struggle to decide where I wanted to eat which was related to what I wanted to eat, Shippagan having limited options, alas. This took time and I ended up coming home in the dark.

This evening, because of the rain, I was debating whether to eat in the hotel or look further afield. I hadn’t done much research about Miramichi partly because it is fairly large, but mostly as my guide books didn’t have much to say about it. In using Google maps, I had noticed a place or two nearby before hand, but it was only this evening that I made a serious check. I hit pay dirt. There was an Indian restaurant so close that Google said it would take longer by car than by foot. I was soon ordering veggie pakora and tandoori salmon.

There was a rain warning this morning in the Environment Canada forecast. I packed my “needed today” bag accordingly. It was cloudy when I looked out of my motel window, so I changed my cycling glasses lenses to yellow. I followed the rail bed bike path towards Tracadie. It began to rain in a form the late Sir Terry Pratchett might describe as “fog with a weight problem”. I dug out my rain jacket and continued on until an increase in intensity led to put on shoe covers and my rain hat. I stopped for elevenses in Tracadie in the form of a sour cream doughnut and a small cup of coffee from Timmy’s. The rain was intensifying, so I donned rain pants. In the perverse manner of rain, it backed off for a while. I decided to be wary and didn’t change.

While having lunch in Neguac (Oyster hub of the Maritimes and holder of the Provincial giant pumpkin festival), it began to pour in earnest. Time for rain gloves. Time for a long slog in the rain.

Miramichi is an amalgamation of a number of smaller towns stretching along both sides of the Miramichi River. This may explain why it has an annoying bridge situation. Or possibly so complex that Google maps can’t handle it. According to Google, the bridge (dated 1967) between the former towns of Newcastle and Chatham isn’t passable by bikes. One is supposed to go about 10 kilometres upriver and back. Indeed, that is what we did in 2009. However, it wasn’t pissing down that day. Consequently, Google having been proved wrong about biking on NB Highway 11 all day, I decided to try the bridge. There were no signs prohibiting bikes on the long, two-lane bridge. So I got on the narrow sidewalk and rode, then walked to the other side. I was rehearsing a number of lines to use in the event I was stopped by the RCMP, they included: “You may either fine me or let me off with warning. Either way, I get drier sooner.”

I checked into the hotel in drowned rat mode. My room was on the second floor. I made it in two trips (Leonardo stayed downstairs). I had to put my bags down to open the door to my room and took the time to spread out a garbage bag on the floor to protect the carpet from the water and sand on my bags. As I did so, a member of the housecleaning staff walked by and asked how I was? 

“Wet!” was my answer. She began to be concerned and offered extra towels. I dismissed her offers saying it was all part of biking, “Mad dogs and Englishmen, and all that. Besides, in a few minutes, I’ll be getting wetter in the tub.”

The last statement wasn’t strictly true as it turned out my room only had a shower. After supper, I had a soak in the hot tub by the pool.

Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny. So 114 km done mostly in the rain.