On my return

"Well, I'm back." to quote the last piece of dialog from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Less than twelve hours ago, I was standing on top of the Tablelands in Gros Morne National Park and now I'm back in Montreal. Much has happened since my last post involving bikes, beer, mooses, boats and more beer, but I think that the telling must wait for another day.

Joey LeBaron met me at the airport and drove my bike and me home. I was saddened to learn from her that Marion, the veteran cashier at the store had died while I was away. She was a character at the store, one you would have trouble putting into a story as your editor would tell you to tone the character down as no one cackles and jokes like that.

Joey asked me an interesting question: "How many days was I biking?" It took me a while but the answer came out as 25, though I will have to review my math and my notes before making a definitive statement. Odometer at the start was 1658.7 km. At the end, it was 3840.0, thus a little under 2200 km. Not bad, not bad at all.

After Norris Point, Montreal seems very big and overly full of people. It is also very muggy, but that should change by tomorrow. The projected highs and lows for the next few days are 21 and 9 respectively. These seem rather low for the season, but I really don't mind as I am something of a low temperature guy.

Work begins tomorrow, ugh!

On ponds and music

I began my exploration of Gros Morne park and area with what I thought would be a gentle stroll to the start of the lane with a cup of coffee. I had barely got past the cars when I spotted a tall ship going past through the trees. I rushed back inside and hurriedly collected my camera and other gear to pedal down to downtown Norris Point to be able to properly witness the ship.

She proved to be a three-master, with square sails on the foremast and fore and aft sails on the other masts. Precisely what this makes her in nautical terms, I don't know. She was the Caledonia and is said to be a regular (weekly) sight in these parts. The Caledonia appears to be of fairly modern construction judging by the location and shape of the wheelhouse. I also have this strange idea that she was in Halifax the last time I was there.

After admiring the tall ship (admittedly not under sail), I visited the Marine Station where I had the chance to see a two toned lobster, as in one side was a regular colour for lobsters and the other was a very bright orange. Very weird. I will illustrate this with an image when I get home.

I returned to the house and borrowed Mark's Jetta to go see Rocky Harbour. Before I got to the hospital, I met Alice and we went together to Rocky Harbour for lunch at Java Jack's. In the afternoon, we went on a boat tour of Western Brook Pond. This glacially carved valley is very stunning as well as being extremely evocative of mystery and adventure. The geology was admittedly fairly familiar to me, at least in theory. (You don't grow up the son of a glacial geologist without picking up some notions of geology.) However, the execution of this valley was incredible with many different types of cliff: smooth rocks, craggy rocks, cracked rocks, tree covered cliffs, and boulder fields. Absolutely stunning. (Pappy, you have to do this tour the next time you are here. You should also go see the Tablelands as well.)

That evening, Mark arrived with Alice's friend Jason who had just flown in from England. We then went to a pub in Rock Harbour for a night of maritime music with the Navigators. The experience would have been better had the sound system been better set up and not as loud. All the same, it is not just a myth that the Newfoundlanders, young and old, love their music, as young and old were dancing to the music.

Today, Jason and I moseyed around Norris Point, taking in the sights and generally being very relaxed in the fabulous weather. When Jason was going through security at Gatwick Airport, the agent had looked at his boarding card and inquired where was Deer Lake? Today, Jason was commenting that if people in the U.K. could see how nice it was in Norris Point, then his charter flight wouldn't have been mostly empty and would be a daily rather than weekly service. I pointed out that such good weather is relatively rare.

Tonight, we are going to make a bonfire on a nearby beach and cook fish over it. Hmm, do we have marshmallows?

On getting me moose, b'ye!

Well, I made it. I got to Norris Point yesterday afternoon after some tough biking made more problematic by rain and wind. The road was tough with plenty of hills one of which I was very happy that I was going down and not up. In addition, I left under significant rain. It eased off after a spell, to the point that I no longer needed full rain gear. However, it wasn't warm and there was a fair bit of wind. Just before I entered Gros Morne park I changed my cycling jersey for a drier one. My outfit still wasn't optimum so eventually I changed again, this time into the merino shirt and my cycling tights. That worked quite well.

As I cycled through Gros Morne park, I reflected on the fact that I had yet to see a moose on the hoof. (I had seen a moose hoof, but that's another story.) I called out "Here, moosey, moosey, moosey," but none reared its head.

Then it happened. I was at the junction to the road that lead to Norris Point. Across from me were a number of signs for B&Bs and restaurants and, lurking among them, a cow moose. We looked at each other for a few seconds, then she turned away, and disappeared in a high-stepping trot into the dense woods.

This is where I saw the moose

I chortled out loud at the coincidence. I suspect that had anyone heard me, they might have questioned my sanity. Of course, many people question my sanity for biking as much as I do!

Mark was at home to greet me. Alice soon joined us and brought out the bubbly to celebrate my achievement. Exclesior!!!

Gros Morne Park is beautiful if at the mercy of the weather. I can't write long as the Norris Point Public Library will be closing shortly.

On penultimate day of cycling

A good day of cycling, but not exceptional. Rather hot and sweaty. When I was having lunch in Pasadena, someone asked me where I was going. When I said "Norris Point", he said "You'll see plenty of moose there." I laughed and said "I hope so!"

This post is coming to you from the Deer Lake Public Library, of which I am now a card-carrying visiting computer user of. The card is apparently good in other libraries in Newfoundland & Labrador. It would appear that this province is well in advance of Quebec with regards to libraries.

On the ferry crossing

Yes, this entry is arguably out of sequence, but I had to write about my great day yesterday, and didn't want to waste time writing about the ferry. Not the end of the world.

Getting on the ferry involved waiting around for a fair bit in the sun while Leif Eriksson was first unloaded. At first, I chatted with motorcyclist who was a trip that had taken him and his terrier (yorkie type) all around the coastline of the continental U.S.. I joked that it would be rather hard to do the same for Canada. A little while later, another cyclist showed up, namely an Israeli on a CCM bike wearing a huge backpack. From talking with him, I gathered that his deal was more being a backpacker with a bike, than true cycle-touring. When our paths crossed again as we were untying our bikes at the end of the crossing, he told me that he had cadged a lift from someone during the crossing.

On the whole, I think the crossing was pretty unremarkable. That almost makes it remarkable. It was quite sunny and warm at first, so I lay on a bench on the deck and suntanned for a stretch. I was half tempted to go to the bar and order a boat drink!

Later in the trip, I saw at least one whale. I had been reading the shade, when I happened to look out to sea. There I saw a whale blow. I jumped up and ran to rail, in time to see a second blow. Unfortunately, that was all I saw. Whether this was one whale blowing twice or two separate whales, I cannot swear to. Nor can I swear to the species. My pet theory is that it (or they) was (were) large rorqual type whales, likely fin or blue whales. This is based on the fact that the blows were fairly substantial (suggesting a large whale) and that I didn't see a back breaking the surface, thereby likely excluding humpbacks or sperm whales. Then again, it could have been minke whales closer than I thought.

It eventually became foggy, and it was in the fog that we made Port-aux-Basques. The town seems almost stereotypically Newfoundland with houses clinging to the rocky shore. Why someone hasn't built a subdivision a bit inland where it is flatter is a question for the philosophers or possibly the human geographers.

In any case, I should be off. Today will be a relatively short and easy day to Deer Lake.

On the best day of biking

Yesterday was a bit of a washout. The Nfld Trailway was an extreme disappointment with very little in the way of decent surfaces for biking even on the short distance I was on it. Just before I got off it, I hit some soft, deep, wet sand that clung to various surfaces on my bike and simply wasn't rideable. In addition, it was foggy and pissing with rain for much of the day.

On the plus side, over breakfast at the Radio Station Inn B&B someone recommended the Wreckhouse Haven Tea room to me. This proved to be a bit further along the road than I anticipated but was just right for lunch. Lunch was a clubhouse sandwich, a bowl of thick pea soup, partridgeberry pudding and warm Newfoundland hospitality. It was a bit like sitting in someone's kitchen listening to them gossip about so-and-so who was in the hospital. I almost broke down and ordered a second dessert in the form of the blueberry grunt that two other patrons were raving about. I probably should have.

I had opted for the Midway Motel as lodging for the night. Unfortunately, it didn't have much in the way of food, so supper was an egg salad sandwich, a bag of Doritos, a bottle of milk, a muffin, some pemmican, a fruit bar and some oatmeal cookies, the latter three items coming from my food reserves. My first breakfast was also ad hoc consisting of a banana, the remaining oatmeal cookies and some coffee. Needless to say, I was eager to pedal the 30 odd km to the Ultramar station where reliable intelligence suggested that breakfast might be had.

Yesterday evening I spoke with Alice, Mark and Olivier. The latter was in Corner Brook and offered me a sofa to sleep on. In my planning, I had been going to spend tonight in Stephenville. This would have been a mistake and I am glad I changed my plans. Today has probably been the finest day of cycling I have ever had. The weather was sunny with fluffy clouds and the wind was at my back. The Trans Canada Highway (or TCH to the locals) is a biker's dream. My average for the day was 26.1 km/h. The maximum speed was 69.6 km/h!!!! I am going to get Olivier to sign a piece of paper testifying to this result!!!!

In addition, the landscape is very scenic. About the only fault I can find with it is that I have yet to see a moose.
Today has been a blast. Olivier has made me feel very welcome and has served me some delicious clam chowder made from clams he caught a couple of days ago. Cheers.

On choices well made and musings on Scots

Well, I'm in North Sydney at a basic but comfortable B&B overlooking the harbour. With exception of one long, steepish hill, Route 223 was a blast. Not quite as fast as West Bay to Marble Mountain, but with better views. While there wasn't a paved shoulder, the traffic was quite light. I amused myself by counting how many cars went by in either direction. After half an hour, I had only counted 18. I would have counted for a full hour, but I came across a convenience store that was the obvious place to stop for elevenses, in this case an oatmeal cookie and some chocolate milk. Needless to say, by stopping I would have "upset" the data gathering. All things considered, I think I made the right choice.

Another interesting and correct choice I have made a couple of times is to get milk as a snack drink. To knock back lovely cold milk can really hit the spot. Unfortunately, milk doesn't work as a drink carry with you. If I may refer to this earlier post, I think I have proved point 7 of why it is better cycle tour in Canada than in Spain.

I did a load of laundry this afternoon in an actual laundromat as opposed to the old sink and Campsuds routine. While my clothes were in the dryer, a family came in from a SUV with a B.C. license plate. The elder of the children was moaning about having to wait. His mom shushed him saying they weren't going to go anywhere anyway until they got on the 10 AM ferry tomorrow morning, i.e. the same one as me. Using this point, I chatted with them for a bit.

Outside the public library there was a seriously long-distance touring bike. As in a spare tire in evidence along with the capacity to carry at least 5 liters of H2O. I was tempted to go in and see if I could figure out which person at which public access computer the bike belonged to. I didn't, partly out of shame of being a yuppie "wimp" de-caffeinated credit card cycle tourist. I went into the library later in the day and bought some old National Geographics to read on the ferry. My leisure reading material on this trip is Dickens' Bleak House which isn't a whole lot of fun.

When I came into North Sydney, I was greeted by the sight of the Caribou and the Leif Eriksson the ferry terminal. These Marine Atlantic ferries are bloody big ships. As I looked for somewhere for lunch, I was a bit surprised to see a number of people in safety vests walking around. I assumed they were ferry workers. After some thought, I began to realize just how much manpower it takes to run those ships and to insure smooth operation around the clock.

One of the things that struck me about the Highland Heritage Village was just how spartan the existence of the people in the houses would have been. The visitor follows a path leading him or her through a chronological sequence of houses that a family would have been living in. It begins with the Scottish black house. Next is a log cabin, a frame house, a central chimney house and a central corridor house. (At least I think that was the progression.) All of these houses were rather austere. The central chimney house, in particular, featured very thin internal walls. In effect, these types of houses were of relatively low quality and were not terribly comfortably built. I am suspicious that this might explain why I have seem so many abandoned old houses and many newish prefab houses. I suspect that to bring the old houses up to modern standards of comfort would require too much time and money for the return on the investment for the locals. The B&B I stayed in Port Hawksbury was the former residence of a Victorian-era ferry-boat captain. The owner described how when they renovated it, they didn't find any insulation. "Not even newspaper." And this was a "nice" house.

Another thing that I got out of the Highland Village was the very different fates of Scots in Nova Scotia. The Pictou Scots seem to have done very well for themselves, at least for a while, whereas the Bras d'Or Scots seem to have done relatively poorly. I suspect that my uncle Julian would say that I should write a research paper on the topic.