On an ugly plane and signs

I participated in the Metropolitan Challenge today. It began at the Mont St-Bruno ski hill. To start with, there was a fair bit of the suburb of St-Julie to go through which starts and stops. Then there was a long stretch of open ground with the wind at our backs. My average speed was over 25 km/h at one point, then the route went along the western bank of Richelieu River for quite awhile before crossing at Beloeil.

It continued up the River, passing under a train bridge which is vague notorious for being the site of the Canada's worst railway accident. In 1864, a train full of immigrants failed to stop at a red signal and consequently went into the Richelieu River as the swing bridge was open. 99 people died. The swing bridge was at the left of the picture below.

A bit further up the River, the road went past a small airfield whose largest aircraft caused me to stop and take a picture.

 This rather ugly aircraft is a Short SC.7 Skyvan. It is a 1960s era medium weight utility aircraft designed for simple and cheap construction leaving out such refinements as pressurization and retractable landing gear. Strictly utilitarian, its boxy construction made easy to load cargo. According to Google, this one (C-GUWW) is owned by a sky diving company which isn't hard to believe. I also believe that at some point it had its engines replaced as it features five-bladed propellers rather than the original three-bladed ones.

Lunch was in the town of Richelieu. Mummy arrived a fair bit after me, but we had a chat.

I set off for the remaining 40 kms or so. In Chambly, there was some confusing directional signs that led many a participant astray. Several kilometers later, a pair women cyclists noticed that I had the map of the event on hand and asked if we were on the right road. I replied, "Yes," then added, "At least, I hope we are!" We were in fact on the route, and after crossing a bridge and returning towards Chambly, we were later riding down the western side of the Richelieu River. This was a bit of head scratch-er as according to the map, we weren't supposed to be there. However, there were Vélo-Québec signs.

We went through St-Basile-le-Grand which is best known to me as the site of a big tire fire in 1990. Then it was through the suburb of St-Bruno and back to the car. It was quite hot by the end.

My stats were: 4:41:30 biking time, 102.44 km distance, average speed of 21.8 km/h and 47.3 km/h maximum speed.

There were some fun signs which I photographed, along with my thumb in one case.

How's that for a name?

"Beware of snow blown by wind gods"

Beware of deer jumping over turtles

 

(If I lived nearby, I'd be tempted to swap the order the signs just to be annoying! :-) )

On the Petitcodiac this morning

 

On the tidal bore

I started today’s touristing with a visit to the Acadian Museum. The first interesting thing, I came across was a picture of Antonine Maillet sharing a word with Herménégilde Chiasson. The Défi des Cantons went through St-Herménégilde this year so I know it is a name. However, I had assumed that loving, modern parents were beyond imposing such torture on their offspring. I was amused to read an explanation of the name of Acadia. Apparently, it had been dubbed “Arcadia” after a classical Greek place of bliss but the “r” fell out of usage, possibly because of poor spelling and possibly because “Acadia” was close to the First Nations names for the place. It was fairly interesting but I did have one question as I left: was Breton spoken in old Acadia?

I then had an interrupted visit to the Resurgo Museum. “Resurgo” is the motto of Moncton and thus you may deduce the subject of the museum. It was a bit simple for my tastes, aimed too much at children. It also didn’t explain Moncton’s missing letter. It used be spelt “Monckton” but lost the “k” at some point. 

The visit was interrupted because I left to witness the tidal bore progressing up the Petitcodiac River. At the advice of the lady at the Resurgo, I got there early. A bit too early, so I amused myself by sawing off the end of a tree that had fallen into the bike path on Saturday. A passerby said I should bill the City. The tidal bore arrived on schedule. It was very impressive, if rather muddy looking. It generated waves that of about 3 feet which is enough to surf on. Apparently, a few years back some surfers rode the wave for 29 kilometres! Worth the wait! The French term for a tidal bore sounds more interesting: “mascaret”.

After lunch, I went back to the Resurgo. There I listened to the Miꞌkmaq legend of the Eel and the Lobster. It seems a giant eel took to living in the River and eating all the fish. The fish were vexed by this and asked Glooscap for help. Glooscap couldn’t help directly but said if one of them were to step forward, he was give him the power to fight the Eel. After an awkward pause, little Lobster stepped forwards and was given extra fighting abilities. The Eel and the Lobster fought an epic and bloody battle. Lobster won the battle, driving Eel away but turned the waters of the Petitcodiac muddy and bloody. Eel’s blood stuck to Lobster’s skin and so a lobster’s shell turns red when cooked. The ghost of Eel haunts the Petitcodiac River, returning twice a day. Or something like that.

There was also an unsatisfying travelling exhibit about women during the World Wars. It was far to general and bland to be truly interesting. It did make me think of Aunt Lorna.

Afterwards, I did an “I-tour” of Downtown Moncton using my iPhone. It was not as interesting as I would have wished. It was all about architecture, mostly commercial.*

Tomorrow, I rent a car to return to the Hopewell Rocks and bloody well see them. When I get back to Moncton, it should be time to catch my train. *Touch wood*

What?… This is almost too rich! I just got an email from Via Rail that begins with “Important information” about my upcoming trip (paid for by Via Rail preference points). I will quote to you the important bits:

“We’re reaching out to inform you of a change regarding meal service on board train 15 of September 28th.

We were recently informed that the caterer providing meals served on-board the Ocean has been affected by the damages caused by hurricane Fiona, and that they will not be able to provide the meals we usually serve on this train.

Different meal options have been acquired for your trip. In light of this last-minute modification, VIA Rail would like to offer its passengers a refund valued at 10% of the fare paid for this portion of the trip. 

This refund will be processed in the next 10 days. No further action is required on your part.

We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.

VIA Rail Canada”

I’d say I don’t know if I should laugh or cry, but I’m too busy laughing. ;-)  (No mention of lemon soaked paper napkins.) 

On Fiona and consequences

Well, here’s a pretty howdy-do.

At some point early in the night of the 23rd of September, the night that Fiona hit, I decided to stay in Alma an extra night and phoned the hotel in Moncton to change my reservation by a day. That went easily. Later that night, I woke up and noticed the power was off. Well, to be expected. I should have cancelled my alarm, but when it went off, I silenced it before rolling over for some more sleep.

Around 8:30, I arose, dressed for the weather and went around the corner to the office to let the place know I would be staying for another night. I saw that the owner was holding a take-out cup of coffee. I asked/guessed if it had come from the gas station and general store down the street, the only place with a lit sign! It had and provided me with a breakfast of sorts, coffee, a hard boiled egg, a muffin and some grapes.

The strong Northeast wind had rain in its teeth. The parking lot of the motel was littered with roofing shingles. Later in the day, a couple of men were up on the motel’s roof making repairs.

After breakfast, I turned in for a nap, setting my alarm for 11 AM or high tide. It had been low tide when I arrived and the fishing boats in the port were high on the mud. They appeared to be intended for the lobster or crab fishing. To my eye, they were extremely beamy with no taper at the stern, no doubt to better handle resting on the bottom twice a day. Some of them had overly macho names or decorations. “Fundy Fury”? Pirate logos? Give me a break! I later noticed that many of them had home ports in Nova Scotia, mostly Yarmouth and Digby.

Someone at the gas station had wondered about a storm surge at high tide. However, there was no need to worry. By high tide, the wind had abated and in any case, it had been blowing against the tide.

I spent the afternoon wandering about Alma doing some good by picking up some wind blown shingles. In the process, I discovered that there was a seafood shack open and had a hot lunch of fish and chips. I had been expecting it to provide supper, but it closed early, alas. 

In the late afternoon, I went into the motel’s office to pay for my second night. Power was not expected to be restored until 10 PM the next day, so the internet was out. I offered to pay cash. However, the owner said he had an old machine that would do the trick. He produced an old credit card imprint taker. I chuckled and explained that it wouldn’t work as my credit card isn’t embossed! (I had worried about the problem when it arrived.) We arrived at a working solution.

I had limited cell reception which gave me a picture of the relative devastation in Nova Scotia. Yep, I would have to call this trip quits in Moncton. In reading about the more limited damage done to New Brunswick, I had a moment of panic when I read that Route 915 East of Alma of was blocked and that motorists should find alternate routes. My panic was that I would have to got back through Fundy National Park. Then I remembered that the main road out of Alma was the 114!

I strolled out on the beach about an hour before low tide. It was a long way out. It was interesting to see the changing amount of barnacles on the rocks the further I went. I came back picking up litter as I went. At the top of the beach, I was removing some ropes from a piece of driftwood when a man commented that the boulders just below us hadn’t been there the day before. I was a bit surprised by this as they looked well established in their current locations. I suspect that the sand that had been covering them before was washed away.

Supper that night was skimpy as was the following breakfast.

Sunday dawned gorgeous. It was cool at first, but glorious. The 114 out Alma rose at a gentile grade that made for a fast climb on its well paved surface. I imagined that it might because New Brunswick wanted to give visitors to the Park a positive image of its roads. After a lovely descent the other side of the pass, I came out on the coastal plain and thought that from here to Moncton it would plain biking. Of such thoughts, the gods take pleasure in playing with cyclists. As related in the previous entry, there were far too many pointless and annoying hills between there and Moncton. There was also the aforementioned problem with the Hopewell Rocks.

There was a railway museum in Hillborough which should have been open because it was a Sunday, but wasn’t likely because of Fiona. There were many items of rolling stock out in the open and with no fence surrounding them, and no one telling me not to, I wandered about inspecting them. I was surprised that one piece of rolling stock that I had thought was a tender to a steam engine had been used to fight fires. Hmm, maybe it had been a tender to a steam engine but when steam engines were retired, it had been repurposed. The one thing was was fenced off didn’t match the rest of the collection. I mean it is very rare to find a McDonnell CF-101F Voodoo interceptor in railway museums. As I returned to my bike, a car with an East Asian family arrived. The father asked me if the museum was open. I said it was supposed to be, but it wasn’t. However, there was nothing stopping them from looking at the outside of the cars.

I made Moncton earlier than I had planned, mostly because of the Hopewell Rocks situation. I had thought I would find a tourist information office and through it locate somewhere I could access the internet and recharge my phone. However, owing to the relative inefficiency of New Brunswick tourism, I found my hotel before I found tourist information. As I hadn’t showered in 36 hours, I decided to see if I could check in early. And so I did and I could.

Once clean, I phoned up Via Rail to see if I could change my ticket back to Montreal. I had looked up flights back to Montreal on Air Canada and they started at $700. Indeed, I had checked again while waiting for an agent to become available. However, my ticket on Via Rail had been paid for by points and in theory could be changed free of charge. It would also be more fun. That would more than make up for the extra time and money spent in Moncton. As it turned out, it was possible to change my ticket to Wednesday and Moncton. So that is what I will be doing! 

Today has seen me putz around doing my laundry and taking it easy. Tomorrow isn’t looking so nice, so I rebooked the car for Wednesday which is better logistically. I feel I should be finding a museum or something, but…

P.S. According to Environment Canada, Fiona dumped 105 mm of rain in Fundy National Park.

On plans afoot

I am in Moncton and I have my first shower since Friday and I am feeling a lot better for it. 

I have also booked my return journey by train. Or should I say rebooked, as it involved cancelling my previously booked sleeper from Halifax to Montreal to a new one from Moncton to Montreal, only this one will be on Wednesday instead of Sunday. 

In theory, there was nothing preventing me from getting to Halifax in time for my original booking. However, given the amount of damage Fiona did, I’d rather not risk being a nuisance to the bluenosers’ restoration efforts. I saw enough damage on the way to Moncton to know that getting closer would not be a good idea.

There was one section of damage that proved rather irksome. Margaret, my coworker from Moncton, had told me I had to go see the Hopewell Rocks. So I tried to. After turning off the 114, I biked up a nice road to some gates manned by a group of people working for New Brunswick Provincial Parks saying that the Park was closed because they had to tidy up from the storm including sawing up various trees that had come down. They were very sorry but they would be open tomorrow. I suggested maybe a sign closer to the 114 would be a courtesy. As I rode on to Moncton, I pondered whether I should come back either Monday or Tuesday. However, the 38 km between the Hopewell Rocks proved to be annoyingly hilly and rather dull. Consequently, I have booked a car on Tuesday (when it should be sunny). This will also allow me to return to Alma and with a modicum of good luck, sample the highly recommended cinnamon buns that I missed because of Fiona.

Current location Moncton

 Call off the RCMP. I am safe and sound in Moncton. More after the shower and some internet surfing.

On whether to bunker down

At this point, I think the question is not whether I will get to Halifax, but how I will get back to Montreal from Moncton. Another question is whether I will brave the elements tomorrow, which include 50 km/h winds out of the North West (one of the directions I will travel) gusting up to 100 km/h in exposed areas. It would not be a problem to stay an extra night at my motel in Alma. Ironically, I am not staying at the first place I contacted in Alma as they had minimum two night stay!

Alma, New Brunswick, is the gateway town to Fundy National Park. As seems to be my wont with National Parks in New Brunswick (all two of them), I entered from the “back side” after a fairly long and chilly day of biking along the lesser highways of New Brunswick.

The day got off to a delayed start as I hadn’t twigged to the fact that the Evandale Resort doesn’t offer breakfast except on weekends. After tracking someone in charge, I was pitied enough to be provided with a hard boiled egg, a banana and a cereal bar. I’ve a mind to write them an email suggesting they put in place a cyclist protocol.

There is an odd quality to the lesser highways of New Brunswick. It may relate to my limited breakfast, but between Evandale and Sussex (roughly 50 kilometres if memory serves) I remember only one store that sold food, and that was a convenience store at a gas station. There were some roadside stands selling produce, but no grocery stores. In Quebec, I would have expected near a half dozen dépanneurs. There were various businesses such as mechanical servicing for car and trucks and hair salons. Plenty of Protestant churches including several United Baptist churches. I am going to reveal my (agnostic) Catholic induced ignorance, but I have no idea what or who exactly the United Baptist Church is or are. My theory on the modus operandi of the area is that people drive into Sussex to shop at Walmart, the Atlantic Superstore or the like. In writing this, I also have to confess a certain bias brought on by the presence of LeBaron’s store in North Hatley that has resulted in me having the mindset that a grocery store is something that should be handy enough that you don’t need to plan ahead. Anything else borders on the uncivilized. ;-)  

In my defence, I believe that certain biases are acceptable provided one is open about them or at least self-aware of them. A case in point was when I was asked to order children’s nonfiction books. One of first things I said was that I would be biased in favour of moose and bicycles!

Another thing about New Brunswick lesser roads is that there doesn’t appear to have been much effort to avoid hills. There was too much needless up and down in my humble opinion. It doesn’t help that Southern New Brunswick appears to be a bunch of ridges running North-East to South-West, likely created by the same set of forces that created Nova Scotia and the Bay of Fundy. When travelling across them, hills are annoyingly frequent.

There were a number of white-tailed deer to admire. The first pair was doe and fawn. The next bunch was a half dozen running to the woods across of a field. The signs in Fundy National Park “promised” both moose and deer but no such luck.

While I entered Fundy National Park from the “back side”, that is the side to enter it by bike. The last 4 kilometres leading to Alma are a joy of going steeply downhill with relatively exciting turns, at least when you have disc brakes.

And so, and so, I return to Alma. Will I remain here tomorrow, or will I brave the elements. I will leave the answer for tomorrow morning and see what the weather is doing then.

If you don’t hear from me by Sunday, check for outages in the Alma or Moncton areas before notifying the RCMP.