The end.

With every beginning comes an end. And when the stuff in-between is really challenging, the end is highly anticipated. For the past 103 days, we have been living on our bikes, heart and minds set on this moment: the ride into St. John's. The finish line. Mission: accomplished.

But as we peddled into the most eastern (and oldest!) city in North America this afternoon, there were no fireworks or cheers to mark our arrival. It seemed like just another day of riding, bodies sore and tired. Although we've been anticipating this day for the past three and a half months, when it comes down to it, it's just another moment in time, no different from the rest. What's different is the afterward. Because this is it. We can't go any further, even if we wanted to. Our days as gypsies travelling only with the bare essentials has come to a close. And though we're ready to get going with our lives, there's no doubt we'll miss this one.

It has been a fantastic adventure. Even Newfoundland came around, spoiling us with sun for the past week. The people here continue to be warm and talkative, each mesmerized by how far we've come. We had a stranger pull over on the highway to tell us that he'd read our blog the night before, having received news updates for Corner Brook. Then in Gander, a newspaper editor tracked us down at the mall and interviewed us in the parking lot. We almost feel famous, and all we've done is peddled.

We have come far. It's fun to look at a globe and trace our journey across a substantial portion of it. Traversed mountain ranges, plains, provincial and national parks, the Canadian shield, badlands and wetlands. In the process, we have gotten intimate with our weaknesses, tested our limits, and come to know eachother in detail. We have learned how little one needs to live -approximately four bags full - and how unnecessary are 95% of the things we own at home. We have marvelled at the fantastic machines that got us this far. And we have seen Canada, a huge, wild land, sparsely populated and early on in its life as a nation. Our favourite places have been Victoria, Alsask, the Northern Superior shores, Kenora, Quebec City, Sherbrooke and Charlottetown.

We've travelled 8000+ kilometres, and because of it, a number of students in Kenya will be receiving an education this year. Thankyou to everyone who has helped make this possible. If you have yet to donate, there is no better time than now!

Throughout our journey, we've had a number of people host and/or support us along the way. THANKYOU to the following people for making our trip that much more enjoyable:

Holly and Graham in Victoria, Nat in Vancouver, Dave and Dawn in Keremeos, Linda in Kelowna, Shabheer and Christine in Canmore, Todd and Yvonne in Okotoks, Brian in Saskatoon, Lynn and Jean in Dauphin, S.J. in Winnipeg, Joel in Kenora, Pam in Thunder Bay, Charlotte in the Sault, the Kramers, the Liddle's in Muskoka, Nadav in Ottawa, Ali's subletters in Montreal, Claude in Granby, Moe in Sherbrooke, Martine and Andre in Quebec City, Cecilia and Clancy in Fredericton, Jeanne in Charlottetown, Bob at the Brackley drive-in, Debbie in Codroy Valley, the couple who drove us to Corner Brook, Bill and Candice in Gander, Jackie in St. John's, our parents, Marg and Mark (a special thankyou for all the gear), Jason Shim and Paul Okrutny (for website help), and SEED Canada (notably Nitasha, Anu and Eileen).

After this trip, it seems like anything is possible, so long as you've got heart. Cheers to that.

Giant rock in the sea

Alot has happened in the past few days, and I've been dying to find a computer to get it all down. After leaving Antigonish, we crossed the Canso Causeway onto Cape Breton, a large island north of the Nova Scotia mainland. It's a beautiful place, with stunning rock cliffs covered in green, the largest salt water lakes in the world, and skies in perpetual flux. We decided to skip the famous Cabot Trail, given that it would have been two days of extremely hilly riding that we didn't need to do. It's come to the point where scenery no longer trumps distance.

In Baddeck, Nova Scotia, we went to a real Cape Breton Celidh (pronounced Cay-ley, not Sell-i-ah, as I thought), complete with step dancing, foot banging, and mad-fast fiddling. It seems like ever Cape Bretoner can move their feet and fingers super quick, and are able to produce insanely energetic music and dance as a result. It was a great time. Afterwards, we sent up the tent in a picnic area of the Alexander Graham Bell Museum. We have been sleeping in public parks since Ontario, after realizing that paying $20 for a patch of grass at a campsite is unnecessary. What we had been fearing finally happened: we were woken at 5:30am and asked to leave the premises. We sluggishly packed up in the rain and got an early start to the day.

Four days ago, we found ourselves on the Lief Erikson, a giant ferry bound for Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland. At 1:30am, we reached our tenth and final province of the trip. We had no idea what was to come.

Newfoundland's a world of its own. Everything, from the landscape to the weather to the people, is up-front, rugged and ruthless. We thought the weather was bad on Cape Breton, then we got to Newfoundland. We quickly learned that August is the month of rain. On our first day, it poured and poured. After 40km, we stumbled into a teahouse by the side of the highway, wet and cold. After delicious homemade soup and rolls, we hung around and waited for the rain to let up. It didn't. We considered a motel, but there weren't any around, or for the next 50k. We were offered a ride to St. John's, and it was tempting given the five day forecast of rain, but we obviously had to refuse. With no other option, we were just about to hit the road when Debbie, a bubbling cook, offered for us to stay at her place for the night. Needless to say, it wasn't a tough decision.

We spent the evening talking with Debbie, her son Paul, and her two brothers that came and went. We learned that Newfoundlanders treasure family; they also like their gossip and alcohol. As the wind howled and the rain poured all night, we were warm and dry in a bed. It was quite the storm. Debbie not only lifted our spirits, but she may have saved our life. The next day, she didn't let us leave before enjoying a traditional Newfoundland 'gig' dinner, served at noon, and complete with steamed veggies, potatoes, chicken, pork, cabbage, bread pudding, and homemade apple pie. Stuffed to the brim, we were able to ride for 110km without stopping. What a lady.

It has rained every day since we've been on this giant rock in the sea. As one man put it, last week it was sunny for a day, and 300 Newfoundlanders went blind. This is the only province where you get four seasons in a day, and we feel it riding - hot one minute, cold and wet the next. I guess where earth meets sea, the skies are tempermental. We wish they would make up their mind.

Yesterday, we found ourselves in dire straits after Rob's tire exploded on the highway. We attempted to fix it, but it was hopeless. We had no choice but to hail a ride to Corner Brook, 40km away, to a bike store, something we have been trying to find for a week now. So technically, we will have biked across Canada, minus 40k in Newfoundland. But not to worry, for we've definitely done an extra 40k somewhere along the way. We finished off the day with five flats between the two of us. What a day.

From Deer Lake, Newfoundland, a hearty Newfoundlander farewell.

Lost in the Maritimes

Don't worry, we're not actually lost. We would initially like to apologize to everyone who has tried to make a donation online in the past while and has been unable to. Paypal is not cooperating, but we are doing our best to remedy this problem. In the meantime, please feel free to donate by sending a cheque to the address on our website.

Almost three months ago, we biked out of Vancouver and began a long, ambitious adventure. We now have only about 15 biking days left to St. John's. The end is in sight, and our hearts and minds are more fixed on our final destination than ever. We are tired. Although we are in the best shape of our lives, our legs just don't want to bike anymore. But there's no stopping us now, and our determination will get us to the end.

We are in Nova Scotia, province #9. The Maritimes are hilly, slow-paced, and all about water: raining from the sky, snaking through the land in the form of rivers, and encircling each province with ocean. Atlantic Ocean. We can now officially say that we have biked Canada from coast to coast, but must contain our excitement, cause we ain't done yet.

In New Brunswick, there is a mix of cultures and languages that changes depending on where you are. One town speaks english, the next french, and the next Acadian, a unique French dialect that most Canadians know little about. We cycled to Edmundston, then south to Fredericton where we celebrated New Brunswick Day with live music and free ice cream. We cycled through Fundy National Park, where we ate fresh lobster and witnessed a 13 metre-tall tide come in and out, the highest tide in the world. This natural ebb and flow that happens twice a day illustrates the impressive graviational pull of the moon and sun; it's also really cool to watch.

And then the coast. After crossing Confederation Bridge, truly an engineering wonder, we found ourselves on P.E.I. Being the "gentle island", P.E.I. lives up to its name. Made of sand, clay and stone and covered with potatoe plants, rivers and beautiful beaches, P.E.I. is a seafood-lovers paradise. Lobster, mussels and scallops are in abundance, but unfortunately not dirt cheap. Being on the island was wonderful, not only because it was quiet and flat, but cause it was so short: we were on and off in three days.

Today we took the ferry to Nova Scotia and rode through the rain to Antigonish, on our way to Cape Breton. And so continues our existence as homeless nomads. It's incredible how much we have come to appreciate a warm shower, bed and roof over our heads. These little things that we normally take for granted are enough to keep us pedalling for days. To all those who have provided us with these gifts over the course of our trip, a giant preliminary THANKYOU.

From Antigonish, Nova Scotia, bye for now!