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.