It figures. My big trip. I've been pining for this *ALL* summer. It finally arrives. Only, on the Friday before I get to read the news and how someone has issued a bomb threat for Moncton. Moncton?? In the fsck of nowhere?! Must be some enraged anglos who don't like that Acadians are having a good time without them... go figure.
I rush off to the airport on Monday evening, the SO carrying the bike box to the airport shuttle (far cheaper than a taxi and more relaxing -- less of "let's kill everyone around here!! You pay cash! No VIISA! Or I kill you!!!" -- we have rather emotional taxidrivers in Toronto).
Get on the bus and it "busys" itself around the downtown core going from one hotel to another, picking up passengers. We finally get on the highway (know as the Gardiner, aka Parking Lot) and... stop. Apparently, some 18-wheeler has had an accident about 2km ahead of us. The driver decides to get off at the next ramp, about 500 metres away. It takes 15 minutes (I can bike faster than that! -- And I'm a slow cyclist!). Finally get off there, take a short detour bypassing the accident and then finally on the highway. We arrive 10 minutes later than schedule. I grab one of the trolleys (I have to pay $1 to get it but only get 25 cents when I return it -- I guess trolley theft is a serious issue). Go to get the boarding pass. Before I get it I get a barrage of questions (I realize they have to ask this but sometimes...)
"Did you pack these bags?"
"No. I had my swarm of personal slaves do it!" (I actually just said yes)
"Did you leave these bags unattended?"
"Sure I left $500 worth of panniers plus $1000 in electronic gadgets out on the streets overnight in downtown Toronto!" (I actually just said no)
"Has anyone altered the contents in the bags?"
"Uh...." (I actually just said no)
I know it's all over security issues but sometimes I just feel like being super scarcastic.
I then go to oversized where I have to surrender my "baby" to the luggage handler. I had figured it'd cost me $50 each way to ship it with WestJet (my carrier) but it was $26.75 including taxes. Pretty nifty. I arrive alive in Moncton (after flying through the sideways rain of Charly). The Uncle person is there to pick me up and we yap the night away until 2am over a Strongbow or two.
Next morning I get up at 7am, eat, pack and get ready to go... only to realize I have forgotten one of the most important things for this trip: my helmet. In most of Eastern Canada it is LAW to wear a helmet. Thankfully, the Uncle person has as fat a head as me. So I make do. I decide that when I return from Fundy Park (which was my intended first 3 days of riding/relaxing/riding) I'd go back to Moncton and get a new helmet. (I am due for a new one since mine is 10 years old now).
I leave Shediac (where the Uncle person lives) and trundle off to Moncton along highway 132. Now, something to keep in mind: New Brunswick's population is so small that you can ride a bicycle on ANY road, including major highways (it's a scary experience). Highway 132 would be like Highway 2 in Ontario. An older secondary highway, with limited shoulder but also limited traffic. Most New Brunswickers are friendly and even the trucks give a wide berth. Now Highway 132 goes through Dieppe and then on to Moncton. Both Dieppe and Moncton are WEST of Shediac. Imagine my confusion when I see a sign "Moncton - West; Dieppe - East". ?!?!??!!? EH?
I followed through Dieppe and onwards to Moncton. It was a nice day, bit warm but not too warm. I eventually got to the edge of Moncton. Moncton is one of the "big cities" in New Brunswick (pop: 120,000 approx.) Highway 15 goes around the city so people can by-pass it on their way to farther west of Moncton. I see a sign that says Highway 15 - Fundy - to Highway 114 (Highway 114 is the ONLY way in or out of Fundy National Park). *Shrug* I take highway 15. Big mistake. I should have stayed on the Main Street (aka Highway 132) as it would have taken me directly to Highway 114. I manage to get off the 15, cut through the University and eventually find 114 (how I managed to get lost in a city this size is beyond me -- it's not that friggin' big!)
Anyways, once on Highway 114 everything is peachy. Traffic is relatively light (compared to what I'm used to and the views are nice). I'm puttering along at a nice 25km/hour (not bad for a fully loaded bike -- that is clothes, tent, repair kit, camera, iPod, books, kitchen sink. Just no cooking stuff -- that's what restaurants will be for). I stop for a simple lunch of egg salad sandwich, two bananas (the cyclist best friend) and some gatorade. And onward ho! Right into a headwind of 20KM/hr and HILLS!!! *GASP*
I avoid going to the Hopewell Rocks on the advice of the attendent at the Hillsborough Info Center. Apparently the 915 is heavy with RV traffic and even more hills. I continue on the 114 and notice the road seems to be flattening out. Ya me! Unfortunately, I get to a point where there is 2km of torn up road. (I don't know what it is but every trip over 50km this year has involved anywhere from 2 - 10km of gravel/road work -- I'm convinced I'm a gravel magnet) Not quite gravel but it's that strip-off-the-top-layer-and-leave-long-grooves-in-the-road-kind-of-thing. Once past that, with the road flatter, I realize that I can bike faster once again. But I seem to be getting slower. ?? I stop and realize that I'm looking up the road. Rather than going between the two "mountains" it goes up on a really slow grade. *SOB*
Once I'm over the grade, I start speeding down and into Alma (the town at the edge of the Park). I managed to get a campsite with a view of the town and within 5 minute walk of the town for two nights. Tent up, shower taken, I go off in search of lobster.
Next day (Day 2 for those who have lost count) starts off early with a view of the sunrise over the town. Now, just for those that don't know. Fundy National Park is a special area designated as a Hertiage Site (IIRC) by the UN. This site has the highest tides in the world, reaching regularly (not due to storm) 12 metres high (to put this in perspective -- an average human is about 1.5 -1.8 metres tall). When the tide is out, the lobster boats sit on the sea floor. It's really neat actually.
Anyways, I go off in search of food at one of the local places. I then decide I want to see one of the many falls that are found in the park (part of the reason why I went here -- it was for some personal photography experiments). I find on the Park map one that should be close and follow what I think is the road (please keep in mind I'm an expert at getting close -- kids, do not do this at home). I walk up and up and up and up and up... And it was a hot day. I did get a great view from the top of the "mountain" where I could see mist decending down. After about 5 km I realize that I've taken the wrong road and now I'm about 5km to the north of where I want to be (*SOB*).
A park attendent is nice enough to point me to a hiking path that cuts through the woods and on down to the falls. So I now trudge another 5KM south through the brush, taking every cobweb and mosiquoto along for the ride. I finally arrive at the Dickson Falls trail (thankfully it's less than a kilometer round trip) and off to the falls. Unlike Ontario, New Brunswick is suffering from a minor drought. The falls are a bit bigger than a trickle. Though I do get some nice shots and play with the camera settings. I won't know exactly how good they are until I look at them on the screen (the camera is digital but those itty bitty LCDs are still too small for my aged eyes). So I finally walk back to the tent (it's now about 2pm) to rest my sore feet and read some.
Around 6ish I go down to check out the low tide and get some dinner. In the process I manage to run into the other Uncle and Aunt persons so they take me out for dinner (the only good thing thus far). After yapping a good portion of the evening, they drop me off at my campsite, make sure I'm ok and then off to bed I go.
I got up early this morning -- 6am. In half an hour I had packed everything, dismantled and packed the tent and had a small breakfast of 2 bananas (maybe it's the bananas?). It's incredibly foggy and rather cool. I put on the turtleneck to keep warm and removing my glasses so I can see (well, everything far is rather fuzzy but at least it's better than being water logged). I was worried about traffic out and the "grade" on the way out. But in actual fact, only 3 hills bothered me enough for me to walk. The rest of the time I ranged from 14km/hour (on the slow side) to a regular 25-30km/hour. I was thrilled. I was flying. I was freakin' hungry!
I stop in the Hopewell Cape for a more "manly breakfast" (I had the Hired Hand Special) and bought a New Brunswick car sticker for my bike (so I can say I biked in New Brunswick). I continue onwards thinking I'd stop in Hillsborough for a quick snack and perhaps an exploration. I ran into one more hill that I began to walk and when I got to the crest, went back on the bike and started again. Then it happened. Chain jumped. Simple enough. Put the chain back on and started again. Then I hear...
*CRUNCH*
Slack. Chain broke. (I found the plates of the link -- twisted)
*SOB SOB SOB*
I've never fixed a chain before but I figured I could try to wing it. After 45 minutes and grease up to my elbows I was frustrated, tired and rather scared. I was between towns. In New Brunswick this is a big thing! Between towns can be as little as 10km or as high as 40. Finally, a good samaritan stopped and asked if I was alright. I explained what happened and asked if he had a phone. He said no but he could drive me to the next town to the gas station.
Long story short: called the original Uncle person and he was able to pick me up. Dropped the bike off at the local shop, asking them to replace chain and double check the derailleur (had some problems with it prior to leaving but the guys that did the "overhaul" seemed to think it was ok). I'm not supposed to be back on the road until Saturday so I'm hoping that my luck will change by then.
Tuesday's Dist: 120km
Wednesday's Dist: 0km on bike, 10-15km hiking
Thursday's Dist: 45km until chain broke; was supposed to be about 100-110km
I rush off to the airport on Monday evening, the SO carrying the bike box to the airport shuttle (far cheaper than a taxi and more relaxing -- less of "let's kill everyone around here!! You pay cash! No VIISA! Or I kill you!!!" -- we have rather emotional taxidrivers in Toronto).
Get on the bus and it "busys" itself around the downtown core going from one hotel to another, picking up passengers. We finally get on the highway (know as the Gardiner, aka Parking Lot) and... stop. Apparently, some 18-wheeler has had an accident about 2km ahead of us. The driver decides to get off at the next ramp, about 500 metres away. It takes 15 minutes (I can bike faster than that! -- And I'm a slow cyclist!). Finally get off there, take a short detour bypassing the accident and then finally on the highway. We arrive 10 minutes later than schedule. I grab one of the trolleys (I have to pay $1 to get it but only get 25 cents when I return it -- I guess trolley theft is a serious issue). Go to get the boarding pass. Before I get it I get a barrage of questions (I realize they have to ask this but sometimes...)
"Did you pack these bags?"
"No. I had my swarm of personal slaves do it!" (I actually just said yes)
"Did you leave these bags unattended?"
"Sure I left $500 worth of panniers plus $1000 in electronic gadgets out on the streets overnight in downtown Toronto!" (I actually just said no)
"Has anyone altered the contents in the bags?"
"Uh...." (I actually just said no)
I know it's all over security issues but sometimes I just feel like being super scarcastic.
I then go to oversized where I have to surrender my "baby" to the luggage handler. I had figured it'd cost me $50 each way to ship it with WestJet (my carrier) but it was $26.75 including taxes. Pretty nifty. I arrive alive in Moncton (after flying through the sideways rain of Charly). The Uncle person is there to pick me up and we yap the night away until 2am over a Strongbow or two.
Next morning I get up at 7am, eat, pack and get ready to go... only to realize I have forgotten one of the most important things for this trip: my helmet. In most of Eastern Canada it is LAW to wear a helmet. Thankfully, the Uncle person has as fat a head as me. So I make do. I decide that when I return from Fundy Park (which was my intended first 3 days of riding/relaxing/riding) I'd go back to Moncton and get a new helmet. (I am due for a new one since mine is 10 years old now).
I leave Shediac (where the Uncle person lives) and trundle off to Moncton along highway 132. Now, something to keep in mind: New Brunswick's population is so small that you can ride a bicycle on ANY road, including major highways (it's a scary experience). Highway 132 would be like Highway 2 in Ontario. An older secondary highway, with limited shoulder but also limited traffic. Most New Brunswickers are friendly and even the trucks give a wide berth. Now Highway 132 goes through Dieppe and then on to Moncton. Both Dieppe and Moncton are WEST of Shediac. Imagine my confusion when I see a sign "Moncton - West; Dieppe - East". ?!?!??!!? EH?
I followed through Dieppe and onwards to Moncton. It was a nice day, bit warm but not too warm. I eventually got to the edge of Moncton. Moncton is one of the "big cities" in New Brunswick (pop: 120,000 approx.) Highway 15 goes around the city so people can by-pass it on their way to farther west of Moncton. I see a sign that says Highway 15 - Fundy - to Highway 114 (Highway 114 is the ONLY way in or out of Fundy National Park). *Shrug* I take highway 15. Big mistake. I should have stayed on the Main Street (aka Highway 132) as it would have taken me directly to Highway 114. I manage to get off the 15, cut through the University and eventually find 114 (how I managed to get lost in a city this size is beyond me -- it's not that friggin' big!)
Anyways, once on Highway 114 everything is peachy. Traffic is relatively light (compared to what I'm used to and the views are nice). I'm puttering along at a nice 25km/hour (not bad for a fully loaded bike -- that is clothes, tent, repair kit, camera, iPod, books, kitchen sink. Just no cooking stuff -- that's what restaurants will be for). I stop for a simple lunch of egg salad sandwich, two bananas (the cyclist best friend) and some gatorade. And onward ho! Right into a headwind of 20KM/hr and HILLS!!! *GASP*
I avoid going to the Hopewell Rocks on the advice of the attendent at the Hillsborough Info Center. Apparently the 915 is heavy with RV traffic and even more hills. I continue on the 114 and notice the road seems to be flattening out. Ya me! Unfortunately, I get to a point where there is 2km of torn up road. (I don't know what it is but every trip over 50km this year has involved anywhere from 2 - 10km of gravel/road work -- I'm convinced I'm a gravel magnet) Not quite gravel but it's that strip-off-the-top-layer-and-leave-long-grooves-in-the-road-kind-of-thing. Once past that, with the road flatter, I realize that I can bike faster once again. But I seem to be getting slower. ?? I stop and realize that I'm looking up the road. Rather than going between the two "mountains" it goes up on a really slow grade. *SOB*
Once I'm over the grade, I start speeding down and into Alma (the town at the edge of the Park). I managed to get a campsite with a view of the town and within 5 minute walk of the town for two nights. Tent up, shower taken, I go off in search of lobster.
Next day (Day 2 for those who have lost count) starts off early with a view of the sunrise over the town. Now, just for those that don't know. Fundy National Park is a special area designated as a Hertiage Site (IIRC) by the UN. This site has the highest tides in the world, reaching regularly (not due to storm) 12 metres high (to put this in perspective -- an average human is about 1.5 -1.8 metres tall). When the tide is out, the lobster boats sit on the sea floor. It's really neat actually.
Anyways, I go off in search of food at one of the local places. I then decide I want to see one of the many falls that are found in the park (part of the reason why I went here -- it was for some personal photography experiments). I find on the Park map one that should be close and follow what I think is the road (please keep in mind I'm an expert at getting close -- kids, do not do this at home). I walk up and up and up and up and up... And it was a hot day. I did get a great view from the top of the "mountain" where I could see mist decending down. After about 5 km I realize that I've taken the wrong road and now I'm about 5km to the north of where I want to be (*SOB*).
A park attendent is nice enough to point me to a hiking path that cuts through the woods and on down to the falls. So I now trudge another 5KM south through the brush, taking every cobweb and mosiquoto along for the ride. I finally arrive at the Dickson Falls trail (thankfully it's less than a kilometer round trip) and off to the falls. Unlike Ontario, New Brunswick is suffering from a minor drought. The falls are a bit bigger than a trickle. Though I do get some nice shots and play with the camera settings. I won't know exactly how good they are until I look at them on the screen (the camera is digital but those itty bitty LCDs are still too small for my aged eyes). So I finally walk back to the tent (it's now about 2pm) to rest my sore feet and read some.
Around 6ish I go down to check out the low tide and get some dinner. In the process I manage to run into the other Uncle and Aunt persons so they take me out for dinner (the only good thing thus far). After yapping a good portion of the evening, they drop me off at my campsite, make sure I'm ok and then off to bed I go.
I got up early this morning -- 6am. In half an hour I had packed everything, dismantled and packed the tent and had a small breakfast of 2 bananas (maybe it's the bananas?). It's incredibly foggy and rather cool. I put on the turtleneck to keep warm and removing my glasses so I can see (well, everything far is rather fuzzy but at least it's better than being water logged). I was worried about traffic out and the "grade" on the way out. But in actual fact, only 3 hills bothered me enough for me to walk. The rest of the time I ranged from 14km/hour (on the slow side) to a regular 25-30km/hour. I was thrilled. I was flying. I was freakin' hungry!
I stop in the Hopewell Cape for a more "manly breakfast" (I had the Hired Hand Special) and bought a New Brunswick car sticker for my bike (so I can say I biked in New Brunswick). I continue onwards thinking I'd stop in Hillsborough for a quick snack and perhaps an exploration. I ran into one more hill that I began to walk and when I got to the crest, went back on the bike and started again. Then it happened. Chain jumped. Simple enough. Put the chain back on and started again. Then I hear...
*CRUNCH*
Slack. Chain broke. (I found the plates of the link -- twisted)
*SOB SOB SOB*
I've never fixed a chain before but I figured I could try to wing it. After 45 minutes and grease up to my elbows I was frustrated, tired and rather scared. I was between towns. In New Brunswick this is a big thing! Between towns can be as little as 10km or as high as 40. Finally, a good samaritan stopped and asked if I was alright. I explained what happened and asked if he had a phone. He said no but he could drive me to the next town to the gas station.
Long story short: called the original Uncle person and he was able to pick me up. Dropped the bike off at the local shop, asking them to replace chain and double check the derailleur (had some problems with it prior to leaving but the guys that did the "overhaul" seemed to think it was ok). I'm not supposed to be back on the road until Saturday so I'm hoping that my luck will change by then.
Tuesday's Dist: 120km
Wednesday's Dist: 0km on bike, 10-15km hiking
Thursday's Dist: 45km until chain broke; was supposed to be about 100-110km
