As Luck Would Have It

If you have been reading this blog since my cross Canada trek, and to those who have, thank you for doing so, then you will know that at some point in the journeys, I inevitably reflect on my good fortune.

This trip has been no different, and though it might have seemed to have started unceremoniously, even on that first day I was lucky to have spotted the broken clip on my pack, to have found a solution in Barrie, and to have ridden without any further issues.

Similarly, though I have been met with rain, I have been lucky to have finished riding on many days just before the rain has arrived.

Yesterday I was truly lucky once again. As many of you know, I wanted to visit Wolfville, because my friend, Dorothy Walker, had lived here for many years, as well as having a cottage nearby in Kingsport. I had known Dorothy all my life essentially, since she had been a friend of my mom’s since the 50s, but I had come to know her and her sister, Joan, much better when I was at Dalhousie.

Dorothy lived to be 100, and on one of my last visits with Dorothy, in 2019, when she was 98, we had visited her cottage together. (Thanks, mum, for sending the photo of us).

My time in Wolfville was in a funny way an homage to Dorothy, or rather to my friendship with her, as I did a few of the things we both enjoyed, including having an nice cream cone at Hennigar’s farm market. It did not disappoint, especially as the young woman scooping the ice cream was very generous.

I then cycled out to see her cottage. It is right along the bluffs, down which there is a winding system of steps, and ropes to the beach. The tide was just coming in, and the sand and bluffs were as beautiful as ever.

I thought I would recognize the cottage right away, it had only been seven years after all, but as I got to the very end of the road, I wasn’t sure. As I was turning around, I saw a couple on their bikes riding out of the yard I thought had been Dorothy’s, if somewhat changed, so I took a chance, and I asked them if they had known Dorothy.

Not only were they also old family friends of Dorothy’s, it was Dorothy’s cottage they had ridden out from, and they had purchased it. As soon as Heather introduced herself and her husband, Dave, I recognized her family name, as Dorothy had talked about the family for years.

The three of us rode to Canning together, recounting stories about Dorothy, and our respective adventures at the cottage. It was as if Dorothy was there, and had she been, I know she would have loved riding along with us, commenting on the tides and everything else along the route.

I don’t think I would have been sad to have ridden away from the cottage not sure I had seen it, but I certainly wouldn’t have been as elated as I felt after meeting Heather and Dave, and knowing that the cottage was well loved, and was being shared with another whole generation.

After we parted ways, I rode back into Wolfville, via Port Williams, the same way I had ridden in the day before, but this time I was neither exhausted nor rattled, but instead joyful for having spent the day in a place I loved so much. I stopped again at Hennigar’s to pick up some groceries for dinner, and of course a good supply for oatcakes for the ride today, and then rode back up to my wee cottage, stopping to get a view of Wolfville from Ridge road.

I had done a laundry in the morning, and left everything drying near the heater, which was great as everything was bone dry, although now the cottage was 100 degrees, and it took a few hours with the air conditioning on to bring it back to a bearable temperature. Luckily, I had an NS cider to sip on.

Today is the last leg of the journey, about 110 km of hilly roads and rail trail, to get to my friend Lisa’s place outside of Halifax, in Ferguson Cove. See you there!

Blue Skies and Big Winds

The choppy water in the bay at sunrise was a clue as to what kind of day it might be. The north wind had blown out the rain from the night before; thus, it was going to be sunny and blustery.

Heading out of Digby, I took beautiful back roads around the Joggins, and then got on some hilly terrain, especially heading in and out of Bear River, which was a beautiful little spot. I smelled the coffee roasting at the Sissboo Roastery, but it was too early in the morning to stop, and besides I didn’t want to lose my momentum. Thank goodness I kept going, because the left hand turn at the top of the hill was about all I could manage.

The Bear River Winery sat high above the valley, and further along I saw, for the first time, a sign for quails and ducks crossing. How I wished they had crossed as I pedalled past.

Once I got to Deep Brook, I got on Hwy 1, formerly the main highway, before they put in the 101, which runs right up the valley.

The traffic was pretty light, and people gave me a wide berth, so it felt safe and relatively peaceful.

With the wind and hills, I was making slow progress, but the sun and blue sky offset any sense of urgency. I had 145 km to go, and lots of time to get there.

I stopped in Annapolis Royal, a lovely town with beautifully maintained Victorian homes, and it was hopping with tourists wandering its streets, though at a quiet volume. Disneyland it is not. I went into the Red Onion Market, a whole food store not unlike the Stone Store in Guelph, with a lovely patterned tin ceiling and hardware floors, and chatted with the owner who had moved with her family from Ontario just before Covid. The store has been a food store of some kind for over 200 years, and the property is still owned by the original family. She recommended the Sissiboo coffee, so with latte in hand, I wheeled my bike over to a lovely picnic spot, overlooking the water.

Having also picked up an oatcake or two for the road, I got back on the bike and started pushing into the wind. As the day went on the traffic picked up, and the quality of the road deteriorated. By the time I got to Middleton, where they were working on the road, the white line marking the shoulder was more like a trough, making it difficult to stay just to the left or right of the line.

I stopped to check my map, and decided to head north and take the 221 east. It would add at least ten km to the day, but it would be worth it for a more peaceful ride.

The Annapolis valley is shouldered by the north and south mountain, and I was going to have to ride partway up north mountain to get to the 221. Except that since there was no sign for the 221 as I went north, I missed the turn, and climbed all the way up the mountain, including 13% grades. At this point I had very little signal, so checking the map yielded primarily a white grid. Nothing to do but turn around and come back down the mountain. Of course as I descended, there was a sign for the 221 East that was essentially a billboard saying turn left here you gormless wonder. Oh well, just another hill under my belt. And another 10 km to my day.

The 221 was in great shape, though, and relatively quiet, with beautiful views on both sides, so I continued to wind my way slowly toward Wolfville.

Finally arriving just past 6:00, I double-checked the location of the Old Orchard Inn where I had booked a cottage; it was outside of town, partway up the south mountain, so I stopped to get groceries, as I wasn’t about to head to its dining room in my cycling attire.

With sandwich, salad, lots of fresh fruit, and some breakfast fare, I climbed back on the bike and rode the last km, finishing at 173 km and 1800 meters of climbing for the day. And it felt like 1800 meters. Coupled with the wind tossing me about all day, I was spent.

How lovely then to arrive at my cottage. I splurged on this one, gentle reader. You will laugh, but I have never stayed at a cottage with a white robe left folded on my bed for me. The place has all the charm I could ask for and more.

After unpacking, showering, and inhaling my dinner, I collapsed on the bed, and had the most wonderful sleep. Now I have the day to visit some of my favourite spots in and around Wolfville. I was going to ride up the north mountain to the Lookoff, but am not sure I can force myself up that steep climb again.  Will let you know how far I get.

Better Day

Woke with plenty of time to fuss before leaving my hotel. Enough time, in fact, to convince myself my rear disc brake was rubbing, and to remove rear wheel, after also removing my packs and inadvertently spilling a water bottle all over the floor.

Okay calm down, go slow to go fast, I reminded myself. Really I had lots of time, and the disc brake was not rubbing; after much cursing, I got everything back together, and rolled out on schedule.

I had memorized the route to the ferry, all four km, but I still second-guessed myself, especially when there was no signage when turning off the main road. Really? Just as I was about to stop and check my map, I saw the first green sign with a ferry on it, and then followed the signs like breadcrumbs, bringing me to the ferry terminal, where the two women on the desk could not have been kinder. I have to give it to NB. Every person I have spoken to has been friendly and kind.

The rain began thundering down, so they took all of the pedestrians and cyclists (just moi) onto the ferry via a shuttle, after very nicely hoisting my bike into the back of the shuttle.

I had had visions of standing on the deck and taking photos of whales, but it was not to be. Alas the views were completely lost to the fog, so instead I sat in a very cheerful nook, sipping a latte.

Gradually the clouds lifted a little, as did my spirits. As the ferry pulled into the wharf, we were told we could head down to our cars, or in my case, my bicycle. I followed the parade of vehicles off the ferry, walking my bike up the pedestrian walkway. Unlike in Newfoundland, you are not allowed to ride your bike onto or off of the ferry. Given the slick conditions, I was more than happy to walk my bike up to the parking lot where I got my helmet and glasses on, and then headed for downtown. Even at 10, there wasn’t much happening. Lots of dog walkers, but no signs of open cafes, so I just started riding towards Digby Neck.

I anticipated it would be hilly, and it did not disappoint. Essentially I was going up or going down the entire ride, other than a flat section along Midway Lake. I was also heading into a rising headwind, which was perfect, as I knew it would be even stronger when it was pushing me back to Digby. The tide was out, so the coves were not as picturesque as they might have been, but I still got some beautiful shots of both Trout and Sandy Cove.

With every mile under my belt, I felt happier and more myself. After riding consistently for 14 days, not riding yesterday felt, well, yucky. Maybe it was just because I was in Saint John, and had I been in some charming little town I would have felt better, who can say. I am just grateful that the hills and the views returned me to myself.

I had notions of riding to the end of Digby Neck, but there was rain in the forecast for late afternoon, and I thought better of cycling in the rain on those steep hills, so after taking some photos in Sandy Cove, I headed back, indeed sailed back, with the tailwind making the climbs feel infinitely easier.

After stopping for a few groceries, and a NS cider, I checked into Seawinds Motel and Cottages, where my wee cottage could not be more charming, and the owner could not have been more welcoming.

Just as I was settling in the rain began, making me so grateful for my cozy kitchenette. Of course all thoughts of cooking were beyond me, so I ordered fish and chips from a nearby pub, and happily traipsed in the rain to pick it up.

I think you will agree, sage reader, that today was a better day than the last, and for that I am truly grateful. Off to Wolfville tomorrow!