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Posts Tagged ‘Nova Scotia’

Leaving Nova Scotia, Arriving Home, and the Doldrums

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , , , , on July 18, 2014| 1 Comment »

Every journey has a secret destination of which the traveller is unaware. Martin Buber

Doldrums come from historical maritime language that refers to parts of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans where the prevailing winds are calm. This calmness or lack of winds is often seen as a depression, listlessness, or stagnation. But I am left wondering if that is a Western bias favouring action, goal setting, decisiveness, and fear of “sitting with” uncertainty and not knowing. Even as I was hoping this trip would provide a “turning point” for my 65th birthday, a direction for the last years of my academic career, and a sketch of retirement opportunities, the route sailed into the doldrums. There were no neat beginnings and endings, and life slipped in and out of the trip with no clear narrative. Uhmmm!!

Although I feel no clarity or enlightenment at this moment, a Zen story captures my sense of comfort with being in the doldrums:

Dizang, an esteemed teacher, asked Fayan, “Where are you going?”
Fayan said, “I am wandering aimlessly.”
“Dizang inquired: What do you think of wandering?”
“I do not know,” responded Fayan.
“Not knowing is most intimate,” observed Dizang.
Fayan was suddenly awakened. (Case 20 paraphrased from The Book of Equanimity)

As a professor and scholar, I am “supposed” to know things, but what is it to deeply and profoundly admit that I do not know? And what is this great intimacy of not having to know? To simply wander and touch the texture of life without knowing or imposing a goal, model or theory—to be open, attentive and curious about what appears?

Even as a bicycle trip follows roads and highways, the freedom of a self-supported trip without fixed destinations and deadlines parallels sailing or kayaking. I was always drifting off course—a little to the starboard, shifting to port, always correcting, adjusting, refining. Stops were longer to adjust for Zander, the weather, or my health. And, as in life, there was no “true” endpoint—life, goals, and bicycle trips are always adapting and adjusting.

So, the final weeks in Nova Scotia included resting and dealing with the rebellion of my gastrointestinal track, renting a Jeep Cherokee to get the bicycle, trailer, gear, Zander and I to Halifax, and a changed to come home earlier.

Self-supported bicycle trips, for me, are magical because they combine the meditative pace of a repetitive movement that allows me to be attentive moment-by-moment, opportunities to step out of my comfort zone, preconceptions challenged, and different ecological, cultural and social systems to explore. And this trip I had Zander along to learn about his personality, quirks, and preferences while working with him to wait patiently and sleep properly in a sleeping bag (not likely!).

The patterns of cycle travel can positively shift daily life at home:

Focus on the joy of each moment. The journey was lighter and more enjoyable when I was focused pedalling one stroke at a time, enjoying the aromas of the world (Zander taught me this one—especially since he rolls in them and I get to revisit them at night when he wants to cuddle!), focusing on what was around me right in the moment rather than the end of the day.

Hills/Problems look bigger from a distance. And even when they are big or steep, they are travelled one pedal stroke at a time, in a lower gear, or by walking Zander (which he and I loved).

Minimal space and things makes a journey joyful. It is always difficult to gauge the gear necessary for a trip, especially when responsible for another living being. Several times, I had to re-evaluate and ask the right question: Can we survive without this piece of equipment? The lighter the load, the easier the movement, the less tired we were, and the more joyous the travel.

You can’t control anything. When things go wrong or not as expected or new opportunities arise, as they inevitably do, responses such as frustration, anger, depression, or rushing in to “fix it” are usually unhelpful at best. The theme for the trip was patience or “wait and see”—a marvellous strategy because in most cases I was not in control of anything. More valuable strategies were grabbing a drink or snack, walking Zander, relaxing a few minutes, or sleeping on it. This stepping backwards provided a larger horizon to evaluate whether we needed to change or stay the course, allowed multiple solutions to emerge, and a comfort that everything has a way of working itself out. What was once considered a loss in the end simply felt like a change or a transition.

In the final analysis, kilometres don’t really matter. The original route was very ambitious and included many more kilometres. However, there is no right path or route, only the one we choose. The journey was filled with many grand adventures, great people, and wonderful experiences. I have dreamed of doing a bicycle trip with Zander for some years, and it came true. Our pace was the right pace.

Laughter makes everything better. No amount of complaining or critique changes things. Laughter lightens the atmosphere and makes the riding easier. This was especially true around Zander. When I got angry or frustrated at anything, Zander felt it as directed toward him—ears back and body closer to the ground. He was a great teacher for me to change my attitude!! And sure enough, the events were funny and it was just another event in our day.

Two very specific lessons for cycling were:
The joy of bicycle touring is in the riding—the sites, the tourist destinations are less important than the journey and the riding. The journey is in the moments—they are what counts, where joy lies. Cyclist-in-motion allows the land to shape the cyclist’s body and soul. Although I was delighted to see Cape Breton by car, I missed the visceral connection with the land itself. That’s where the learning and heart lies.

Always be suspicious of someone in a motorized vehicle who tells you the destination is not far. There is a radical difference in how cyclists and people who drive motorized vehicles perceive space, time, and distance. At least in Nova Scotia, few people could actually provide accurate estimates of objective measures of distance or time. So, typically, no matter what there estimates were, we were usually in for several more hours of cycling.

I am still puzzling over the “secret destination” of this trip. I found no answers, no certainty around how to plan the last years of my time at the university or what retirement might hold within this trip. On the other hand, I found a comfort in drifting and simply following the road where it led me—and an ease in living more simply with less.

So, I am home waiting for my bicycle to catch up with us. Fortunately, I have a little folding bicycle in the meantime to keep me commuting. The one thing about bicycle touring is that it makes driving a car seem strange and “a hassle.” I appreciate the comfort and ease of settling into bicycling in the city.

I have a sense that I have been reshaped by loss, chronic health conditions, and life’s transitions, placed at crucial junctions between uncertainty and endurance—which may be a pragmatist’s version of hope. And hope, for me, is not an emotion or feeling but a movement—like pedalling one stroke after another up a long hill—and the simple movement eventually brings me to the top of the hill, to the next campsite, to the next idea, to the next day, to a type of resolution that allows the next adventure to come into existence. And, like bicycling, once I gain some momentum it begins to carry me further than I had expected.

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Driving to Cape Breton

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , , , , , , on July 5, 2014| 2 Comments »

The trip to Blomidon Provincial Park made clear that cycling with Zander’s seat was hard on the knees and the hills of Cape Breton were simply not possible. In addition, the set up of the trailer was not appropriate for the Surly Troll design. Sooo—I rented a car, and Zander and I took off for a driving tour. The comparison of bicycle and car touring provided many insights.

Even as I drove up from Truro, the landscape began to change, and the hills became more longer and steeper. I was consistently evaluating each section “as if” I would ride it as a cyclist. Even though the hills on the Cabot Trail are much more challenging, simply getting to Cape Breton from Truro would test a cyclist resolve. When we passed several bicycle tourers, I was flooded with a longing to be on the bicycle, pedaling slowly up each of those hills. I am not sure how to explain how the process of cycling through the landscape changes the way a cyclist views the world, shapes the cyclist’s body and understanding of the world, and becomes addictive as a way of movement. Furthermore, as I would discover, it also shapes how people interact with Zander and I. However, the hills would have been murder on my knees, so it was a wise choice to drive. The landscape is gorgeous, and the rains had turned it very green. But driving allowed for few opportunities to stop and take pictures until we got over the causeway and on the Ceilidh Trail.

Christy's Look-Off Ceilidh Coastal Trail

Zander Collects Aromas

Collecting Scents

We stopped at the first turn-out and viewpoint which paralleled a bicycle-walking-ATV trail. Zander and I walked a fair distance along the path. While I took photos, Zander collected scents from each place we stopped! I am hoping to have him bathed and groomed before we fly home!! We will only see a small portion of Cape Breton that highlights the magnificent scenery.

However, the island is dotted with reminders of its resource extractive industries: the Troy Quarry we passed just west of the causeway that has left a huge scar on the land, clear-cutting patches, signs indicating old gold mines, the coal mines that once existed near Sydney, and sites of old settlements that were established for logging or mining purposes now wilderness sites along the Cabot Trail.

Our first campsite was at Cheticamp Campground within the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We went in to town to get a lobster dinner “to go,” because it was too hot to leave Zander in the car. I ordered the smallest lobster (2.5 pounds) and thought the woman said they would crack it, but couldn’t provide any other utensils for getting the meat out. Well, she had actually said they wouldn’t crack it—and 2.5 pounds of lobster is a lobster bigger than I have ever seen!! Seriously—that is a lot of lobster!! But my faithful Swiss Army knife came to the rescue! It was neither elegant nor pretty, but I got every bit of that lobster meat out! And it was delicious. Of course, Zander got some (minus the butter) and thought it was good too!

The next morning, we were up early. One of the wardens stopped us, because she had found a beautiful white dog with a red T-shirt wondering loose in the campground. We had not seen it before. We walked through the campground hoping to meet someone looking for a dog, but no such luck. As we left, we stopped at the warden station to leave some food. Fortunately, the owner had arrived. They had come in late, and the person who had attached the leash had attached it incorrectly. The T-shirt was covering a scar healing from surgery. It had been the longest 15 minutes of the woman’s life. What a great way to start the morning!

Cheticamp Rocks

 

 

 

Lobster Boat Retrieving Traps

We saw the fishing boats out, so I pulled over and we walked along a small beach. The boats were coming back in to retrieve lobster traps. We stayed awhile to watch them move along their lines and allow Zander to dip his paws into the water. Then, up and around the northern tip; we stopped at most of the viewpoints.

Fishing Cove

Fishing Cove

My favorite was Fishing Cove, which lies 335 metres below MacKenzie Mountain. This lonely spot was a thriving Scottish settlement that fished for cod and lobster and farmed with a lobster cannery. By 1915, the descendants of these pioneer families had all moved to neighboring communities. Today, this site is now a wilderness campsite accessible by an 8 km hiking trail. I only wished we had the gear and time to enjoy the site!

Before we knew it, we were at Baddeck. I was amazed at the difference in how much distance and how little time it took with the car. But I was saddened that it was bereft of conversations, smells, a sense of being shaped by the landscape. Baddeck is a small town and clearly focused on tourism–lots of B&Bs, resorts, a few restaurants, the classic restaurants and cafes, and the typical Home Hardware and Co-op Grocery Store. The weather had turned hot (+28 C), leaving Zander in the car was not an option, and few places had shade for parking. Because my gut wasn’t feeling so good, I opted for the cheapest room in Baddeck that would take a dog–the Inverary Resort and Spa. It was okay, but this traveling is so different and doesn’t allow for meeting people. Without pulling up on a bicycle with gear, people simply serve you. As I walked to our room, I passed an older gentleman sitting in a car, door open, head almost between his knees. I asked if he was okay. He seemed annoyed, almost angry, when I expressed concern.The etiquette and connection between people is just different in these other zones of travel.

All of these experiences led me to contemplate what I truly enjoyed about traveling–especially bicycle travel. Would joining a Freewheeling tour be enjoyable? Would a custom tour work? What is so appealing about traveling alone with all my gear? Could it be modified? If so, how? Do I enjoy seeing all the historical sites, museums, etc? But I am sure that I do enjoy the act of cycling the landscape and the exposure to the land with all of its smells, ups and downs, weather, etc. There is something about that process that changes how I relate to the world, know that part of the land, and come to understand myself and the people there.

Zander Waterfall Maritime ChairThe next morning, we left Baddeck headed for Wolfville. First, we stopped at Black Brook beach before it got too hot. It was a great place to take a walk up along the Black Brook, more like a river, along the beach, and up and through the coastal trail. We could see the river running into the sea, the fresh water mingling with the sea water, and the tides pushing back on the river currents. We walked along the coastal trail and some side trails to get better views of Black Brook Beach and the waterfall–including Zander sitting on an Adirondack chair to enjoy the view. Zander also had great fun collecting all the different scents, chasing squirrels and chipmunks, and generally sniffing.

A little further down the road, we also checked out Whycocomagh Provincial Park. Although I was glad I had opted for the motel, this would have been a great campground. And oh the squirrels and chipmunks!! Even though it was hot, we spent a fair amount of time scaring up squirrels and chipmunks as we explored the campground and trails, saw the yurts, and talked with people who were staying there. Zander even scared up a whole bunch of grouse. The mother grouse froze, standing tall like a stick. Zander went slowly a little closer, but when he realized it wasn’t a squirrel, he turned back. She flew up into the low branches of a tree to join her brood.

We stopped in Windsor, just shy of Wolfville, for the night. The next day, we drove into Wolfville just before Sue and John took off for Prince Edward Island. It was a quick trip, and I’m glad we went. Even as I felt the tug of the pedals with each bicycle tourer, the lack of pain in my knees tells me it was a wise decision.

 

 

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Rain, Rain, and More Rain

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , , on June 16, 2014| 2 Comments »

We spent five nights at Annapolis Royale hoping to avoid cycling in the rain. Zander barely walks in the rain let alone cycle all day! We sat out horrendous rain storms, a thunderstorm, and long, slow drizzles! Finally, I could take the inactivity no more–and we cycled regardless. Turns out that day was overcast and cool, but rain began shortly after we got a room in Bridgetown.

Annapolis Royale is this small village at the mouth of the Annapolis River, and I stayed at the Dunromin Campground.Our first day in the area was filled with sun and warmth. I decided to stay one more day to do laundry and shop for food–and then the rains descended and Zander seemed “down”. He suddenly became very subdued, not interested in leaving the tent, ignored people, and uninterested in walks. Checked with the local vet, but all the vital signs–temperature, eating, drinking, and pooping were normal. So, staying a day or two to seemed like a wise choice. I was able to do lots of reading, writing in the journal, and meditating. Zander slept or snuggled close. Each day we went into town (about 2 kilometres away) for food, to check out another part of the town, or just see what was going on. It’s early in the season, so the town is almost empty during the week.

A couple of times we ate lunch in town. One of the things I have appreciated in many of these small tourist destinations are the number of restaurants that have gluten-free options and Zander can sit with me on the patios or decks. The German Bakery and Restaurant made the best macaroons I have ever had–they were a daily treat!

Annapolis Royale encompasses land that was highly fought over by the French and English and the history of mistreatment and expulsion of the Acadians. Fort St. Anne is the major historical park, which Zander enjoyed walking and rolling in the grass. It now has a number of beautiful old, Victorian bed and breakfast places, some interesting restaurants, and typical arts and antique tourist stores.

Annapolis Royale lies close to the Bay of Fundy and is highly affected by the tides. When they built one of the first wharfs, it was a long ramp out to the middle of the river to accommodate the various levels of the 29 foot tidal changes. The Bay of Fundy is shaped like a deep funnel with wave patterns that are highly resonant with both sun and moon tidal effects. So, within 24 hours, the tides rise and fall about a foot an hour. Near the village, a tidal power generating station takes advantage of this.

We also discovered the French Basin Wetlands–about 15 hectares of pond, bog, and wetlands that help purify the local water. It has a 1.2 kilometre trail which we explored, chased chipmunks, and watched the various waterfowl including Blue Herons and mallards. We saw cormorants (either the Great or Double-Crested) near the tidal power station–they were huge.

Zander seemed to perk up and Highway 201 through Annapolis Valley is known for little traffic==so Sunday we left. It had rained the night before, but was overcast but no rain during the morning. We headed up the valley toward Wolfville looking for a motel with a warm bed, hot shower, and dry surroundings. The first section had some pretty steep rolling hills. I am not sure whether it is the myasthenia or what, but my legs seemed strong with my lungs struggling. We walked a number of the steep hills, which Zander loves because he gets to sniff so many new smells. However, some of the downhills were great and we reached 41 kilometres per hour on one! We had lunch at a small, old barn where they gather apples during the harvest. Passed a small store with apple jam–self-serve, leave the money in the till! The road passes mostly small, moderate homes. A number of people stopped me to ask about Zander’s seat, talk out of curiosity, or just waved. Eventually, I had panoramas of the Annapolis River, fields of crops, huge family gardens, vineyards, and apple orchards.

Bridgetown came in two hours–so I am averaging about 12 kilometres an hour, which is about the same average of my B.C. trip. And that includes breaks and walking time for Zander. It is part of the average on regular roads–the downhills provide a higher speed that increases the average over time. We got here before the rains started again. We were able to buy some food at the grocery store–all the restaurants were closed–and settle in for the night. Zander slept snuggled close to me; I think constantly being stimulated by new smells exhausts him. Supposedly, the weather will clear tomorrow–even if it is just overcast.

I felt good and energized when we reached Bridgetown and thought I could go on for a couple of more hours. Clearly, Zander’s seat makes these types of hills much more difficult–if not impossible even at the lower gears. And he gets very antsy after a couple of hours–so it is not clear to me how we negotiate longer distances. He seems to enjoy many of the aspects of camping, is comfortable being left in the tent alone, and explores when he is put down to walk alongside the bike. But some down days seem necessary for him. The next couple of days will be short, but we will move from place to place each day.

These “little towns” or villages along the Annapolis Valley include one grocery, one Home Hardware, post office, community centre and/ore recreation facility, a handful of restaurants, and some tourist shops surrounded by homes. Bridgetown has its own varieties of older, Victorian-like homes with more moderate or one-story apartment complexes. It does have a golf course which created a fair amount of business before I arrived Sunday afternoon. But by late-afternoon Sunday, all food places but Tim Horton’s were closed.

We will push on toward Middleton and Greenwood on Monday looking for a pet store and some kibble for Zander. Hopefully, the sun will actually appear, although I see thunderstorms are predicted for Wednesday.

 

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The Circle of Seasons, The Revolution of Pedals

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , , , , on June 4, 2014| 2 Comments »

Do not deprive me of my age. I have earned it. May Sarton

On Tuesday, I officially turned 65 and claimed all those Senior’s Discounts!! Some you can get as early as 50, but most all of them are now available to me! Graves Island has been the perfect place to celebrate this transition–beautiful surroundings, the ocean to contemplate the mysteries of life, and Zander completely happy wandering the trails and chasing small little critters.

It is my opinion that enjoying yourself in the present and loosening your definition of time slows the ageing process. Frederick Dodson

My favourite poet while studying and working in Japan was Basho who regularly walked throughout Japan to remind himself of the impermanence of life. His haiku was brilliant for capturing what could not be captured. I have a book about him on this trip, which is so fitting for moving toward accepting whatever has to be and letting go of what cannot be. Of enjoying transitions and impermanence. And of reminding myself that there is “no way” but only our own way as we move through life. Cousineau, in The Art of Pilgrimage, suggested that writing a poem a day solidifies the memories of the day. We have seen cold and windy days, trees and flowers bloom, the change in insect populations, the hint of fruits to come in the fall, and now rain and fog. So, with time to observe, write, and travel soulfully, here are some haiku from Graves Island June 2014:

ant runs across white page
no visible traces
saying everything

loons haunting call
traveling the Milky Way
Sliver of a new moon

Pink and White

tree uprooted in storm
trunk once cut
pink and white blossoms bloom

 

 

 

 

Fiddlehead

fiddleheads tightly coiled
into backbends of feathery ferns
open to the sky

 

 

 

The day itself was warm and sunny filled with chores (getting all my clothes cleaned and groceries), a fresh lobster sandwich and iced mocha coffee at the Kiwi Cafe while watching the filming of “Haven,” small conversations with people gardening in Chester, and a long walk with Zander. One of the wardens of the park, who has taken a shine to Zander and watched him while I take showers, brought me chocolate brownies as a surprise! The hospitality of Nova Scotia and its small towns has been amazing!

If every day is an Awakening, you will never grow old. You will keep growing. Gail Sheehy

Today (June 4) is cooler, but still warm, and alternates between foggy, misty, and rainy. It took me hours to get Zander out of the tent–the downside of me not enforcing walks in the rain at home! We finally did get out in a very light drizzle, and he loved all the smells! The bay is socked in with clouds! A great day to catch up on reading, writing, and contemplation. The new two-person tent is ideal and gives lots of space for Zander and I.

Self Portrait

With the end of the academic career appearing somewhere on the horizon, new projects emerging, and a deep feeling within me that something is brewing for the next chapter of my life, this trip is shaping up as time to ponder those currents. It comes as an interesting force — much like Goethe described duende: a dark and quivering companion to the muse and angel. The Spanish poet Lorca say it as a deep sadness and dark force that portend tenderness from brushes with mortality. This trip has been filled with interesting images of older houses and architecture in various stages of disintegration and renovation, bursts of regeneration, opportunities for accepting what is and letting go of what cannot be, and glimpses of the circle of life-death.

dark rain-streaked bark
leaves strung with droplets
world shrouded in fog

loons echoing
solitary sea gull soars
I alone planted on earth

Zander's Nemesis

Zander’s Nemesis

 

Tomorrow, we wander down toward Mahone and Lunenberg.We will miss the brave and pesky squirrel that keeps Zander alert. We will get a ride with Freewheeling to the west coast of Nova Scotia to the Annapolis Valley. It is too risky given the long distances, the uncertainties of the weight and my energy, and Zander’s unease with long days. More time to explore individual places along the way, seek out the “soul” of each area, and enjoy time with Zander.

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Zander and Human Begin Again!!!

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , , on June 2, 2014| 2 Comments »

This is the true wine of astonishment. We are not over when we think we are. Alice Walker

This trip might have gone as planned if my legs were stronger, the dog carrier didn’t prevent recruiting the main glutes, Zander enjoyed long hours on the bicycle, and the iron infusion provided more strength and energy. These are not, what Zen Buddhist call, the “thusness” of this trip. Since it was about putting bicycle, Zander, and his human together, the plan had to change–and it did! Along the way, great gifts have appeared as we explore what can be or the thusness of a purple Surly bicycle, Zander, and his human.

We picked up the Rails to Trails segment in Timberlea thanks to Howie who lives in the house with the wishing well. As we were getting trailer and bike back together, it became apparent that the quick release for the trailer had lost a nut. Had it come off during a downhill, Zander and I could have been badly hurt!! But it did not, and I had a spare. So, off we went! This section is well-maintained by volunteers and meandered through residential areas, lakes, and small wilderness parks. Fiddleheads, perfect Christmas tree pines, and various types of spruces, fir, tamaracks, and a multitude of flowers in white, yellow, purple, and blues lined the trail. Since it is an old railroad, the grade was easy and a good way to become comfortable with bike, trailer, and Zander in his seat. Even with stopping every hour for treats, walks, and tricks, Zander grew tired of the cycling. The downside of the trail is none of the downhill runs that add speed and increase the overall average daily speed. It was a long day, and we stopped short of our intended destination.

Hubbard’s Beach Campground was the first and only campground in Hubbard. I thought the road would be DOWN to the beach–it was but not before it went up over a hill! I would learn that this may be the norm in Nova Scotia. It is a cross between a campground (mostly RVs) and residential RV and trailer park near a beach. The owner was very nice and allowed me to camp near the washrooms, which was helpful as I began to train Zander to wait in the campsite while I was away. The community itself is a mixture of retired couples and working families who just come from Halifax for weekends and summer holidays. I never did learn what “Duck Drop” event during summer was, however! We stayed an extra night, because Zander was more tired than I the next day.

Morning walks included seeing a Great Blue Heron, sea gulls, and learning that the Haven TV series was filming an episode in a house along the road. I would see notices for a “Haven Contest” in all the Hubbard stores! At night, we would hear loons, and a local woman told us we could see a huge loon in the bay–but we never caught sight of it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to shop for food–and then realised I could use it as training.

The cheese came out
Zander tied by the bike in the shade
“Wait!”
Basket by the cashier–placed one or two items
Out to Zander. “Good Boy!” Several pieces of cheese as treats.
“Wait!”
Repeat the process until done. Pay the Cashier.

Out to Zander. “Good Boy!” More pieces of cheese.
“Let’s go!”

We got a roast pork taco (corn masa soft taco) from St. Lawrence Restaurant. You would miss the place if you were driving too fast (and the speed limit is only 50 km at this point), because the sign is small and it’s on a side street. The place looks like a small house or store recently renovated for a small house-like kitchen. The owner-chef uses local meat, and the roasted pork taco (with rice and beans) was amazing.

Hubbard's Barn and "The Dube"--The little Fox horn is our mojo for the trip

Hubbard’s Barn and “The Dube”–The little Fox horn is our mojo for the trip

He sent us to “The Barn” where the Hubbard Farmer’s Market is held. They are also trying to expand it to a gathering place–horseshoe pitches, old-fashioned dump-truck toys and sandbox, and plenty of picnic tables and benches. We had a delightful lunch in the warm sun with the cool ocean breeze.

The trip to Graves Island Provincial Park was 22 kilometers. This section of trail is not nearly as well maintained and has a higher ATV usage. There are sections that are washboarded or simply loosely-laid gravel. I never thought I would be grateful for ATV use, but it was their tracks that had sometimes packed a trail through the gravel. For the parts of packed white sand-gravel, the dark pine, spruce and tamarack turned to lighter evergreen trees with some areas that looked cleared or blown down. Beautiful lakes along the way with a picnic table nicely placed at one. For the last several kilometres, I was simply focused on keeping the bike on the narrow trail in the rocks. We arrived at East River without mishap, and then cycled the highway for the first time. In parts, there was a narrow but adequate shoulder. However, here is where the small but steep hills kicked in. The placement of his seat between handlebar and my seat post prevents me from recruiting the main glute muscles or standing. So, even at my lowest gear, these hills can be a challenge to pedal. Some, I simply had to walk–especially when I got “chain suck” (the chain gets pulled into the gears the wrong way). Again, the mishap could have been disastrous, but I had slowed down, easily stopped, and figured out how to unstick it.

The paradox of Nova Scotia–one I both love and am frustrated with–is the lack of signage or local knowledge for these smaller parks. I had a general idea of how many kilometres, but many locals actually can’t give any definitive distances for local sites (hence the mis-directions in Bayers Lake). So, not yet a kilometre on the highway and a sign appears “Park.” Is this the park I want? Down the road to find out, “No, it isn’t.” But no one can tell me how far it is down the road. So, I return to Highway 3 and keep going. No signs. I wonder if I am on the right road. A gentleman taking out the trash appears, and I asked him. “Down the road about a kilometre. Up the hill.” At least I am on the right road. As I pedal way, he adds: “Oh, it’s two more hills.” Got it! At the top of the first hill, which is the biggest, a sign for the provincial park. The next hill is smaller and than a sign “Graves Island Road.” Is this the road to the park? So, I turn down this one. I stop a woman out for a vigorous walk to double check. “Of course it is!” she replied. I will later understand given the park is really used by mostly local people with few visitors beyond the Maritimes.

Entrance Sign to Park--1 km in from Highway 3

Entrance Sign to Park–1 km in from Highway 3

Graves Island Provincial Park is a true gem of a park. It is a drumlin formed by glaciers some 15,000 years ago connected by a causeway. It was developed by early German settlers for both homes and a camp for under-privileged children in the 1920s. The area became a park in 1971, and the daughter of the last owner (Noah Graves) watched the old house and camp dormitory burned down for park development in 1967. She wrote in a letter: “While watching the old house burning it seemed to me the fire itself was very much like life itself, burned for awhile, then a puff and its all over.” The top of the island is for RVs, and tent sites ring that area lower down. Added features are benches for watching the ocean under trees, picnic sites, a small beach, and areas to launch sea kayaks. On weekdays, it is almost like having the island to itself. Loons serenade us at evening, during the night, and early morning. The stars are amazing–the Milky Way is clearly seen late at night. I had forgotten how much light pollution we live with. Chester is an easy 4 kilometres away with grocery store and laundromat.

View of Graves Island Provincial Park Looking East

View of Graves Island Provincial Park Looking East

However, 22 kilometres was still long for Zander. The trip across the island to the West Shore has lots more challenges, longer distances, more and consistent hills, fewer campgrounds and services, and hotter temperatures. The less services, the less gluten-free food and the more issues for me! Met a woman from Chester on our early morning walk who suggested getting shuttled across the island–maybe by the Freewheeling guide group.

So, we are in the process of re-thinking the trip plan. I’m going to miss seeing some of that country by bicycle. On the other hand, the priority was nurturing a travel partner and that takes compromise and adjustment. And this jewel of a park is the perfect place to re-orient and enjoy a transition. Although Nikki Giovanni was talking about ageing, it applies here as well:

“Embrace the change no matter what it is; once you do, you can learn about the new worlds your in and take advantage of it.”

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A New Chapter in Life and a New Bicyling Adventure

Posted in Cycle Touring, tagged , on May 23, 2014| Leave a Comment »

I did not expect my 65th birthday to be anything other than an ordinary day in June. But over the last month or two, I have been startled by the random thoughts of aging, the reminders from Revenue Canada about health policy changes and “Old Age Pension,” and the need to make work decisions with consideration of a tentative retirement date (doctoral students take a commitment of 4-6 years). And, of course, decisions now have a kind of finality or lack of open options that decisions at 20 or 30 did not. I am also flooded with memories and realizations of what an incredible life I have already lived and a joy for the challenges to come and projects I have yet to finish.

So, what a great time to undertake a bicycle tour of Nova Scotia with Zander. I have always wanted to tour the Maritimes. The memories of my last bicycle trip consistently remind me of the generosity and abundance of life, that any hill or mountain can be traversed one step or pedal revolution at a time, and many more insights that seem particularly important to embody again.

Tonight is my last night in the Westin Hotel overlooking the Halifax harbor. Tomorrow, I unpack my bicycle and get everything packed. Zander and I will leave Halifax on Sunday heading south toward Peggy’s Cove. We will do a relatively short day getting used to the bicycle, trailer and roads. We are hoping for good weather–it has been variable and a little on the coolish side. It feels like another grant adventure….a pilgrimage into a new chapter of life!

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