Following the Acadian Coastal Route, Toby and I left Madran and headed southeast toward Confederation Bridge and Prince Edward Island. Auntie Rita stuffed our panniers full of homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers, Hector snapping pictures as we cruised out their driveway and into the great wide open. As we arrived in Bathurst, we were startled by someone's fanatic honking; it turned out to be my cousin Darcy and a car full of relatives who'd come out to send us off. We met up at the grocery store parking lot for final farewells, hugs, and a few photos before leaving town. Toby and I impressed everyone with our public changing skills (I don't know if people should be impressed or embarrassed to see us strip in and out of our pants in public), then followed the starfish signs indicating our route out of town. Not surprisingly, we bumped into my cousin Mike (Bathurst isn't a big place) who'd just started his shift at Greeko's Pizza delivery. More hugs and photos, but this time we actually left town after saying our third farewell for the day.
The next few days we made our way through small coastal communities and maritime scenery. White capped waves, slowly rolling towards the shore as low flying seagulls searching for underwater prey sweep over above the crests. Weather beaten wood frame houses of yellow, blue and red stand out brilliantly amongst the rippling grass and fields of golden hay. Toby and I both notice the abundance of false window shutters, the funky painted mailboxes, the tiny churches in the heart of each community (very different from the enormous, decadant churches of Quebec) and the prevalence of the Acadian flag.
We made our way down through Grande Anse (the huge church dominating the skyline), Caraquet (where we camped on our first baseball diamond, cooking up our dinner of side kicks and veggies in the dug out), Tracedie-Sheila, Neguac, and Miramichi (where we camped at our second baseball diamond, cooking dinner on a picnic table and sleeping just off the field amongt poplar trees).
From there the heat picked up, with temperatures soaring into the thirties and the humidity going through the roof. Our days were characterized by the quest to find ice cream and water to cool down our core temperatures (ok ok, I doubt ice cream really cooled us down, but it sure tasted good :). We took a short cut, following hwy 11 and hopping back on the Acadian Coastal route around Kouchibouguac National Park. We leapt in the river at Richibucto, then lackadaisically cooked noodles and munched on bagles smothered in nutella in our swimsuits before heading down the road towards beautiful Bouctouche, where we found ourselves swimming in another river.
Somewhere along the way, we ran out of water and went to fill up at the town market while buying a fresh loaf of bread, only to learn that the local water was not drinkable. The cashier sketched us a map to a bubbling spring, and we gallivanted down back roads and along unmarked footpaths until we found this mythical wonder. Stunned by the simple beauty of the gurgling water coming out of the ground and forming a tiny pool in the woods, we sat in silence after we filled our bottles and thought about what life might have been like for the people of the past who relied on this freshwater source for their livelihood. We ended our day in the tiny town of Cocagne, where we camped at our third baseball diamond, cooking dinner on the bleachers this time. French toast for breakfast at the local diner, then we were off towards Shediac (lobster crazy! more swimming here) and Cap Pele in the scorching heat.
Around Mates Corner, we encountered a detour sign and opted against following it since it would take us on the busy highway and add an extra 15-20 km to our route. Before long, we found ourselves at a washed out bridge, and had to follow a tiny path with precarious stairs (pointed out to us by the construction workers, hiding from the sun in the shade of giant diggers and smoking cigarrettes) in order to make it through. We cruised down empty country roads, singing and pointing out collapsed houses along the way, stopping in a Murray Beach for a dip before heading to Jourimain Island to wait for the transport vehicle to take us across Canada's longest bridge into Prince Edward Island.
A few more notes about New Brunswick: nobody has fences here. The only fences I've seen are the tall chain link ones used to keep moose off the highway. Also, drivers don't seem to differentiate between lawn and road. Driving right through a backyard (remember, there's no fences to separate the back and front yards), or across a soccer field are perfectly normal things to do here. A lot of people smoke, and drink coffee, and eat lobster. People were really curious and outgoing around us; every time we found ourselves at a Timmy's or a grocery store or a diner we were approached by people who wanted to know more about our journey, and wishing us good luck in our travels. On the road, we receive lots of cheery honks from friendly drivers, to which we automatically respond with a beaming smile and a raised arm giving the peace sign. Everyone seems to have an accent, and each is totally different from the next. French signage is everywhere, and people often approached us speaking in french, then switching over to english after we gave them confused looks as we tried to decode this unfamiliar language. I can really see the merits of being bilingual in this part of the world.
Following the Acadian Coastal Route, Toby and I left Madran and headed southeast toward Confederation Bridge and Prince Edward Island. Auntie Rita stuffed our panniers full of homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers, Hector snapping pictures as we cruised out their driveway and into the great wide open. As we arrived in Bathurst, we were startled by someone's fanatic honking; it turned out to be my cousin Darcy and a car full of relatives who'd come out to send us off. We met up at the grocery store parking lot for final farewells, hugs, and a few photos before leaving town. Toby and I impressed everyone with our public changing skills (I don't know if people should be impressed or embarrassed to see us strip in and out of our pants in public), then followed the starfish signs indicating our route out of town. Not surprisingly, we bumped into my cousin Mike (Bathurst isn't a big place) who'd just started his shift at Greeko's Pizza delivery. More hugs and photos, but this time we actually left town after saying our third farewell for the day.
The next few days we made our way through small coastal communities and maritime scenery. White capped waves, slowly rolling towards the shore as low flying seagulls searching for underwater prey sweep over above the crests. Weather beaten wood frame houses of yellow, blue and red stand out brilliantly amongst the rippling grass and fields of golden hay. Toby and I both notice the abundance of false window shutters, the funky painted mailboxes, the tiny churches in the heart of each community (very different from the enormous, decadant churches of Quebec) and the prevalence of the Acadian flag.
We made our way down through Grande Anse (the huge church dominating the skyline), Caraquet (where we camped on our first baseball diamond, cooking up our dinner of side kicks and veggies in the dug out), Tracedie-Sheila, Neguac, and Miramichi (where we camped at our second baseball diamond, cooking dinner on a picnic table and sleeping just off the field amongt poplar trees).
From there the heat picked up, with temperatures soaring into the thirties and the humidity going through the roof. Our days were characterized by the quest to find ice cream and water to cool down our core temperatures (ok ok, I doubt ice cream really cooled us down, but it sure tasted good :). We took a short cut, following hwy 11 and hopping back on the Acadian Coastal route around Kouchibouguac National Park. We leapt in the river at Richibucto, then lackadaisically cooked noodles and munched on bagles smothered in nutella in our swimsuits before heading down the road towards beautiful Bouctouche, where we found ourselves swimming in another river.
Somewhere along the way, we ran out of water and went to fill up at the town market while buying a fresh loaf of bread, only to learn that the local water was not drinkable. The cashier sketched us a map to a bubbling spring, and we gallivanted down back roads and along unmarked footpaths until we found this mythical wonder. Stunned by the simple beauty of the gurgling water coming out of the ground and forming a tiny pool in the woods, we sat in silence after we filled our bottles and thought about what life might have been like for the people of the past who relied on this freshwater source for their livelihood. We ended our day in the tiny town of Cocagne, where we camped at our third baseball diamond, cooking dinner on the bleachers this time. French toast for breakfast at the local diner, then we were off towards Shediac (lobster crazy! more swimming here) and Cap Pele in the scorching heat.
Around Mates Corner, we encountered a detour sign and opted against following it since it would take us on the busy highway and add an extra 15-20 km to our route. Before long, we found ourselves at a washed out bridge, and had to follow a tiny path with precarious stairs (pointed out to us by the construction workers, hiding from the sun in the shade of giant diggers and smoking cigarrettes) in order to make it through. We cruised down empty country roads, singing and pointing out collapsed houses along the way, stopping in a Murray Beach for a dip before heading to Jourimain Island to wait for the transport vehicle to take us across Canada's longest bridge into Prince Edward Island.
A few more notes about New Brunswick: nobody has fences here. The only fences I've seen are the tall chain link ones used to keep moose off the highway. Also, drivers don't seem to differentiate between lawn and road. Driving right through a backyard (remember, there's no fences to separate the back and front yards), or across a soccer field are perfectly normal things to do here. A lot of people smoke, and drink coffee, and eat lobster. People were really curious and outgoing around us; every time we found ourselves at a Timmy's or a grocery store or a diner we were approached by people who wanted to know more about our journey, and wishing us good luck in our travels. On the road, we receive lots of cheery honks from friendly drivers, to which we automatically respond with a beaming smile and a raised arm giving the peace sign. Everyone seems to have an accent, and each is totally different from the next. French signage is everywhere, and people often approached us speaking in french, then switching over to english after we gave them confused looks as we tried to decode this unfamiliar language. I can really see the merits of being bilingual in this part of the world.
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