The Next Chapter

There will be no more posting on My3oceanstour’s Blog ūüė¶ as that trip has come to its conclusion.

However, the blogging must go on.

I am now co-hosting a new photoblog with a fellow photography hobbyist from Canada, where we will be exposing our photographic inadequacies for all to see.¬† Exposing… get it?

Follow the link to Photography Asunder, where the focus is on fun, because that’s quite possibly the only thing that will be in focus.

http://photographyasunder.com/

Thanks for visiting.

Janette.

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Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen (Part III)

After the Newfoundland trip I spent three weeks freeloading¬†with the TOW, and thanks to you both for your hospitality, by the way.¬† During that time, we went on a few rides with some friends.¬†¬†I want to show you some photos from a trip we did to Nackawic, New Brunswick,¬†home of the world’s biggest axe.¬† It’s 55 tons and over 60 feet tall.¬† We jumped on the bikes and took a lovely ride down the river to see this place.¬†

Bikes parked to see the Axe

Here it is:

Naturally, I just had to hop up there...

Park surrounding the axe...beautiful and very peaceful place

Apart from rides, there were other things to do, including walks to take photos of the pretty colours.  This is my second-favourite season in Canada, after winter, of course.  The colours are just spectacular.

Before I knew it¬†the time came to get everything ready to return to Aussieland.¬† That included getting the bike prepared.¬† A lot of the questions I’ve had thus far have been about the bike:¬† how did I get it home?¬† Well, before that happened the thing had to be mega-cleaned.¬† Wouldn’t do for Australian Quarantine to find even one speck of tainted North American dirt secreted within any¬†hidden crevices.¬† So it was a fine and sunny weekend when I and the TOW set to and got the bike cleaned.¬† Here are some pics:

Not one speck...

Not one speck II

 

Thank you to you both for all your assistance on getting the thing cleaned – I couldn’t have done it on my own!

Here is the bike in its crate.  From Fredericton it went to Montreal, and then goes to Brisbane via ship.  Thanks to MacLeans Sports in Fredericton for putting the crate together for me.

 

And so the trip ends, yes, just like that.¬† It’s hard to even look at the photos.¬† Yesterday I had to go down to the pub and put some bets on the horses,¬†which rarely happens, because I’m blank when it comes to thinking about the last six months and I needed something to do.¬† But I’ve put my mind to it, and here are some highlights, or best parts (in no particular order):

  • Dipping my feet in the Arctic Ocean.¬† It was cold, but not unbearably so.¬† Don’t reckon I’ll ever get to do that again.¬† It was an unforgettable moment.
  • Riding through Nova Scotia and the Cabot Trail with TR.¬† Yes, we copped¬†a muddy road, and the peanut butter threw up in my pannier, but the company and the scenery was A1.
  • Listening to Canadians talking on the ferry to Vancouver Island, just after I’d arrived in Canada.¬† It was like I’d come home.
  • Seeing bears on the Cassier Highway, and wondering how the heck I was going to get past them.
  • Denise handing me a beer at the campground, and showing me the country.
  • The tundra in northern Alaska:¬† the sense that there was no-one for hundreds of miles, and the silence, the aloneness of it all.
  • The “hotel”¬†at Coldfoot in Alaska, and chasing mosquitoes around the laundry.
  • Attempting to speak French in Quebec.¬† What a joke.¬† Poor Quebec people are probably still wondering what I was on about.
  • Spaghetti sauce, Ab Fab, and cups of tea, courtesy of the TOW.

All the way across Canada I¬†spoke to¬†the most friendly and¬†hospitable people imaginable.¬† I was met with courtesy and kindness at every turn.¬† At each stop were Canadians who were interested in my trip,¬†who encouraged me.¬† Around every corner was something more beautiful.¬†¬† Canadians, don’t ever forget that this is what makes your country stand out against so many.¬†¬†Okay, you might not blow them all out of the water at the Olympics.¬† You’re not a superpower, and the world doesn’t copy your culture.¬† There are few people who’d¬†know the name of your Prime Minister.¬† But you are known throughout the world for your friendliness, and the way you make¬†people feel welcome.¬† I certainly did.¬† I love your country, loved every minute of it.

It was time to return to Australia.¬† I farewelled¬†the TOW in New Brunswick, and flew¬†to Toronto.¬† It is here¬†I left Canada, enroute to the US and then home.¬† In Toronto, I settled into the seat, and prepared myself to say goodbye.¬†¬†From the window there’s a small quadrangle of trees, colours of which I’ve shown you in the above photos, for this is the fall in North America.¬† The plane rose, and¬†wispy clouds covered the blazing reds and golds.¬† Quickly they faded, then were gone.

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Goodbye, Farewell and Amen (Part II)

I’m not too sure how to begin this blog, or¬†how to formulate the end thereof, or even¬†how the beginning of the end should go, so I’ll start with the dipping of my feet in the Atlantic Ocean and take it from there.¬† Due to feet-dipping being verboten¬†at Cape Spear in Newfoundland, the Two Older Women chauffeured¬†me to Halifax Harbour,¬†wherein lies a body of water that could, at a stretch, pass for the Atlantic Ocean.¬† Well, the Atlantic Ocean flows into it, or it flows into the Atlantic.¬† Or something.¬† It is possible that¬†a few¬†Harbour H2O molecules touched those swimming in the Atlantic, at some stage.

Atlantic...3 Oceans Tour Completed

You may be wondering what I was thinking when the above photo was being taken.¬†¬†Reflecting on the trip, perhaps?¬†¬†Basking in the knowledge that I had reached my goal?¬† Remembering with fondness the romantic lifestyle of the itinerant traveller?¬† No, I was worried about squids.¬† I¬†was¬†recalling a book I’d read about Gallipoli, and how the soldiers used to swim at Anzac Cove between battles.¬† They used¬†to swim at Anzac Cove, but stopped, because a giant squid was lurking in the area and had actually been responsible for the disappearance of several men.¬† So, all I could think of as I sat on that wharf, grinning stupidly, was that a giant squid just might make an appearance and wrap its tentacles around my delicate, fine-boned, freshly shaven¬†legs if the TOW didn’t hurry the heck up and get the bloody photo taken.¬† I just KNEW they’d¬†have Buckley’s if it ever came down to a tug of war, and…hmmm…may not put in too much of an effort, come to think of it…

Finally, FINALLY, the clickfest finished and I was able to stand on solid ground, my legs squidless and free of similar Swimming Things, or octopi, or other fearsome creatures of the deep.

That done, we did what all good Aussies do, whether at home or abroad:¬† we retired to the pub.¬† Not for drinks so much, for dinner.¬† We did have drinks, after a fashion.¬† Unlike Australia, in Canada when you go to the pub it’s not for the sole purpose of a Massive GuzzleSession¬†(unless you’re a student).¬† In Australia you primarily go for the guzzlefest¬†and dinner is an afterthought.¬† In Canada, you primarily go for the dinner and the guzzlefest¬†is an afterthought.¬† Ha ha, I like their style, better for the health.¬† Well, I like their style when my skin’s not cracking.¬† It was dryish¬†when we hit this pub.¬† The waiter brought me a beer and the TOW a Guin-i each.¬† The TOW sipped daintily whilst I did the quench thing.¬† Was feeling pretty good and shooting occasional glances at the service section, but, alas, no more was forthcoming for quite some time.¬† Oh dear, even the Guinness was starting to look good.¬† Luckily the food arrived promptly, and once I scoffed that I didn’t want any more¬†alcoholic beverages.

Here we are at the pub, having a great old time:

3 Amigos

Now, Aussies, a word of advice.¬† If you are in Canada and you like a coldie or two, here’s how it’s done.¬† Don’t just sit at the bar and expect an unlimited flow for nothing.¬† Tip mightily and they will hover till the cows come home.

I’ve often pondered why the grog is such a big part of our culture.¬† I look at the Canadians, and the Americans, and also at other cultures that have made their home in our countries.¬† Grog is not a big deal to them.¬† Why is it to us?¬† One reason:¬† you have to remember that in the 1800s grog, or rum, was actually our currency, our money.¬† Everyone was paid their wages¬†in rum, not in folding paper with the monarch’s piccy¬†thereon.¬† You worked 40 hours, your copped a gallon of rum.¬† You worked 20 hours, you were paid 4 pints of the stuff.¬† It’s the way it was.

Anyway, this is a massive digression and I’m really aiming at wrapping up the blog so that I can, well, wrap it up, and, I guess, get no more Nagsters asking me of the whereabouts of my next blog post.¬†¬†(Oh, the pressure)

First though, I want to show you some photos of the fall colours in Fredericton, New Brunswick.¬† Following my trip to Newfoundland, I¬†returned to¬†the TOW’s house¬†and have been here for the past three weeks, freeloading.¬† During that time, we got some photos of the trees changing colours, as they do at this time of the year.¬† So different to Queensland, and so pretty.¬† Here are a few:

Below is an old cotton mill from the 1800s.¬† It’s been¬†restored and now contains government offices:

Thought this garden looked nice:

More photos of the pretty trees:

We saw this snake during a walk along one of the many trails around Fredericton.  Non-poisonous, thankfully, and stayed still like this for quite a while.  I guess it was pretending to be a stick:

I am going to finish this post here.¬† I have many more photos to upload, and other things to tell you.¬† However, WordPress¬†can be¬†very frustrating to work with if you don’t know it well (and I don’t).¬†¬†¬†Specifically, the formatting is messing up and driving me absolutely insane, with photos next to each other and unrelated text scattered throughout.¬† I can feel a headache coming on because of all this nonsense, so guess there’s going to be a Part III.

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Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen (Part I)

To continue on from whence I left you, Blogfans, it was in St. John’s that I viewed the Atlantic Ocean, thus completing the third leg of my 3 Ocean’s Tour.¬† More about that later.¬† The weather was so bad I couldn’t actually ride¬†to Cape Spear, which is Canada’s easternmost point and just outside St. John’s.¬† You just can’t predict these things, but I had to get to Cape Spear and did so by means of a tour bus.¬† I’m glad I did, because there were only three of us plus the tour guide, John,¬†which made for an interesting and informative trip.¬† John was a hive of information about the area, and took us to an out of the way place for lunch.¬† For the life of me I can’t remember the name of this place, but here it is:¬†¬†¬†

Out of the way place for lunch

I hate seafood, eh.¬† Just don’t like it, don’t like the taste.¬† But John convinced me to try the fish and chips they serve here.¬† He reckoned they were the best anywhere.¬† He was right.¬† This place is near¬†the water, right where the fishing boats come in.¬† I had a piece of Cod that had been happily swimming around in the ocean only hours ago.¬† Imagine that?¬† Not many places you can go for lunch and get fish that fresh.¬† It was bloody delicious too.¬†¬†¬†

John took us to another interesting place on the way to Cape Spear –¬†Signal Hill.¬† There are a few interesting things about this place:¬† it is the site of the last battle of the seven years’ war in 1762.¬† It was here in¬†1901 that¬†Marconi received the first transatlantic wireless signal.¬† Sitting here with my laptop and iPhone, I can’t help but be astounded at how far technology has¬†progressed in a little more than 100 years.¬†¬†¬†

This is Cabot Tower at Signal Hill, and was constructed in honour of Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee:¬†¬†¬†

Cabot Tower, Signal Hill

Long way from Europe, even further to Aussieland!   

 John had some interesting information about the Titanic, which sank on the way to New York in 1912 after coming off second best in a tussle with an iceberg.  I remember watching a TV program about the discovery of the ship, and the submersibles which took some amazing photos of its resting place.  The water pressures down there are incredible, after all, it is several miles down.  This is what such pressure will do to a styrofoam cup.  A group of scientists did an experiment and sent this down to test the effects of the water pressure:   

Take a styrofoam cup, much like this...

This is what the water pressure down there will do to it

The above is the actual cup they sent down.

Another interesting artefact Рsome coal from the Titanic:   

¬†Then we reached Cape Spear.¬† I had been planning to dip my feet in the ocean here, but alas, it was impossible.¬† Not only was the weather too bad, but it was actually prohibited for safety reasons.¬† Here’s a pic of the sea, they actually get tsunami-like waves from time to time; these have washed the foolhardy to their deaths.¬† In fact, at least eight people have drowned here after getting too close:¬†¬†¬†

    

And the warning sign, which I diligently observed (despite a brief tug of temptation):   

 

Here I am at Cape Spear:I’ve always reckoned that stories¬†should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, and so it is with this one.¬† There is still a little more to write before the blog ends.¬† Stay tuned for Part 2.

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Pollies, Shops, and Bones in St. John’s, Newfoundland

Following my sojourn amidst the Vikings in the north of Newfoundland, I headed back south and then east to the capital, St. John’s.¬†¬†The weather was foul; it wasn’t the rain so much as the wind.¬† Newfoundland is famous for its high winds, and in fact some parts of the province are buffeted by the second-highest winds in the world, capable of blowing over semi-trailers.¬† I and my diminutive motorcycle would have to be careful.¬† For much of the 1000 km¬†journey I rode along at angles somewhere between 50 and 90 degrees, thanks to the wind.¬† I learned to relax along areas of the road where lines of¬†trees and cuttings in the road provided some protection.¬† Once away from these, the gusts relentlessly blew me all over the road.¬† It was frightening, to be honest.¬† Newfoundland is a beautiful province, and the people, as with all of Canada, are warm and friendly, but the weather did not make for a good two weeks there.¬†

I reached St. John’s eventually, and spent two days there to see the sights, as well as rest and recuperate.¬† It rained constantly and the temperature hovered around the 10 degrees mark.¬† I holed up for two nights at the Traveller’s Inn near downtown St. John’s.¬† Whilst there, I was lying on the bed sorting through photos and watching Canada’s Worst Drivers¬†on the telly.¬† Some of the drivers were pretty woeful, but nowhere in the league of Truly Frightening like they are in Australia.¬† I have to say I’ve found Canada’s drivers, for the most part,¬†to be careful and courteous.¬† If you’re standing on the street waiting to cross, even if there is no pedestrian crossing in sight, often cars will stop and let you cross.¬† That’s never happened to me in Aussieland.¬†

Anyway, I was lying on the bed sorting through photos when I heard this voice¬†through the window:¬†¬†“Janette, Janette.”¬† Far out, I thought, someone here knows my name!¬† Next thing, this woman’s face appears at the window.¬† It was the owner of the B & B where I’d stayed¬†a couple of¬†nights ago.¬† What a coincidence eh…or maybe it’s a small world in Newfoundland.¬†

Newfoundlanders talk differently in comparison to the rest of Canadians.¬† Sometimes I had difficulty understanding them:¬† the accents and inflections are coloured by a type of Irish brogue.¬† It’s quite noticeable and adds to the charm of the place, I reckon.¬†

Anyway, the plan had been to tour as much of Newfoundland as possible,¬† in particular the coastal towns and communities.¬† I would then travel to St. John’s, the capital, and nearby Cape Spear, Canada’s easternmost point.¬† Alas, the weather put an end to many of these best laid plans.¬† I decided to head straight for St. John’s/Cape Spear, then get out of there.¬† Have to say, St. John’s was beautiful – no high rises and more like a big country town, rather than a faceless city.¬†

Here are some pics of downtown St. John’s, these are all shops…¬†

 

 

  

 

And cafes…onya Sappho, you go girl!¬†

 

St. John’s is right on the harbour,¬†lots of ships and smaller vessels there during my visit:¬†

 

 

During my visit to St. John’s I noticed something happening up at the Sheraton Hotel.¬† Lots of people were running around with TV cameras and I saw a couple of vans with “CBC News” emblazoned on their sides.¬† I also saw a myriad of people strutting around talking into their phones and generally¬†being¬†quite important.¬†¬†I and my camera decided to see what all the fuss was about.¬† They had the TV cameras, with the big lights,¬†set up inside¬†the hotel’s foyer.¬† There was a dias thing and a backdrop of provincial flags, as well as a bunch of microphones.¬† It turned out to be a press conference, and looked like a Very Big Deal indeed.¬† Presently, some pollie¬†appeared and started speaking about the greatness of¬†the Newfoundland government,¬†then announced¬†some funding for research into health-related issues.¬† It was riveting.¬† While the pollie¬†was speaking,¬†the media people took a¬†bunch of¬†photos from all angles.¬† I, also, decided to take a bunch of photos of this bloke.¬† No-one said I couldn’t.¬† Here he is:¬†

 

Good photo eh.¬† They should’ve used that for the newspaper.¬† Snigger.¬†

I soon got bored with pretending to be a photographer/reporter, so repaired to the outside section of the hotel for a smoke and to take photos of the pretty flowers: 

Pretty flowers outside the Sheraton

¬†Anyway, I was loitering outside this hotel after taking the flower¬†photos and got chatting to Imelda, the concierge¬†there.¬† She was very interested to hear about my trip.¬† Imelda breeds Newfoundland dogs.¬† I later learned that these dogs¬†are bred to¬†rescue people from the water, and that they have webbed feet.¬† I also learned that they will “rescue” children innocently swimming in the backyard pool.¬†¬†The kids don’t get much pool time apparently, because they are repetitively being hauled out by these dogs.¬† They look gorgeous.¬† Imelda told me not to miss a monument of a couple of Newfoundland dogs, so I went to take a look.¬† The dog on the left is actually a model of one of Imelda’s dogs (now deceased):¬†

 

Some more pics of the surrounds of St. John’s.¬† It really is a lovely place, and very peaceful for a capital city:¬†

 

 

 

 

Went to have a look at the Lieutenant-Governer’s residence.¬† This is a very classy looking place:¬†

 

 

Inside, there was this for your brolly: 

 

And this for your shoes: 

 

When the Queen or members of the royal family visit, they usually plant a tree in the garden.  Old Camilla was there last year, and she planted this one: 

 

 

I also visited the Basilica of St John the Baptist, a pretty impressive looking Catholic Church.  Here it is: 

 

 

They had a statue of this saint there.¬† I forget her name, it might have been Theresa.¬† They also had a sliver of Theresa’s bone in a special frame.¬† I don’t know what became of the rest of her.¬†

Theresa

Theresa's bone...

The next photo is¬†a bit…hmmm.¬† It’s where they locked the nuns away so that they couldn’t be seen by anyone, but could still attend church:¬†

Later, they were allowed to sit in these pews: 

There is more to my St. John’s visit, but I will tell you about it in my next blog post.¬† It is here that I finally reached the Atlantic Ocean, thus completing my 3 Ocean’s Tour.¬† Stay tuned, patient Blogsters.

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I, and Hurricane Earl, Hit Newfoundland

Well, Blogees, I’ll have you all know I’ve just survived a hurricane, yes, a hurricane, and I’ve been camping, yes camping, throughout.¬† Even though the winds, as I typed, were still somewhat brisk, and the internet access pretty much non-existent, I endeavoured to bring this juvenile rubbish to you nonetheless.¬† Obviously I have little else to do.¬†¬†

Well, maybe that’s a bit Porkyish.¬† I have done stuff over the last few days.¬† I took some rather ordinary photos of the surrounds of Rocky Harbour, Newfoundland, where I sat out Hurricane Earl.¬† I ate a roast beef/salami/ham/cheese/nothing else that’s all roll (what gives here, and what kind of a¬†feed is that??), I had a nanna nap, and I bought some cheap, nasty trinkets for those I care about.¬†¬†

The photo stuff is beyond my control.¬† The last few blogposts, the gorgeous writing has been mine, but the photos, most of them,¬†have been courtesy of TR.¬† Alas, TR has now returned to work,¬†thus I’ve been on my own in the piccie¬†department.¬† So you’re just going to have to cop this second rate¬†crap, Blogsters.¬† Sorry.¬†

Anyway, back to me, and my Campfest amidst the Hurricane. 

I was lying in the tent during the hurricane, and spied what I first¬†surmised was a leech.¬† Ick, I thought, and freaked out Mightily whilst frantically getting all my veins out of reach.¬† Then I saw a cute little head, with two pointer things atop, and identified it as a slug,¬†ostentatiously¬†refugeeing¬†from the storm.¬† In hindsight, Blogsters, it probably wasn’t a slug.¬† It was probably¬†a flesh-eating, AIDS-bearing morphosous of a cloned duck or something, who would know.¬† I flicked it to the curb, just to be safe.¬†

I had a fitful night’s sleep.¬† The wind howled against my tent, and I was thankful I’d banged the pegs in firmly that afternoon when setting up.¬† I was warm and dry, but couldn’t help taking frequent peeks at my bike out there in the rain.¬† I did not want to see it arse-up the next day.¬† It was fine though, didn’t move an inch!¬†

I stayed here two nights.  The following day, I set out to get some photos of Rocky Harbour and an adjacent community, Norris Point.  Both are on the west coast of Newfoundland. 

Along the seashore: 

 

 

In one of the many bays: 

 

 

 

I took a photo of the below shed to show you Aussies the design of a lot of places here, not just in Newfoundland, but across Canada.¬† So different¬†from boring old brick, eh.¬† These structures have some character about them.¬† The roof¬†has shingles, no tiles here – I don’t reckon they would last long in the winter weather.¬† Just after I’d taken this photo the owner of the shed came over for a chat.¬† He said he stores his boat there.¬† He was very interested in my trip and to know that I’d travelled across Canada.¬† Anyway, here’s the shed.¬† Note the shingles on the roof:¬†

 

Jumped on the bike and went up the road a bit to visit this lighthouse.  The flags show how windy it was, the aftermath of the hurricane, I guess: 

 

 

Got a few more pics of Rocky Harbour.  Beautiful spot: 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, I packed everything on the bike and went north to a place called “Port Au Choix”, further up the coast.¬† I stayed at¬†a B & B¬†there.¬† Very¬†glad I did.¬† Although Port Au Choix is only 163 kms from Rocky Harbour, the wind was so strong (60-70 km/h)¬†I could not travel any further.¬† Quite frightening really.¬† The bike was bent over to a 45-50 degree angle against the wind.¬† My skills, and my strength, aren’t so great that I can cop that for any considerable distance.¬†¬†¬†

“Port Au Choix” is pronounced…well…how I wouldn’t have thought it was pronounced.¬† It’s not “Port a Choiks”, and¬†it’s not “Port a Shoe”, either.¬† Apparently it is “Port a Shw-u”.¬† You say “Shw”, then you say the “u” bit as in “cup”.¬† I would never have known…¬†

I stayed at Jeannie’s Bed and Breakfast.¬† Jeannie was lovely, very welcoming and called me “M’Darling” and “M’Dear”.¬† I was a little taken aback at the familiarity until I learned that Newfoundlanders address people in this manner as a matter of course.¬† Then I thought it was charming.¬† Jeannie made me feel right at home, and I recommend this place for anyone wanting a nice place to stay.¬† Here are her digs:¬†

Jeannie's...a haven after a rough day

 

 

 

From Port Au Choix¬†I rode further north, my destination being L’Anse¬†Aux Meadows.¬† This hamlet lies at the very tip of Newfoundland, a windswept and desolate place.¬† I loved it (apart from the wind).¬† It is so isolated, peaceful, and quiet.¬† I decided to stay at another B & B¬†here…well, there were no other options, not even camping.¬† I was not a M’Darling¬†or M’Dear¬†at this place, but felt very welcome nonetheless.¬† I was joined at the B & B by a myriad of retirees, clones of those I successfully avoided in Whitehorse all those months ago.¬† Friendly people though, from all over Canada and the US, and interesting to talk to.¬†

Here are a couple of pics of the view from my room: 

 

 

It is¬†in L’Anse Au Meadows¬†that the Vikings settled for a short period of time; here¬†that archeological digs revealed the settlements they established during that time.¬† I was surprised to learn they were only here for about 10 years or so.¬† The site itself is well set up:¬† they have a recreation of one of the houses with fair dinkum Vikings therein.¬† First, though, here are the surrounds of the settlement:¬†

 

 

There was this, of the Viking’s route south to Newfoundland:¬†

 

Then, a recreation of a Viking house, based on archeological findings carried out in the 1960s and 70s: 

 

 

 

Inside: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My word, it was about 9 degrees when I took these photos, and I was glad to stand by that fire for a while!  This whole place was very well done, and as I said, based on findings from the archeologists.  All extremely interesting.  

I like this place, but it is very windy.¬† I need to leave here tomorrow and head south, then west, to Saint John’s, the capital of Newfoundland.¬† This is a beautiful province, but alas the weather has not been that kind.¬† In the coming days I will endeavour to carry out the third part of my journey, that is, to dip my feet in the cold waters of the Atlantic.¬† I may be successful, or may not.¬† It won’t be for the want of trying.¬†

I’ll leave you with a couple of hastily snapped piccies of the sunset yesterday.¬† It was so cold I ran out the door, quickly took these, then ran back inside to the warmth!¬† More soon.¬†

 

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My Visit to Prince Edward Island

Prince Edward Island, in eastern Canada, is famous for a few things.¬† For one, it is beyond beautiful, with a peaceful and slower pace of life from the mainland.¬† They also¬†grow potatoes here.¬† Lots of them.¬† Some of the potatoes they sell to people for food, and some (lots…well, shitloads¬†really…) they use to make vodka.¬† Here I was, thinking people only made vodka from potatoes in illicit jailhouse stills.¬† But no, in PEI they make vodka from the plenteous potatoes which thrive in this¬†picturesque and fertile land.¬† I’ll bet it’s nice vodka too, for those of you who think vodka is nice.¬†¬†¬†

I got to PEI via the 11km Confederation Bridge.¬† It is just amazing riding over this thing, seems to go on forever.¬† Here’s a few pics at the PEI end:¬†

 

 

 

I stayed two nights on PEI.¬† The second day I went for a ride around the island.¬† It’s pretty big, so I only did the eastern half.¬† It was also a very hot day, which was no dramas, but the heat made it hazy, which I guess is reflected in the photos.¬† Still, it was a very pleasant day.¬† Like I said, life is very relaxed here.¬† Even the drivers are patient and considerate.¬† I’ve noticed that, in comparison with¬†Australia, Canadian drivers are a lot more considerate.¬† Even if you cross the road where¬†there’s no pedestrian crossing, Canadian drivers will stop for you.¬† And they don’t give you a blat of the horn and tell you to get the @#*% off the¬†street either.¬†¬†They just stop, and let you go across, then drive on without a drama.¬†

Course, they’re probably thinking, “Who’s that bloody wanker wandering all over the road.¬† Probably an escapee from the nursing home”.¬†

Anyway, got some pics of the countryside during my ride.¬† As mentioned, it was a hazy day, but here’s what I saw:¬†

 

 

 

 

More of that hay

I went to Charlottetown, the capital, to use the ATM at a bank.¬† The ATMs¬†in the servos don’t like me, and the feeling is mutual.¬† I’m glad I went in there – nice town:¬†

 

Prince Edward Island is also famous for¬†the children’s story “Anne of Green Gables”, written an eon ago by Lucy Maud Montgomery.¬† When I say eon, I refer to Lucy’s time, when life was a shitload simpler and everyone was probably happier too.¬† In Lucy’s time, all¬†people did¬†was drink tea out of fine china, go to church every Sunday, sew¬†fine seams, and procreate with dizzying rapidity.¬† Poor old Luce would have been all afluster¬†had she been transported to today’s world, where she’d¬†suddenly have to be keeping up with who’s bonking whom on Desperate Housewives.¬†

So, I visited the Anne of Green Gables Museum, and will tell you all about it, I suppose.  I know that all the men and most of the women reading this are going to be absolutely transfixed by my account of the visit.  The first was a neighbouring farm plus house which Lucy visited frequently, and which formed the basis for many of the Anne stories.  It was all pretty spartan: 

 

 

Inside…no telly, no computer, no motorbike in the garage even ūüė¶¬†

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, that was the neighbour’s place up the road.¬† Here’s where Lucy lived.¬† Only it doesn’t exist anymore.¬† It got burnt to the ground at some stage and only the foundations are left.¬† To get there, I had to walk a bit of a distance:¬†

This path...

This path...

Then (phew!) this path. It was a hot day

 Here it is: 

 

About the well

The well

 

 

 

Okay, enough of Lucy.¬† Oh…almost forgot…here’s her grave:¬†

Stayed the two nights at this chalet/cottage thing at Cavendish, on the north side of the island.  It was great Рcomfortable bed, and had a fridge, microwave and stove, as well as a bathroom.  It was peaceful and quiet too.  What more could I want? 

Alas, at last it was time to leave PEI.  There is a ferry which connects the island to Nova Scotia, so the bike and I caught this one fine morning a couple of days ago.  Here are some pics from the ferry upon departure; I was quite sad to leave because it was such a beautiful and restful place: 

 

 

 

 

No sooner did I finish taking these photos than Dramas began.  It was really windy, and I had my sunnies perched on my cap.  I was standing out on the deck, in the wind, when the sunnies suddenly fell off Рnot into the water, thankfully, but nonetheless into a forbidden place: 

Not allowed to go in here

They’re in here, dammit:¬†

They're in there, and I couldn't reach them, not even with my newspaper. Oh, what to do??

Not allowed to go in here II

I was just about to jump that fence thing and grab them when someone, in an official looking¬†Crew Member uniform, walked past.¬† I considered asking him to get the sunnies¬†for me, but didn’t.¬† I waited until he was well out of the way, then quickly¬†checked for other¬†interlopers.¬† None were¬†to be seen.¬† Lots of non-crew member people were watching but who cared.¬† I bounded over the fence in a nanosecond, grabbed the bloody mongrel glasses, then hopped back and quickly ran into the anonymity of the dining section, where there were lots of noisy children to distract any pursuers.¬† Whew!¬†

Had a good ride through Nova Scotia up to a place called North Sydney, from where the ferry to Newfoundland departs.  Arrived with plenty of time to spare, so got a photo: 

I’m in Newfoundland now, so will tell you all about that next time.

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