No Rain

Tonight's post is brought to you by Blind Melon's biggest hit (and one of my favorite songs since... junior high I think) and also the weather. It's true-- it didn't rain on Priscilla's parade today! And get this-- her shoes are finally dry! Feel free to step away from your computer and do a dance of joy to celebrate the dry shoes.

Of course, the shock of the dry shoes seems to be taking its toll on Priscilla. Why, just this afternoon she was riding along when suddenly she looked up from the road, took in her surroundings and thought to herself, "hmmm, I haven't seen this place before." This thought was immediately followed by "right, silly, that's because you've never been to Belleville, Ontario before!" OK, so that's not really nutty, it's just amusing. Truly worrisome, however, was the question she posed right in the middle of a gmail chat this evening: "What's with the three-legged monkey?" Folks, the chat wasn't even about monkeys, of any number of legs.

But she made good time today, and went pretty far. She's just west of Cobourg now, and the last sign she saw read "112km to Toronto." She's pitched her tent in another barn-like thing, and when she was sending the message about the monkey business, she was in the home of the kind family that owns the barn, watching Alvin & the Chipmunks with their two little girls, Madison and Mackenzie.

The pictures at the top are (from top to bottom): The Lindseys, a couple she met on Sunday; last night's barnish thing at night; last night's barnish thing in the morning (it shrunk!); a bridge across the St. Lawrence leading to the U.S.; and finally, what Chicago will look like after my coup (minus the cigarettes ad-- that's just tacky).

Ben, oui, vous avez bien compris-- il ne pleut plus sur Priscilla, au moins, pas aujourd'hui. Et (roulement de tambour, svp), ses chaussures ne sont plus mouilles! Sentez-vous libre de danser de joie en celebrant ces chaussures secs!

Mais la secheresse des ses chaussures semble avoir eu un effet bizarre sur notre heroine. Cet apres-midi meme elle roulait tout tranquillement, quand la pensee lui est arrivee: "Hmmm, il me semble que je ne suis jamais passe par ici avant ce moment." Et puis elle s'est repondu, "mais oui, espece de bete, c'est parce que tu n'es jamais alle a Belleville, Ontario avant." Pire encore, ce soir elle a demande "Mais de quoi s'agit le singe a trois jambes?" au milieu d'une conversation qui ne s'agissait pas de singes! Ca craint.

Quand meme, elle a roule vite et loin aujourd'hui, jusqu'a l'ouest de Cobourg, et le dernier borne qu'elle a vu annonce qu'il ne reste plus que 112 km a Toronto. Elle a mit sa tente dans une espece de grange, comme hier (mais evidemment pas la meme qu'hier), et pendant qu'elle me racontait tout ca-- et le truc avec le singe-- elle etait chez la famille a laquelle appartient la grange, et elle regardait Alvin et les Chipmunks avec deux petites filles, Mackenzie et Madison.

Quant aux photos, du haut jusqu'en bas: La famille Lindsey, qu'elle a rencontre dimanche; la grange d'hier vu la nuit; la grange d'hier vu le jour (et tout mini!); un pont qui traverse le St. Lawrence avec les E-U sur l'autre rive; la futur de Chicago, une fois que je devienne maire.

Soggy Toe Jam (and Soggy Toes)

So last night in the tent in the rain in Ontario nearly everything got at least a little bit wet with the notable exception of Priscilla's feet. Those feet, however, have been cold and soaked all day for the past three days. Brrr!

Nonetheless, our indomitable heroine slogged on through the sogginess and rode fifty-something miles today. Halfway through she stopped in Gananoque for a break. She found an information center, complete with convenient internet access. Besides using the computer, she spoke with a woman who told her about a neaby Salvation Army and a used bookstore haunted by a ghost named Hubert. While they were talking, some French tourists arrived all in a muddle, and Priscilla, being French, was able to help them-- de rien, chere touristes!


At the Salvation Army, Priscilla scored big! A more truly waterproof jacket, an extra pair of rain pants, and a set of scrubs (a comfy extra layer when biking), all for three smackaroos. She piled on these new layers in hopes of warming up a bit and set out for the bookstore.


What?!? You thought she would be afraid? Good gracious no! After all, she normally lives in our haunted apartment (yes, it really is haunted by some lady who likes to hang out by the ivy; plus you can here water running in a particular spot in the dining room)! At the bookstore the saleslady was very kind and offered her some tea, which was undoubtably very welcome considering the wetness and coldness of Priscilla. Hubert was nowhere to be seen. However, the sun had come out, and in all her layers, Priscilla was growing rather toasty. So she took the new layers back off, packed them in her panniers, and set off.

Of course, as she did so, the sky turned grey. It began to sprinkle, and then to pour. Priscilla rode on, hoping it would blow over. The rain kept right on gushing, so she finally pulled over, dug the new duds back out of the panniers, and put them back on. She jumped on her bike and... the rain turned off like a faucet and the sun popped out again. Fed up, she decided to bike on, layers and all, come what may. What came was a little more rain, a little more sun, a little more rain, ad nauseum.

In the afternoon she began to think about a place to camp. Specifically, she daydreamed about finding a nice dry barn to camp in. Dismissing this as an idle fancy, she pedaled on, but decided that at 6:30 on the nose she would stop at the first house she saw and ask to use their yard. 6:30 arrived, there was a house, and so she stopped. She'd noticed an overhang near the front of the house, and asked if she might pitch her tent beneath it. The lady of the house said sure, but the man of the house said she might as well pitch her tent in the barn-like structure behind the house, where their daughters train their horses. Priscilla was delighted, so off she went. And now as I write this she is sleeping in her tent in the pseudo-barn, out of the rain, and likely dreaming of Mr. Ed.




Alors. Hier soir dans la tente dans la pluie d'Ontario, tout a etait mouille sauf les pieds de Priscilla. C'est marrant, car ses pieds ont passe les trois jours precedents trempes et gelees. Quand meme, Priscilla a continue sur sa route aujourd'hui, faisant plus que 50 miles. Vers midi elle a fait un pause a Gananoque. La elle est alle dans un centre d'infos pour utiliser l'internet (et au meme temps a aide des touristes francaises-- sympa, non?). Ensuite elle est alle chez l'Armee de Salut ou elle a achete quelques trucs contre la pluie, et apres dans un libraire a l'occasion, un lieu hante par un phantome qui s'appelle Hubert. Elle n'a pas apercu Hubert, mais elle a rencontre la vendeuse qui l'a offert du the.

La reste de la journee etait melange entre soleil et pluie, et elle a reve un peu de trouver une grange pour y faire du camping hors la pluie. "Pas possible," elle a pense, et donc elle a decide de simplement arreter vers 18h30 et demander a la maison la plus proche le droit de dormir dans leur jardin. Bon. 18h30 arrive, elle demande, et la femme dit "oui" mais l'homme dit "mais pourquoi pas dormir dans l'etable au lieu du jardin?" Et donc c'est ca qu'elle fait en ce moment, et sans doute elle reve du Jolly Jumper.

If today were a Middle Eastern country, it would be Bahrain.

Because bah! It's raining! Again! Still! Priscilla says it rained all day, thunderstorms are in the forecast overnight, and it was raining as she sat in her tent and texted me all that. Despite the rain, she did bike all the way to Lansdowne, Ontario. Heh heh. I actually have no idea where that is, but as soon as I finish this post, I'm gonna crank up some google maps and find out. But anyway, she's alright, albeit probably looking like the drowned-rat version of herself, and camping. Let's pray she stays surprisingly warm and dry and comfy tonight, and gets plenty of sunshine (but not in her eyes) tomorrow.



Si aujourd'hui etait un pays de proche orient, ce sera Bahrain. Car bah! Il pleut! D'accord, c'est absolument pas drole en francais, et ce qui plus est, j'arrive pas faire des accents ce soir (il faut taper tout ca d'abord en Word, mais je n'arrive plus faire marcher Word sur cet ordi rebel). Bon.
En tout cas il pleut encore, et il pleuvait toute la journee, et Priscilla me dit qu'on predit des orages pour ce soir. Elle me raconte tout ca par SMS dans sa tente a Lansdowne, Ontario, pendant qu'il pleut toujours. Je ne sais pas ou ce trouve Lansdowne, mais j'en suis sur que c'est bien plus proche a Chicago que la ville d'hier soir. Une fois que je poste cela, je vais faire des recherches sur google maps ou mappy ou quoi. Mais Priscilla va bien, meme si un peu mouille, et elle fait du camping. On va prier qu'elle passe une nuit plus chaud, sec, et confortable qu'attendu.

It's raining men!

Psyche! It is not raining men at all! It's raining rain, and lots of it, both up in Ontario and here in Chicago. But "It's raining rain" wouldn't have made a very exciting title, now would it? Plus, nothing suits a wet September evening like cheesy pop anthems, and maybe a little disco now and then. But I digress.

So, Priscilla is in Ontario now, specifically in the town of Cornwall, and even more specifically in a house. It rained all day, but not terribly hard except at the very end, when Priscilla got all cold and wet and bedraggled. But this evening she found a church service to attend (she hadn't been able to find one this morning), and so she went. She says it was lovely, and she met lots of fun people. Some of said fun people invited her to stay with them, and so she is. Now she's dry and warm and undraggled and heading off to bed.

Oh, hang on a sec! The photos, right? So the top one is Catherine (the biker across Europe) and her husband and their son Maxime (who is so enamored of Priscilla). The middle one is of Loic, Stephane, Julie, and Olivier, Priscilla's charming hosts from last night who treated her to supper and gave her shelter from the storm-- oops, I mean from the rain & cold. The bottom one shows the work of busy beavers, who have been busily felling trees along Priscilla's route.

Oh yeah! Today Priscilla saw some smugglers (I'm so jealous), smuggling stacks of cigarettes from the U.S. to Canada. She even got to see the police chase them down! It might have been more exciting if they were smuggling illicit drugs or precious gems or even exotic pets, but still, smugglers!

C'est promis! Les traductions d'hier et d'aujourd'hui viendront demain soir. Je suis vraiment trop creve pour y concentrer dessous maintenant.

As the odometer turns...

So... I got some details today, baby! The picture of the nice couple yesterday? Their names are Isabelle and ...well, Isabelle's husband-- he introduced himself to Priscilla, too, but she forgot what his name was. Anyhoo (Ha! I mean anyway), they have three charming young sons, Zacharie, Emeryc, and Raphael. And we're very grateful to them for hosting Priscilla on Thursday night!

Last night Priscilla's hosts were Catherine, um... "Mr. Catherine" (yeah, don't actually know his name either-- Priscilla might have said, but I was at the store holding the phone with my shoulder, which is a little tricky, and trying to find some not overly bruised apples, also tricky, and so I could have missed it), and their little boy, Maxim. Maxim adores Priscilla, much like... well, most little kids. He was thrilled to meet her and have her camp in their yard and hang out with them. Priscilla had fun with Maxim, and also go to hear about Catherine's own bike adventures-- back in the day she flew over to Nice, France, biked all over Italy, then through Switzerland, and eventually back to the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris (just north of Paris technically, so she had to bike even farther), and then flew back home to Beloeil, Quebec. How cool is that?

Yesterday Priscilla biked for about 6 1/2 hours and covered 82 miles (and she wasn't even trying hard). Today she biked some more, but I'm not sure exactly how much more. While pedaling along she met a biker named Jean-Francois. He convinced her to ride south around Montreal instead of north, and gave her heaps of helpful tips for the next stretch of riding. Priscilla's take on Montreal: lots of bike trails and wide bike lanes, but they're well-hidden, which resulted in a fair amount of back-tracking this afternoon. But she eventually uncovered them (she's got a nose for bike routes), and arrived at... some town. No idea which one, but it's only 24 kilometers from Ontario.

And! Remember the cold last night? Well, it did wake her up a few times, but each time she just added a layer of clothes, snuggled back into the sleeping bag, and fell back asleep. Tonight, however, Priscilla doesn't know what the forecast is and she doesn't care! Because she's sleeping in a bed folks, in a real, live house. The house is home to a family that includes a couple of little kids who were rather excited to meet her, and even more excited that she is staying with them. Maybe if we're lucky we'll find out more about them tomorrow.

Oh! This just in! So, Priscilla's parents were in Dieulefit Friday morning, as is their custom, when her dad spotted a slightly disheveled couple with a big dog, two bikes, and a map. So he walked over and struck up a conversation with them. The couple, Paul and Elishkva, are biking from Czech Republic to Portugal. It's rather slow going as they have to stick to the dog's pace (he runs along beside them), but of course some of us would consider that to be the optimum pace for biking. Anyway, inspired by Priscilla's exploits and her multitudinous hosts' kindness, he invited the couple to stay at the Driscoll house for the weekend, which they gratefully accepted.

La traduction en francais viendra demain-- je l'ai fait, et puis l'ordi l'a supprime, et maintenant je suis un peu ennerve, donc voila. Je suis desolee.

Still more Quebec

Today Priscilla rode to Beloeil, about 20 kilometers east of Montreal. She's camping in the back yard of some kind souls she met there, and plans to ride through Montreal and beyond tomorrow. The couple above are her hosts from last night, but I don't know their names. The landscape above is somewhere in Quebec, and pretty, but I don't know any more than that. In lieu of what Priscilla did all day (well, apart from pedaling, because we can pretty safely guess she did that-- she didn't give me any details this time), let's have a bit of inane poetry about this leg of her journey, shall we? OK.... here goes:

Dear Priscilla is crossing Quebec.

Why? Well, I guess what the heck--

She just wanted to go

Despite rain, sleet or snow,

And I think she's enjoying the trek!

You all can stop rolling your eyes now, thanks. She hasn't encountered sleet or snow so far (and let's pray she doesn't), but she did say it's a bit chilly tonight. The toasty sleeping bag her good buddy lent her should come in very handy.

Et maintenant pour la version francais:

Aujourd’hui Priscilla est allée jusque Beloeil, à peu pres 20 kilometres à l’est de Montreal. Elle fait du camping ce soir dans le jardin d’une famille très gentile qu’elle y a rencontré. Elle a l’intention de traverser Montreal demain (et, j’imagine, aller encore un peu plus loin). Hier soir elle est resté chez le couple dans le photo en haut, mais j’ignore leurs noms. Le paysage dans l’autre photo est quelque part dans le Quebec, et c’est assez beau, mais je ne sais davantage sur ça. Au lieu de discuter ce que Priscilla a fait aujourd’hui (car j’ignore les detailles de ça aussi), on va partager un morceau de poésie nullissime, d’accord? Alors, allons-y….

Aujourd’hui Priscilla roule en Quebec,
Mais ce n’est pas pour y chercher un mec.
Ce qu’elle quête partout
Dans les coins et les trous,
C’est la route à la bibliothèque!

Car c’est à la bibliothèque qu’on peut accede à l’internet, quoi. Comme ça elle peut me dire tout ce qu’elle fait, et vous serez épargné la lecture de vers débiles.

Elle a dit qu’il fait un peu froid ce soir, donc c’est sur qu’elle sera encore plus reconnaissant du sac de couchage qu’un ami l’a preté. On peut la souhaité de beaux rêves et une tente suffisament douillette.

Je me souviens...

Priscilla wasn't sure at first what she thought of Quebec. It was kind of rainy. The wind blew the wrong direction. There were big hills. Bumps galore. KFC was spelled differently (yet in France, even farther from Kentucky, still goes with KFC). Woodrow got a little rusty, Priscilla got all muddy, and they weren't making good time. Things were looking a smidge gloomy (but still kind of gorgeous even amid the gloom-- you can kind of tell in the middle picture).

But. Then Priscilla arrived at the Bolduc family's house last night. Claire (the nice lady mentioned yesterday) asked Priscilla if she was alone. "Oh yeah," Priscilla said, ""definitely alone." Claire looked skeptical, looked down the road. "You're sure a bunch of your friends won't come riding up in a little bit?" Priscilla assured her that we are all still in Chicago (except for her friends that don't live in Chicago, but that's not really the point, is it?). Claire turned out to be a very cool lady, and very generous too, treating Priscilla to supper last night, breakfast this morning, and sending her on her merry way with a sandwich packed for lunch. And her husband, Lucien, helped clean up Woodrow with an air compressor, leaving him spiffy clean once again. Claire and Lucien are in the bottom photo-- thanks so much, you two!

So Priscilla hit the road and found it much less hilly today. She also hit the internet at the library (which is how I know all this) and finally found the question mark on a quebecois keyboard (look above the number six). She was aiming for Vistoriaville, but ended up riding more than twice as far as yesterday Tonight she's camping in some very nice family's yard around St. Albert, and tomorrow she's headed for Drummonsville and then Montreal.

Oh! Guess what else?!? Yesterday (I think) her total mileage topped 1000 miles! I wish my mom could have been there-- she loves to watch odometers roll over from a bunch of nines to a bunch of zeros. And not only is 1000 miles ridiculously impressive, it's also the halfway point for this trip. Hooray, Priscilla!

Au tout début, Priscilla n’était pas tout à fait sur ce qu’elle pensait de Québec. Il pleuvait. Le vent soufflait dans le mauvais sens. Il y avait de gros collines partout. Plein de bosses dans la rue. KFC avait un tout autre orthographe (tandis qu’en France, encore plus éloignée du Kentucky, ça reste KFC). Woodrow rouillait un peu, Priscilla était completement emboué, et ils n’allaient pas très vite. Tout semblait un peu somber (mais quand même vachement belle malgré les nuages—ce qu’on voit bien dans la deuxième photo).

Mais. Ensuite Priscilla est arrive chez la famille Bolduc hier soir. Claire (la femme très gentile dont on a fait mention hier) a demandé à Priscilla si elle était toute seule. “Ben, oui,” a dit Priscilla, “il n’y a que moi.” Claire avait l’air légèrement sceptique. Elle regardait la rue dont Priscilla est venue. “Vous êtes sur qu’il n’y a pas, par exemple, un gros bande d’amis qui viendra en quelque minutes?” Priscilla l’a assure que ce n’était pas le cas, que tous ses amis sont restés à Chicago (sauf ceux qui n’habite pas à Chicago, mais on ne va pas parler d’eux en ce moment, d’ac?). Rassuree, Claire l'a invite dans sa maison. Claire est hyper sympa, et génereuse aussi. Elle a offert à Priscilla le diner hier soir, le petit dej’ ce matin, et l’a envoyé sur la suite de sa route avec un sandwich pour le déjeuner. Son mari, Lucien, lui aussi a aide a nettoyer Woodrow (c'est comme ca qu'elle appelle son velo) avec un truc que soufflé très fort l’air (un air compressor, quoi!), le laissant (le vélo, je veux dire) tout propre de nouveau. On peut voir Claire et Lucien dans le photo d’en bas. Mille mercis à eux deux—quelle plaisir de savoir que Priscilla était si chaleureusement acceuillit!

Alors, Priscilla s’en est allée, et a trouvé sa route bien moins collineuse qu'hier. Elle a passé par une bibliothèque pour utiliser l’internet (c’est comme ça que je sache tout cela) et l’en faisant, a enfin trouvé la cachette du point d’interrogation sur les claviers québecois (faut regarder en haut du numero six). Son but pour le jour, c’était Vistoriaville, mais enfin elle a roulé plus que le double d’hier. Ce soir elle fait du camping dans le jardin d’une famille très sympa vers St. Albert, et demain elle a l’intention d’aller vers Drummonsville et puis Montreal.

Oh! Tiens! J’ai oublié de le dire, mais hier (je crois) sa distance totale pédalé a dépassé 1000 miles (ou 1600 kilometres, n’est-ce pas?). Tant pis que ma mere n’était pas là—elle adore regarder les odometres tournent d’un tas de neufs à un tas de zeros. Et pas seulement que 1000 miles soit incroyablement impressionant, mais en plus ça représente la moitié de la route! Bravo, Priscilla!

It's a bumpy road that she travels upon.

So last night the kind family that let Priscilla camp in their yard also invited her in for supper, and this morning treated her to breakfast. Their names are Therese and Marcel, and their sweet daughter is Catherine, and we send them most hearty thanks!

Priscilla got a little bit of a late start and headed off... but she only made 30-something miles, thanks to a perfect storm of roadway horribleness. Oh yes, an epic convergence of bumps, rain, wind blowing against her, hills, a bunch more bumps, and mud. The only thing missing was traffic. One road was actually a dirt track (like, for real!), and the paved roads were worse yet. Along the way Priscilla stopped at a ... drat, I forget what sort of place, but sometimes it has internet access. This afternoon, sadly, the person in charge of said access had gone for the day, and with her all possibility of Priscilla checking her email at ... that place. However, another employee of the place wanted to hear all about Priscilla's trip and was duly awed.

As you can probably imagine, Priscilla was filthy and tired and a little frustrated by the end of the day. She decided to stop just outside of St. Daniel. She found a house that appeared to be occupied, rode on up... and a car full of people backed down the driveway, right past her, and zipped away without so much as a "Howdy!" (not sooo surprising, as this is Quebec, and people don't say "Howdy" much-- usually "Bonjour" with a quebecois accent). There were still lights on in the house, however, so Priscilla went and knocked. A lady came to the door. Priscilla explained her situation, and the lady explained that the car contained her husband and sons who were going on a brief trip, and invited Priscilla inside. She was happy to have a bit of company after all, and was fabulously kind to Priscilla. She gave her supper, let her take a shower, let her use the phone, showed her a bed to sleep in. And there, we hope, she is resting up for the road ahead tomorrow.

Still no moose.

So, my darlings, last night the kind host whose door Priscilla knocked on was Rolf Schmalzer, and his picture is above. Thanks so much, Rolf!

This morning Priscilla set off through the remaining bit of Moose Country and did not see one single moose. Not even a partial moose (which is probably just as well-- that might have been a little off-putting, especially right after breakfast). She did see Moosehead Lake, which was lovely (and there's a picture of that above as well), but it wasn't the same. She also sent a picture of a moose statue, but it's just the one with the wings she saw yesterday. It's kind of disturbing, really, this glaring lack of moose. I mean, where do moose go? You have to wonder.

Well, anyway, creepy invisible moose population aside, Priscilla did leave the country again. Yep, she's back in good ol' Canada, Quebec this time. She had a little trouble at the border though. She felt the need to use the, ahem, facilities, so when she found them right there on the U.S. side, she rode straight over. She parked Woodrow and was headed for the door when she was stopped by a gruff customs agent (just so you know, folks, his gruff exterior hides a heart of gold, and he spends his spare time knitting snazzy sweaters for the cold little stray dogs and cats of his neighborhood). He informed her that this bathroom was for people coming to the U.S., not for those leaving it, and that she would have to use the Canadian bathrooms on the other side. You know how they say "You can't take it with you"? Well, if you're headed for Canada, and by "it" you mean "poo," it appears you have no choice but to take it with you.

After 74 miles of biking under grey skies, Priscilla wasn't really tired, but had had enough of the grey skies (they don't exactly scream "Go Priscilla go! Pedal your legs off!" the way blue skies tend to do), so she stopped just outside of St. Georges. A Quebecois family agreed to let her camp in their yard, which was kind of them indeed.

On the road again...

Today's title is brought to you by my nemesis, country music sensation and admirable philanthropist Willie Nelson. I would have liked to sprinkle twangy country music notes across this post, but I'm just not that clever. (sigh) Despite growing up in the country, I did not grow up listening to Willie Nelson or cow-tipping. Priscilla informed me that the narcoleptic tractor scene in Cars was actually more about tractor-tipping. Huh. I had heard of cow-tipping, but I always imagined the cows being tipped sideways, not up-ended like the tractors in the movie. It seems like it would be hard to balance them like that.

So yes, Priscilla is on the road again, after spending Sunday (and baking apple pie!) with the fabulous people you see above-- her hosts, shown at top, are Edy, Sharon, Pam, and Joe. Can you see the friendliness shining out from them? Well, squint then. I can totally see it. From Gail, too, in the bottom picture. She has a bakery in Abbott Village and was very kind to Priscilla, very impressed by her trip, and ever so happy to hear of the kindness of the many other people she's encountered along the way.

This morning Priscilla said goodbye to her new friends, lubed Woodrow's chain, and set out. Around lunch time she stopped at a ... well, somewhere. It might have been a store. Whatever it was, it was staffed with helpful and courteous employees who generously let Priscilla use the internet, and found a guy to fix a couple of things on Woodrow. He wasn't totally able to fix those things (it wasn't a bike shop), but he did also lube Woodrow's chain and de-squeak the rack (it had been loose and squeaky, now it's not-- well, still not quite right, but quieter).

Priscilla thanked the store guys and set off again, right through the heart of Moose Country. Oh, yeah! In case you didn't know, Moose Country is just swarming with moose. Flocks, herds and teeming crowds of moose. Acres of them as far as the eye can see. All day long people told her "OK, when you round the next bend, there will be some trees off to the side, and if you look just behind them, you'll see a moose," or "See the top of that hill coming up? Right after the crest you'll find a meadow, and you'll definitely find a moose there," or "Well, lass, about a mile ahead the road goes between two bogs, and if you stop and look off in the distance beyond the larger bog, you'll see a moose. For sure." Well, Priscilla saw exactly two moose today. One was dead on a truck, the other was a statue with wings. I'm thinking the Moose Country folk are in cahoots with the Nova Scotians. The Nova Scotians called all their Maine friends last week and said "Hey, guys, there's this chick coming on a bike, and we totally fooled her with the Nova-Scotia-is-flat shpiel. You should so tell her the a-real-live-actual-moose-lives-right-over-there thing. She's sure to fall for it."

Despite the fishy lack of moose, Priscilla sailed on down and up the hilly roads to Rockwood, where she knocked on a door and found her charming host for tonight. Now she's probably staying up late to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle re-runs, but hopefully she'll get a bit of sleep because she's off for Quebec tomorrow.

"I don't complain, I just go on."

So says my mom's aunt Annie. It's also Priscilla's theme quote today, even though only half of it really applies-- the not complaining half. Because Priscilla isn't going on today-- she's staying put! And I suspect she might be baking, as she called this afternoon asking for her pie crust recipe. She was having a lovely day when we spoke, and plans to go back to biking tomorrow.

She also solved the mystery of the sleepy tractors-- yeah, so apparently they're from Cars. In my defense, I never properly sat down and watched that movie, only occasionally walked through rooms in which other people were watching it.

Woodrow the narcoleptic bicycle

Sometimes Woodrow gets a little crazy. Yesterday Priscilla was standing beside him, quietly studying her map, when suddenly he flipped back and waved his front wheel in the air. It sort of reminds me of something I saw once, a cartoon maybe, of narcoleptic tractors. They would be puffing along, and then suddenly-- flip! And then snoring...

"It's like I'm inside an air freshener!"

This morning Priscilla said goodbye to Beth and Lexie, her hosts from last night (in the bottom picture yesterday), packed up Woodrow and hit the road. She stopped at Walmart and some other store early on and stocked up on fuel (granola bars, mostly), and then carried on. The ride was a bit better than yesterday. Still very hilly (and she's been told there are actual mountains ahead), but most of the time the road was lined thickly on either side by evergreens, which served as a natural windbreak and made everything smell all piney-fresh.

Remember how yesterday Priscilla said she's not an ax murderer as of yet? Well, that's still the case, and let's all hope it remains so. However, this trip does seem to be changing her, and not all for the good. A most sinister event this afternoon has caused me considerable unease. In one of the towns she was riding through, she saw a McDonalds and thought (are you ready for this?) "Hmm, McDonalds sounds kind of good..." Priscilla Driscoll actually thought that! But the worst is still to come: she actually stopped, deliberately locked up Woodrow, sauntered into the McDonalds, and ordered French fries. And ate them. With relish (as in gusto-- but really, I wouldn't be surprised if she buys pickle relish tomorrow... and then probably some corn syrup and an ax)!

Tonight Priscilla is staying at Pam's house, in the guest bedroom, somewhere between a town called Milo and another town called something else (which, lo and behold, I've forgotten). How did this come about? Well, if you'd stop asking questions, I could just tell you! OK, so late this afternoon Priscilla was riding through Lagrange when, unbeknownst to her, she was spied by Pam's eagle eye. Pedaling along obliviously, Priscilla was beginning to pray about a place to stay for the night, and beginning to think she didn't really want to pedal much farther today. Well, Pam drove back to the town where she lives, and before long spotted Priscilla biking along again on the other side of the street. She called out to her, and Priscilla stopped, and Pam asked her where she was headed and if she needed a place to stay. Priscilla said she was headed for Chicago eventually, and yes, and now she's sound asleep and all toasty warm in a house. Hooray!

Ugh, hills.

So remember how Priscilla camped in the yard of some nice family last night? Well, I don't have a picture of them, but I do have a picture of their blue house. They were very helpful, found a nice flat spot for her tent, and invited her in for a supper of sloppy joes and tater tots and fries and interesting conversation. This morning she told them goodbye (one of them was Steven, one was... darn, I forgot the others, but for now we'll just call them Mrs. Steven & their daughter Stevenette and a baby, Lil' Stevie, maybe), and set out.

The riding today wasn't so pleasant-- very very windy (and in the wrong direction, too) and very very very hilly. And not just a lot of hills, but steep! On one hill she had to bike zig-zag style just to make it to the top. The memories of Nova Scotia look downright flat in comparison. It was also rainy in the morning, which is less nice when you're a biker (as opposed to, say, a thirsty plant-- thirsty plants just love rain).

But the view remained gorgeous, and maybe even grew a little gorgeous-er, and in the afternoon the roads dried out. Priscilla also found more wild apple trees from which she plucked more wild and crazy apples. One of the trees was dangling its apples tantalizingly out of reach, so she climbed it and got the apples anyway (Priscilla 1, That Apple Tree 0). You saw Priscilla's apple collection in one of the photos at the top.

Still, after about 42 miles Priscilla was pooped, so she decided to stop in Lee instead of Lagrange. There she found a house that looked promising. She knocked on the door and a lady opened it. Priscilla explained that she was biking through and asked if she could camp in the yard. The lady looked at her. "You're not an ax murderer, are you?" she asked. Priscilla smiled. "Not so far," she replied. And so the lady told Priscilla she could certainly camp in the yard, and welcomed her into the house too... I'm a little sleepy & forgetful tonight, so I'm sketchy on the details. The kind lady and her daughter (very kind too) are in another one of those pictures above.

A lane of her own

I forgot to mention it yesterday, but Priscilla stumbled upon the mother of all bike lanes. She was riding along a highway with a fairly large shoulder, which was rather nice and all, when she (and the cars-- boo, cars!) encountered some road construction. The cars all jammed up, and after a few minutes the active construction ended but the left lane (freshly resurfaced) was still blocked off for a several miles. As Priscilla passed the final construction worker (a flag lady), she gave a jaunty wave (maybe) and the flag lady motioned for her to ride in the left lane (definitely for real)! Oh, yes, she had that whole perfect lane all to herself before all the cars could come and scuff it up and leak toxic fluids on it. And you know how newly resurfaced roads have a bit of leftover tarry grit that kicks up and makes a prickly rain sound on your car? Can you imagine the sort of mess that must have made on Priscilla's gear? Except... when she set out that morning, the road ahead looked misty and drizzly, so she wrapped everything in plastic. It turns out it wasn't misty at all, but the plastic kept everything clean. So hooray for all that.

Today Priscilla might not have enjoyed a lane all to herself, but she did enjoy a thoroughly lovely day. She started a little late (11:45 or so-- she didn't say why, but we could pretend she was watching the soaps-- ha! What kind of friend am I? Spreading rumors about her watching soap operas... tsk tsk tsk). Her route was mostly along back roads, through woods, along rivers, under trees that are turning all sorts of colors. After a while she started to see signs that said "USA 10 kilometers" and then "USA 5 kilometers" and then "USA 600 meters" and then "USA 100 meters" and she got inexplicably excited. So much so that she even took pictures of the signs! Unfortunately, once she crossed the border (and that went fine-- unlike the ushers at the movies, the border guards were totally cool with her bringing in her own food), her phone lost all signal and hasn't had any since, so she can't share said pictures with us. Canada, she said, was positively swarming with signal. But Maine, not so much.

She carried on biking and eventually arrived at Lambert Lake, where she is spending the night with some very nice people who gave her dinner and use of their land line (thanks, people!). Tomorrow she plans to head out along Rte 6, through much more densely inhabited areas than originally planned (the original route had included a stay in a "town" that appears to consist of one road crossing another, but no actual houses or buildings or indications of human habitation), aiming to reach LaGrange tomorrow night.

The rain in Maine falls plainly...

"So, Priscilla, where are you now?"
"Ummmm....."

Well, she's either in Oromocto or Frederickton or Fred-something. What we can be more sure of is that she's staying in New Brunswick with some sweet souls, the sister & brother-in-law of one of the people in the picture to the right. The pictured people are Donna & David Watson, her hosts last night.

And just to be needlessly confusing, let's talk about her hosts from the night before: the five guys. It turns out that one (who's parents are the pictured people) of them biked across Canada (the whole thing) with his sister. So maybe he had some helpful tips for Priscilla-- she didn't tell me, and I didn't think to ask. Another one of the guys used to play street hockey with the kids in his neighborhood, and of those kids grew up and became the captain of some famous hockey team that recently one the Stanley Cup, or whatever very impressive Cup one dreams of winning in hockey. And another one grew up in the Yukon. As in tundra & taiga, polar bears, White Fang and abominable snowmen. I'm not sure if he personally encountered all of those, but his dad worked a trapline, so I'm sure the experience was sufficiently & authentically Yukon-ish. How cool is that?

So, today. As one might imagine, Priscilla biked! She also stopped every hour or so to give her bum a break from the bike seat and to fend off her ravenous appetite with a granola bar or peanut butter sandwich. Adventurous cyclists have to take the good with the bad-- sure, uncanny gut instincts and ...well, I was gonna say windswept hair, but their helmets kind of squash that, don't they? So yeah, gut instincts and grand adventures but also helmet head, callouses in rather unusual locations, and ravenous appetites. Today her ravenous appetite kept saying "Excuse me, dear girl, I seem to have developed a wee craving for pizza, or if not pizza, then some other bit of restaurant food to nibble on. Might you be willing to assist me?" For a ravenous appetite, hers is surprisingly polite. Well, Priscilla put the kibbosh on the pizza idea, but the idea of restaurant food made her mouth water a little. So you can imagine her delight when she learned that her hosts tonight have a bagel restaurant, and they even took her to it and treated her to a sandwich and soup for supper! They even gave her some bagels to take along tomorrow, as she sets out for Maine, where, as Eliza Doolittle can tell you, the rain falls plainly on the Spains!

Priscilla & God riding in New Brunswick

Today Priscilla woke up after a good night's sleep and said goodbye to her five kind hosts (Charles and David are in the picture with her). Many thanks, many hosts!

She pedaled 57 miles today, and probably didn't coast at all. I think it's partly because of that bike computer-- if you could find out your average speed for the day, and also your top speed, wouldn't you want to try to make it impressive? Maybe. Then again, she's never been much of a coaster... people are always trying to set their drinks on her, and she just pushes them off! Heh heh heh. "Put your dumb drinks on the table, people! Honestly!"


So anyway, this morning she met Harold, a fellow cyclist with reams of helpful information, including how to navigate the Moncton area. If you read his comment and follow his link, there's another photo of Priscilla in full biking regalia. Very cool-- thanks Harold!

She followed a lovely trail along the river, and stopped beside it to munch some lunch and be munched upon (by the slightly less lovely mosquitos). Amidst all the munching she met Kathy, yet another biker. Kathy was excited to hear about Priscilla's trip, and Priscilla was excited to hear about Kathy's planned trip (trans-Canada two years from now-- yowza!).

It rained a bit, wetting Priscilla but not her gear (those finicky New Brunswickian rain showers). Really, a delightful day's ride, rain included, and a wonderful time with God. Priscilla says thanks to everyone for their prayers!

She arrived safely in Petitcodiac (a charming town named in honor of its founding father's beloved, but rather small, pet Kodiak bear), where she is spending the night with David's parents. Tomorrow she plans to bike to Oromocto (so named because it's ridiculously fun to say "Oromocto," as well as fun to write on envelopes because you can turn the o's into little faces or eyes or something... too bad Chicago doesn't have more o's) and stay with David's mother's sister-in-law.

She crossed that bridge when she came to it.

First an email from Priscilla about this morning:

"I made it across the bridge and so did Woodrow on the shuttle.
I stayed in Mrs. Leary's yard last night.
She was very nice.
She offered me tea last night and we sat and chatted for a while.
Her son, Jeff, was there too and and it was fun.
I have a picture of her, but it's not very good ... sorry.

"It rained most of the night so I had a late start waiting for the tent to dry up enough to pack up.
"Woodrow is currently all loaded up again and waiting for me right outside the information center.
I will be on my way to Sackville in a few.
It's pretty windy here, so it's a good thing I only have about 40 miles to go.

"I got a map of New Brunswick.
I'll take a few minutes to study it and then be on my way.
I decided last night to take a different route than I had originally planned when still at home.
This way, however, I'll be going through more habited places.
Since not many people from Warm Showers have gotten back to me about staying with them, I would rather be near towns to camp in people's yards."

And now the rest of the day:

So Priscilla made it safely to Sackville, and once she figured out where she'd put the address of the Sackville person she planned to stay with, she rode over to his house. His name is David, and he lives with four other guys. They're all very nice, also Christians, and they take turns cooking. Tonight was Johnny's (one of those guys) birthday, so Martin (another one probably) made barbecue wings, lemon pepper wings, corn on the cob, mussels, and a traditional Canadian bread thing (right, I think that's the technical term). And David made a baked pumpkin cheese cake. It all sounds very tasty, doesn't it? I'm getting drool on the keyboard.

Speaking of tastiness, the other day Priscilla found raspberries growing alongside the road, and munched on those. Lucky girl.

On a not so tasty note: Priscilla's lunch today, which was leftover corn on the cob, soybeans, and peanut butter sandwiches. Edible, palatable but not quite up to tasty.

And for some thorough untastiness: Remember those cans of food Priscilla had transferred into baggies? It seems the plastic was a little less preserving, and so she inadvertently brewed a few batches of bean wine, corn wine, etc. Don't think there's much chance of marketing that, sadly.

Back to tastiness though-- fruit! She had some of that today, too. A pear and an apple to tide her over until supper, as biking against all that wind makes you hungry.

So tonight she's sleeping indoors, and her sleeping bag is in the dryer as I type. Tomorrow night she plans to stay in Petitcodiac, at the home of David's parents.

And that's about it.

Wait! I forgot! Remember how she was (hopefully) going to take advantage of the opportunity of a police escort across the PEI to New Brunswick bridge? Alas, the biker who told her about that was misinformed. Instead there's a shuttle set up to take bikers and pedestrians back and forth. You only get a "police escort" if you try to illegally walk or bike across the bridge without the shuttle. Then the police catch you and escort you to the shuttle, throw you inside, and send you across that way. So. She went to the shuttle place and waited. The shuttle driver walks in, looks at her, and says "you look cross." Actually, Priscilla was looking more shocked than anything. "What, I look cross?" she asked. And the driver replied "Yes, you do, and maybe you're looking to cross... the bridge... too." Priscilla burst out laughing, and from then on, they were friends. Which is almost as good as a police escort.

Raining frogs and toads

OK, so it's not Crapeau after all. It's actually Crapaud, which means toad, and is thus mildly funny, I guess. But still not nearly as fun as Crapeau. Maybe there's a giant statue of a toad in the middle of downtown Crapaud-- that would be edging towards moderately funny. "And here we have the celebrated statue of Horatio, the beloved pet toad of the founding father of Crapaud..." But Priscilla didn't specifically mention any statues or lack thereof.

She did mention that she attended a church service (in Cavendish). She arrived a little early, as she walked there with the church organist (the organist's dear husband Herb is still busy recovering from a knee replacement, and so he stayed at home with his beloved pet toad, who is called Adalbert). It seems it was quite a show (the church service, not the surgery).

After church she prepared to set out, first rain-proofing her gear as much as possible against the drizzly day. She prayed briefly about her ride south to Crapo, hopped on her bike (I mean, her trusty steed, Woodrow), and began pedaling. And almost immediately she stopped pedaling, because what to her wondering eyes should appear, but a visitors center! Which is always a treat, as not only does it offer copious quantities of colorful brochures, but it also has brand spankin' free internet access! Hooray! Priscilla checked her email, maybe perused the brochure selection a little, and headed back out. When she did so she ran into a girl named Lindsay, a fellow biker but... a biker with a car! And Lindsay was also headed south, and offered to give her a ride if Woodrow were able to fit in the trunk. He was, and off they went, Priscilla most grateful to be avoiding the rain and traveling in style. Thanks, Lindsay! And thanks for Lindsay, God!

Priscilla ended up going a little beyond old Toad Town, and will be setting off across the bridge to New Brunswick tomorrow. She sent the photos you see above, which are, starting at the top, the couple who own the Cavendish farm in whose orchard she camped last night, a house in Cavendish, Priscilla and Lindsay in front of a piece of the bridge (we're hoping that's an extra piece, or else a piece from over a very shallow bit of water-- also, notice the menacing grey clouds in the background), and a bit of PEI with the sea in the distance.

Eau crap!

In this photo we can see the charming Mooney family: Mervin, Theresa, and their little dog, Jake. They were Priscilla's hosts last night in Cavendish, PEI, and after Priscilla headed downstairs to her bedroom she overheard Mr. Mooney say to Mrs. Mooney, "Did you hear that? She was born in France!" Indeed she was, kind sir, indeed she was. I assume that Jake was just as welcoming and sweet-tempered as his owners-- Priscilla didn't really talk about him, but seriously, just look at that little dog's face! How could he not be nice?

Priscilla biked for about five hours today, and I forget how many miles she covered, but her total biking mileage is now at 501-- like the famous jeans, but I'm pretty sure she's not biking in Levis or any other kind of jeans. In fact, I'm pretty sure she didn't take any jeans along at all. Jeans or no jeans, 501 miles is pretty darn impressive, don't you think? It's also roughly 1/4 of her intended route. My own thighs just cower in fear when they hear about that much pedaling. I have to keep reassuring them that I have no intentions of ever making them work that hard. "It's okay, little thighs! You know I would never do that to you!" Hmmmm. Maybe hanging out in the apartment alone is getting to me after all. I didn't used to talk to my own legs, reassuringly or otherwise.

I'm not sure which town Priscilla is in tonight-- when we spoke she was on a pay phone and I was taking Roxanne for a walk (what else?), and it was hard to hear very well. But I did make out that she's camping in an orchard tonight at an old farm. The farmers seemed to think the whole thing was a little sketchy, but still gave her permission. She was planning to go back to the house and ask to borrow their bathroom, but wasn't sure what they'd think about that. Tomorrow she plans to bike just a little, maybe 20 miles or so, and stop in a town called Crapeau, which makes me laugh just a little bit. Maybe you, too.

Priscilla meets even more really lovely people

So Priscilla sent a few more details about yesterday.

Total distance covered: 94.06 miles

Total ride time: 8:39:43

Average speed: 10.99 mph

Maximum speed: 33.9 mph

And more about the yard in which she camped: after biking for ages and butt-numbing ages (she didn't complain or seem to see a problem with this-- that negativity is my own added slant), she decided to carry on to the town (I think) of Bible Hill, and specifically a street called Mulberry Terrace on the far side of the town so as to get a head start today.

When she actually reached Mulberry Terrace, it was growing dark and Priscilla was growing tired (ya think?!?), so she made up her mind to stop at the first house she found with a light on, knock on the door, and ask permission to camp in the yard and maybe use the bathroom. So she found a light, she stopped, she knocked...

Meanwhile, inside the very same house, the MacDonald/Comeau family was merrily going about their business (which, on this Thursday night, consisted of baths for the children, Nicholas and Lilly), when there was a knock at the door. Colin, their dad, went to the door and who should he find standing on the porch, but our very own Priscilla Driscoll! She explained her situation, and he invited her inside. Mary, their mom, sat Priscilla down to supper, put her dirty clothes in the wash, and lent her their internet connection.

Nicholas and Lilly were pretty excited about their unexpected visitor, and from her tent this morning Priscilla heard a small voice saying he wanted to see her again. She crawled out of the tent and looked up to find two little faces peering down from the window. As you can imagine, Priscilla felt very welcome and set out a little late but very cheerily for Pictou and Caribou and the ferry to Prince Edward Island.

Now, Priscilla doesn't have a GPS, and she doesn't wear a watch much, but she had checked the ferry schedule before leaving, and has some excerpts from a road atlas to find her way there, plus that famous gut instinct. So she had a general idea of which way to go, and she set out. Up some flat terrain, down some flat terrain, up some more flat terrain... it was fairly quiet for a long time. A smidge dull even, as the road was actually rather flat in the usual sense of the word, and stick straight, and the friendly trees were all back a ways from the shoulder, and so it was just the road alone for miles. And then, out of the blue, swarms of cars materialized What was this? A road rally? A funeral procession gone seriouly amok? Rush hour? Before Priscilla had a chance to find out, she was confronted with a dilemma. The road diverged, and it was really hard to tell which one was less traveled. There were signs, though, one indicating the way for pedestrians and one for vehicles. Priscilla looked at the signs, looked at Woodrow, and sighed. Such a tough little bike definitely qualifies as a vehicle. So she took off along the vehicle route, the flock of cars now lost in the distance ahead. She passed a little guard station or something, the guy sitting there waved her along, and soon she rode from the end of the road onto the ferry itself. It waited a minute for one last car (full of dawdlers, probably), and then set out for Prince Edward Island.


And it was free! But only in that direction. Why is that the case? It's not that hard to figure out, really. Obviously the current is very strong in that area, and flows in a Prince Edward Island-erly direction, so the ferryboat just floats on over and doesn't need a crew or fuel or anything. On the way back, however it must fight the current all the way to Nova Scotia, and you pay through the nose.


And guess what? Whales were sighted from the ferry en route (albeit not by Priscilla)! Just like in a National Geographic special or something... Priscilla did eventually sight land-- Prince Edward Island, to be exact, and you can sight it too if you scroll back up to the top of this post.


Upon arrival on PEI, Priscilla biked some more, this time on roads that are purported to be even flatter than those in Nova Scotia (yet she also pedaled up the steepest incline she's ever encountered... it's all very fishy). And she arrived in some town and began looking for a place to camp.


She saw a house that looked like a likely candidate, but noticed a car with Massachusetts plates in the driveway and changed her mind. So she crossed the road to knock on the door of a house over there, but no one answered. By this time the lady in the first house had noticed Priscilla traipsing around outside, so she came to the door and asked if everything was alright. Priscilla said that it was, and asked for permission to camp in the yard and use the restroom. The lady went in, checked with her husband, and then returned and invited Priscilla into the house. She and her husband showed Priscilla where to find a bathroom with a shower and brought her an egg salad sandwich, cranberry juice, and cake. A little later Priscilla was out in the yard, scouting out a campsite, when she was told not to worry about camping, and shown to a bedroom. She is probably asleep there right now, and should be waking bright and well-rested tomorrow morning, ready to explore PEI at last.

Nova Scotia = Flat

There's our pal with Gary & Janet Ness, her hosts for the past two nights, and a swell Nova Scotian couple if ever I've heard of one. Thank you dear Nesses for taking care of Priscilla!

This morning Priscilla saddled up her trusty steed and set off across the complete and utter flatness that is the hills of Nova Scotia. "It's all flat" all the locals told her, "Nova Scotia is nothing but flat roads and flat land and flat acres and hectares and square miles of flat." That was very sweet of them to warn her about those flat roads, and also quite refreshing to see such unanimity, the whole province uniting with one fierce cry ("It's flat, we tell you, perfectly flat!"), and yet...

Unbeknownst to them, and to Priscilla's vague dismay, there seems to have been a gentle earthquake while she was tying her shoes, and when she had finished and climbed onto her bike she found roads that went either clearly up or obviously down but were never remotely flat along 60 straight miles plus 2 hours more worth of miles. And those miles probably were more like twisty curvy miles, come to think of it. Flat. Pshaw. Well, maybe they meant flat as opposed to, say ribbed, like corduroy, or all cratery and pocked, like the moon (or the streets of Chicago). But in that case wouldn't "smooth" have got the idea across a little better? Or maybe today is one of those Canadian holidays we see referenced in tiny print in calendars, without really knowing what they're about, and this particular one is something like Opposite Day, or Pretend the Roads Are Flat Day, or Michael Flatley's The Spirit of Riverdance Day.

Naturally, after gliding along those lazy flat roads, Priscilla was pretty tired by the end of the day. She set up camp a little beyond Truro and is probably sound asleep now, dreaming of who knows what-- you can never tell with dreams, really. And lying quietly (one hopes) nearby is Woodrow. What? Whaddya mean, who is this Woodrow character? Why, only the silent-yet-indispensible companion for the entire trip, the Watson to Priscilla's Sherlock-- her bike! You didn't know her bike is called Woodrow?! Hmph. Well, I did. Oh yeah, I've known that for whole hours now. Yep, Priscilla and Woodrow, on the road to still more delightful adventures. Or they will be tomorrow at any rate.

9000 words and then some...

Priscilla spent today in Acadia. Above are the photos she took; below are excerpts from a couple of emails she sent. And a few links are at the bottom.

Here are some pictures of stuff that I saw today. In some of these, I'm sitting on the dikes. It's so great to see the work the Acadians did here. They built up the dikes and waited for the rain to wash the salt from the earth, leaving the soil super fertile. After riding on the dikes for a while, I ended up on a small country dirt road. As I biked around there, everything looked and smelled like Roynac, so strange. Then I finally came up on Grand Pre. There I first saw the church. It is a newer version of the chapel that once stood around there. Grand Pre is supposedly the home of Evangeline and her beloved Gabriel, made famous by Longfellow's poem. They, of course, are fictitious characters, but apparently some locals believe they were real. There is a museum in Grand Pre with a beautiful statue of Evangeline.

Here I'm at the embarkation point of the deportation. The point is called Horton Landing. The British marched all of the Acadian men a couple of miles to this point to put them on dinghies. They were then taken out to the ships waiting in the Minas Bassin (in the Bay of Fundy) that would take them away from their homes, wives, mothers, and children. I had studied it a little, but to see the places was an entirely different thing. After they took all the Acadian men away ... they also deported the women over the course of a few years. The Brits quickly realized how fertile the land was and brought in the Planters from New England to continue where the Acadians had been forced to leave off.

The tide around here goes up 15 meters, so all that wet reddish looking dirt behind me in the one picture is under water during high tide. Same with the rocks I'm standing on in another picture. The cross is a monument that was put up in 1920s to commemorate the events of 1755.

Anyway, my day was super good. So glad I took the time to do this. I plan to be on my way bright and early tomorrow. Oh yeah ... I also took the time today to lube my chain and adjust my saddle. Riding today definitely more pleasant.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acadians

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evangeline

http://www.acadian-home.org/evangeline-poem-1.html

When it wades, it pours.

So, last we knew, Priscilla was camping in a yard, right? Jennie and Kenny Wade's yard, to be exact. How about we send kind wishes to the Wades, to thank them? How about... "May you always have sunglasses when the sun is shining and an umbrella when it wades." Hmmm... sounds like we might have a little nasal congestion coming on.

Nevermind. Jennie & Kenny (mother & son) were very kind, and duly impressed by Priscilla's exciting escapades and daredevilish ways. Kenny even wondered if all Chicago girls are so audacious and brave (um, no, not so much, but some of us like to concoct audaciously bad puns-- does that count?). The Wades also had a nice dog "like a bigger (uglier) Roxanne, but totally tubby and with a weird growth on its head."

After enjoying their hospitality, Priscilla proceeded on her merry way. More precisely, she proceeded 37.37 miles of her merry route at an average speed of 12.9 miles per hour, which took (as most of you already know, having quickly calculated in your heads) two hours and 55 minutes. And that brought her to the home of the charming Ness family. They treated Priscilla to a yummy dinner (prepared over a stove that's larger than a baseball and not reliant on an old tea tin-- in the immortal word of Keanu Reeves in pretty much every movie he's ever been in, "Whoa!"), shared their internet connection, and invited her to sleep indoors in a bed!

The original plan was to go on to Truro tomorrow (say that ten times fast), but the Nesses convinced her to stay on an extra day. "Look how far you've traveled to get to Acadia!" they said, "Who knows when you'll ever come here again." And Priscilla nodded, because hey-- they're right! So the revised plan is to visit Grand Pre tomorrow, where there are old embarkation points from the Acadian deportation, and lots of farms on the dike-lands that the Acadians reclaimed from the sea. But I'm sure we'll learn more about that tomorrow.

We have a suspect...

Sarah the helpful sidekick is also a helpful sleuth, and she found what may very well be the culprit in the croc-eating caper. See for yourselves, folks!

News from another time (zone)

Priscilla woke up this morning from a peaceful night and sweet dreams, rested and raring to go. She cooked some oatmeal and brewed some tea in her tent, then went to say goodbye to Eddie and his sister, Lisa. They sent her on her merry way with cucumbers fresh from their garden (seriously, how lovely are these people?), and that was that.

On through Nova Scotia she rode, feeling almost as if she were in another time. Village after charming village, churchyard cemeteries, more villages, more cemeteries, apple trees growing along side the road, etc. She stopped to pick apples at one tree that was a little taller up close than it had looked from the road. She stretched, she reached, she hopped up and down, she lunged, she reached some more (much to the amusement of people driving by) ... and at long last grasped a branch. She pulled it down, plucked an apple off it, and was nearly pulled (by the branch) into the ditch. Close call. Later she found a friendly low-branched apple tree and stocked up (tasty apples, albeit occasionally wormy... the better to add some cheap protein, my dear!), and she also discovered that she has entered another time, or at least another time zone. Turns out she's two hours ahead of Chicago-- sneaky old Atlantic time or Greenland time or something.

Her knee has felt fine all day (yay!) and she's been zipping along at a quick clip-- up to 40.2 miles per hour, even! So fast that she reached today's goal, Bridgetown, right after lunch, and ended up biking a bit further to get a head start on tomorrow's ride. And now she's camped out in some other nice Nova Scotian's yard, probably sound asleep and dreaming about the open road.

She still forgets to stretch after riding-- I was supposed to ask y'all to pray about that yesterday too (in my defense, I did remember about her knee). So you can pray about it today, and thanks for praying for her knee!

Foxes and Crocs

Another correction: Priscilla did not sleep in an official campground last night. She had planned to, but the hilliness and windiness of Nova Scotia prevented her from riding all the way to Church Point and its charming campground. Instead, in some other random-but-lovely town, after asking advice from the friendly locals, she pitched her tent and slept on the beach. It was a wild, windy night. She awoke in the middle to the irate yelling of a man nearby who was upset with his girlfriend (the girlfriend had a quiet voice, or else was on the other end of a telephone, as Priscilla didn't hear a peep from her... of course, we're giving noisy man the benefit of the doubt in assuming his girlfriend really exists-- we can't really be sure). She awoke a little later to find that she'd camped at low tide, and the high tide mark was a little too close for full comfort (but not close enough to soak her, which is nice).

And then she awoke bright spanking early in the morning to find that some wily fox had rifled through her stuff, looking for whatever it is foxes want (I don't know from foxes). Priscilla, undaunted by the nosy beast, cooked up some breakfast and ate while various passersby stopped to make sure that she'd slept okay, offered use of the their bathrooms, invited her for tea, etc. And then she began packing up and discovered what it is that foxes do want: foxes want Crocs! This fox had taken one of hers some distance away and chewed off the strap. I find this rather ironic, don't you? You'd think a fox, of all creatures, would have better taste in shoes.

The rest of the morning was spent attempting to attend a Sunday service (which didn't work out so well), going grocery shopping, and biking the remaining ten miles to Church Point. There she charged her phone by an Acadian French school... where the lessons are in Acadian French and nearly unintelligible to speakers of French de France (like Priscilla). I forgot to ask how she knows this-- presumably school isn't in session on Sunday, even in Canada. Right?

After that-- twenty more miles to Plympton, where she's spending the night (really). A nice gentleman named Eddie allowed her to set up camp in his yard, take a shower in his bathroom, wash her clothes, etc. Eddie works with wood, and showed Priscilla how he'd completely remade the inside of his house. While touring, Priscilla noticed heaps of wine-making equipment. She asked about it and found that Eddie makes wine too (blueberry and raspberry), and so they had a fine time discussing wine-making, and he let her sample his blueberry wine (she says it's tasty). And then he invited her to borrow his computer, which she did, and that's how I got the info tonight. Thanks Eddie!

Feel free to text Priscilla if it's free for you (it's free for her to receive them), and pray for her right knee as it's a little sore.