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.