PEI 14 - Good things come in large packages

Day 9
Wednesday, July 27, 2016

If you look at a map of Prince Edward Island you can see roughly three sections somewhat equal in size - an eastern chunk, a northwestern chunk, and the middle. The Confederation Bridge, where we started our tour, is on the southern shore of the middle chunk. Our plan was to ride around the island in two weeks. But then we threw in three days going to Les Isles de la Madeleine. Oops! Now it was Wednesday of the second week and we had to be in our car, driving home, by noon on Monday. 

We'd completed less than half of the middle piece and not quite the entire eastern chunk.  We have five-and-a-half days to finish. We were eager to put in a high mileage day so we set our sights on Cabot Beach Provincial Park, about 80 miles down the road.

The problem was, whenever we stay at a B & B, there's no way we're going to miss out on that second "B." Breakfast wasn't served until 8 o'clock, so forget about an early start. Fresh fruit and warm scones, made-to-order eggs, who cared what time we got on the road? Even so, we made sure everything was packed and ready to go when we sat down to breakfast.

We got started by 9:20 and had fast riding (even on our full stomachs) on a busy road with a wide, smooth shoulder. Then we rode along the National Shore on a paved bike path, passing cyclists out for a leisurely ride and pedestrians carrying their beach chairs and other sunbathing paraphernalia. Unlike the Confederation Trail, this was a pleasant ride.

That's the coastal bike path. Sand dunes and beaches are to the right.

We stopped at Brackly Beach for lunch and a swim.

That may have been our downfall. We still had 40 miles to go but the easy morning riding had lulled us into complacency. 

Prince Edward Island is a remarkable place for bicycling. Reasonably flat with gentle, rolling hills; well-maintained roads with either good shoulders or courteous traffic or both. We cycled past fields of hay bales, canola, and potatoes in full bloom stretching out to the ocean. We found good food and friendly people in small towns and farm stands along the way.

Then we arrived at the northern shore of the Central Coastal Drive, home of a multitude of beaches, Prince Edward Island National Park, Anne of Green Gables, and thousands of tourists and their cars. Shortly after leaving Brackly Beach we got on a road that was a cyclist's nightmare. Narrow, no shoulder, and cars whizzing by. It was enough to make us stop and study our map for an alternate route. We'd seen enough of the northern coastline.

And, sure enough, I studied the map and, "There's a road that will take us straight across to where we're going." And cut off some miles as an added bonus.

That was when we found the hills of Prince Edward Island. Ten miles later, we were toast.

Can you see that hill coming up?
There's another one after it.
And another...

We arrived at the end of our detour and stopped at what looked like a little cafe with some outdoor seating. But the cafe was more of a high-end bistro and the staff inside were busy with preparations for the evening meal. It was still early for dinner and we were the only customers. They had a cooler stocked with drinks. 

I was taken aback by the price of the drinks - seven dollars for a soda and a chocolate milk. And I was taken aback by the proprietor, a very large man with a very large presence that I found intimidating. Casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he was supervising the young adults who were busy chopping up vegetables. He took up about half the space of the small interior. And he wanted to know, where had we come from and where were we going?

"Well, we were hoping to get to Cabot Beach, but I'm not sure we're going to make it."

As we were heading outside to enjoy our drinks on the deck, he handed each of us a bunch of tiny grapes - champagne grapes. A small gesture that was largely appreciated. I'm not especially fond of grapes, but these burst with flavor and energy. I savored each one.

Rob and I discussed our options. We had about 20 miles to go if we were going to stick with our original plan. Rob said, "No way," so we looked for the closest campground. There was a private one about five miles away in Cavendish, where all the tourists hang out. It was in the opposite direction of where we were going, but it was only five miles. As we were discussing these options, the proprietor came out and said, "If you want, I can throw your bikes in my truck and take you to the campground in Cavendish."

This man had a heart bigger than himself. 

62 miles averaging 10.89 mph. The riding was great. Until it wasn't.