Sunday, July 24, 2016
Sunday began with breakfast overlooking the ocean. No roaring surf, just the quiet lapping of the water.
Rather than ride hard just to say we'd been to all the islands, we decided to meander around the islands close by, exploring the backroads, harbors, beaches, and any other tourist delights that we could find.
Mostly we tootled around the island of Havre Aux Maisons. Literally that means "haven to houses." With very few trees on the island, what you notice is the colorful houses. We saw no lavish mansions, just simple, well-cared for homes.
After dumping everything into the washing machine Rob and I wandered over to the small public beach adjoining the campground. Skirting around the sunbathers we walked the stretch of sandy beach that extended about a half mile, finding colorful bits of sea glass, lightweight souvenirs we could easily tuck into our panniers.
In the other direction, the beach meandered among red rocky cliffs before quickly coming to a dead-end. We found a quiet spot to swim in the clear, calm water, surprisingly warm this far north.
One of my pleasures after coming out of the water is having a dry, clean towel to wrap myself in. Not today; my towel was in the washing machine. I dripped uncomfortably as we made our way back to the shower house.
Clothes in the dryer, I got myself a shower. Still no towel, I stood outside in the sun, reading a magazine. It was kind of like watching a pot boil; it took a lot longer than you'd think to get dry. Then again, I didn't have anything else I had to do.
Rather than ride hard just to say we'd been to all the islands, we decided to meander around the islands close by, exploring the backroads, harbors, beaches, and any other tourist delights that we could find.
Mostly we tootled around the island of Havre Aux Maisons. Literally that means "haven to houses." With very few trees on the island, what you notice is the colorful houses. We saw no lavish mansions, just simple, well-cared for homes.
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| Even the birdhouses are cherished. |
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Clotheslines are another sight more common than in the US.
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| A few more pictures from the day's riding. |
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| We ate lunch at the end of this pier. |
We returned to our campsite by mid-afternoon. Rob was keen to find the microbrew he heard was nearby. But almost a week into our trip clean clothes had a higher priority. There were washers and dryers in the shower house.
When packing for a bicycle trip the goal is minimalism. A couple sets of riding clothes and we'll want comfortable clothes for when we aren't riding, a sweater, and rain gear. Just a few pairs of socks and underwear, and a towel.
We'll wear one set of riding clothes for several days before switching to our other set and then feel fresh and clean for the first few hours of cycling. I'll hand wash a few things at night and strap them onto the top of my panniers to dry, if there's enough sun. Yes, even bras and underwear are tucked discreetly under a bungie cord.
We'll wear one set of riding clothes for several days before switching to our other set and then feel fresh and clean for the first few hours of cycling. I'll hand wash a few things at night and strap them onto the top of my panniers to dry, if there's enough sun. Yes, even bras and underwear are tucked discreetly under a bungie cord.
But soon I can only take so much of putting on the same sweaty clothes every morning. And sometimes even my after-riding clothes start to smell. In that case, what can I wear while my clothes are spinning, rinsing and drying? My bathing suit, of course!
After dumping everything into the washing machine Rob and I wandered over to the small public beach adjoining the campground. Skirting around the sunbathers we walked the stretch of sandy beach that extended about a half mile, finding colorful bits of sea glass, lightweight souvenirs we could easily tuck into our panniers.
In the other direction, the beach meandered among red rocky cliffs before quickly coming to a dead-end. We found a quiet spot to swim in the clear, calm water, surprisingly warm this far north.
One of my pleasures after coming out of the water is having a dry, clean towel to wrap myself in. Not today; my towel was in the washing machine. I dripped uncomfortably as we made our way back to the shower house.
Clothes in the dryer, I got myself a shower. Still no towel, I stood outside in the sun, reading a magazine. It was kind of like watching a pot boil; it took a lot longer than you'd think to get dry. Then again, I didn't have anything else I had to do.
Laundry finished, we had dinner, and then set out for the microbrew A l'Abri de la Tempete - In the Shelter of the Storm. We sat outside enjoying a beer on the deck overlooking sand dunes and the ocean. Then we checked out an outdoor concert in the little town of Etang du Nord where we found a soft-serve ice cream stand that offered a large array of dipped toppings. The concert was not nearly as remarkable as the dark chocolate dip I had on top of my vanilla cone.
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| We enjoyed the local beer with the local view - ocean and sand dunes. |
Those houses are adorable. I want one.
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