Traveling, with luck!

One version of luck is that God has given you a break.  I have had many miles these last few days along the southern half of the Cote du Nord to reflect on our luck.  Here I sit today, in Chicoutimi, Saguenay, on the last biking day of this trip, feeling quite lucky.

We were lucky to make all our ferry connections, including the final one up the fjord to Sainte Rose du Nord, a small, quaint village nestled into a hollow valley between high steep hills, reminiscent of the rural sections of the Appalachians.  Indeed, it was suggested that if the fog was too thick, the ferry would not run from St. Barbe to Blanc Sablon, that would have caused us to miss this entire Cote du Nord stretch for want of the next Bella Desgagnes ferry one a week hence.

We were lucky to have seen so much music on this trip, more than any other, and quite unexpectedly.  Yesterday, as we were checking into the Gite au Jardin Potager in Sainte Rose du Nord, a couple of gentlemen standing in the small front hallway spoke English, and suggested there would be music tonight - at 9:30 - in the tent.  We soon came to realize that we arrived in this village during the Festival of the Artisans, and were treated to two concerts: a local folk-ish group from Chicoutimi (our final destination today), and then these five fellow guests at the Gite - Les Charbonniers - a sensational five-person Quebec based a capella group formed in the 1990's with a very powerful, perfectly timed rhythm and blended voice.  Incorporating two sticks and drumming feet on a board for the percussion, this group ran through 60+ minutes of pure vocal energy.

Les Charbonniers a capella group playing in Sainte Rose du Nord

How would we have even come to know "mummers" in Woody Point, or a "kitchen party" in Rocky Harbor, or an Acadian vocalist in the church at Riviere de Tonnera, or a local open mike session in Port au Choix, featuring a couple playing much traditional Newfie music?  And what of the Saguenay International Rythym of the World  festival in Chicoutimi, featuring a young, award winning Latin jazz fusion group El Son Sono, lead by a brother and sister team on guitar and vocals, respectively.  Dancing in the streets!

What luck!

Ahh, but there is so much else, the small things that happen on such a trip, the biggest of which is being lucky enough to even make such a trip.  Of my body still able to handle the rigors (for I don't know how long). Of not having any accidents or mishaps given the number of miles on roads with little or no shoulder and trucks rumbling by.  Of not getting sick from drinking bad water - the potential certainly existed in a few places. But speaking of water, seeing so many waterfalls along the way that one took them for granted, except perhaps, the giant Manitou Falls and those towering cascades in Western Brook in Gros Morne National Park.

The Chute - the second of two successive waterfalls 

Wildlife is hard to see by bicycle. I was lucky to see two moose, even though everybody warned of the moose in Newfoundland - one cow that was standing roadside as I rounded an uphill curve, unable to get  its picture before it wandered into the bush.  And of wildlife, lucky to not have been spiked by several porcupines, nor struck by an angry kildeer, dive bombing me with an angry squawk as its little chick was scampering across the road. 

Lucky to hold this little fella, who was dizzy from striking a window
in St. Anthony.  We talked for awhile - chickadee whisperer!

Moose kill a lot of drivers in Newfoundland - and vice versa!

Of riding 15 days predominantly with tailwinds, and a few kilometers and one full day into the wind, beating the expected odds of headwinds along the entirety of the Cote-du-Nord!  Of Nelson, our cabbie, who showed up in Sept Isle in his Toyota cab, saw our bikes, and went home and got his own pickup to haul us 30+ miles down the road in a rain storm.

Of rolling to a bicycle shop in Baie Comeau, a fine small town with a great brewery, just as my pedal fell apart, which would have been an unexpected disaster - easily replaced so the trip could continue.  After all, there were only three bicycle shops on the entire stretch, near the beginning and two near the end.  And certainly, at least for me, only one flat before the first kilometer could be recorded (Richard had 4 in one day, but none hence).

That pedal has thousands of miles on it - poor fella!

What luck to stop for a moment at the main church in Les Bergeronnes, constructed in 1915, open, yet empty but for a church member/docent who could speak English well enough to give me a personal tour and history of this grand wooded edifice, including the old theater pipe organ purchased in the 1950's from an American theater in Philadelphia that now graces the sanctuary.

The Church of Our Lady of Good Desire in Les Bergeronnes
(Eglise de Notre Dame du Bon Desir)

My tour guide, delighted I was an  architect with whom he could
share the history and details of changes made over the years.

1950's Theater Organ

And speaking of humanly encounters, I would be remiss in not expressing our good luck in meeting so many people along the way, something that happens a lot on a bicycle. Most especially to Clara, who is still riding somewhere in eastern Canada and gives us updates.  To Christine and Nathalie, with whom a bottle of wine was split on their deck, just talking, watching for whales.  To our cabbies who spread their knowledge.  To the fisherman who gave us his story behind his fish house, and so many others.

 

Chatting with a fisherman along the way.

Christine and Nathalie - from Montreal

To Clara - wherever you are - grinding up those hills in flip flops!

And what luck, after seeing piles of tourists in Tadoussac, the first real quaint, yet touristy destination of our trip, piling into whale watching tour boats, to have Captain Keith give us a personal tour of the bay in St. Lunaire-Griguere, and get close to the whales in his small homemade 12 person launch.

Cap'n Keith - what a highlight you provided in your little launch!

What luck that we didn't have to sleep outside with no equipment, that all of our reservations came through without a hitch, even having navigated many of them in French.  The potential for a surprising error was certainly possible.

Or that we found food when we needed it, and never pulled out the first aid kit.  And of the food, the luck of experiencing some great (and not so great) traditional fare - French: meat pies and salmon pies, and Newfie: dried capelin, Newfie steak (bologna), brewis (fish and hard tack), bakeapples (not apples but single berries from a ground hugging, abundant plant), Cod tongues (yes, just as it sounds), and jiggs dinner (boiled salt beef and root vegetables).  And anywhere, abundant seafood (mainly cod and halibut), seafood soups and any manner of crustaceans and shellfish.  Not to mention the great luck in discovering some great ale's!

St. Pancrace Brown Ale - the best!  Especially with 1960's James Brown tunes
to accompany every swallow

Dried Capelin and deep fried Cod tongues

And what luck that I rode ahead of Richard most times, and that he was there to pick up that which I dropped: an inner tube case and one sandal that had fallen off unbeknownst to me.  And what luck that Richard was able to retrieve his cell phone in the car from his housemate Abby in time before we even took off from the airport on this trip, without knowing her phone number!  (thanks for taking our call for help, Carmen!).

Dare'nt I dwell on the bad luck of the trip?  The weather?  The crushing climbs?  The aches and pains?

No, that is expected on a bicycle trip - it's the law of averages at work.  Bad luck is just an opportunity to find good luck in its place.

Luck is truly a product of the unexpected, and this trip had so much of that as to dwarf those soggy climbs.

The end of the ride!  Lucky to be here.

The Value of Roads?

One would think that, with the only access to a seacoast village to be by boat before ice comes in, that a village would be lacking in services, lacking in basic supplies, even perhaps lacking in vibrancy.  That is not the case for many of the towns, including Harrington Harbor, one of many stops found along the roadless portion of  the Cote-du-Nord, the north shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

View of Harrington Cove from the water reservoir

First settled as a fishing station by the indigenous peoples, it was formally settled as a village in 1871 by the relocation of a few southwest Newfoundland families to the cove and adjacent islands, likely spurred by diminished fishing at the time off the Newfie coast, and now numbering over 300 people.

The only church - Anglican of course - built on the rock.

Like all the Cote du Nord villages, fishing is the prime occupation.  To assure sustainability, this community developed its own cooperative processing plant.  There is a welding shop, a small grocery store with some produce, a liquor store, school and a hospital with a helipad, started in 1906 as one of the Grenfell Association’s regional medical stations for fishermen.  Water comes from a small, dammed holding pond above the harbor, with 5 “filling stations” where residents can connect to fill their own reservoirs in their houses.

The "roads" of Harrington Cove

And there are no local roads.  Literally situated on a large rock outcropping, the structures are connected instead by a boardwalk system spanning between outcroppings of rock, started in the 1960’s, and now used as the “roadway” for pedestrian and ATV travel.  The main wharf, hosting a small fleet of local fishing boats and a docking station for our freighter/passenger ferry, the Bella Desgagnes, is also clogged with ATV’s when the ship arrives, picking up or dropping off goods or passengers.  The ATV is really an all-purpose, all-season vehicle that enables a measure of freedom.  The boardwalks are the roads.

The wharf when the ship comes in

I paid a visit to Paul’s Workshop.  His door open, I poked my head in and was warmly invited to see this incredible man-cave of a wood shop, complete with all manner of machines, most purchased used and reconditioned.  Retired at 58, he previously owned the liquor store with his brother, which enabled his retirement. He spends summers in the village making things for people, including wooden spoons and such, and demonstrated his homemade “spoon horse”, a device with all apparent appearance of a child’s toy horse, but with a foot operated clamping device to secure the spoon while carving.  In winter, he heads inland to his cabin, cuts wood and carves.  Having built his own workshop structure, he also has his own sawmill for board lumber, and works to restore old woodworking machines.  Somewhat incredulous at the nature of his operation, his resourcefulness, and his retirement at such an early age, he simply commented that he doesn’t spend much, doesn’t need much, and enjoys what he does.

Paul's Workshop

Quite a complete shop

Paul showing me his "carving horse"

    

I think that is likely a similar refrain of the other 299 people, and so many more along the Cote-du-Nord.

The small sign in the window reads:
"One thing I never have to worry about around here is competition"

Back on the ship, sailing for the next port of call, I considered the impact of no roads.  When asked when, if ever, Route 138 would be completed, Tanya, our hostess at Motel Blanc Sablon, expressed her strong doubts, since most of these villages are English speaking and of English descent (migrants from Labrador, Newfoundland and Prince Edward Island) and the government of Quebec has not made it a priority to link their French culture with these English settlers.  Whether or not this is true, these people have adapted to this way of life very well over the past 150 years – the villages attest to this.  They have a remarkable sense of community, they have what they need and want (or so it appears to an outsider). 

But as I sat on the foredeck in the afternoon sun, I considered the impact of the eventual completion of Route 138 on these towns, from Kegaska to Vieux-Fort/Blanc Sablon, Quebec.  It would certainly enable more independence of movement, less dependence on a weekly freighter, and likely lower the cost of living for these villages, provided fishing remains the primary source of industry.  But what might be really imperiled is not the town, but the deck of this very ship that I now enjoy, departed for lack of passengers and freight who choose instead to drive the route.  Over our collective world history, roads have been the economic engine of a region’s development and a way to connect communities, whether by horse, wagon or automobile.

I love ships.  Might I be experiencing some future nostalgia for the present journey?   

I will enjoy it while it lasts.

The Bella Desgagne docked - one of many stops along the Cote-du-Nord

Defining the Perfect Ride

No two riders could describe the same perfect ride, but I am sure we could all agree on certain aspects of a perfect ride.

However, are we speaking of a single ride over a relatively short distance – say an hour or an afternoon?  Are we speaking about the entirety of an adventure: the good + the bad + the experience = a perfect ride?  Therein lies the judgment.

Departing Gros Morne, we experienced some rain, overcast and a tailwind to Daniels Harbor, partially along the coastline.  This gray theme was becoming too redundant. Riding further to Port-aux-Choix (meaning “port of choice” – three small harbors around which the town was constructed) was an evolving rolling landscape, picturesque in its own right with the sun desperately trying to chase the clouds away – succeeding for only a few hours in the afternoon, until we turned west to the Port, itself soaked in a thick bank of fog, unable to truly appreciate the splendid, treeless peninsula which we rode across to get to the town. But with a tailwind, anything is possible!

Chasing the clouds 

Departing Port-aux-Choix the next morning, still hung over with clouds, we traversed a “shortcut” along the shoreline, a beautiful, quiet, un-maintained gravel road through the space between the higher ground and shoreline, as the sky became gradually thinner.  And within a few miles after re-connecting on Route 430, we were riding in sunshine along a perfect shoreline for many miles, able to see and hear the waves crashing the rocks – with a perfect tailwind.  With a divergent course a bit inland to skirt a large bay, we hit the gently rolling hills with abundant sunshine, until we could spot the lighthouse in Flowers Cove, our stop for the day. This is the kind of ride that makes one giddy – a top ten ride for me.

The road best traveled - Flowers Cove to  Eddies  Cove

And it didn’t end there.  From Flowers Cove to Eddies Cove, a distance of about 20 to 30 miles, we were riding the shore under a crisp, clear blue, nearly cloudless sky, cool temperatures, with a beautiful tailwind, and the coast of Labrador visible to the west across the Strait of Belle Isle.  Thinking it was all over when we had to cross the highlands of the upper Newfoundland Peninsula, it was instead a beautiful run through this unique landscape – like an open tundra plain, with groves of short spruce, vast bogs and exposed rock plates.  And a tailwind.

The highland plains

The plains gave way to hills on the east side of the peninsula, hills that can punish the weary by their short steepness, but can nevertheless stimulate for the views and the thrill of the descent, but not always wind aided on this eastern coast.  We rolled into St. Lunaire-Griguet, a small town with a big heart, with one final climb.

But must the perfect ride be on a bicycle?

Consider our fate the next morning.  After getting to know the proprietor of a tiny local seafood restaurant for dinner (the Daily Catch), he indicated the potential for a whale tour the following morning at 9:00, originating out of his general store less than a mile down the hill toward the waterfront.  Now, our previous experience in a tour boat a few days ago – Western Brook fjord in Gros Morne - was a crowded affair where we were basically stuck with the spot we claimed when we boarded.  Today, Captain/Owner Keith (Iceberg Alley Boat Tours)  with his small, speedy hand-built launch, capable of seating 12, did this morning accommodate only Rich and myself for a personal tour of the bay and further into the Atlantic, under perfect skies and light winds, where we witnessed the rise and fall of many whales breaching the surface, along with a school of dolphins, and a visit to a ghost town vacated not so very long ago., but crumbling quickly under this punishing climate. There could not have been a more perfect ride!   But sadly, my one ambition to see icebergs melted away, literally, for we were but a few weeks late for the last of them (late April thru June, the sea is full of them, known here as Iceberg Alley).

This shot was a fluke!

 

And they got pretty close!

Surveying the cove at St. Lunaire

We then proceeded about 10km north to visit the object of our entire trip – the very tip of Newfoundland – L’Anse aux Meadow (this whole area is known as Vinland) - the site of a proven Viking settlement approximately 1000 years ago set on a treeless plain with the Atlantic unfolding to the north.  Dispatched by Leif Ericksson from Greenland, a group of 60-90 people “discovered” North America well before Columbus.  I guess for me, this was one of the older construction sites in the continent, aside of course from those settlements of native peoples, and worthy of a visit to put our location into a historical time-and-place perspective.  One could easily imagine the challenges life brought them for the relatively few years the settlement existed.

One of the original long house foundations - the slight mounded earth

Reflecting on this distant past, we rolled down to St. Anthony, the terminus of our visit to Newfoundland, and the start of our next journey to Quebec.

But that other perfect ride?  

A taxi with cabbie Preston giving us some cultural rendering of “Newfunders”, the absence of certain consonants in their pronunciation guide (“h” least prevalent), driving us back to fog bound St. Barbe for the short ferry crossing the Strait of Belle Isle to Blanc Sablon, on the Quebec/Labrador border, avoiding a wicked headwind across the headlands, and enabling our timely ferry connection. 

Main Street in Flowers Cove - the kind of stuff seen on a perfect ride

So what exactly was the perfect ride?  Bicycling along the coast? The highlands? The great weather (for the most part)?  The entirety of the four days from Port-aux-Choix to St. Anthony featuring great weather, scenery and cultural experience?  The taxi, whale boat or ferry rides?

For us, it is ALL part of the perfect ride.  But what all bicyclists can possibly agree upon is the impact of one singular aspect of a great ride – a tailwind!

Result of a good tailwind!