Corner Brook, Beyond, and Back

Greetings blog readers! We finally are able to make a post and we thank you for your patience. So many things have happened at this point that it makes little sense to follow the strict chronological method we were employing before, so we'll tell you some stories, and then do some posts in a slightly different fashion. Last we left you we were on our way to Corner Brook.

As you may have guessed, we made it just fine. Upon arriving we found it to be quite a lovely little town with a nice coffee shop and bike store, both of which were of use to us. We whiled away the hours and enjoyed the fact that we had only had to go down the hills in what was a town that appeared to be steeper than San Francisco.

We also attempted to contact someone we had found on couchsurfing.com. No luck but we found a lovely camp site that night along the bay.


We enjoyed Corner Brook so much that we had a hard time tearing ourselves away the next day.

We lounged around our camp site and read.



Dominic and Gretta developed a mutually beneficial headrest system.

And we also enjoyed some live music at the park downtown. Dominic and Gretta tore up the rug, as is their custom. On their way back from the stage...


The day was relaxing and rejuvenating and we did finally make contact with Ryan from couchsurfing. He graciously hosted us, and we had a wonderful time with him, even though we had to climb the steepest hill so far this trip to get to his house. 20-30 minutes of cranking non-stop. We slept in beds, took showers, and did laundry all for the first time on the whole trip. Awesome...

Ryan, who is originally from Portland, OR, left early in the morning for an exam--Corner Brook has a university--and Nick snapped a picture of him on the way out. Coffee in hand. Thanks Ryan for the hospitality. We needed it!


We needed it because we had big plans, and like the rest of them so far, none of them involved showers or laundry any time soon. From Corner Brook, we were off to Gros Morne National Park and, if all went to plan, well beyond there.

We Interrupt This Blogcast...

to aplogize for our lack of posts. We are going through a long patch of relative disconnection--no computers or fast Internet for many days now. Nick has been able to check email and type a thing or two from his iPod (also the reason we are able to make this post) but we have not been able to hook up our camera or do any real typing for quite some time. This is the risk you run when navigating remote areas, but rest assured, the stories are all that much the better for it, and we'll start getting them to you at our earliest convenience. In the meantime, onward ho!

7am Naps: A Battle of Wills

We got up at the ridiculous hour of 6 am to see our friend off, but secretly all knew riding was out of the question. We did actually start riding shortly thereafter, but only because we were totally out of water. We rode 7 km, and just when we caught sight of Aaron, a stream stopped us in our tracks. It quenched our palates, provided liquid for breakfast (oatmeal and hot chocolate), and provided an excuse for Dominic to try and slip in a nap. Not the most comfortable of settings...


A nap at 7am was absurd to Gretta's way of thinking, so she took it upon herself to foil Dominic's plan. This would require some energy, however, which, we have learned, is mostly quickly derived by taking a hit off the old maple syrup bottle.

Dominic, in a more comfortable spot back up the by the highway, was determined. Who would win this battle of wills?

Looks like Dominic. Corner Brook was 60 km away...would we make it?

Bringing Someone Home from the Bar...the Gas Bar, That Is

Our style of travel has been, thus far, chaotic, to say the least. Erractic and unpredictable are also words that come to mind. Nick and Dominic learned on their first bike trip 10 years ago, that planning a route is all but impossible. It goes like this:

Rise, eat, look at map, decide a direction, ride generally that way, eat, coninue riding, eat, consult map, ride, eat, etc. Eventually it starts to get dark, or you get tired, and you look for a place to sleep, wherever you may be at that time.

In this fashion, we have run into many nice people along the way, in towns, at grocery stores, along country roads...but not so many bikers. Indeed, spread out along our respective ways, camping where night falls on us, rather than in a hostel with fellow adventurers...it doesn't make for good networking.

But there is one thing that brings us bikers together--our appetites. In country like this, where big distances separate the towns and gas stations, or "gas bars," as they are called here, stopping at every single one would not be that crazy. Just like for motorists, gas bars provide fuel to help us keep moving. Grab the fattiest, chocolatiest, sweetest concoction you can find on the shelf and "throw it in the furnace," as Gretta says. "It all gets burned up anyway."

We were ahead of our budget on day two, so we filled our bellies in a roadside restaurant/gas bar, then sauntered over to the convenience store side to see what else we could jam down our gullets. And this is when we met our first touring friend. He too had a hankering for some fuel.

Aaron, we would later learn was his name, had biked all the way from Vancouver, B.C., and was on his way home to St. John's, on the east coast of Newfoundland. We shared stories about past adventures, he good-naturedly cracked jokes about us being American, and we happily rode together in this fashion until the afternoon came, and we grew tired. 80 km, a new record, was child's play for Aaron, who had biked over 5,000 miles so far, and routinely surpassed 150 km a day (that's almost 100 miles). But Aaron, the smart biking Canadian that he is, knew that time horizons (apparently now preferred to the term timetables) are a bunch of a hogwash, so he joined the hunt for a spot to camp. We found a road to a powerline that looked promising. Here it is, with a strange setting on my camera that made everything look yellow. (It's actually all green this time of year.)

We played cards that evening, fended off mosquitoes (we were not as successful as we thought, we'd learn the next morning), ate a huge pot of quinoa, split pea soup, (pre-dinner and post-dinner were candy bars and P.B.&J mixed with Texas Hold 'Em, a trail mix Aaron had bought while in the States) and had ourselves a grand time.

Biking in Newfoundland

Channel-Port aux Basques, where the ferry arrives in Newfoudland (pronounced noo-fund-LAND, we'll have you know!) was a charming little town. The foliage is quite strange however, with small shrubberies and tundra-like bushes (no trees) set on top of what appears to be an endless marsh. Where it isn't rock, that is.

We were sad to leave this small town after only a night (we arrived at 11:30 pm--at 1.5 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, it is North America's latest time zone), but the open road was calling our name. And the open road we got.

Blessed Monotony

We were afforded something now that we had still not achieved the whole trip--the trance-like state of pain-free, worry-free cycling. With the wind at our backs, we cruised right along, matching our distance the first day, but this time without any crippling injuries.

We did, or course, have a few stops on the way, including a lake to bathe ourselves in and do a little laundry. The wind alone would have been enough for quick air drying--indeed, tractor trailers are regularly blown over through this section of highway, we were told by several people (don't worry parents, that's only in the spring and fall). But this did not stop Dominic from a little air drying in his own, energetic way.

And there was the occasional fine-tuning of the bikes.

The afternoon came, and we began the daily routine of finding a place to camp. The night before had been on top of a hill with a radio tower overlooking Port aux Basques. This time we found a lovely spot down the old abandoned highway to set up camp.

And then the sun set. 60 km of injury-free riding. What more could you ask for?

The Choice Was Clear

It has been several days since posting and again, we have been through adventures a many. We left you all last time with the perplexing riddle of where we were headed next. If you zoomed in on the map of North Sydney and saw the ferry lines headed for Newfoundland, you were on the right track! Thus, to stay true to the newfie part of our web address, we hit up the ferry to head out on the horizon.

But before we could do so, we just had to try the pizza from North Sydney's highly recommended pizza joint on the corner (forgot the name already). But wait, we wouldn't it be great to have pizza on the ferry? In our world, food is paramount, so busting out a delivery-style pizza on the 6-hour ferry ride would make us the envy of everyone on the boat. We still had most of the afternoon to wait, so this plan would require planning, precision, and most of all, self-control: Wait till 3:30 to order pizza, board at 4:00 sharp, resist temptation to eat pizza and/or order any sooner than planned.

Unfortunately, our plans were thrown off track by the emergence, in full blast, of the sun!! How could we resist lying in the park, drying out our gear, and throwing the frisbee around? We couldn't. Suddenly we realize it's 3:50. They are strict about departure times we are told by several sources... But we are also told by several sources that the pizza is to die for. The choice was clear. Into the pizza joint we stroll and order a hot one to go, don't forget the pineapple!

So Gretta and Dominic traipse off to the ferry to try and investigate how strict this 4:00 business really is. Nick, who can barely make out their figures in the distance through the window of the pizza joint, counts on them to either come back and get him, or create some sort of disturbance to waylay the ship until he could arrive. Moments were tense, as the pizza took longer than expected. It was nearly 4:30, but Gretta and Dominic were relieved to see the figure of Nick, pizza steadily braced on his handlebars, pedal his way over to the dock. Up the ramp we rode along with the cars, locked our bikes up, and surfaced onto the deck above. Here is Gretta holding our pizza in victory (actually she looks angry, probably cuz she wasn't eating it yet).

The ferry--called the Leif Ericson, which coincidentally, is Dominic's grandfather's name--was an altogether pleasurable experience, even if we'd not had the pizza. Here is the view from the top.

But down below was quite nice too. Here we are, just before we gave in to the pizza's aroma, opened the box, and devoured it.

We spent the afternoon and evening lounging around the spacious boat and playing cards. Here Dominic and Gretta openly express disgust with the experience they are clearly having: a troucing by Nick.

Nevertheless, they had a good time. We are looking forward to the ferry ride back. But for now, as the ferry unloads and we sail down the ramp amidst the cars, thoughts of biking consume us...

Ah, the Joy of Mobility

The fearless three are back in action! Coming out of Sydney, we were able to bike more than in the previous three days combined. Thus, we called our day getting out of Sydney, the Real Day Two. How did we get back on track? Well, a combination of things.

One was Nick's new gearing put on at the bike shop. He now has a nice low gear so he can crawl up the hills, rather than standing up and pedalling as hard as he can. We also moved his seat up, a solution he had not considered till he remembered he had altered his stem (the stem attaches the front fork to the handle bars) to create a touring posture, rather than a racing one. This proved critical.

Expect the Unexpected

We know we should have been better prepared for all this rain, but the fact of the matter is, even the Capers are shocked by it. While stuck down the by the lake, a friendly neighbor expressed surprise at two days of rain in row. Never happens, he told us. We're on day 6 now with rain everyday. So, our motto has been to expect the expected. Figure out the rest as you go.

Our other suspicion was that all this rain and cold weather was affecting our joints, Nick's especially. While in Sydney, he considered buying the fancy, $30 leg warmers at the bike shop, but held out for our planned visit to the thrift store. Our visit to the thrift store proved as magnificent as it was cheap. Nick's solution to his knee problems? An alteration of an old fleece jacket, purchased for one dollar:

Cut the sleeves off and...voila!


In addition to some other great finds (slippers for Nick so when we get to camp he can take off his shoes, which have been wet for 5 days straight, pants for Gretta, shorts for Dominic), we were also served hot chocolate and cookies by the lovely owner of the store.

We made one last stop before heading out of Sydney--the giant fiddle, which Gretta attempted to play. You can see, it was a bit too large for her...

Gleeful at our mobility, jumping for joy if we hadn't still been carefully coddling our knees, we rode out of Sydney. We made it halfway to North Sydney (which is a separate town, not just the northern part of Sydney) where we eyed a lovely camping spot on the shore. It appeared to be private property, so we knocked on the door of the nearest by house. No answer. Knocked again, and from around the side of the house we hear, "I'm in the shower...what's up!?"

Russell gladly agree to let us camp in his yard while peaking out from his bathroom window (Cape Breton hospitality is, we repeat, unsurpassed), and even brought us out some dry firewood later on. The night of the Real Day Two was spent warming ourselves by the fire, drying our clothes (Nick's shoes are dry!--for now...), and making hot chocolate and dinner.

Where will the Real Day 3 take us? Well, check out North Sydney on the map below and you might just figure it out...


View Larger Map

P.S. The sun came out...

KABOOM!!!

Dominic had been having trouble with one of his tires. It was bulging out on one side. So we tried the old trick of wrapping a dollar bill around the tube and then pumping it up. This failed (we lost our dollar) so we tried some stiffer paper.

This seemed to work until suddenly, KABOOM!!!!! Dominic's tube explodes. We're talking major, irreparable damage.


Spare tubes you ask? Well, Nick had already flatted twice and the valve stem on Gretta's tube had suffered some mysterious damage, rendering it useless. We had made it 10 km, but with no way to repair our huge explosion, we were truly stuck. So we headed down the road to camp out.

The rains came, the tides rose, and we hunkered down for two days to try and wait out the storm. Just a convenient excuse to come up with a new formula, inspired by the railroad track nearby. R = RxRxR. Rain = Rest, Relaxation, and Repair. Perhaps not mathematically sound (R=R^3?), but it worked for us. This is what the lake separating us from the town of Baddeck across the way looked like, during the stormy weather we had to endure.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Truth be told, we were pretty stuck now. There were no food sources nearby (just what we'd brought along), and the closest bike shop was some 50 km away. We spent two days like this. With resources dwindling we had to be high on resourcefulness. Our first attempt at repair involved a delicate surgery to move part of the valve stem off of the old, exploded tube, onto Gretta's valve-impaired but otherwise good tube:

We made an incision in the tube and extracted the valve piece

This piece was then added to Gretta's tube by making an incision in the back of it under the stem, and then patching the hole. This worked momentarily, but Dominic's tire was too far gone, and the tube exploded again.

So, we have three bikes, but only 5 functional wheels. What to do...

Ah ha! An idea is sprung, and our workshop in the woods springs to life.

Our final product? You wouldn't believe it, but a sort of makeshift tandem bicycle, or a bicycle built for two! Look closely at those bikes now...

Up on the highway again, we put this machine to the test, but were disappointed to find that it was impossible to keep it balanced. A normal tandem bike only has one pivot point (the front steering), but this one had two: both sets of handlebars moved. This led to a phenomenon where when the front bike turned, the weight on the back bike shifted and threw everything out of whack. We made it not more than 10 feet this way.

God's Work: A Series of Door Openings and Closings

God never closes a door without opening another, so the saying goes. But the reverse is also true, we are finding. It's been one series of door openings and closings after another. Seems like dull work, but the fun is seeing how we respond in between. The tandem bike (engineered by Dominic and Gretta) was ingenious, but the laws of physics made it impossible to ride. But when that door closed, along came another open door: the door to a friendly neighbor's truck, who loaded us up, and took us into Sydney.



By the time you read this post, we will hopefully be gone. Hopefully we will have solved Nick's knee problem, and we are hoping to get warm and dry. Hey, maybe the sun will even have come out!