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<< Back 06-Sep-2005 When in Rome << Previous - Next >>
SO I FINALLY GET GOING.

What is the game that people play where someone has to mime a word & and those gathered around have to guess what it is, I forget. Either way, I have become adept at it here in Quebec or so I thought until I had to mime breast cancer to a woman in the computer shop in Riviere du loup. “ 2 words 1st word, believe me it is not a good idea when you have no common language as a back up & the police or at least a slap are imminent!

On the 2nd I left Riviere du loup after saying goodbye to those I had got to know & rode East towards Rimouski. A strong tail wind ensured that I had no chance of turning back even if I had wanted to. At speeds of up to 35km I flew, unfortunately so did the clouds! & rain stopped play AT the small town of Port Joli.

The morning of the 3rd is clear & I set off for the Sea Shack, a hostel East of the town of St Anne du montes. Benjamin, one of the guys who worked in le auberge Riviere du loup tells me it is party, party, party, he is not wrong! Because the rain on the 2nd cut my day short it is a long ride but finally I make it.

It is not 2005 but 1969 & the place is Woodstock. I sit naked in the spa, glass of wine in hand, enjoying the warm summers night looking out over the ocean only meters away with the old lady (Nicole) next to me smoking something that was not Tobacco and talking about my chi. O well, when in Rome!.

The next morning I am up early as I know that my day is going to be hard, I am booked into a hostel over 200km away across the Haute Gaspe with its winding roads & serious inclines. As I start to ride it occurs to me that if I make it to the hostel I will actually reach the Atlantic & thus have lived my dream something that I had not thought about before. With this in mind I am spurred on but still end up riding for 13hours, at times breaking the speed limit as I fly down hills into little fishing villages (believe me this is a novelty)

At about 9.30pm I finally reach the Atlantic I HAVE DONE IT. I have ridden from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Maybe it isn’t like being 1st man on the moon but it is my Everest.

Another hour of riding through looming dark hills with stars for company & trees eerily lit in the beam of my head torch and I arrive at Cap aux os where I promptly fall off the bike, I have nothing left in me, not even enough energy to celebrate.

The next day will be REST…………………………………

Then I head to Halifax which is now purely accademic but must be done.

Thanks for visiting.

Greg.