Following some leftover quiche for breakfast (delicious),
Nancy and I went into East Machias with Maria as I was intrigued to see the
fish hatchery where she works. I got the
grand tour, we said our “see you sometime eventually soon”’s, and I headed off
on two wheels to the northeast. Thanks for a lovely visit, Maria!
Thanks
to the advice of Rachel, my Warmshowers host in Freeport, I found myself on
some lovely cycling roads even though I was sad to leave the coastal
route. There were stunning views and few
cars along the road laden with blueberry fields that took me towards Calais. I had been in touch with some Warmshowers
folks in the area, but the wind direction and glorious sunshine had me decide
to give them a call mid-day as I passed the turn-off to their place and wanted
to keep going.
I crossed the US-Canada border around two o’clock (which
then became three thanks to the time change) and, with a few funny looks from
the border official when I tried to explain where I had come from, I was
allowed back into the homeland no problem.
Exciting! Realizing that the last
20 miles to the border had been done mostly on adrenaline in my gusto to get
“home”, I promptly turned into the Tim Hortons in St Stephen and, as any good
Canadian might do in such times, scarfed down a doughnut. And then two more. And then another. OK, there was no fourth one, but I did
seriously consider it.
My “plan”
was to get as far as possible thanks to the lovely strong winds from the north
east that kicked in as a tailwind as I left St Stephens in the direction of
Saint John. The TransCanada had a giant
shoulder, giant gradual hills, little traffic, and plenty of trees. While it might have been more varied terrain
and scenery if I had chosen to weave through the secondary roads, my experience
with road upkeep in rural New Brunswick (generally lacking) and possession of a
provincial map showing the roads (also lacking) left me more than content to
feel the sunshine on my face, the wind at my back, and my thoughts to wander
about.
The
extensive wildlife fencing adjacent the highway and the spacing of towns had me
thinking that I should not wait until dark before deciding where to pitch my
tent for the night. Although it was
still fairly early in the evening, I decided to ride into St George (the
biggest town according to my USA map shy of Saint John) and suss out the situation. A friendly-looking diner called my name as I
rode off the highway exit and, as it turns out, the people inside were beyond
friendly themselves. In my quest for a
safe place to camp for the evening, I wound up chatting with the Youngs who,
having known me only for a few minutes, invited me to stay in their home for
the night as they left the restaurant. I
was happy to accept and, directions in hand, said I would give them a call once
I had finished eating and was heading over.
The next hour entailed a tasty supper, the specialty of peanut butter
pie, and the overwhelming kindness of the waitress also offering me a place to
sleep and informing me that another family who had been in the restaurant had
paid for my meal. Then, to top it off,
Horace Young showed up to give me a lift back to his house to avoid me having
to bike over.
To say
that I was overwhelmed by the kindness of that day would be an
understatement. Jackie and Horace
immediately made me feel at home and I enjoyed a relaxing evening of
television-watching, a tour of their beautiful property and Horace’s fish pond,
and even got to meet some family and friends who dropped in. Also, Horace and I were tickled to learn that
we share the same birthday! While
America has certainly been good to me, it is nice to be back on this side of
the border and I could not have imagined a warmer welcome.
 |
| With Horace and Jackie, a big-hearted couple who took me into their home in Pennfield, NB |
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