July 25, 2016
The end of Canada: At long, long last
The trail into Darmouth was a pretty good one, certainly far better than the hideous road I had been on the previous evening! It was gravel and it went up and down a little bit, and my bike skipped horribly on the uphills. Most of the moving components would soon need replacing, and it was limping home but it didn't matter. I myself felt great. I put on some music and, as I cycled alone through a forest park past lakes to this soundtrack I thought back on how far I had come. Almost all of Canada was behind me now. 7,000 kilometres had gone by, only a handful remained.
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I burst out of the forest and back into the civilisation of Dartmouth, the city on the opposite side of Halifax harbour. I went to Tim Hortons one last time, not for the coffee, or even the nostalgia, just for the free wifi. An old man asked me where I had come from, like a hundred others all across this friendly nation had done, and now I could answer with pride.
I used the wifi to locate a Salvation Army store and headed there to do some shopping. Whilst I was still thinking of the boat that I was going to be spending most of the next week on merely as a ferry, the truth was it was still the Queen Mary II, a somewhat prestigious vessel. My bright orange and red clothes, stained with dirt and sweat and faded from the sun, hardly seemed entirely appropriate, nor did my board shorts that I had worn everyday for the last ten months. So I bought some new old clothes, though sadly I found no suitable footwear.
Then it was time to head for Halifax and I cycled down through Dartmouth until I arrived at the harbour. The only way across was to take a short ferry ride and as I waited for that to arrive I took a break on a bench and looked across the water at the skyline of buildings marking my long-awaited destination. Realising where I was I clambered over the rocks in front of me and touched the water, bringing my fingers to my lips. It was salty. This was salt water! This was the Atlantic!
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The ferry dropped me off right in the heart of the Halifax waterfront. I walked along the pedestrianised area pushing my bike, past oyster stalls and restaurants and a hundred million dollar yacht, until I found myself at the cruise terminal. A huge cruise ship rested there. I checked carefully to make sure that it was not the Queen Mary II. It would have been a grave error indeed to get my dates wrong now. But no, it was another ship, and mine would arrive the next day as planned. I had made it with 24 hours to spare, and I could finally relax.
I continued on south-east along the waterfront until I reached Point Pleasant Park. This large park is at the end of the peninsula on which Halifax is built, and I'd decided I must go here to mark the official end point of my ride across the country. Reaching it was a moment of triumph, though my moment of glory was soon hijacked by yet another old man asking me where I had come from. This one, George, was very old and very friendly. He was at first interested in my trip, though our conversation soon deteriorated into him listing countries and what he thought about them. Oh, old people, you've got to love them!
I made my excuses and went on alone to what seemed to be the very end of the peninsula. I rested my bike and took a photo of it, congratulating it on not falling apart before getting me here. And here I was, at the end of Canada, at long, long last. I wanted to swim, but the water was thick with seaweed and it was crashing in against the rocks a bit dangerously, so I settled for just touching the water again. Then I sat back on the grass and looked out towards the Atlantic. I thought back on everything that it had taken over the previous eleven weeks to get me here. Those wonderful early days riding through the Rocky mountains, and then the long and boring prairies, made more interesting of course by Vivian's company, and then the great boreal forest, filled with flies, that had been so difficult. Reaching Montreal had been the beginning of the end, and the company of Daniel (albeit briefly) and then Meghan and Julien had carried me through on a wave of positivity towards the maritimes and the final stretch. It had been an epic eleven weeks, another fine adventure. I had, in truth, underestimated Canada. It was bigger than I had given it credit for, and much tougher. Having to go on alone to Canada without Dea had been a tough decision, and missing her made the ride even more difficult of course. But it was the thought of where I was going and why that kept me pressing on towards the east coast for so long. And here I was now at the end. One way or another I had made it.
I cycled back through the park and through Halifax, on an array of compact streets lined with two storey houses and replete with bad drivers. I was heading for my final Canadian warm showers hosts, but on the way I was distracted by the sight of a Starbucks and decided that I must go in for a quick drink. This was not something that usually happened to me, honestly, but I had been given a $20 gift card for Starbucks by a friendly gentleman way back in Brandon and I needed to spend it before leaving the country.
As I was pushing my bike over towards the Starbucks I was accosted by yet another friendly old man. This one was an Italian named Peter, who, when I said I'd just cycled from Vancouver, responded with "Me too!" He didn't have his bike with him because he'd finished a day or two earlier and was just hanging around waiting for his flight home now. I invited him to come for a drink with me, insisting of course that I would be more than happy to pay!
We sat in Starbucks sipping on some truly awful smoothies (I don't drink coffee). Wow, Starbucks is sh!t, I thought, as I forced down the expensive sludge, vowing never to return to one if I could help it. Peter was showing me all the photos of his trip on his phone. He hadn't asked me many questions about my trip, so I assumed he wasn't all that interested in me, and so I just watched politely as he showed me photo after photo. But then he suddenly did start asking me questions, and I had the chance to explain about Dea, and how we had joined each other in Australia and had planned to cycle together until fate had turned things otherwise.
"You sound just like some guy on Crazy Guy On A Bike" Peter said, "Except he stopped and worked in Australia."
"I stopped and worked in Australia!!! On the pedicabs!"
"Yes, that's right, you're him!"
I had found a fan! Holy jesus, after three years, 550 blog posts, and just as I was about to get on a boat back to England, I had finally found a fan!!!
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Happy, I made my way the last couple of blocks to my hosts' home. I knew I was going to get on well with Mike from the very first moment we met, when he saw my shoes and immediately offered to give me an old pair of his (which really didn't look that worn to me.) In a further boost to my chances of being allowed onto the ferry I was then also offered a warm shower and a chance to do my laundry. Things were on the up and I decided to complete my transformation by asking Mike if he wouldn't mind if I have a shave and cut my hair in his back yard. He found me some newspaper, a hand mirror and a pair of scissors, and told me to go crazy.
At some point during this process Mike's wife Karen came and sat outside opposite me. "I guess you never know what might happen when you sign up for warm showers!" I told her. Certainly finding a man sitting in your garden on a pile of newspaper with a pair of scissors in his hand and half a beard would come as a bit of a surprise to most homeowners, but Karen took it all in her stride. The beard, which I'd been growing non-stop for almost three months, came off surprisingly easily and before very long at all I was a new man!
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My evening with Mike and Karen was a perfect way to end my time in Canada. As well as showing me incredible kindness and generosity, Mike was also an entertaining storyteller and I enjoyed hearing about his 30+ years owning a bookstore in Halifax, and ultimately, about his great, and understandable, dislike for the rise of Amazon. Sadly I could not spend all evening with them, there were yet more things for me to do. I had more route planning to figure out. So I spent a little while sitting at a computer, jotting down notes about my onward route. I had to decide on the best way for me to cycle from Southampton to Milton Keynes. It felt surreal to be plotting a cycle route through England again. That was probably when it really hit me. My journey around the world was effectively complete. I had almost come full circle. My next destination was home.
Canada, I also want to thank you. I had a ball, I really did. Yeah, sometimes it was really hard work, and I certainly was not going to miss the flies, but for the most part I was leaving with more good memories of the country to supplement those I had from my first visits. It is difficult to really comprehend the size of a country like Canada until you try to actually cross it under your own steam. Now I understood.
I would miss Canada. I would miss the mountains, the animals, and the forests. I would miss the smell of pine and the great lakes and the fresh air. Mostly I would miss the sense of being in the middle of endless nature, those moments when the forest seemed to stretch on to eternity in every direction, and in such moments how the natural world seemed so strong, and capable of resisting man's continued attempt to dominate it. I loved cycling across Canada, and I loved growing a beard, and I'm so glad I made this video, so I can always remember it:
Today's ride: 28 km (17 miles)
Total: 55,694 km (34,586 miles)
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I know you're reposting this years later, but it's been great to follow along.
3 months ago