I guess the reason I enjoy it so much is because I used to play myself, and now I kind of miss it.

Aug 20. Our cycling started with an early morning ride to Toronto’s Union Station along the Don river. 17.5km

Aug 21. After leaving to the train in Moncton (New Brunswick), we had to get to the hostel … 1.3km

Aug 22. … and then, the next day, to from the hostel to the bus station. 1.1km
The bus arrived in Summerside (Prince Edward Island), and we were ready to cycle. We went west on Hwy11 till Mont-Carmel, then north till Wellington, and then started head east on the Confederation Trail. Soon we were stopped by rain and we camped in woods, next to the trail. 36.5km

Aug 23. We kept on going east on the trail (with a small detour to Miscouche), through Summerside all the way to Kensington. We decided that we want to see more than just the trail, so we took Hwy101 north. Hills started here. When we reached the coast, we turned east again and went to Cavendish National Park. 66.5km
Later, we decided that we should get a warm meal. 5.6km

Aug 24. From one national park we went to another—Stanhope National Park—trying to stick to the coastline as much a possible. 41.0km
Again, we decided to try the local seafood. 6.4km

Aug 25. We took the Hwy25 south till we reached the Confederation trail again. Once on it, it was a matter of an hour till we get to Charlottetown. 32.3km

Aug 26. The only cycling of the day was to go and to do the laundry. 1.2km

Aug 27. We left Charlottetown and headed north-east on Hwy2 till we joined the trail again around Bedford. We continued to head north-east till St. Peters. 56.6km

Aug 28. Early morning, we left to Greenwich National Park and, then, returned to the campground. 27.2km
We packed our things and continued on the trail till the Baltic Road, where we turned towards Red Point Provincial Park. We were advised not to camp as the hurricane Irene was coming that night. We found a motel nearby. 49.4km

Aug 29. We left our stuff at the motel, and went on Hwy16 all the way to the eastern tip of the island, the East Point Lighthouse. We came back near the northern shore till North Lake, then turned inland to Elmira, where the Confederation trail starts (or ends). On the trail, we went east till the Baltic Road, and returned to our motel on Hwy16. 42.2km
We knew that there was a bride nearby from which people jump in a river, so we went to try it out. 4.1km

Aug 30. Our cycling in Prince Edward Island was over. We took a shuttle bus till Wood Islands, and from there a ferry across to Pictou (Nova Scotia). We had to cycle till the bus station at New Glasgow. 25.2km
In Halifax, it took us a while to get to our Couchsurfing hosts; we found out that we cannot stay there for the night, so we went back to the downtown to a hostel. 9.1km

Aug 31. …

Sept 1. From Halifax, we went south-west on a cycling trail straight to Hubbards. 57.3km
On our way there we met an old man, who invited us for a diner at his house. We took the opportunity. 8.6km

Sept 2. We continued south-west on the trail. We arrived at Chester and took a ride around it. The trail got worse there, so we took Hwy3 instead to our hostel right after Mahone Bay. 58.8km

Sept 3. We cycled on Hwy3 south-east till Lunenburg, where we turned east toward Blue Rocks. At Blue Rocks we did sea kayaking, and then went back to wander around Lunenburg. Afterwards, we returned to our hostel on Hwy3. 30.9km
The owner of the hostel gave us car ride back to Halifax.

Sept 4. …

Sept 5. Our cycling trip was over as we boarded the train back to Toronto.

Sept 6. In Toronto, we get on our bikes for the final time to go back home. 16.5km

GRAND TOTAL : 595 KILOMETERS

I often find when you are cycling you have many self reflective and analytical moments as your mind wanders with the speed of your bike in the calming setting of nature. In addition to self discovery, I also like the feeling of achievment when you reach your next location and mark down your route in the map and see the distance that you have covered. In an age of car domanance and reliance on GPS, using a bicycle and a map to get from A to B is rewarding because you know how much effort went into it. Although cycling and daily chores (setting up our tent, taking it down, organizing and packing our stuff) took a good portion of our day, we still had a few hours in the late afternoon or evening to go sightseeing (often in nature), have a warm meal at a local restaurant, and just relax with a good book or dip in the ocean.

However, I would be lying to say that there are only good things about cycletourism and would like to share some of the challanges of this type of travel. For one, it is physically demanding (especially when carrying all your luggage), and I would suggest training two to three months in advance and, during the trip, steretching daily, drinking lots of water, eating small regular meals, and getting a good nights sleep (eight to nine hours). Another challange is that you always have to pack and repack your things because you change locations often in order to get to your final destination. Being organized helps for this one. We always kept our things in the same places and used bag compartments, ziplock bags, and plastic bags to catogorize all our stuff. Ohh, and the most important piece of advice: keep your raincoat and waterproof gear easily accessible because being wet and cycling is not fun.

Now that I have shown the ups and downs of cycling trips and I hope you will take on the challenge of two wheels instead of four for your next trip and return with—as I did—many fond memories and something to be proud of.

The ride there wasn’t the easiest one as the wind from the storm was still blowing strong. So strong that the town’s whole fishing fleet was docked, and the town was absolutely deserted. This was as intimate as I’ve ever been with any fishing town; and it would be interesting to see what its life is like on a busy day. Rows of small, wooden fishermen huts reminded me of Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea”, a novel I want to listen again now.

We found a restaurant on the edge of the town. Surprisingly for the tuna capital of the world, there was not a single tuna dish on the menu. We asked a waitress how so, and she said that all the tuna is directly shipped to Japan. Could it be true that hordes of Japanese tourists (indeed, some towns have welcoming signs in English, French, and Japanese) come to the island just because of Anne of Green Gables?

I, on the other hand, am much wrose with this: I wouldn’t have even seen a single fox without Priyanka’s assistance. All I’ve spotted is a snake, many furry, orange caterpillars, and mosquitoes on my skin. Though I’m more eager to collect apples and mountain ash berries at the side of the cycling trail. I guess, in an ancient tribe, I would be a gatherer and Priyanka would be a hunter.

We were hungry and, once the tent was up, we went to closest road intersection to get a meal. When we came back, a new tent has appeared almost right next to ours. There was a couple standing next to the tent. Judging from their licence plate, they were from Ontario. As we locked the bicycles to our park-bench, they seemed a bit surprised and annoyed by this act, and I overheard them mumbling something like: “How can they do that?” Technically it was their park-bench, but we didn’t know that, and they probably thought that we were just crashing the campground for free.

Just before getting in our tent for the night’s sleep, I noticed that the couple have carried from somewhere another park-bench for themselves. When we were trying to fall asleep, we heard strange noises nearby, as almost if somebody was touching our tent. We didn’t want to unnecessarily scare ourselves, so we just assumed that the wind was playing with our tarp. Probably we were wrong.

The next morning we woke up around seven o’clock and prepared for the walk on the beach. I couldn’t find my right sandal, which, I was pretty sure, I had put under the tent. Priyanka told me not to worry and that we would find in once we pack our tent. For a second I had a crazy idea to take a photo of Ontarians’ licence plate …

Too bad I didn’t follow my instinct—when we came back, the car was gone, and, after we packed the tent, the sandal was still missing. Even worse, one of Priyanka’s running shoes was also nowhere to be found. What assholes!!! (Our shoes were obviously not stolen by somebody who needed them as only one shoe of each pair was missing.) When I thought how pathetic you have to be to do something like that, I realized that that couple really deserves each other.

* * *

That night I had a dream, which wouldn’t be interesting on its own, but now seems very strange:

I was watching a drama practice. At one point the actors started dancing and they asked the audience to participate. I took of my sandals and joined the dance. When it was over, and it was time te leave, I couldn’t find them anymore among so many other pairs of Birkenstock sandals

Later Priyanka and I joked that I must have been sleepwalking and thrown out my sandal myself.

Along the way we saw a huge American ghotic church literally in the middle of nowhere along the cost and we decided to stop. About a minute after exiting the church we felt drops of water. We rushed back to our stuff to figure out how to waterproof all our gear since we hadn’t practiced what to do in this type of situation. Waiting for the rain to stop, we had a one hour nap just across from the church.

Even though it was more windy than before, we had to carry on in order to make it back to our campsite in Linkletter. Little did we know that we wouldn’t make back. An hour later it started to pour and in the process of debating whether keep going or stop and camp along the Confederation trail we got soaked. We found a little inlet off the wooded trail and, while being bitten alive by mosquitoes, we started to set up our tent. Although we only had a few sips of water left and few groceries to fill our stomachs, we had each other’s company to get us threw the night.

Downtown Moncton gave aff the same peaceful vibe as the hostel: we felt relaxed. For a small town it seemed though there were a good amount of independent bars (often with live music) and restaurants. Unfortunately, because it was a Sunday, most of the shops were closed and the bars more deserted than usual. I made Ansis try a clam chowder for the first time and he liked it quite a bit.

After that we went for a stroll by the river, which had a shockingly red clay color. What was even more shocking was that, as we began walking along the banks of the river, we started to sink knee-deep into the ground: it was clay (typical of this region). I enjoyed the feeling of the cold thick clay oozing around my feet. We felt like children again playing in a sandbox 2.0.

No assigned seating in North American buses appeals to me on few occasions—I have liberty of choosing which bus to take—but most of the time it annoys me because I have to show up at least half an hour before the departure just to get a decent seat. For long distance trains a with fixed departure time on my ticket I barely see any benefits at all. Especially, when we travel as a couple; on Sunday, on the train to Montreal, we got one of the last pairs of seats together.

When we arrived in Motreal, we had about seventy-five minutes till our next train. Enought time to do some speed-shoppig: I definitely hadn’t brought enough underwear for the trip and Priyanka hadn’t brought a warm sweater for the night on the train. Once we got back to the train station, we again ended up at the end of the huge line-up. We wondered if the seating is not assigned here because people would be too “polite” to ask somebody to leave their seats.

Last year I traveled with an Amtrak train from Chicago to San Francisco, so I have something to compare long VIA Rail rides with. First of all, the price: a two day one-way trip in the United States was 150 USD, while a one day (each direction) round-trip in Canada was 400 CAD. A sightseeing/bar lounge on the Amtrak train was by far better. But what we found most stupid was that the ecomnomy-class passagers didn’t have accsess to dining services, even if we were willing to pay for the meals. On Amtrak train, the freshly cooked meals was not only accessible, but also tasty and cheap.

But those are only the criticisms. Over all, the train ride was very pleasant, better than flying, and I would do it again. Well, I will do it again, at the end of this trip.

First time I heard about the guy was when, as a teenage kid, I looked up who Pamela Anderson was seeing. Some surfing-world-champion guy. By now, he has won that title already ten times. That’s impressive; even if you don’t care about any sports. Pamela is gone though.

The book was about Kelly’s life: his experiences, views, friends, and passions. It did not make me want to have his life—I’m fine with mine. However, it did make me realize how similar I feel about many things in the life. And, because of this similarity, I feel like I can (and I should) borrow some of his wisdom.

Anyway, I’ve surfed only twice in my life. First time was at International Physics Olympiad in Bali in 2002 (that’s Latvian team in the picture). It was simply awesome, and I remember being hit in the head by my friend’s board. Three years later, while sitting in a student dormitory and showing pictures of that trip to my friend Margarita, we had a chat that went something like this:

A: It was amazing, I wish I could do it again.
M: You should.
A: Yeah, but the Baltic Sea has no waves. The closest warm ocean is somewhere in Portugal, and it’s probably expensive to get there.
M: We could hitchhike there.

And so we did. And another couple joined us. We never ended up surfing though, but the whole hitchhiking trip is the bigest adventure in my life so far.

The second time was when, after finishing my masters in late 2009, two my friends and I went to celebrate New Year Eve in San Diego. Just kidding, we went on a surfing trip and it just turned out that the tickets were cheapest around those days. It was pretty generous that a Latvian friend of mine left his house and car for us. Especially since I last met him five years ago or so. For a week we went surfing pretty much every day for few hours. Well, even the waters of San Diego get pretty cold in December, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

Maybe it’s the time to look for another trip. I’ve realized that I just really like to be in water: swimming, playing around, diving, cliff jumping, … . Last year I did scuba diving course and I totally loved it. That’s bad about Waterloo that there’s pretty much no water around. So, I cannot wait to see where my desire for water will take me next, and what adventures it will provide. I have some ideas in my mind.