Days 37 to 40: Prince Edward Island

If you're quick with your math, you may have noticed that several days are missing from the blog. That's because my phone has decided to stop working. Whether black screen means water damage or the latest Apple update, I don't know, but it's taken would-be blog posts 34, 35, and 36 with it. They may come back at some point and find their way here, but until then, it'll be left to the reader's imagination what happened on those days. (Hashtag: WhatHappensInNewBrunswick...) Spoiler alert, though, as my phone can attest, it involved lots of water falling from the sky and getting places it shouldn't have.

Day 37
Kilometer 3277
Travelers Rest, PE

The eight-mile-long Confederation Bridge has winds strong enough that it does not allow bicycles to cross. Instead, I got in a van with some other pedestrians at a nature center and crossed the Northumberland Strait on twice the usual number of wheels. And where, you ask, was this bridge taking me to? To the Birthplace of Confederation, naturally, Prince Edward Island, that little province in the Gulf of St. Lawrence that cares a disproportionate amount about its role in the national origin story. (It is, if you will, "Canada's Delaware.")

It was evening when I got here, though, so all I had time for was to find a secluded spot on the Confederation Trail (see above) in the aptly named town of Travelers Rest, and settle in.

(It should be noted that this post was eventually typed into the computer in Charlottetown's Confederation Centre, underneath a poster of the lyrics to "O Canada." Okay, PEI, I get it already.)

Day 38

Kilometer 3371

Bedford, PE

The gold standard metric for the Disneyfication of any tourist spot is this: what language is the group behind you speaking? If the answer is Chinese, you must have found one of the Top Sites. Chinese tour buses with names like "Sky Horse" have found the Capitol building, Mount Rushmore, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and not a lot in between. But they've found Prince Edward Island. The isle scores a solid six out of ten on the Disneyfication metric, meaning the hordes of Canadians and Americans have a few East Asians in the mix. (Separately, of course. The Chinese will take care not to stray too far from the tour bus, lest they be consumed by this exotic Canadian culture.)

But tourists and rain aside, it's hard not to see the beauty in Prince Edward Island. It's got the kind of scenery that I might call "bucolic" or "serene" if those weren't a little too cliché for my taste. A more accurate stateside comparison than Delaware might be Vermont, if Vermont were an island.

(NB: By far the highest-scoring spot on the Disneyfication metric is the entire nation of China, far outstripping even Disney World itself. What this says about China or the Disney franchise, I'll leave for you to decide.)

Day 39

Kilometer 3459

Bowles Corner, PE

Everything I have is wet. Clothes: damp. Socks: soaked. Shoes: soaked. Food: had to finish my bag of bagels before it went bad. Sleeping bag: wet, with the feet end, like everything else that goes on my feet, soaked. Phone: already suffering water damage, so it's not getting any worse.

I'm in full-on race to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia now. I'm meeting my dad there (first face I'll recognize in over a month!) so he can join me for the four-day Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island. I'm supposed to make it to the town of Baddeck by Day 41, but given that I didn't even make it off Prince Edward Island today, it's looking like that's not going to happen. And since I don't have a phone, I'll have to stop somewhere to somehow find a computer to somehow communicate with him where I'll be. (How can this possibly go wrong?)

Day 40

Kilometer 3550

Lower Barneys River, NS

Last new province of the trip! If PEI took pride in being part of Canada, then Nova Scotia takes just as much in being part of, uh, Scotland? Most towns' welcome signs welcome their visitors in both English and Scottish, and several community centers (er, "centres") advertise their weekly "ceilidhs." (This is, apparently, the term for "concerts" among enthusiasts of bagpipes and those disapproving of pronounceable terminology.)

I'm riding northeastward, as fast as I can, toward Cape Breton, stopping only briefly to refuel and check the local visitors' center (no computers) and library (closed) for a chance to contact Dad. I'm on the northwest coast of Nova Scotia, on what some enterprising intern at the provincial tourism bureau, apparently unfamiliar with the sun's daily habits, has christened "the Sunrise Trail." It's looking less and less likely that I'll make it to Baddeck by tomorrow. Here's hoping I find a computer tomorrow, or else Dad has the sense to stop when he drives by me.