Day 61 and 62 – Rest days/Catch-up Days on the Island

Day 61

We stayed in a quaint campground at Campbell Cove, which is about 15km away from where I finished cycling at East Point, P.E.I., yesterday.  I would have loved to have spent a couple days at this spot, looking out onto the Atlantic from the north shore of the island. Our camp spot was about 25m from the water.

Normally I don’t like waking up early after cycling close to 8 hours the night before, but on this morning I didn’t mind. We were driving into Charlottetown to meet a family, or at least three quarters of a family; 13-year-old Brett, his older sister Jade, and their mom, Lynn. Brett speaks with a communication device operated by a head switch. If he’s asked a closed question that can be answered with a yes or a no, Brett can communicate quickly by either looking up to his side to say ‘yes’, or by shaking his head to say ‘no’.

My mom and I met Brett, Jade, and Lynn at the Merchant Pub in downtown Charlottetown at 9:30am, where Lynn works. We met before opening, so it was quiet. One of the first things Brett did when I met was he showed me his ‘yes’ and his ‘no’. Jade asked Brett, “can you show your ‘yes’”…Brett lifted his head so he was looking up to the ceiling on his side… “and show your ‘no’”… Brett shook his head. I appreciated this. My brother blinks for yes, so I’m familiar with phrasing questions to be answered by a yes or a no. However, without this introduction, it would have taken me a while to realize that Brett says yes by looking up to his side. If you ever meet someone who doesn’t have speech, and you feel unsure of how to communicate with them, ask them: “if you have a ‘yes’, could you please show me”.  Ask the same for no. Look to see what body parts they are consistently moving.

There were several things that I respected about this family. I would say some of these things astounded me.

For starters, Brett has an amazing ability to tell you what day of the week any day of the year is. He told me my birthday, which was on the 3^rd of July, fell on a Sunday. He didn’t hesitate. He just knew. Ok, that was pretty fast Brett, but that was still quite recent. Lynn then asked my mom what her birthday was. “January 27,” she replied. Lynn turned to Brett: “Sunday? Monday? Tuesday?…” Brett kept his head fairly still, giving the slightest shake. “Wednesday? Thursday?” Brett smiled and looked up to his side. Thursday. He was right.

Two: Jade and Brett have a sweet relationship. Although Jade has moved out and there’s an age gap between them, they seem to gain energy from each other like best friends do. There’s an instinctive smoothness to their communication.

Three: I have a lot of respect for any parent of a child who has special needs, who strives for inclusion and their child’s independence. I admire Lynn’s thoroughness of thinking through decisions that Brett and the family have had to make. At one point, professionals had proposed the idea of Brett using eye gazing technology to spell. I’ve met a couple people who use this technology. It is remarkable. However what I did not consider when these people were spelling with their eyes in front of me, was the lack of human connection. The screen which tracks the pupil’s movement is inches away from the face. The person using the device can’t look away in the midst of a sentence; otherwise the machine will have to recalibrate to track the pupil again. Imagine having a screen inches from your face. You wouldn’t be able to see your teacher, or look up when you’re talking to someone. I understand why Brett and his family decided not to go with eye gazing. I’m surprised that I haven’t heard anyone talk about this before. Eye gazing is brilliant technology (which I’m sure is great for some people), and someone who becomes proficient and practised can use it efficiently; however the lack of human connection is a huge trade-off.

Four: Jade raised over a thousand dollars to go towards Kilometres for Communication. There was a fundraising breakfast, a coat check at a college dance (the one Brett went to), and a free concert at the where the performers spoke about alternative communication in between songs. From what I gather, at the fundraising breakfast, all the seats had tips about communicating with people who speak in other ways. An educational breakfast is a better way of putting it. Jade, I am so thankful for the initiative you took and the effort you would have had to put into making those events happen. It takes a heap of charisma and creativity to get people on board to make such events a success.

Five: I was totally shocked to learn that Brett receives his communication services from the Holland Bloorview Centre in Toronto, where Kerr (my brother), used to receive his services from. Once a week Brett and Lynn Skype with staff at Bloorview (including Laurel Robinson, who initiated the Kilometres for Communication Holland Bloorview event) who give support and programming assistance. Brett ended up receiving his services from Holland Bloorview because what Brett needed wasn’t offered by any program or centre in PEI. The island only has a population of 141,000 people, so it’s not a huge surprise that its AAC services are dismal. Using his yes and no, Brett wrote a letter with his family to the folks in Toronto at Holland Bloorview, explaining his situation and requesting their help. They were touched by his letter, and approved his request. Brett was very lucky to receive this out-of-province assistance. There are many people who live in areas with little or no services, who aren’t as fortunate.

Jade had to leave our breakfast to go to work. Brett, Lynn, my mom and I had a little walk around downtown Charlottetown. A lot of people seemed to know Lynn and Brett. I couldn’t tell if it was the friendliness of the area, or if I was strolling with popular people. Perhaps it was a bit of both. We ended up back at the RV, which my mom and I left parked at the Charlottetown Yacht Club. Brett thought it was really cool.

I’ve mentioned this many times before. Our RV is a rental. It is covered in goofy photos. I despise these photos, especially the children peering curiously out of a fake window. Brett thought it was a riot. I think he found it amusing that we were driving around in that thing.

Brett and I in front of the monster

We got a photo together in front of the gas-guzzling beast.

The rest of the day was driving to the campground near the Confederation Bridge and working to catch up on about 9 days of blogs.

Day 62

It was a hot muggy day. I wouldn’t have minded cycling today, but there was still tons to catch up on. I slept in; sort of. My tent got too hot to stay in at about 10am. That’s an ok sleep considering I got to bed at 3am.

I spent the rest of the day uploading photos, editing, doing emails, and reorganizing and tidying the RV after 2 weeks of a hectic schedule.

In the evening, I went for a walk when the tide was low. I saw lots snails and crabs. I had 10 minutes of amusement watching them. I didn’t go too far out. Every time I took a step, the clay suctioned my flip flop, so the walking was slow.

This was the second of two rest days in a row after getting ahead of schedule. I’ll be in Truro tomorrow and Halifax the day after. I don’t have any flexibility in my schedule about when I have to be where, so I cashed in my rest days. The extra rest was much needed. Most importantly, I’m finally on top of my blogs.

More to come! The next three days will be quite eventful.

-Skye

Day 59 – Shediac to Confederation Bridge – 60km, drive to West Point, PEI

We stayed the night in Parlee Beach Provincial Park. My original destination yesterday was Moncton; however I decided to travel the extra 30km to make it to Parlee Beach. It sounded like a pretty place. I’m sure the beach was pretty. Otherwise why would so many people flock to this place? I never saw the beach—I had blogs to catch up on and I was exhausted.  It’s a very touristy area and the scenery was far from spectacular. The campground was a big grassy field divided into campsites. People were camped just a couple feet away from us on each side. This was not a noise-free campground. People were pumping beats from a car stereo at nearby site.

I slept in a bit and got on the road around 11am. I had a light day planned, and I had already knocked 30km off today’s distance by cycling some extra distance yesterday. When I was training, a 60km 2-hour ride seemed like a good chunk of my day and a decent distance. It still takes me about 2 hours to do a 60km ride at a manageable pace without any strong winds, except the time passes by much more quickly. Today’s ride seemed to pass by quite quickly.

I hopped in the support vehicle just before the Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island because I read something when I was planning my route about bicycles not being allowed on the bridge (and there being a shuttle and all that). It’s also a toll bridge, and I wasn’t sure if there was a good shoulder or not. Well, it turns out that there were no signs prohibiting cyclists. There was a decent paved shoulder. There was a toll, but it’s only on Prince Edward Island. We actually ended up making  a wrong turn into a village as soon as we got off the bridge and missed the toll completely. This being said, I wish I had cycled across the bridge to the island. I want to cycle across the bridge when we go back to the mainland.

Driving across the Confederation Bridge...notice the nice wide paved shoulder...I'll be biking back over this bridge in a few days

 

Looking out on the Northumberland Strait from the Confederation Bridge

 

We had a detour today to get the support vehicle some much needed maintenance—an oil change and a new air filter. On our drive out to the western side of the island, we drove through rolling hills of fertile farmland. The soil is a magnificent pink. The provincial park we wanted to stay at near the West Point of P.E.I. was full, so we found a pier at the very west point of the island. That’s where we’re parked now. We’re right next to the water. We watched the boats come in from fishing just before sunset. We watched the sun set. The sky was mostly clear except for a slight haze and a few clouds on the horizon. I set up a chair and typed up my notes from previous days into my blogs (yes, I’m still catching up).

The harbour at West Point, or at least what we thought was West Point (read the blog for day 60). This is actually near Cape Egmont

I watched the sun disapear as I ate a late taco dinner

Many locals come down to the pier around sunset. It’s their social gathering spot. The fishermen come in; see who caught what. They smoke their cigarettes and drink a few beers. Conversations transfer between French and English. There are lots of Acadians around this region. I can tell that the preferred language is French, but every now and then there’s some meaning or phrase that English can connote more easily. I think the kids around here are a bit bored. When we first parked here, they were hitting a sign post with rocks. They weren’t testing their accuracy by throwing pebbles, they literally had rocks in their hands, and were clunking the metal with it.

It’s a gorgeous night. The sky is clear. The stars are out. There’s no wind. The moon is almost full. Five minutes ago, I got distracted by fireworks that are very far away. When the sun was out, I couldn’t see any trace of land where the fireworks were It was a good show. I spent a couple minutes looking at a map trying to figure out where they were coming from.

The harbour just after sunset

I wish my brother and dad could see this spot. I wish all my friends and family could see this spot; but especially my brother and my dad. I thought they would be with me for this portion of the trip, so I’m feeling sad that they’re not here to share this.

-Skye

Day 58 – Oromocto to Shediac, NB – 188km

I wasn’t looking forward to this day. There was a long distance. There were lots of hills. Headwinds were in the forecast. All of these turned out to be realities. I was on the Trans Canada so I had a nice wide paved shoulder the whole day, which really does help. When I ride on a road with a narrow bumpy shoulder or no shoulder, I have to be intensely concentrated. When I have 2 metres of smooth pavement, it’s a much more relaxed ride, and my mind can wander to help pass time.

My goal for today was to reach the Atlantic Ocean. That excitement was my drive for the day. I only stopped to meet the support vehicle once today, at the half-way point. Earlier in the trip, I liked meeting the support vehicle every hour or two. I accepted that I had a long way to go, and there was no point in rushing. At this point in my trip, I’m tired. I’m not tired as in, “my legs are sore,” or “my mind isn’t functioning.” I’m tired as in “I don’t feel like getting up. I just want to sit here.” I’m feeling worn out. If I stop to refill my water bottles at the support vehicle, and I sit down, it turns into a half-hour rest. I’m filling up 4 water bottles at a time (2 on the bike, 2 in my jersey’s pouches) and packing lots of nuts and jerky so I can drink and eat without stopping. It’s not hard to stay on the bike. It’s hard to get myself on the bike.

Today was pretty much all bikes—not much else happened. To be precise, other than sleeping, eating, washroom, talking to my mom, and killing a few mosquitoes, nothing happened. I feel like I should be celebrating (making it to the Atlantic), but I don’t feel in the mood at all. I know that I have about 1,500km left to go. I also feel like something is missing—the rest of my family. I was really hoping that my brother and my dad would make it to the Atlantic with me. We tried. I suppose it’s a good thing they turned around. On their way back to Toronto, the van had some mechanical issues which would be very difficult to deal with had they occurred out here in the Maritimes…far away from our trusted garage.

-Skye

Day 57 – Woodstock to Oromocto, NB – 122km

I spent the morning replacing parts on my bike. I put a new rear tire on as well as a new drive train. This is my third drive train. I’ve gotten about 3,000km out of each one. It’s an uncommon sight to see someone taking a bike apart in a campground. I turned our picnic table into my work bench. I had my portable bike stand set up. At one point, one of our camping neighbours, Murray, curiously asked me about my bike and what I was doing. I told him a bit about Kilometres for Communication, but I didn’t give him the whole spiel. I try not to overwhelm people with information.

A little while later, Murray’s wife, Linda, walked over and congratulated us on our efforts. She had heard from Murray what we were doing. While we were talking about Kilometres for Communication, another person in the campground, Brenda, one of Linda and Murray’s friends, arrived. We learned that there are many members of one side of her family who either have died from ALS, or who have been diagnosed with ALS—also a very scary scenario for those young family members who haven’t been diagnosed. Many people who have ALS lose their speech before they die, sometimes years before. It’s critical for them to retain a way to effectively communicate. Other parts of their bodies (hands and fingers) may not function properly, so simple forms like writing and typing may not work. This is where eye-gazing, head switches and various other forms of accessing a communication device are used.

Anyhow, my mom and I had a nice conversation with these people at the campground. People often seem a little impatient when we say what our campaign is about (Augmentative and Alternative Communication is quite the mouthful and an overwhelming earful), but after a brief explanation, most people totally get it, and become quite engaged with what we’re talking about.

I got on the road quite late—around 1pm. The sun was shining and the wind was at my back. There were lots of hills, so the wind wasn’t nearly as effective as I would have liked, but I can’t complain. After cycling over 230km yesterday, I was relieved and sore to finish after just 120km today. When I finished, there were some perfect strawberries and tasty fresh picked peas from a produce stand that Linda had recommended to my mom. Thanks Linda! Thanks Mom!

We ended up driving by a baseball diamond on our way to the Provincial Park we were planning on staying at. The baseball diamond was surrounded by forest and there was a nice big grassy parking lot. It was a strange place for a baseball diamond; in the middle of a forest. Free is good. That’s where we stayed. Right next to where we were parked, there was a huge burnt spot of plastic and a metal frame. A nearby tree was scorched about 7 feet high. There were leaves on the tree, but they were all brown or yellow. The tree was dead. The fire had happened recently, since the tree had its leaves for the season. We could make out the word “Wash” on the melted banner. There was a perfectly good, but soggy towel on the burnt ground. It all seemed quite surreal; even eerie. Sometimes when I stay in remote, rural places that aren’t so scenic, it doesn’t take much to get my mind thinking scary thoughts. I have to admit, my eyes were scanning that large burnt area for traces of human remains.

The mysterious burnt area

Good night. I’m tired enough that creepy scenes will not be keeping me awake. Any murderous psychopaths trying to create a nightmare will be turned into a sticky goof covered in chrysanthemums in my surreal dream…and ferrets, deer, and Wiener-dogs will be chasing this villain, trying to eat the flowers.

-Skye

Day 56 – Saint Marc-du-Lac-Long, PQ to Woodstock, NB – 236km

We stayed the night in Edmundston, New Brunswick. My day
started at 6 in the morning. My brother and Mia were sleeping in the van. My
dad and I got in the van at quarter after 6 and began to drive the 50km back to
the where I had stopped the previous day—in the middle of nowhere. Kerr and Mia
snoozed as we re-entered Quebec. I ate bread, salami, and fruit while I
listened to some pump-up music. I didn’t feel too pumped.

 

I got let off where I had stopped. It was a cool morning
with light clouds. The mist coming off the Appalachian hills was dense. My dad,
Mia, and Kerr drove back to the campsite where we were staying after they let
me off. I cycled 57km back to our site, which was where I was supposed to
arrive the day before, but didn’t due to thunderstorms.

 

I was at the campsite again around 9am. I ate my second
breakfast—fried eggs, granola, more fruit, and some bread. Sadly, today Kerr,
my dad, and Mia were turning around to go back home. This trip turned out to be
quite the test of endurance for my brother and all of us. I was sorting through
stuff in our storage compartment, seeing what was theirs to take back, and what
was ours to keep for the remainder of the journey. That made me sad. I felt
mopey.

 

There have been 5 of us on the road since Tobermory,
Ontario: Kerr, Mia (Kerr’s assistant), Burns (my dad), Gail (my mom), and me.
My mom and I are quite used to the intense schedule of the campaign, and the
stress, but I think it was a shock to the rest of the group. As well, each
night, someone has had to sleep on the floor of the van (with some foam) or in
the front passenger seat. In addition, both Kerr and I have had our days in the
last week where we have had lousy health. This has also been the busiest 2
weeks of the entire journey. I missed our event in Ottawa and Kerr missed our
Montreal events. Anyways, our crew was feeling quite worn out, so my brother,
Mia, and my dad decided they had to turn around. I understand, but I’m sad they
had to leave after barely being with them for two weeks. Now it will be another
month until I see them.

 

One of the most difficult parts of this trip for me is
the loneliness. I’m meeting lots of amazing people, and seeing beautiful
scenery, but I miss my friends and family. My dad cycled with me for several
kilometres away from the campground, but then he had to turn back to continue
packing up to get on the road. I know he would love to do some bike touring
again if he had the lifestyle that allowed him to do it. I know my brother
would love to ride with me and finish at the Atlantic. Sadly, they’re going to
be living the rest of this trip vicariously through my helmet cam—but that only
captures the smallest fragment of this trip’s whole, and often I don’t post
helmet cam footage for weeks due to slow internet.

 

Anyhow, this was a sad morning. I’m counting down the
days again. Melisa, Jeff, Timo, and Sari came to our campsite to say good bye
and have breakfast with us. So many good byes were said on this morning. The
last 2 weeks I’ve had lots of company, my family s been around, and I’ve gotten
to see many of my friends. Now suddenly, I’m back on the road, by myself again.
There’s a part of me that looks forward to it, that likes the quiet time to think
and go my own pace. But I know the dominant me doesn’t want to be alone. My
nostalgia and sadness are strong today. Tomorrow they’ll be a little weaker.
Eventually, the feelings will numb, I’ll become distracted by many other
things, and before I know it, I’ll be back at home.

 

I took a windy, narrow road that can hardly be called a
highway down from Grand Falls to Woodstock. Highway 105 follows the Grand
River. Near the beginning of the highway, the road is high up on a plateau next
to brown cliffs that dive into the river. The cliffs dwindle down to steep
shores. There were many hills, and the road was bumpy. I would have had a more
direct, faster, and safer route on the wide, smooth paved shoulder of the Trans
Canada, but for one day, it was worth it to take this route for the scenery. This
is also the route to take if you want to see covered bridges and small town
charm.

 

To anyone planning a trip: there was a beautiful, free
place to camp about 25km north of Andover-Perth at a picnic area on a Lake
(near the junction of Highway 105 with another small highway).

 

In the end, I pedaled 236km between 6am and 7pm. I had a
paced day with many breaks, so it didn’t seem too bad. The scenery was great,
and I had lots to think about (distracting me from the anguish that the many
steep hills could provide). I did somehow manage to do that day without padded
bike shorts. All my padded shorts were dirty or wet. I ended up aggravating
some of my saddle sores from earlier in the trip.

 

I’m back on schedule. It’s been a struggle recently just
to keep up my energy through the days. I’m way behind on blogs. I’ve been
making notes and writing some of them each day. I’m hoping that over the next
several days without events, I’ll be able to catch up.

 

-Skye

Day 55 – Saint André to Saint Marc-du-Lac-Long, PQ – 95km

I woke up to a gentle breeze flowing through my tent.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I had my main rain flap rolled up to the side,
so I could see outside my tent quite well. I had pitched my tent at the edge of
a cliff overlooking the St. Lawrence River. On the other side of the river, the
north shore, the rolling mountains/hills of the Laurentians lapsed into each
other in a haze. It was one of those moments that I wanted to cling onto. I
wanted to lie there,–in that moment—for a whole day.

But I didn’t. I actually woke up at 7am, turned the
laptop on, and started trying to catch up on blogs from several previous days.
I made some progress, but nothing got posted. Time crept up on me. It was 9am
before I knew it. Jeff, a family friend cycling with me, was all dressed to hit
the road. He was eager to get an early start. After eating and packing up the
site we were on the road around 10:30am. It was now somewhat cloudy.

Jeff and I before embarking on our ride

No, we're not flirting. About to set off from Saint André

The first 20km would turn out to be a tease—flat, scenic,
and fast. We had a tailwind. Then we turned onto Highway 289. We climbed for
about 10km, leaving the St. Lawrence River shores for higher grounds inland.
Then there were hills. Jeff plays tennis. He doesn’t bike too much. He did
great on the 175km ride yesterday (a bit sore though), but he began to struggle
with the steep and frequent climbs. The road was extremely bumpy, there was no
shoulder, and the odd time there was a flat stretch, a cross head wind halted any
momentum. At 35-40km, after about 210 kilometres of riding in 2 days, Jeff
decided to take a rest with the intention of joining me later in the ride.

Leaving the campground

Me following Jeff through a cute and tidy riverside Quebec village

The flat St. Lawrence River scenery early in the day

A change in scenery as we travel inland (and into the hills) towards New Brunswick

Following 289 next to the Maine-Quebec border

I wasn’t having much fun with the hills. The Appalachians
come up into this area, so it was rolling hills, except the hills were steep
and long, so it wasn’t possible to carry the momentum from one downhill to the
crest of the next hill. I cycled another 20km before stopping at a side-of-the-road
food stand, a Caissez Croute. I had stated a day earlier that I wanted to stop
at a Caisse-Croute for some authentic Quebec poutine. Eventually, everyone in
our crew except my mom ended up stopping for lunch at this tiny restaurant.
Kerr, Mia, my dad, Melisa, Jeff, Sari, Timo, and our chocolate lab sat on the
roadside patio. I thought the poutine was ok. It wasn’t special. I’m sure there
is some really unique poutine out there that would astound me, but it is yet to
be discovered; perhaps on the drive back.

By the end of lunch, the day was cloudy and humid. Some
parts of the sky were quite dark. There were some freckles of blue sky that fed
my optimism. I kept pedaling. As I cycled the bumpy, windy Highway 289 (that
goes along the Maine-Quebec border), the clouds became dark. There was rain—a
downpour. I kept pedaling. I was soaked. Have you ever been in such discomfort
that your discomfort has fuelled you, arousing some intensity from deep within?
That happened to me in that last 20km of the day (and last 20km of Quebec) in
torrential rain. There were patches where it was raining so hard that it was
hurting my bare skin. Inevitably there was the thunder. It started to get
louder and then a flash of lightning off in the distance—time to get off the
bike. I leaned my bike up against the metal highway guard rail, walked a little
ways away, and crouched in some grass beside the road. I did this for about 10
minutes. It wasn’t so bad. I actually found it somewhat meditative. I know.
This surprised me too. I’ll get a video of this posted when I’m back in Toronto.

The support vehicle came by. I got inside with my bike. I
decided to wait for the storm to let up. The rain eased off, but the thunder and
occasional flashes of lightning did not. An hour passed; still thunder and
lightning. Another half-hour passed, I dozed off. I awakened. It was almost
6pm. I still had another 50km to bike. There was still a storm. Intense rain is
negotiable, lightning I don’t deal with. I called it a day just before the New
Brunswick border.  I’ll be back early
tomorrow morning to start where I stopped. We’ve already arranged a campsite
50km down the road in Edmundston, so that’s where we’ll be tonight.

-Skye

Day 54 – Quebec City to Saint André, PQ – 175km

Kerr, my dad, and I slept the night inside the
institution. That sentence sounds eerie, but I assure you, it wasn’t. There was
an intense storm at 5:30am. I was grateful to be sleeping in a bed (getting to
stretch out, yay!), have a lengthy warm shower, and not to be sleeping in a
tent during that storm. I like tenting, but not when there’s a chance that I’ll
get flooded.

When I actually got out of bed at 8am, there wasn’t a
cloud in the sky. We gathered our stuff and headed down to the cafeteria for
breakfast. We’ve been treated very well in Quebec. Our wonderful hosts had
arranged for us to have a complimentary dinner the night before, and for us to
have a free breakfast. While ordering and waiting for my breakfast I met a
young fellow named Marc. He actually helped me order my breakfast; he’s
bilingual. He was staying at the hospital because he was getting surgery on one
of his legs. He was quite friendly and had a warm personality. He seemed to
know all the staff that came in for their morning coffee or muffin. I admire
Marc. Here’s a young guy—several years younger than me—who’s obviously endured
more frustrations than the average person due to difficulties with his legs.
Yet, he’s not bitter in the slightest. He possesses a charismatic personality
and appreciation for others that’s rare.

I got my hearty egg, ham, toast, and potato breakfast.
Timo, Jeff, Melisa and Sari were just finishing up their meals as we sat down.
They set up a tent behind the building for the night. They were eager to get
inside after the early morning storm, but luckily their tent didn’t get
flooded. Jeff was going to be joining me for his first of 2 days on the bike.
Day 1: 175km. He seemed in good spirits, but I think he may have been a little
nervous in anticipation of the challenge ahead of him.

No one at the table finished their breakfast; except me.
Everyone gave me their uneaten toast, potatoes, and meat. As I was finishing up
my dream breakfast, there was an announcement over the building’s PA system. It
was in French, but I could understand it. A few minutes ago, Louise came into
the cafeteria to check up on me; to see how I was doing for timing. The
announcement was asking staff to be out front of the main entrance shortly. I
wolfed down the last of my food, and hustled to get dressed in bike gear, and
get my bike together. I got to the building entrance a little late. The rest of
my family, along with the institution’s staff were all standing, cheering.
Awkward spotlight moment.

Yesterday at our arrival lunch, a piece explaining what
our journey meant to the staff at au centre Cardinal Villeneuve, IRDPQ, was
read to us in English. On this morning, that was read in French. We were given
a brief introduction, we said a few words ourselves, and then it was time to
hit the road. Louise and Sophie were joining Jeff and I for the first leg of
the trip. The staff at au centre Cardinal Villeneuve, IRDPQ, gave us a farewell
wave. Louise and Sophie biked with us across the older and less busy of the two
bridges crossing the St. Lawrence River to the south shore. They made sure that
Jeff and I got on the right bike path, and then turned around to head back.

Louise Lefoit Leblanc, Louise Pagé, Isabelle Savard, and
Marie-Christine Corriveau, thank you! We had a pleasant stay in your city, we
enjoyed meeting everyone, and we are well-rested. Merci!

Jeff and I were able to follow the path for a bit. Then
it seemed to disappear at a busy intersection. I tried to ask someone for
directions, but my poor French slaughtered the conversation. My gestures
weren’t successful either. Jeff and I ended up following an arterial out to the
country, which eventually turned into a beautiful road with a paved shoulder.
We had a tailwind. There were some hills, but we made decent time.

It was a long day for someone who’s never done lots of
cycling to start with, but Jeff managed well. I loved cycling through the
charming, small, rural towns. Highway 132 followed the shore of the St.
Lawrence and lush green fields and rolling hills were always to our right.

We finished the day at the SEBKA Campground near Saint
André. Our site was on a cliff overlooking the St. Lawrence River. This site
certainly had one of the best views of the sites we’ve stayed at on the trip so
far. Jeff’s family was also sharing the site with us. We had an RV, a
full-sized wheelchair accessible van, a Honda CRV, a kitchen tent, and 2
sleeping tents set up and there was still space to walk around and see the view
(we had 2 sites that were directly joined). We watched a hazy pink and orange
sunset over the river and the Laurentians on the other side of the river.

I set up my tent right by the edge of the lookout. This
was my dream tent spot. I could smell a little bit of salt in the air and there
were tidelands!  I’m getting close to the
Atlantic!

-Skye

Day 53 – Trois-Rivières to Quebec City, PQ – 135km

I had the wind
at my back today. The sun was out. Highway 138 was flat and it followed the St.
Lawrence River. The country here is so calm. I feel like I would be more suited
riding a metal cruiser bike with fenders and a basket with a packed picnic…. I
would love to stop in a field and just watch the clouds waft over the peaceful
green meadows and the ships drift their way up or down the river. That sounds
lovely and all, but I was racing today. I had an event in Quebec City at 2:30
at the centre Cardinal Villeneuve, IRDPQ site Saint-Louis. I’ve been late for
my last 2 events, so I wasn’t going to let myself be late for this one.

It just so
happened I was sharing my route with the Ride to Conquer Cancer, again, for the
second day in the row. Yesterday, I caught up to the big charity ride at the
end of my route, about 20km before the finish. Today, I started probably only a
couple minutes after the Ride to Conquer Cancer set off, and I started only a
kilometre or two from their start. I passed the rear support vehicles which were
a cube van and a police car. I passed the slow riders. There were a couple rest
stations over the next 50km where it seemed all the riders stopped to refill
water and socialize (or procrastinate biking). I pack myself with 3 water
bottles and 2 pouches full of nuts and beef jerky, so I can go a while without
stopping. I made up a lot of ground, and eventually I was riding with the very
front of the pack—a peloton of 15 riders cycling at 35-40km/hr behind the front
police squad car. It was never on my bucket list, but passing an entire charity
ride of a couple hundred riders is definitely worthy of my list, and it is now
crossed off.

I did get my
helmet cam set up for my entrance into Quebec City. I won’t be able to post the
video until I have high speed internet, but I do have some pictures of the scenery
from just west of the city.

Going back up a steep hill that I accidentally made a wrong turn and went down

....still regretting that wrong turn. Climbing that tedious hill

Louise Lefort
Leblanc, Louise Pagé, Marie-Christine Corriveau and Isabelle Savard work with
people who communicate in alternative ways. They had set up a table of fruits,
salads, cheeses, and meats for a lunch meet-and-gather.

On this afternoon, I
met Michel (forgive me for any misspellings), a man who’s bilingual, and speaks
with AAC. He operates his computer with a clicker in his left hand and with a
joystick in his right hand. Michel was astonished to hear that I was cycling
across the country. I guess he thought I was driving. His reaction was funny. He
had a “Really? You’re not kidding me?” smile of astonishment on his face. I told
him I was serious. He had a big grin on his face and he typed out “You’re my
king,” on his communication device. I don’t think I’ve met anyone on this trip
who has been so surprised or thrilled as Michel. Thank you for that moment. I
won’t forget it.

Some close
family friends of ours drove from Toronto to Quebec City to join us on the
road. Melisa, who worked with my brother nearly 20 years ago, was present the
day I was born. Her husband, Jeff, a tennis player—not a huge cyclist, would be
cycling with me from Quebec City into New Brunswick. He picked some challenging
distances to join me on. Melisa and Jeff’s kids, Sari and Timo, were there as
well. I’ve grown up with these friends, so it’s suiting that they’re a part of
this and I feel honoured by their effort to accompany my family on this
profound journey.

Our crew in Quebec City

Jeff coaches
Timo’s soccer team. Jeff happened to be wearing a Chilean soccer jersey. Michel
complimented him on it, and Jeff, Timo and Michel ended up getting into a
conversation about soccer. I used to play a lot of soccer but I’ve never
followed it or watched much of it, so I listened in on their conversation. It
turns out that Michel actually collects jerseys—he has over 30. Jeff, being the
generous person he is, insisted that Michel take his Chilean jersey for the
collection. I guess it was Michel’s day. I gave Michel his first bike jersey
for the collection—a maroon Norco Performance Bikes jersey.

Michel's new Norco Jersey

As I was
talking with Michel, it was obvious that he was really into sports. I was
curious. I wondered if he ever played sports. I never did muster the courage to
ask him that question. I later learned that Michel was in a car accident which
paralyzed him and resulted in his loss of speech. I learned this after I said
good bye to him. On one hand, I wasn’t surprised—I had wondered if he had been
a soccer player, if he had been mobile before. However, another part of me was surprised.
It’s inspiring to meet someone with such a good sense of humour and playful spirit
as Michel’s after experiencing such a drastic change in life.

We all take
lots for granted. I know I do. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I could
have been paralyzed twice in the last 2 years riding my bike (a downhill bike
accident and being hit by a car while riding my bike 10 months later). For me,
my physical mobility is the first thing I dread losing, but the more I think
about it, the more I dread losing my speech. Michel, I have lots of admiration
for the perseverance of your spirit, although I imagine it took a long time to
recover it.

My brother,
dad and I slept inside a room in the Centre with 3 hospital beds. My mom slept
in the RV which was parked behind the building. Melisa, Jeff, Timo, and Sari
set up a tent on a grassy pad behind the building next to our RV. I was extremely
grateful to the Louise’s and Isabelle for arranging our complimentary room. I
had a nice long warm shower. I tried to catch up on blogs from Toronto to
Montreal. There was a wild thunderstorm as I typed away. I made some progress,
but not enough.

There’s always
more to be done. It’s about pacing to cover the most distance each day, day
after day.

-Skye

Day 52 – Montreal to Trois-Rivières, PQ – 140km

I slept inside
our RV which was parked at the main entrance pull-up of the Centre de Marie
Enfant. We were allowed to park there—Elizabeth and Christine cleared us with
security. Nonetheless, it still felt very strange being parked in a place that
had the resemblance of a hospital’s main entrance. I kept thinking that an
ambulance would pull up in the middle of the night.

There was a
car accident or something at the intersection closest to us in the middle of
the night…or maybe a drunken fight. Who knows, it was Montreal on a Friday
night. Anyways, there were lots of sirens from police, fire trucks, and an
ambulance, so half-asleep, I kept dream-thinking that an ambulance was pulling
in.

Elizabeth and
Christine were all set to bike with me in the morning. Elizabeth has actually
done a fair bit of bicycle touring in Quebec and the Maritimes, so she gave me
some good advice about camping and route. The three of us had a mellow cycle
down to Rue Notre Dame (through some inevitable Montreal construction) where I
could get on the La Route Verte bike route that would take me to Trois
Rivieres.

The ride
leaving Montreal was all on a bike path, so it was quite pleasant, but I always
look forward to the change in scenery from urban to rural. Once I got out of
Montreal, Highway 148 wound next to the St. Lawrence River. Quaint shops, cute
houses, and some sprawling houses lined the road. For about 30km, the road went
inland through fields. At this point, I caught up to the Ride to Conquer
Cancer. I passed the cube truck and police cruiser at the back of the ride.
Then I began to pass the slow riders who were quite spread out towards the far
end of their ride. The last 30km of my ride was somewhat uneventful other than
passing the Conquer Cancer riders who were at the back of the pack.

Thanks to
Elizabeth and Christine, we again, had our accommodations arranged. Tonight we
were staying in a wheelchair accessible residence at the Université du Québec
campus. I don’t think there were many students staying in the building because
of it being the summer term. It was quite quiet—much quieter than I remember my
residence at Waterloo being. At one point though, 2 girls opened the door to
our room, completely surprised that we were there. They apologized in French
and quickly closed the door. That was comical.

I’ve been to
Montreal before, as a tourist. It’s different when you’re in the downtown area
and you’re doing touristy things. Everyone speaks English and French. For the
first time in my life, I’m beginning to really wish that I learned French.  Where was my motivation in school to keep it
up? Why did I drop it? I do know the answers to those questions, but the public
doesn’t need to know. Presenting to crowds whose primary language is French,
and relying on other people to translate, I’ve felt dependent and not
independent. When I’ve met people who don’t speak English well, I’ve had to
wait for someone who can translate. Feeling reliant is a lousy feeling. I don’t
like it. I want to learn French now. I’ve had enough of the language barrier.

There’s
another communication barrier. It’s not a difference in language. It’s a
difference in the way we communicate. When we talk, we are all dependent on the
person we are talking to on some level. We need them to listen, try to
understand, fill in gaps, respond, and quite importantly, be patient. Some of
us are more dependent than others. For instance, when my brother, Kerr,
communicates using blinks, he needs the person he’s talking with to ask him
yes/no questions so he can answer with a blink for yes. If he is using his
computer, he’ll take a while to go through all the menus he needs to in order
to get to what he wants to say. The person he’s talking with needs to be extra
patient. Many people who speak in alternative ways due to a disability face
similar dependencies. The last 2 days, I’ve been dependent on someone else for
my communication occasionally, and I’ve hated it. For the first time in my
life, I’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like to be dependent on someone else for
my communication. I have a lot of respect for the people who cope with that
feeling every day. On the other hand, my brother and I have talked about this
before. Being more dependent on the others around him for his communication is
what he’s used to. It’s normal to him.

I think life
is about empowerment, but it is always impossible to get away from dependency
completely (i.e. we’ll always be mutually dependent with our loved ones, and
everyone else who shares our environment). As we grow, we learn and become
empowered. I want people to learn how to communicate with people who speak in
different ways. By learning about someone who speaks in alternative ways, you
will empower yourself. Be patient. Make the effort to learn about how someone
communicates. You may meet someone who changes your life. You may meet someone
who tells you a powerful story about the accident that paralyzed him/her. After
hearing that story, you may be motivated to change something in your own life;
which one day saves you. You may meet a best friend; who knows. By being open minded, we aren’t preventing anyone from empowering themselves.

Check out the video from Montreal:

-Skye

Day 51 – Oka to Montreal, PQ – 53km

I slept well, but I still need to deposit more in the sleep bank before I can pay off my energy debts I ran yesterday. I wasn’t far from Montreal—we were staying just to the northwest by about 50km, or 30km as the crow flies. We had an event in the eastern area of the city at noon.  I hustled through suburbia, frequently stopping to check my map application on my phone. The roads were bumpy, and as I left Laval and crossed the bridge into Montreal, I hit the inevitable Montreal construction. I was a little late to the event, but I made it in the traffic and construction in decent time.

Greetings!

I arrived at the Centre de réadaptation Marie-Enfant in the east end of Montreal. They were waiting for us. I beat the two other vehicles in our party to the event, so I was the first person there. We did some quick photos, including a photo with the centre’s security guard. Just as the photos were being snapped, my mom arrived. Kerr, Mia, and my dad were still somewhere out there. Christine Valiquette, who was a primary organizer of the event, escorted my mom and I rapidly through the hospital-like building to the lawn on the opposite side of the building from the entrance. It felt bizarre to power walk my bike through this building, dressed in full bike gear.

When we arrived on the back lawn, there was a generous welcome of clapping…and the theme music from Indiana Jones was playing.  A shyness-inducing number of people were gathered around the picnic tables in the shaded area of the back of the Centre de réadaptation Marie-Enfant. There was a sound system set up, and a tent with fruit and beverages laid out on a long table.

People gathered at the back of Rehab Center Marie Enfant

Olivier, age 15, was at the front with us. He interviewed us in French (which was translated for us), and we replied in English (which was translated for the audience). Olivier had a robotic arm attached to his wheelchair which he controlled using switches on the side of his headrest. He used this robotic arm to control where the microphone was. Olivier has speech; however he still uses AAC technology in his everyday life (an iPad with a communication app) to help him write. His asked us what the funds raised would go towards and what the motivation for the campaign was and how it came together. He also asked us to share some of the stories and memorable moments of the journey.

Olivier interviewing me, and Elizabeth Clark is helping with the translation from French to English

Olivier, Elizabeth, Me, Gail, Christine

I shared several stories, one of them about a fellow I met in Calgary—Duncan Johnson. If you were following the blog back when I was in Calgary, this may sound familiar. Duncan is now a teenager. When he was much younger, he received his first communication device. Robert Munsch was (and maybe still is) one of Duncan’s favourite authors. When Duncan got his communication device, one of the first things he wanted to do was to write a story. Duncan’s story told the tale of a deviant Duncan—a Duncan who would go really fast in his power wheelchair and get speeding tickets from a police officer. (You can read his story at: http://kilometresforcommunication.com/stories/duncan-johnson/.)

He sent it to Robert Munsch. Robert Munsch got the story, read it and loved it so much that he came to Duncan’s school and read it out loud to the whole school.

I was telling this audience in Montreal about Duncan’s story. Due to the language barrier, I would say one or two sentences, then I would stop, and one of my saviours would translate what I said into French. I said: “Duncan’s story was about a young boy who got pulled over for going too fast in his electric wheelchair”. The sentence was said in French. A young boy in the crowd, Zachary, started laughing. He loved it. Zachary just got a power wheelchair.

Zachary

Zachary and I

Then it was time for some other people to share their stories. Our friends in Montreal had arranged a contest for people who speak with AAC. The writings were about  how important and essential communication is. (You can read the stories: http://kilometresforcommunication.com/stories/.) The story contest was organised by CSCOÉ-Québec (centre de suppléance à la communication orale et écrite du Québec, www.cscoe.com).  Marie Julien, President of CSCOÉ-Québec and speech therapist at Institut de réadaptation Gingras-Lindsay de Montreal, gave the cheques to the winners.

Sophie Groulx telling her story

Christine and Sophie--Sophie was one of the winners of the story contest

Benoît Roberge is presented with his prize by Marie Julien. Benoît was the other winner of the story contest at the first event.

We had a relaxed lunch in the shade. Then it was off to event number two! Still dressed in my bike gear, I piled into Christine’s car with occupational therapist Elizabeth Clark and my mom (and obviously Christine!), and we sped off to downtown Montreal. This event took place at CSSS Jeanne Mance, where a number of people were gathered. Many of them spoke in alternative ways. The event was organised by Brigitte Bolduc, psychologist, and Alexandra Méthot, social worker, at Centre d’hébergement Centre-Ville de Montréal.

The story contest was also a part of the second event. Michel Chamberland and Jean-Eudes Bourque were awarded their prizes, and their stories were read aloud.

Myself and Marie Julien with Jean-Eudes Bourque and Michel Chamberland, who both wrote powerful pieces for the contest

At both events we talked about our motivation for starting Kilometres for Communication. At the second event we discussed with the audience what we thought the next steps were to improving the lives of Canadians who have disabilities. There was a man who interested me. He had speech, but was in a wheelchair. He was passionate about our discussion, so much so that he was getting carried away with his words to the point that what he was saying was abusive and threatening towards policy makers and government officials. I don’t believe that we are born angry. Horrible and frustrating experiences are the pent-up gases that ignite anger when a painful topic arises.

I know there are people who work in the government who are compassionate and want to  improve the lives of people who have disabilities. I’m also sure there are many who lack that compassion. I know there are some people in positions of power who do understand the issues regarding disability, but nonetheless, there is still a lot of misunderstanding and there are a lot of policies at different levels of government across Canada which are based on misunderstanding. These policies are barriers to so many.

I can understand how someone could get as angry as the man in front of me today did. Years of being misunderstood, discriminating policies, and experiencing a feeling of helplessness about changing the situation would do the same to me. I don’t know what else is going on in this man’s life, so it may seem like I’m assuming a lot. However, I know that based on what we were talking about when his anger was roused – and his passion on the topic – this was a painful subject for him.

There’s a man by the name of Robert Jean who I did not get to meet. He speaks with AAC. He wasn’t able to make it to Montreal during the time that we were there, so he had arranged for us to get to know him as best as we could without meeting him. Marie Julien, president of CSCOE (Quebec’s AAC committee), gave us a gift bag which Robert wanted us to have. In this bag there was a book he had written and a DVD of his sky diving experience (I probably won’t get to watch the DVD until I’m back in Toronto when this trip is done). Marie Julien also had a photo album with many moments from Robert’s life. We didn’t get to keep this. There was everything from black and white photos from Robert’s childhood to a large colour photo of him sky diving. I want to meet him more than I did before I opened the album. Perhaps one day our paths will cross, Robert. Thank you for sharing parts of your life with me. I’ll have to do the same.

To everyone in Montreal: thanks for the memorable day. Your efforts to organize the events are greatly appreciated. I hope local people who speak with AAC will meet more often and develop a strong network. Elizabeth, Christine, Marie, Brigitte, Alexandra and everyone else who worked to organize the events in Montreal (and our stay)—we won’t forget your hospitality, kindness, and enthusiasm.

-Skye