When I stand back and look

I stood in the chilly remnants of waves at 6am on May 19, at Port Renfrew. I filled my glass jar with water—water that may have flowed thousands of kilometres, water that may have been churned from the deepest depths of ocean, water that may have sunk the Titanic in a different ocean, water that may have flowed into the ocean washing away the blood of a fallen soldier or a victim of genocide, water that has given life to creatures and been recycled back into the ocean, water that carved out the mountains and valleys I have to bike through. 8382 kilometres later, I’m looking out from Cape Spear, Newfoundland, into the thick fog hiding the ocean and wondering what the water’s story is.

It’s been a little over a week since I finished pedaling. The whole ride home, I felt like an impatient seven-year-old watching the clock, waiting for the recess bell. I just wanted to get home. I was counting the kilometres. Now I am home. The RV has been cleaned out and returned to the rental company. I’ve slept well. I’m slowly catching up on everything. I’ve been slowly putting pieces of this blog together from the road and the last 2 days at home.

The day after I finished cycling in Cape Spear, my dad sent me an email with some links. I’ve been tuned out of the news world for the most part on this trip. The only news I heard was what the locals were talking about, wherever I was. A shocking incident happened on August 1, 2011 on a Toronto sidewalk. The incident involved the police accidentally killing a man during the struggle of an arrest. The man killed had challenges due to a brain injury suffered as a child. A lot of you reading have probably already heard lots about this.

Here’s one of the more recent articles on the incident. There are lots of articles. Most of them don’t answer any of the questions I have. This one goes into a little bit more detail, although there are still so many questions that aren’t answered.

http://www.thestar.com/news/crime/article/1036477–hundreds-gather-to-remember-charlie

Clear as a sky scraper in the prairies on a sunny day, the police involved had no understanding of disability. The man who was killed wasn’t able to hear. If he walked through a crime scene the police were investigating, and they shouted to him, he wouldn’t have had a clue. Charles McGillivary, the man killed, had very little speech. If the police asked him a question, he couldn’t have answered properly. He also had an intellectual disability as a result of his brain injury. He wouldn’t think in the same way that the typical person does. Sometimes, people with disabilities appear to have erratic behaviour. People with spastic quadriplegia can randomly fling their limbs out and hit someone. They can’t help it. Someone who has a severe form of autism may not talk to anyone in a busy room. It may seem scary and overwhelming. They tune it out.

One question that hasn’t been answered is: why did the police need to talk to Charles in the first place? What exactly happened that escalated to the police tackling him? No matter what Charles did that alarmed the police, there was no consideration of the possibility that Charles may not be harmful, but rather have a disability.

Part of what is terrifying about this is that the people who are supposed to protect our loved ones—no matter what their race, sex, ability, age—cannot be trusted. If the police force doesn’t educate their officers about disability, incidents like this can happen again. It wasn’t long ago (2007) that a Polish immigrant with mental challenges, Robert Dziekański, was killed by RCMP Tasers.

All emergency response workers should be educated. Paramedics and firefighters need to know how to best work with the challenges a person with a disability may have in an emergency. An example: if a paramedic doesn’t understand how someone who speaks with AAC communicates, how can they find out if that person has any severe allergies to the painkiller the paramedic is about to administer? Furthermore, what if a paramedic doesn’t bother to ask a person without speech anything because they assume they have a severe intellectual disability based on their physical state? Police need to be trained, and emergency preparedness for people with disabilities needs to be considered important by all emergency task forces.

When I hear stories about incidents like this, I’m reminded how small I am; how small we all are. What’s amazing is that we are miniscule, yet the effect we have on the others around us can be as harmless as a fluffy cloud passing through the sky or as devastating as a colossal earthquake.

Here’s a little montage I’ve put together of footage from our 77-day journey—the West Coast of Vancouver Island to the eastern-most tip of North America. 77 days, 12 hours of footage, crammed into 9 minutes. It hardly does justice, and I’m not the best filmmaker, but I try. Check it out if you have the time.

-Skye

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Day 76 – Terra Nova National Park to Chapel Arm, NL – 158km

Three years ago, I had a thought. I tried to imagine myself cycling across Canada. “There’s no way,” I told myself. I went out for road rides and couldn’t get the idea out of my head…If I can do 180km today, there’s no reason why I can’t do 100km on the day after today… “There’s still no way,” I told myself.

Through the years that I was in middle school and a junior in high school, my brother had an ongoing battle to get the education he deserved. One of his teachers took his communication device away because she thought the voice was annoying.

Sometimes new vocabulary would be programmed onto Kerr’s Dynavox. He would go to school with a note for his teachers which explained the new programming and asked them to work with Kerr on using it. We later found out that the school considered these notes harassment. Whenever our family pushed for an improvement in Kerr’s education, Kerr seemed to suffer reprisals—forced to eat his lunch in a different room than other students, less time with his attendant who had worked with Kerr for years, and coldness from some of his teachers. Sometimes Kerr came home with a full lunch box. They weren’t even feeding him his lunch sometimes.

Kerr withdrew. He was bored and depressed. Kerr’s assistant would come home in tears some days after witnessing what was happening. I was younger at the time. I knew my brother had every right to communicate and that people who I did not know were taking this right away from him by underestimating and refusing. I was filled with anger. I think this was the only time in my life where I’ve had pent-up hate for particular people. I hadn’t even met these people, but I wondered what had happened to them to make them so naïve and wretched. Biking and running have always been my main outlets for stress and anger (not that I’m angry if you see me running).

I’ve learned a lot since then. I still have many of the same thoughts. However, I now know that it’s not as simple as certain people being cruel and narrow-minded; although there was a lot of cruelty and narrow-mindedness. The politics of a segregating system and disabling attitudes that people learn from others around them are the frameworks that discrimination is constructed from.

Sometimes I like to talk about my problems. I think it’s the healthy thing to do. The unfairness that my brother was experiencing became a battle with the Toronto District School Board that lasted many years. This battle consumed our family life. Ironically, although we were talking about the situation all the time, I never talked about my anger or frustrations. I was sick of the situation. I wanted to tune it out. We were all stressed out and tense, Kerr was depressed, and arguments were arising between us. My mom didn’t need any more stress at this point—she was on a strict macrobiotic diet to eliminate cancerous growths. I hated these teachers, the principal and everyone who made my brother’s twice a day, one hour trek to and from Scarborough for school meaningless; not just meaningless–torturous. I hated these people for ruining our family life.

Biking and running were my emotional releases.

At the end of high school I was thinking much more positively. Kerr had left school. Our battle with the school board had transformed into a legal fight. Kerr was no longer in jeopardy of being discriminated against and not having his needs met on a daily basis. Our family still had our stresses, but we were doing better. Kerr was doing better too. He was volunteering at the Royal Ontario Museum and doing research at the Toronto Archives, giving presentations on human rights (at least some positive things came out of this experience), and learning lots more with his assistants than he learned in the toxic condescending environment at his former school.

This “cycling across Canada” thought wouldn’t leave my head. In grade 12, I made it final that I was taking a year off before university. As you can tell from reading the last couple paragraphs, this experience my brother endured for too long triggers spite in me that most people who know me can’t believe I possess. I’m very passionate in my belief that every person has a right to be included and to have a voice. In Kerr’s experience, he was stripped of his voice, stripped of his humanity, and treated as an object. I knew that my brother wasn’t the only Canadian alternative communicator with such experiences.

I wasn’t sure how, but I was sure of who, why, what, and when. I was going to cycle across Canada to raise awareness about people who speak with augmentative and alternative communication and to try to get values of inclusion and the presumption of ability in mainstream media. I wanted to improve the lives of all Canadians who have disabilities, my focus being on those who are in situations similar to my brother’s. I hadn’t thought much about fundraising at this point, nor had I thought much about advocating for new policy. I knew that I needed my brother’s help. I knew that my mom would be a powerful force in the campaign. I knew my dad would be behind us, and willing to make any sacrifice to make it happen. I talked to my friends, family, and network. Slowly, Kilometres for Communication took shape.

That was three years ago. Tomorrow I finish my pedal across Canada—all the rain, wind, hills, mountains, blisters, sores, thirst, flat tires, fatigue behind me. By no means is this journey to empower voices or prevent what happened to Kerr from happening to others over. However, it does feel that years of emotion, planning, months of giving everything I have, the stories from all the people we’ve met, are manifesting. I haven’t finished yet, but I know that when I do, I will know a new feeling.

Today wasn’t a tough physical challenge. The wind wasn’t a huge factor. There were hills, but what goes up must come down. The sun was out. Nonetheless, today was one of the toughest days mentally of the trip. I was feeling some pain from some rashes. Moreover, I felt so close to finishing, yet I knew that I wasn’t finishing today; that I’d have to wake up again tomorrow and do it one more time. I went through each day of the trip. I tried to go through each road I took, the weather, and the people I met. I had shudders thinking about my days in the prairies and the days of rain in Northern Ontario. That, in combination with thinking of the memories from the last decade, the last three years of planning, and the training 3 hours a day, 6 days a week, got me through today.

At one point today, I was quite high up on a section of the Trans Canada going from the mainland along a channel of land to the Avalon Peninsula. The sky was blue. I could see thick cloud in the valley below me, which I was about to descend into. It really was an epic view, being above the dense clouds and seeing the ocean outlined by misty mountains fading into blue on my right and left. Someone down in that valley probably is wondering where the beautiful day went. They might even think it’s going to rain. I descended into the valley. I lost my view of the ocean. The clouds weren’t dark or threatening from below. They were even more spectacular. The light reflected off the afternoon fog in a magical way that I have never seen before. Life has a way of hiding beauty from those who are afraid to venture.

I cycled by an exit to a place called Mosquito Cove. My first thought was: “Why build a road to such a wretched place?”. On second thought, maybe some people have discovered a gem which they want to keep polished. Perhaps Mosquito Cove is simply a deterring name to keep the tourist traffic away. There’s always another perspective to be taken.

-Skye

August 2/11

Day 69 – Ferry to Newfoundland

As my mom says, rest days on this trip are a bit of a misnomer. They truly are catch-up on blogs and email days. That’s what I did yesterday. Today, I didn’t have to bike; I didn’t have to write. I didn’t have any events. This was the first true rest day of the trip. Last night, as I went to bed, I realized this. It was wonderful feeling my adrenalin subside.

We packed up our campsite and were at the ferry terminal a little after noon. The ship was scheduled to set sail at 3pm, and we were supposed to be registered and on standby to board by 1pm. We didn’t board the ship until quarter after 3, and the ship didn’t set sail until a half-hour later. The lateness didn’t matter to me, because whether I was snoozing in a reclining seat on the ship, or snoozing in our RV, I was snoozing, and that’s what I wanted to do today.

I did wake up for the ship’s safety and feature video—how to get to the lifeboats, how to put on the lifejackets, and all that. I’m totally comfortable with being in the air. Speed doesn’t scare me at all. Water has always churned my sense of comfort. I do take the Atlantic Ocean seriously. I watched the instructional video.

The safety video transitioned into a “check out how cool our boat is” video. There was all that stuff about the restaurant, reclining seat features, kids’ play area, the TVs. I was secretly laughing at the teen zone part of the video. There was a clip of an elevator door opening. Out walked a skater-style dressed teen. He scanned the room, flicked his long hair to the side, smiled, and looked somewhat in awe. A bunch of other teens were sitting around in this area listening to their headphones, and reading magazines.

I decided to forego checking in at the teen zone.

It amazes me how about 10 tractor trailers, 15-20 RVs, and a countless number of cars can fit on this boat. What amazes me more is that it floats. The boat itself is steel, and filled with hundreds of thousands of pounds of things that would plummet into the depths of any water. Really it’s amazing how far our race has come. Dump 500 steel beams into the ocean: they make a huge splash and sink. Now, take that same amount of steel and put it together in a different form; in the form of a boat: not only does it float; it holds hundreds of thousands of pounds and floats. How you get a colossal hunk of metal to move at 30km/hr across choppy water, and then navigate through a narrow rocky channel to dock is a whole other matter.

The boat that amazes me

Humanity has these complex triumphs of engineering, almost always as a result of a collaboration of ideas facilitated by communication. I think that it’s safe to say that there’s an inspiration behind every invention. Perhaps a floating log inspired someone to make one of the first boats. Perhaps a monkey sucking ants out of a hole using a rolled up leaf inspired the human use of the straw. We now pump billions of gallons of oil out of the earth with ‘straws’. The typewriter wasn’t originally intended for commercial use or business. A man invented it to help his deaf friend communicate more efficiently.

Open mindedness. Some of the best inventions were disbelieved, thought to be impossible, stupid, a waste of time. What would a world without airplanes be like? When our environments disable people, when our schools segregate, our policies act as barriers, and narrow-mindedness is the foundation of many attitudes, the sphere in which we all live is hindered from expanding.

-Skye

July 26/11

Day 67 – Linwood to North Sydney, NS – 152km

Something happens when a goal is in sight. The weather
doesn’t seem as relevant. Rain will dry. Winds; I don’t have to let them slow
me down. Time seems to pass by. Hills aren’t feared or resented. They are
merely another thing between where I am and where I want to be.

I pedaled on the narrow bumpy Highway 4 towards the Canso
Causeway—the entrance to Cape Breton. It was cloudy. I would enter a patch of
rain, get wet. Then it would clear up. The wind would dry me. When I wanted to
dry my gloves, I would take them off and strap the Velcro around my handlebar.
Hanging from the handlebar, they would dangle in the wind and dry quickly. The
wind was coming from the North, meaning that I had either a headwind or
crosswind depending on which way the road curved.

I knew Cape Breton was a special place from my first
glimpse of it. I came over a hill, and in the fog, I saw the behemoth mass of
rock and trees rise out of the sea. Big freight boats waited patiently near the
cliffs of Cape Breton. There are a number of mines on these shores. These large
boats wait nearby to take the mined rock to faraway places.

At the campground we stayed at last night, we met 2
cyclists travelling from St. John’s, Newfoundland to Halifax where they
live—Ron and Joe. Joe recommended a route for me to take. I was originally
going to take the Trans Canada (Highway 105) all the way to North Sydney. Joe
and Ron had taken Highway 223 which they recommended that I take. The only
tricky part is finding which side roads to take in order to get to 223. I took
Exit 4 off of 105, and then took a left onto Portage Road, which goes over to
223. It was actually quite simple.

Jen Kang from the L’Arche community near Whycocomagh,
Nova Scotia, had contacted us several months ago after her coworker, David,
spotted an article about Kilometres for Communication in the Toronto Star. We
had planned to meet several days ago, but our correspondence was loose.

Just by chance, I told Gail that I wanted to meet her
about 60-70km down the road (I leap-frog with the support vehicle).
Sixty-and-a-bit kilometres down the road was just off of exit 4 on the route
that Joe and Ron had recommended that I take. Gail pulled over in a closed gift
shop’s gravel parking lot. Serendipity: it just so happened that the gift shop
was part of the Whycocomagh L’Arche community!

I took an hour break from cycling and walked around the
L’Arche community. I met several people who live in the community. I met a
fellow named Trevor who was extremely interested in shoes. He was curious about
my bike shoes. He wanted to know if I had flip flops and a pair of rubber rain
boots. I wonder if Trevor has ever been to the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto. All
of us had a quick talk, but they were busy preparing for a birthday party later
in the day, and I had to get back on the road.

Not long after I got back on the road the clouds cleared.
Highway 223 was quite hilly, but it was beautiful. It followed the shores of
Bras d’Or Lake. Steep wooded hills fell into the deep blue of the lake. Along
some parts of the road, there were some extensive properties with impressive
lawns. As I passed these properties, I was pondering the amount of time that
someone spends cutting these lawns. I think some people’s pride grows
vicariously through their lawns. The ride was quite scenic and the time was
flying by. There are so many people who I wish could have seen the sights that
I saw today. Halifax was a special place, but it didn’t feel like a milestone
to me. I was expecting to feel a huge relief and sense of accomplishment when I
arrived in Halifax, but I didn’t; only mildly. Last night, 10km south of Cape
Breton, I knew that the ferry terminal at North Sydney was my goal; the place
where I would’ve cycled the mainland of Canada, the place where I would have
finished cycling my ninth of ten provinces. As I cycled today, I felt a strong drive
the whole day. I usually only get this drive for the final 20km of a day, when
I know I’m close.

I eventually arrived at North Sydney. A massive ferry sat
in the harbour. I had made it. I suddenly felt really tired. I knew that if I
had to cycle tomorrow, and the day after that, I wouldn’t feel as tired as I
did. However, I arrived a day ahead of schedule, our ferry to Newfoundland is
booked for the 26th, so I have two days before I have to pedal. My
body sunk into a relieved tiredness. I know that the adrenaline will kick in no
matter what the weather is the moment I set foot—set tire—in the final
province.

-Skye

Day 66 – Truro to Linwood, NS – 161km

I woke up early to get on the road at a good time, but
there was some really thick fog, so I ended up waiting around until it cleared.
I pedaled on Highway 4, the old Trans Canada, for about 60km. It was hilly and
twisty. I was enjoying the scenery and making decent time. I was thinking: perhaps I can get to my destination early
and catch up on blogs
.

I met up with the support vehicle about 70km into the
day, near New Glasgow, NS. Here, we called all the campgrounds in the
Antigonish area. It was a Saturday, and they all seemed to be booked. We found
a campground on the ocean, about 40km further along my route that had an
available spot. I agreed to pedal the additional distance in order to have a
nice place to camp. We had spent the night before in a little gravel lot in
between a road and a gravel multi-use trail.

I ended up pedaling the final 100km of the day on the
Trans Canada. It varied between wide paved shoulder, narrow paved shoulder, and
almost no paved shoulder. The highway was not a freeway for the stretch I was
cycling it. At one point there was a hill ahead. It looked like there was no
shoulder on my side. It’s one thing to have no shoulder going downhill, or on
flat ground with a tailwind. Cars take a while to catch up on an object going
40km/hr. Going uphill without a shoulder; that can be dangerous. There was a
wide paved shoulder on the other side. I crossed the highway and pedaled
against the traffic on the opposite shoulder. It felt strange, but I kept
telling myself that I was safer.

Twice on this portion of the Trans Canada, I saw cars that
had sped by me pulled over by police a kilometre or two later. I felt some
satisfaction as I cycled by them. There were lots of cops out on this stretch
of highway.

When we arrived at the campground, two other cyclists
coming from the opposite direction were just arriving. Ron and Joe were cycling
from St. John’s, Newfoundland, to Halifax, where they lived. They had actually
cycled across Canada last year. They too weren’t so lucky and had headwinds in
the prairies on their trip. I was glad to meet them—they recommended a great
route for my day tomorrow, which they had travelled today. When I was planning
my route over two years ago, I had considered taking the route they recommended
(Highway 223), however I wasn’t sure how to get to Highway 223. I didn’t want
to take a ferry, and I didn’t know if the side roads linking the Trans Canada
to 223 were paved or gravel. As well, my paper map, Google Maps, and Blackberry
Maps didn’t agree with each other. They all gave different road names and
showed different side roads in that area. It was good to have that all sorted
out and confirmed. Ron’s and Joe’s route also shed about 15-20km off my initial
Trans Canada all-the-way route. Thanks fellas!

Tomorrow I’m hoping to make it to North Sydney, the end
of my mainland cycle, weather providing. That’s another thing I’ve learned:
weather forecasts often don’t mean anything in certain parts of the Maritimes. In
some places they don’t have a clue what the weather will be like in an hour. Anyway,
I’m hoping I’ll reach my milestone tomorrow. My goal is in sight. As long as
the weather isn’t atrocious, I’ll have the motivation to get myself there.

-Skye

Day 65 – Halifax, NS – Rest/Event Day

I woke up and got myself ready. Each time I’ve spoken to
media on this trip, I’ve been suited up in my bike gear, sweaty, and perhaps
unshaven. Today was going to be a little different. I felt I needed to look the
part for Breakfast Television on CTV. I spent a half hour grooming—shaving,
manicure, hair, all that nonsense.

Laurie drove
my mom and I down to the CTV studio where we met Paul Doucet from the Speech
and Hearing Association of Nova Scotia. Paul had arranged the BTV interview for
us. We entered through the back door. It felt strange walking through the dimly
lit studio full of cameras and screens. Eventually, my mom and I moved from the
waiting area to our seats in the Breakfast Television Area, where we met our
host, Heidi Petracek. We chatted for a minute without the camera rolling; then
we watched the weather forecast finish up and waited for our cue. The interview
went quickly—it was about 5 minutes. I think it went well, but I’m not sure
because I never saw a recording of the show. Usually I don’t get to see the
media we’ve gotten because we move on to the next place.

CTV had asked me if I brought my bike. I hadn’t. I
probably could’ve shown up in my full bike gear with my Norco cross bike.

After the interview, my mom and I walked most of the way back
to Laurie’s and Dorothy’s house when
we heard a honk, and Laurie was there to pick us up. Back at their house I had
some cereal, toast, and fruit for breakfast. I was feeling full. Dorothy and Laurie’s
grandchildren, Jason and Joshua, were there that morning. Dorothy had made them
their favourite breakfast—pancakes with blueberry sauce. Jason and Josh decided
to save me a pancake. I was heading out the door to leave for our Halifax event,
feeling full, so I accepted their offering, but left it for later.

We arrived at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic just
before 11:30am. We walked around to the boardwalk at the back of the building,
next to the water. This was the lovely location of our event. There was lots of
tourist traffic. There were benches and some large boats were docked nearby,
adding to the charm of the harbour. The Speech and Hearing Association of Nova
Scotia (SHANS) was hosting this event. One of the main organizers of the event,
Renena Joy, was away on her family vacation, so I never got to meet her and say
my ‘thank you’ in person. Thank you Renena!
And thank you to the committee
of volunteers who made this event happen.

Strawberry Shortcake!

Members of SHANS were serving strawberry shortcake with
the donations going towards Kilometres for Communication. The event committee
had managed to get a large quantity of fresh strawberries donated by two
farmers. They had also managed to get Sobey’s to donate a gift card to buy the
shortcake and whipping cream. There were examples of AAC symbol boards for
people to use to order their strawberry shortcake. Some people who stopped by  were curious about our cause, and asked
questions; others didn’t, they just wanted their strawberry shortcake. Next to
the strawberry shortcake table, my mom and I sold Kilometres for Communication
T-shirts and talked to people about our cause.

Mark Cameron and Brian Baker

Well-respected local musicians,
Mark Cameron and Brian Baker were strumming and singing. The kids loved it.
Some came and sat right in front of the musicians. One 5-year-old, Everett, who
speaks with a communication device and gets around with a walker which
surrounds him and has 2 large wheels, was dancing all over the boardwalk.

Everett talking with his mom using his communication device

Everett introducing himself to me

There
was a third table with a display on Kilometres for Communication and AAC. At
this table there were some more examples of AAC for people to try out.

The "try a form of AAC" table

To everyone who made the event possible, to everyone who
came out, thank you! I met several people with whom we had been in touch
online, but had not met. Partway through the event, Gail and I spoke about
Kilometres for Communication and why it needed to happen. A lot of our crowd
was tourist pedestrian through-traffic. People had stopped to get food or
listen to some good music. Then we began to talk, and if they were intrigued,
they hung around, listening curiously.

Just as we were finishing off the event, Global News
arrived. Nicole, the reporter, interviewed myself, Penny Kitchen, and Sarah, a speech
language pathologist experienced in AAC. I was excited. Normally the news
coverage is quite quick and to the point. Nicole, the reporter, got about 30
minutes of footage. Yes, tons will be cut out, but this footage was promising.
Often it’s tough to educate people through media because we only have 1 minute.
That’s just enough time to explain What,
How, and a brief Why. Penny used her eyes to spell in this interview. A microphone caught
the voice of her attendant, Tiffany, saying the letters, and the camera was
focused on Penny’s eyes as she indicated what letter she needed to spell her
thoughts. (I explained how Penny communicates in yesterday’s blog)

After the event, Penny took my mom and I for a walking
tour of downtown Halifax. Tiffany and I took turns pushing Penny up the steep
hill from the harbour towards the Halifax Citadel National Historic Site. Penny
would indicate with her head and eyes which way she wanted to take us each time
we came to an intersection. After walking through the Halifax Citadel National
Historic Site, Penny took us down a road where the sidewalk zigzagged around
bar patios, often becoming a boardwalk on the road. Then we walked through the
Public Gardens and eventually into the Camp Hill Cemetery. Earlier in the day, I
had gone by the Alexander Keith’s Brewery. I’ll return for a brewery tour on
another trip. We strolled through the cemetery. Penny and Tiffany pointed out
an impressive grave monument—the gravestone of Alexander Keith. There were two
rows of Keith’s beer caps sitting on an edge of the grave marker. Another gravestone
had the name of a man and both his wives on the same stone.

Keith's Gravestone

The tour ended at Penny’s home. She and her sister,
Patricia, had a decent sized house renovated into two separate units. Penny’s
unit has two stories, an elevator, and a bathroom with a hoist track from her
bedroom. It was a nice set-up. Penny has her own living space, and she can live
independently, yet she isn’t far from her sister if any emergency were to
arise. Sometime in the next decade, Kerr (my brother) and I will have to figure
out a free-feeling living situation (for my brother). I find it interesting to
see the solutions that various families have come up with to avoid the
institutional option.

Penny, her parents (Dorothy and Laurie, Patricia (Penny’s
sister), Tiffany and Jessica (Penny’s attendants), my mom, and I sat in Penny’s
living room talking over tea, water and cake. Eventually, after a tough goodbye
we left Penny’s house, and drove back to Dorothy and Laurie’s home for supper before leaving Halifax.
I had my pancake with blueberry sauce from earlier as a pre-dinner snack. It
was delicious—thank you Josh and Jason. We had the TV on Global for the 6 o’clock
news. We watched the entire news. There was nothing from earlier. We were disappointed.

My mom and I got ready to drive back to Truro. I would
leave from Truro to cycle up to Cape Breton the next day. Just as we were about
to leave, my mom received an email. The news story was going to air, just not
tonight. This was great news, but once again, we wouldn’t get to see the piece.

Halifax was a wonderful city. I definitely want to return
to experience some of the city’s culture. Penny, it was a delight to finally meet
you. Your tour was a memorable part of my trip that won’t be forgotten. Dorothy
and Laurie, your hospitality and generosity won’t be forgotten either. Most of
all, I want to thank you for sharing your experiences—I learned a lot. The
stories and perspectives you shared were profound, enlightening, frustrating, funny
and sad.

On to the last leg of the trip!

-Skye

Day 63 – Augustine Cove, PE to Truro, NS – 180km

I woke up curious today. I knew that bikes weren’t
allowed on the Confederation Bridge between Prince Edward Island and New
Brunswick. However, when I was sitting in the RV, driving across the bridge to
the island, I didn’t see anything preventing cyclists. I didn’t see any “no
biking” signs either. It’s a one-way toll bridge. The toll is on the Prince
Edward Island side. The bridge had a wide paved shoulder and looked quite
pleasant to cycle on. So, were cyclists truly forbidden from pedaling across
the bridge?

I decided to test these waters.

Yes, it is absolutely forbidden to cycle on the PEI
Confederation Bridge.

I avoided the tolls that would have instantly stopped me.
I went through the village of Borden-Carleton and took a one-way street to the
highway, pedaling against the traffic on the shoulder. There are things a
cyclist can do, but shouldn’t do, that a car cannot do. Then I crossed the
road. Now I was past the tolls and the bridge was ahead of me. Perhaps it would
be an uneventful cycle. I pedaled up the first part of the bridge. I went by a
few construction workers. They didn’t seem to care…actually they did once they
noticed me 25 metres past them. They started shouting at me. Oh well, already
this far. I pedaled a couple kilometres into the bridge. Then I ran into more
construction. One lane was closed off. I was stopped, and very shortly the
bridge patrol came and picked me up, took me back to PEI to pay the shuttle
fee, and then I got shuttled over to New Brunswick. By this point, I just wanted
to get back on my bike.

On my bike again in New Brunswick looking back on the PEI Confederation Bridge

I had gotten on the road at about 8:15am only 15km away
from the bridge. It was now 10am. I pedaled. It was sunny. I took the Trans
Canada for about 20km, and then ended up on a quiet 2-lane country highway that
wound its way next to the sea. There was very little traffic, so it didn’t
matter that the road was narrow and had no shoulder. I was still feeling
foolish for wasting my own time, trying to cross a forbidden bridge. Oh well,
that was truly a once in a lifetime experience. I wouldn’t call it a bucket
list experience, but it’s something I’ll never forget. My mind was quite
occupied, so the kilometres stealthily rolled by.

Before I knew it, I ended up in this small seaside town
called Northport. A construction crew was putting in a new bridge. Often, when
there’s construction, a cyclist can go through a parking lot, go on a sidewalk,
or walk around if it’s really bad, and ultimately avoid a long detour. Since
they were putting in a bridge, I didn’t have a chance of avoiding the detour.
It was a 9.4 km detour of gravel road. There were some super coarse sections. I
even unclipped from my pedals on a couple occasions; just in case. I managed to
make it through on my slick tires without getting off my bike. The last part of
the detour was paved. However, this last paved section did a big-U. Wait a second…Aren’t I going back in the
direction I just came from?
I ended up on the other side of the bridge,
literally 300m from where I turned off onto the detour before the bridge. Dear construction detour: you’ve got to be
kidding me.

That darn detour

How to navigate coarse gravel with slick tires

It is what it is. The sun was still shining. After all
the rain and headwinds I had earlier in the trip, I’ll appreciate the moment
anytime I have good weather. I kept pedaling down and over small rolling hills
and quaint seaside villages.

A perfect day on a quiet seaside road. Jealous?

Tribulation number 3: I got a flat tire. Flat tires are
always annoying, but they aren’t a huge setback as long as you know how to fix
them and you have the spare tube and the pump to fill the spare tube. I possess
both.

I arrived at Belgravia Bed and Breakfast in Truro a
little after 5pm. I was feeling quite tired after the unexpected challenges of
the ride. It was quite a rewarding ride to finish. I sat out front for a while
unsure of what to do. Gail hadn’t arrived in the support vehicle (with the
food). I was supposed to meet one and maybe two people at the B&B sometime
between 5 and 6. I was also hungry.

Janice Archer from the Holland Bloorview Centre in
Toronto had flown out to ride with me from Truro to Halifax. She had flown into
Halifax earlier in the day and then took the bus to Truro. She was staying at
the Belgravia B&B in Truro, and kindly offered my mom and I to come stay
too.

Janice came out front and found me. We went to grab subs
for dinner.  By the time Janice and I got
back from dinner, my mom had arrived at the Belgravia. Janice, Gail and I sat
in our RV talking and joking about the goofy pictures on the side of our rental
vehicle.

Janice’s bike was still disassembled on D’Arcy and Anne’s
back porch (the kind owners of Belgravia). We took care of that bike. I have to
give D’Arcy and Anne credit. They are two of the very few people on this trip
who haven’t hesitated to shake my hands covered in grease and bike grime.

After a long hot shower (and a spacious shower, not a
typical crouched power shower in the RV), it was amazing to fall back on a
comfy bed. Thank you D’Arcy and Anne for the wonderful room and your excellent
hospitality! Thank you Janice for providing the room for me! It was wonderful
to have some creature comforts which I have missed.

-Skye