2010: Moncton to nowhere and back

The Plan

Besides cycling across Canada, I have at least one other goal: see a CFL game in every city in Canada.  By 2010, I had been to Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Regina, Toronto, and Montreal.  Two cities with teams were left on my list: Winnipeg and Hamilton.  Ottawa, the most on-again-off-again CFL city, was projected to have a team by 2013, and would hit my list then.  But in 2010 the CFL put on the first-ever regular season game in the Maritimes, “Touchdown Atlantic,” in Moncton, New Brunswick. 

I was living in Montreal at the time, attending McGill University, and before the teams had even been decided upon I was excited at the idea of going.  I am still undecided as to whether or not I could claim to have been to every CFL city without going to Moncton, but when the league announced that it would be the Edmonton Eskimos (my “hometown” team) playing, I was determined to be there.  My girlfriend Andrea was almost as enthusiastic, and I bought a pair of tickets as soon as they went on sale.  Turns out Touchdown Atlantic—with only 20,000 seats—was hugely popular, and our seats were in the end zone.  

Did not matter:  the event was spectacular, better than most playoff games I have been to, and the Esks won in a blowout—a rare occurrence in what was up to then a 2-9 season (they had been blown out in the previous week’s game in Montreal, which Andrea and I had also attended).  But I am not only getting ahead of myself, I’m digressing.

I saw the trip as a chance to get in some Maritime biking.  Fredericton and Moncton are just under 200 kilometers apart, a fairly manageable one day ride.  Also, as I had done the year before, I could take the bus from Moncton back to Fredericton the same evening. 

The plan, then, was for us to rent a minivan, providing room for my bike and space to sleep in the back.  

The money we would save on accommodations easily made up for the extra rental fee and gas.  

We would drive to Fredericton from Montreal and spend the night there  Early the next morning I would bike to Moncton.  Unfortunately, Andrea was under 25 and too young to drive the rental car, so I would catch the bus back to Fredericton to meet up with her that same night.  Then, on the Saturday morning we would drive to Moncton for the football game on Sunday.

September 23, 2010

We left early on a Thursday morning as planned and got to Fredericton in the evening, around 20:00.  Over supper, after looking at the weather forecast, I decided to bike on Saturday instead of Friday, and reverse directions, Moncton to Fredericton.  The forecast for Friday called for 20 millimetres of rain and temperatures in the low single digits—plus, since I was planning to wake up at 5:00, it was already getting to be a late evening.  The Saturday forecast was not significantly better, but the forecasted rain was less than 10 millimetres, and I was hoping it might improve even more. 

That night we slept in the van in a neighbourhood near the YMCA. 

September 24, 2010

As predicted, even after sleeping in until 9:00, it was cold and raining when we woke up.

From Fredericton we drove down to Saint John and the Bay of Fundy.  The southern New Brunswick coast is beautiful and we made a few stops here and there.  In the Bay of Fundy National Park we stopped at a lookout on top of a mountain and then down on the beach in a place called Alma.  The water was almost at low tide and there were fishing boats riding high and dry on the sand.  Further along we stopped at an old covered bridge somewhere past Alma.

Eventually, after winding along the coast we arrived in Moncton early in the evening.  

We visited the YMCA there to shower and prepare for bed and turned in early.

September 25, 2010

The new plan was for me to wake up around 5:00, bike to Fredericton (176 km away) in under 12 hours, catch the last bus from Fredericton to Moncton at 17:45, and be back in Moncton for 19:15. When I checked the forecast before bed it said a mix of sun and cloud, with less than a millimetre of rain for both cities, with lows of around 10 and highs in the 20s—far better than Friday’s weather.

It was raining when I woke up, but I was loaded up and on the road by 5:50.  Andrea woke up to say good bye, but she was back to sleep quickly.  It was far, far darker than I expected for much of the route in the first few hours, both because of lack of sun and lack of streetlights.  In fact, I briefly got lost on my way out of Moncton, and then, once I was on the highway, I was forced to slow down since seeing the road in front of me was impossible, or, in the rare instance that a car drove by, I was blinded by the light.

By 7:00 it was getting light, but it was still raining and I was making terrible time.  The rain, dark, and wind had all slowed my pace.  I had to average 15 kmph, and I was beginning to worry; once I fell behind schedule, making up the time would be tough.  Also, surprisingly, I was getting colder and colder.  

Around 8:00, I began considering turning around.  I had never considered that before on a bike trip, and I simply shelved the idea in the back of my mind.  But, it kept nagging at me; there was absolutely no sign of the sun and the rain was continuing steadily.  If anything my pace was decreasing as my shorts and shoes and socks and shirt soaked up more and water, weighing me down considerably.   Water was even pooling at the bottom of my saddle bags. 

About 33 kilometres from Moncton I stopped on top of a hill on NB 112, looking at the dairy farm to my left, the smell of wet, fresh grass surrounding me.  I was drinking some water and trying to decide if continuing was realistic.  The idea of being stuck between Moncton and Fredericton was not pleasant.  It was now well past 8:00, and in two and a half hours of biking I had only gone 33 kms;  I was cold, wet, and already getting tired.  If anything, I had hoped to be ahead of pace by now.  

Turning around would without a doubt mean failure; I would not have another chance this year to bike, let alone in the Maritimes.  I had already used up the one day I had to spare by not biking on Friday.

Fatefully, the choice turned out to be much, much easier than it was shaping up to be.  As if on queue, thunder roared ahead of me.  Within seconds, the steady rain turned into an absolute downpour.   Rain pelted down, the wind blowing it straight into my face, sheets of water across the road.  With a psychological shrug, I turned back and retraced my route.

The next half hour was absolute misery—by far the worst biking conditions I had ever faced.  Every bit of clothing became absolutely drenched, and even my face and skin were covered with water and dirt.  Mud and droplets of water covered both the outer and inner halves of my glasses’ lens.  The wind and extra water only made me colder; my legs and arms went numb, my hands red and puffy. 

Thankfully the rain stopped—or at least petered out—before 9:00.  Stiff, utterly soaked, completely filthy, and with limbs swollen from the cold, I arrived at the van just after 10:00.  Andrea was still sleeping soundly, warmly, curled up in her sleeping bag, with mine over top.  I woke her up—and startled her quite badly—by knocking on a window.

Needless to say, I was very, very disappointed.  We drove to the YMCA and I took a long, long shower.  Fortunately we managed to make the most of the day, and we drove out to Shediac for a lobster dinner, before turning in that night at a bed and breakfast, leaving the van to my wet, dirty bicycle.