Finishing Strong

When I poked my head out of my tent at 7:30 am, the wind was already howling.
Oh well, I only had to go 25 km to the ferry for the first leg of the day, and what's another headwind after so many?
However, I would soon discover that not only did I misjudge the direction of the ferry landing relative to the wind, the shoulder for the last rip on the Trans Canada was smooth and wide. So I sailed down to the landing in good time, not feeling any of the exhaustion lurking below the surface.
I passed the ferry trip eating free cheese samples, charging my phone, and reading a newspaper. I know, boring, boring. But I've spent the last two weeks along the Gulf of St. Lawrence, so it's nothing new.
As we docked, I headed on deck to give Nova Scotia a strict first assessment.
Much more wooded than PEI, and yep. Sure enough there were some decent hills lurking menacingly in the background.
I let all the vehicles disembark before hopping back in the saddle and enjoying a highway totally free of traffic for about 10 km.
Continuing on to New Glasglow, I passed several lumber mills, filling the air with billowing smoke and the acrid, metallic tang of chemicals. Lovely.
Stopping in town for groceries, pints and a new book, I chatted with the bartender at Backstage Brewing for a bit before heading out for an "easy" ride another 25 km to a campground.
I probably should have checked the elevatiom profile.
As I left New Glasgow, the road began winding up. Waiting for the eventual downhill, I plodded on. The road kept going up.
And up.
And up.
For the entire 25 km I climbed over what is apparently the easternmost foot of the Appalachian Mountains. Wow! The more you know! Sure enough, the campground was smack at the top, and after so many long, tiring days and a small mountain, I was pooped.
I had expected a gas station or convenience store enroute and being wrong, I had to make do with only my instant rice dinner and pop tarts for snacking. Oh well, I still filled up and then had a chat with the guy who runs the park and campground. He offered me a small bottle of maple syrup produced on property and I graciously accepted. It will go well with my oatmeal for the last few days on the road. The day wasn't too bad even. I did manage to sew up my pants and lube my chain before calling it an early night.
I'm going to attempt a run to Lunenberg and back up to the Halifax Airport by Sunday morning, but if it doesn't work out, oh well. Only 3 more days on the bike and man am I looking forward to my soft bed and warm shower in the Yukon.
As I ran out of purification tabs the day before, I risked drinking the water right from the tap, despite a boil water recommendation. I like to live dangerously.
I didn't find my downhill for a while. The morning started with a ride along a hilltop ridge for an hour. Luckily the road was good and traffic nonexistant. I put on some tunes and had a nice ride.
Descending into the valley, it started to get less enjoyable. Remote woodlands gave way to small farms, rusted cars, and potholed roads. Truck traffic increased and the local populace emerged as mainly surly, overweight white dudes. It seems I charted a course through Rednecktopia.
As I went along, I passed through much of the same, with some rolling hills thrown in. The shoulder was nonexistant, food and water were hard to find, and garbage was everywhere. Garbage in the ditch, in people's yards, in the parking lots.
Nova Scotia is edging down below Northern Ontario on the Provincial Rating Scale.
I stopped at a small ballpark for lunch and tried to settle some last minute escape plans. I needed to find camping, as I discovered that the imminent Long Weekend meant that campsites were hard to come by, and I still needed to book a car rental.
After an hour of data usage and phone calls, I called it good enough and took off. Turning onto a "feeder highway", I assumed that traffic would be low and it would be a relaxing afternoon ride to some camping.
I was so very wrong.
The road was in bad shape, no shoulder, potholes, etc. And the traffic was abysmal. Drivers were doing minimum 20 km/hr over the speed limit, passing me with less than 2 ft space, often shouting or laying on the horn at my audacity to ride a bicycle within 5 km of them.
The transport trucks were the worst. Passing as close as possible, at 90 km/hr, ingnoring blind corners and hilltops. I began filming with my action camera just in case I needed evidence at at hit and run trial.
To make matters worse, the road wound over a series of hills, into a headwind. And then it started pouring rain.
Things were grim. But what could I do? I just turned my pedals, secured my wallet and phone in a pannier and toughed it out to camping.
When I rolled in, I negotiated a very costly site for the night (frickin long weekends...) and set up camp. I came close to a nervous breakdown when the wind blew my action camera off the charger and into a dense bush, making me think it had been stolen until I got down on all fours and conducted an extensive search.
Then my thigh cramped up as I couldn't believe, making me feel like someone hooked a car battery up to my quadriceps.
Eventually though, the cramp passed.
I made dinner and hung up my damp clothes and read my new book.
I slept the best sleep for weeks.
The next day I cooked breakfast and determined my stove fuel may only have enough oomph for one more meal.
Pie for breakfast Saturday? I think so.
I braved the rigours of Highway 14 again, but the traffic was much better. I made it into Windsor by 11 am, grabbing one last rice dinner from Sobeys before hitting up the local cafe and brewery. I have campsites booked for tonight and Saturday and booked a car online for Sunday. Things are starting to shuffle into place.
It only took a shott effort to get back up into the hills to the campground. I set up, killed a nearby pallet for wood, then cooked some curry rice over the fire before discovering some wild blackberries, reading and going to bed.
The next day I did my best to drain the dregs of gas from my last canister. No good though, still a dribble left. Oh well, it can heat some coffee tomorrow.
I had camping booked in Renfrew that night and was looking at a 35 km ride on bad roads or a 100 km ride on unknown roads.
Easy choice. It's my last full day on the bike (only biking to the airport Sunday to rent a car), so I must obviously do the 100 km of mystery.
A little unnerved by the number of geographical features ahead of me with "hill" or "mountain" in their name, I took off. Sure enough, a few short winds took me up the side of the local hill for 10 km straight. Google Maps informed me that it would be all downhill from my 11 am snack break, but as always, my heart was subsequently broken by a series of winding hills.
I dipped briefly down into Sackville before turning north again and hitting the first good cycling road I have yet found in Nova Scotia. No shoulder, except in parts, but traffic was good and the surface was smooth. I passed the first cyclists I have yet seen in Nova Scotia.
A quick stop in Enfield for an Irving lobster roll and then I hit up Sobeys.
Being my last night camping, I went in for a feast of watermelon, corn chips, pie and beer.
Whew, gonna need to start cutting firewood asap when I get home. The calories are starting to pile up.
I spent the last night polishing off a book, feasting, and double checking bookings for my return home.
Just a quick visit to Halifax, Calgary and then it's home.
Looking back over pictures of the trip, I am having trouble believing it's over. Surely there is another cloud to gaze at, another hill to struggle over, better coffee and beer and donuts somewhere down the road...
But all journeys must end. Time to return to the Yukon and try processing four months of incredible travel.
But first, Halifax!

Beer was decent, decor was a solid 10

Need this range for my future cabin/shack

I was told Irving's big stop was the place for lobster rolls. It was alright-ish.