We've been forewarned. A big storm is coming. The wind is already howling and the rain is a couple of hours away. The weather reporter (TV's are always turned to the Weather Channel up here) just said the winds will be reaching 90 kilometers per hour. The two Robin's employees, Samantha (She relocated from Boston 11 years ago to join a guy she met online. They had a baby together but have since split) and Lisa (born and raised here) are sitting here with me on the cozy upholstered chairs, sipping coffee and awaiting the morning coffee rush. They say 90 mph is nothing. It regularly gets to 120 around here. Yikes.
The people here are a rugged bunch and they take pride in it. Lisa showed me photos on her phone of she, her son and a dozens of others riding on their snow machines to a hockey tournament last winter. They regularly ride an hour or more to rinks in Quebec. She also showed me photos from last February of her pickup truck in front of her house. The snowbank was twice the height of her truck. She's lucky. Her friend owns a big truck and plows her driveway for her.
Eric and I are going to hunker down today. I'm fine with that. I have my laundry going in the guest washing machine back at the hotel. I'll have a relaxing breakfast when they open at 7, organize my stuff, do some reading and if I feel adventurous, go for a hike and a swim in the rain (Samantha and Lisa say the Jersey Trail cliff walk is worth the effort and there is a path from the trail down to a rocky beach.) I might even take a nap. Eric's snoring is loud and persistent. My disrupted sleep is taking its toll.
Yesterday's 120 mile ride from Cow Head to St. Barbe might have been the toughest I've ever experienced (though Eric contends our 2009 ride up Highway 15 in the deserts of Nevada/Utah was worse). There is no forest or vegetation up here. Just rock. The wind blows unobstructed off the water. It tossed us around like a windsock in a gale. I don't mind steady predictable wind. What was scary was the intermittent 30 mph gusts that threw us sideways. The logging trucks barreling by made it worse. Like last spring's mountain biking in Nepal, I spent most of the time zenning myself to a calm. I relaxed my shoulders, loosened my grip, wiggled my toes and kept telling myself "this is fun".
We stopped along the way a couple of times to enjoy the coastal surf before arriving
at the St. Barbe ferry terminal around 1 p.m. We unwound at lunch and then took the 1.5 hour ride across the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Blanc-Sablon.
The seas were choppy and winds were heavy but the ride was uneventful. I spent most of the time napping while Eric went to the deck for fresh air.
The only restaurant here in L'Anse au Clair is in our hotel. After unloading the bikes and showering, we sat for a nice relaxing dinner. Our waitress recommended the pan fried cod tongue but I opted for the turkey soup and Greek salad instead 😊. Eric had the house special; the pork chops. Because the waitress messed up our order, she brought us each a second beer, on the house. Living large.
Unfortunately, the weather delay, along with Eric's need to be home by Friday has us changing our plans. We no longer will be able to circle the Newfoundland perimeter. We will take the ferry back to St. Barbe tomorrow or Monday and cross the northern peninsula to L'Anse aux Meadows, 25 miles north of St. Anthony. L'Anse aux Meadows is a UNESCO World Heritage Viking settlement discovered in 1960. I'm looking forward to checking it out. From there we will go south to Corner Brook and then back to Port aux Basque for the return ferry to Nova Scotia. It's disappointing change but provides a good reason to return. I'll tuck my Newfoundland research into my desk drawer for another time.
Happy weekend everyone.
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