Epic Bike Trip Around the Maritimes, Step 5: Find some nice people

Or What I like about couchsurfing

I got off the bus in Edmunston, a town I'd never been before, in the middle of the afternoon. I circled the downtown once, got a map, got an ice cream, stared at the fleuve, and then ran out of things to do. I took the 144 out of town, found a campground and called it a day. Edmunston? Yeah, I've been there.

OR

I got off the bus in Edmunston and was met by my couch surfing host, who happened to work at the local paper in publicity and knew about half the town . While she finished work, her daughter saved me from an identity crisis, and I soaked off 24 hours of travel in her backyard hot tub. For dinner, my host almost burned the house down making a delicious mushroom sauce pork loin roast potato repas, and afterwards we took a drive around town and up to a beautiful view of the river. Then I had a nap, blogged on her computer, and chatted with her daughter about life in New Brunswick.

The next day, we went to the market where I met the people making scented candles and the people making jewelry out of old barn board and tree knots (all friends of my host). We had breakfast at the Lotus Cafe, vegetarian and organic, and of course I met the owner (another friend of my host). We got the car washed for charity at the kia dealership in support of Edmundston 's brand new chapter of MADD . I met the owner of the dealership (a friend of my host) and dunked the guy in the dunk tank on my second throw (not a friend of my host). Finally we drove to a cabin on a really peaceful lake where people canoe and I met my host's best friend and my host's best friend's mom. We drove back to town, said farewell, and I took the 144 of town just after noon. Edmunston? It's a really friendly place.

Epic Bike Trip Around the Maritimes, Step 4: Add Some Drama!

Traveling Incognito

Arrived in Edmunston, New Brunswick, twenty-four hours of traveling dirtier and at least that many hours short on sleep, miraculously with my bike (it got left behind in Toronto, but eventually caught up) and all my luggage (some of it got left behind in the overhead compartment, but luckily was remembered before the bus pulled out).  Incredibly, my couchsurfing host actually took off of work to come pick me up and drop me at her house with instructions to make myself at home.  Amazingly, I managed to put my bike back together with no parts left over (the brakes are rubbing - suggestions anyone?), and I was thinking I'd go get some camp fuel and a map, but my lucky streak had run out.

I couldn't find my wallet anywhere.  I emptied everything, put it all back, and emptied it again.  No dice.  I was standing in a stranger's very pretty guest bedroom with no money, no cards, and no identification, a 24 hour bus trip away from home.  Oh dear.  I called my dad.

The thing about my dad is, the more stressful the situation, the calmer he gets. It's a wonderful trait, especially if you're his semi-prepared, somewhat scattered daughter trying to have an adventure of epic proportions.  "Let me make a phone call, and I'll call you back."   Pace bedroom.  Five minutes later: "Here's the address of the Scotiabank in Edmunston.  They are going to issue you a debit card based on your answers to questions about your account.  They are open until 5pm, and they're closed tomorrow.  Get yourself there."  Ok!  Off I went to announce to the daughter of my couchsurfing host that I was penniless, and needed most urgently to know the way to the bank.  She was about to leave for work, but she drove me.  Without her, I would not have made it.  It's nice, when you're in need, how you get to experience people's kindness.  I'm getting to get a lot of kindness so far this trip!

So now I'm traveling with a debit card.  This show must go on! Cash-only transactions from here on out.  No health card, no id, no paper trail, no worries - incognito baby!

And we have lift-off!

<p>I missed my bus. By half an hour. I left in plenty of time (alright, I was a little rushed), but who could have predicted a high speed car chase that would shut down Lakeshore for the entire weekend and an accident on the Gardiner? I certainly couldn't.&nbsp; </p>

Thanks to two old friends, Jessalyn and Christine, who just happened to be in the Starbucks beside the bus station where I was consoling myself with a chocolate smoothie for old time's sake.  They convinced me that spending a night on a Montreal sidewalk with a bike-in-a-box wouldn't be that bad, and then Christine proceeded to find me a place to stay and help me carry my box. 
You're amazing, Christine!

And we have lift off!  ...sort of

Epic Bike Trip Around the Maritimes, Step 3: Try to stay zen while learning the art of bicycle maintenance

<p>.One sunny fall day ten months ago, I was headed downtown and I thought, "Why not take my bike? So much&#160; better&#160; than being stuck in a tunnel underground!" My back tire was a little flat, but no worries, I'd brought a pump. Except that there was something funny about the valve. Instead of putting air in, it took the air out. All of it. Now I had a tire that was a little bit&#160; more than a little bit flat, and no idea how to do the simplest of bike tasks: inflate. I cycled through perplexity to frustration to damsel-in-distress before settling on defeat. I locked my bike and took the subway.</p>
<p>There are no subways in Nackawic, New Brunswick (although they do have the World's Largest Axe). It's funny how quickly you can learn something when that knowledge bees essential. In the past two days, I took&nbsp; my tires off and put them back on.&nbsp; And then one of them conveniently got a flat so I took it off, found the leak, patched it, and put it back on.&nbsp; And then it exploded, so I took it off, switched out the inner tube and put it back on. I am now a proficient at removing&nbsp; and replacing tires. On bikes at least.</p>
<p>I'm also the proud owner of a set of Allen keys and a pedal wrench. I can take off my seat and handlebars, install a kickstand. I know how to use my pump and I have CO2 cartridges got when it fails me. I understand the history of bicycle frame construction and materials, but I didn't quite make it to the chapter on what to do if my chain breaks...  Oh well, every superhero has a weakness! 

Epic Bike Trip Around the Maritimes, Step 2:  Quit Your Job!
A Barista Waxes Philosophical 

As a barista, you learn a very little bit about a whole lot of people.

About some people, of course, you learn a little bit more.  Grande-whole-milk-bone-dry-cappuccino (three times a day, save the foam because she's coming back for a top-up) loves to garden and has a big backyard with nesting raccoons, except not this year.  Half-caf-triple-venti-nonfat-extra-hot-one-raw-sugar-no-foam-latte coaches her daughters' rep volleyball team (three grande strawberry smoothies), and venti-awake-tea-one-teabag-with-a-venti-cup-of-ice is an occupational therapist of some sort, is currently working two jobs, and just passed her third degree black belt.

But about other people, you learn a whole lot less.  Doppio-espresso-macchiato, all I know about you is you spend $2.47 a day  on coffee at Starbucks, and you shop at Whole Foods - you were ahead of me in line once, but I didn't say hi.

There are some sad moments: a best friend in the hospital, a newborn in ICU, a mountain-biking nephew pictured on the Jones Rootbeer who committed suicide.  And the people who disappear:  grande-non-fat-latte, I haven't seen you in over three months.  I hope you've just moved on.  Tall-blonde-roast-Viggo-Mortensen-lookalike, did you go back to New Zealand?  Or did you just get tired of waiting in line?

For most of you, of course, I also know your names (I just felt like I shouldn't put them in a blog).  Some of you even know mine.  An acquaintance of mine once complained that after three weeks of frequenting the local coffeeshop, the barista still asked him his name every morning.  "It's Bob," he'd say, just like yesterday, until one day, he got so fed up with it, he said, "It's FerNANDO!"  And then they remembered him.  Sorry, but who the heck do you think you are?  That barista was probably seeing upwards of 75 people an hour (yes, it does take less than a minute to order a coffee, especially if you have your toonie ready and you don't want six cents change) That's a lot of tall coffees and grande-no-room-americanos to memorize!   The very first customer name I learned was tall-half-a-pump-of-mocha-lactose-free-americano-misto's.  I asked her for her name, and she asked me mine.

I have to say, I don't really know what to do with all the pieces of lives I've collected.  Put them in a blog, I suppose.  My last shift if Wednesday, 6am-2pm, if you want to come down for a visit.  And grande-cafe-vanilla-frappuccino-light-with-sometimes-a-ham-breakfast-sandwich, whomever the venti-lactose-free-caramel-macchiato is for, I'm jealous!

Epic Bike Trip Around the Maritimes, Step 1:  Get inspired!
A fourth-grade book report

Remember back in the fourth grade, when you read books and then wrote a book report?  (Or maybe didn't read books and then wrote a book report?)  Blog post #1 is a bit like that because I got inspired by a book.  It's called Llamas and Empanadas: 5,000 kilometres by bicycle through South America by Eleanor Meecham. 

The Salar de Uyuni Bolivia - imagine biking across that!

        The Main Character is a young woman, 28 years old, from New Zealand.  The Plot involves cycling up and down the Andes twice, to the tip of Patagonia with gale-force winds and freezing temperatures, through a desert, up more mountains, and across a dry sea of salt to the highest city in the world!  All of this is done mostly over rough, pot-holed roads that sometimes inexplicably vanish altogether.  One of my favourite quotes from the book, attributed to the author's brother as good, sibling advice, is: "Leave home.  Move cities.  Go travelling."  Alright!  :)    You have to admit, though, that in comparison, two months around the Maritimes comes off as rather tame.  Or at least that's what I'm trying to convince my family!