The Sprint to the Finish

From our campground in Saint John, all that lay between us and our final destination was a ferry across the Bay of Fundy to Digby, Nova Scotia, and 300km across the peninsula to Halifax. We were so close and it was hard not to feel anxious!

The ferry crossing consumed most of Friday, but we had plans to be in a certain bar in Halifax by Saturday night and we were determined to make it. So a sprint to the finish it was going to be! Sadly, however, the weather didn’t cooperate. With thick fog and pelting rain, the crossing didn’t provide the views of the Atlantic we’d hoped for, but it did provide welcome, albeit brief shelter from the elements. Time doesn't wait for anyone, so that afternoon we pushed on through sometimes torrential rain into the evening. However, the remote, quiet roads made for enjoyable riding and we became increasingly excited with every sign that we saw quoting the distance to Halifax. By this point in the journey, the comfort of anticipation much outweighed the discomfort of wet feet. After a brief, and our only, encounter with a bear, we arrived at our destination well after dark.

Despite our efforts the previous day, we still had a significant distance remaining so we planned to set out at dawn. Unfortunately, forgetting the recent time-zone change, we got up an hour too early and set out into the darkness. Having arrived on a bicycle well after sunset the previous night, and now leaving well before sunrise, the inn’s owner clearly thought we were a little crazy! But she had no idea how far we'd come and how close we were.

Our last day of cycling was an appropriate end to a windy trip, with ferocious winds, fortunately today blowing in the right direction. Nevertheless, the hills along the coast seemed hard work, perhaps because we knew the end was so near and our bodies were giving up the fight. It was hard not to be impatient with how slowly the miles seemed to be ticking off the road signs. Anticipation of the end was almost overwhelming.

After numerous difficult experiences with big cities, we were determined to do the last one right, and do a good job of navigating Halifax. After racing a group of runners up the final, steep hill into the city, we cruised through town to Point Pleasant Park without incident. We'd planned to roll the bike down to the beach for the ceremonial wheel-dipping, but instead we were faced with an unbroken line of large rocks. We had quite a game carrying the fully-laden bike to the water, but we eventually made it with only a couple of soggy feet. We had made it.

Getting up on Sunday morning, in the knowledge that we didn't need to get on a bike any time soon was a strange, but well-anticipated and welcome feeling. We spent a couple of days seeing the sights and enjoying all the other things you can't do when you have to cycle 100 miles every day. Then, it was time to start to address all that had to be done to return us and the tandem to Boston and real life again. There had been so much anticipation and excitement about reaching the end, it had been easy to neglect the bittersweet task of accepting that the adventure was finally over and our return to normality came almost as a shock.