The sailing had been calm and sleep was achieved. The sunrise on the horizon from the penthouse suite was just marvellous.




It was another three hours before we rode the rig off the ferry and onto the Newfoundland Labrador terra firma.


The tooting from fellow passing passengers was magic and goose bumply. Even the bikers from the bar the night before gave us honks and waves as we became the solitude wheels left to ride the road toward the Highway turn off.



Wow! More splendure in landscape with forests, lakes, ponds and open pasture. Ken was ahead of us and when we caught him, he had stopped to meet a cyclist coming in the opposite direction.


A teacher from Minneapolis, Paul (Cricket Tales) was halarious at how he shared his citizenship experiences trying to say it in the accent we are going to be encountering. Being directed to a piece of dirt to pitch a tent was lost in translation when he was woken at 3 am in the morning to find he was on the wrong property. Or perhaps the right one but being set up by the chaps offering hospitality. His taking his everyday bike, purchasing another pannier to carry his life and hitting the road has meant he has now replaced everything on his bike apart from the frame, providing some lessons. Then being offered one nights homestay to end up staying for nine has resulted him spending longer than intened on the rock. He has loved it and even though his ride to the ferry where we had come from was in a fierce head wind, his first experience at cycle touring reflected a passion for it hook, line and sinker.

Soon after, we made our turn off to hang a right. We were back on the Trans-Canada 1 Highway.


It’s the one we have followed for most of the cycle riding across the mainland.

Tomorrow, it’s going to peter out.

And with that for us, it’s literally the end of the road.