St. John's, rest day 1
Who am I kidding, it's end-of-trip day 1. I am still in denial.
Alright, what did I do that day. The morning started off the usual – I slept in. It was around 1:30 when I finally got out of the hostel and headed for breakfast. There's this restaurant downtown that serves basically only breakfast, and there is often a line-up. I had a nice meal there – the mixed-berries pancakes with bacon caught my eye. Well, it was tasty, but it was simply a few pancakes with mixed berries on top. I guess I was expecting mixed berries into the pancake.
I was a downtown tourist afterwards, doing the sight-seeing on the West, North and South part of town. The East, where Signal Hill and other attractions are located, were on the menu for day 2. I ventured to Mile One Centre, where the St. John's Fog Devils play, an oddly enough, located at Mile Zero of the Trans-Canada Highway. On that site, there were a bunch of little plaques showing how far certain things were (including Ottawa, Dublin, North and South Pole, etc).
Shortly after having breakfast and only visiting a few sites, I decided to hit the (apparently) World famous Ches's Fish and Chips, since I was in the area. Being here, I had to try one of their main dishes, even though I've been scared of fish for years (I generally don't like the smell, so it throws me off ad I don't want to eat it). It was alright, nothing fancy, but alright. I was tempted by the Quidy Vidi (pronounced Kiddy Vidi) Iceberg beer, which is a local company that makes this beer with, you guessed it, iceberg water. Since that brewery was i the plans either later tonight or tomorrow, I decided to skip it.
I was quite full at that point. I can't believe how many times I just stopped at a park bench and just sat there. This definitely felt different than any other rest days, as I was always busy trying to squeeze everything in. This time, I just sat there, with not much motivation (or rush) to move. It did kind of feel nice. It was also a time to soak in the view of multi-coloured houses all over the place. jelly-bean-ish. A local told me that it might of come from a tradition that the house was painted the same colour as the fishing boat. This way, the wife (home-bound) would be able to look out to the harbour and see if her husband was coming home. Years ago, all the levels of government had a program that donated various different colours of paint to home-owners, and started the boom of all the houses painted differently. It definitely adds charm to the city.
I visited a few other local attractions – the Bascillica, a few cathedrals, The Rooms (re-enactment of a soldier's barrack during the time of wars over a century ago), and eventually returned to the hostel to relax a bit.
The downtown, aka South part, was next. The main attractions are the courthouse, the big monument at the harbour, the harbour itself, the many stores lied the main streets, and of course, George Street. St. John's holds the title of having the most bars per capita in North America, where at the centre of it is George Street. I was saving that for the next two nights, where I could hit the sauce a bit, and even try screetch (local rum, terrible stuff apparently).
Something caught my eye: The Yellowbelly Brewering Company and restaurant. Yes, time for supper. Pretty good food, where I had the beer and cheddar soup (Pale ale, white cheddar, chive creme fraiche), grilled Atlantic salmon, with black pepper and horseradishpotato mash, spinach, pancetta and raisin saute. For desert, I ha to try the rosemary and wild honey crème brule, with a tuile cookie spoon, and fresh fruit garnish. That was quite delicious. The waitress stated that if that desert was a man, she'd marry it. Their beers: The Fighting Irish Red Ale, the Wexford Wheat Ale, and their Honey Brown. No testers, so I had to have a pint each. To accompany my desert, I ordered a half-pint of the red, as it was the tastiest of the bunch. But, since they didn't have half pints, she brought over a full one. Oh well, more to enjoy. You could taste the caramelized grains in the red, it really stood out. Tasty.
What was fun, and unexpected, was the conversation some folks were having beside me. At one point, they said “well, Barrymore's on Sunday for 80's night is fun”. What? Hey, Ottawa folks. So, we got into a conversation. Lindsay and Kelly, who drove all the way here, met Matt, from Maine, on the Argentia ferry. The girls were in town for a few days before heading out to Gros Morne for a week. So, with those folks, I would try to hook up later on in the evening.
The night already had a plan. Remember the 4 boys that I ran into just inside the Saskatchewan border, who were biking to raise funds for Cancer research? Well, their final destination was also (of course) St. John's, and their arrival was on Friday (like me). I didnt' expect to be here at the same time as them, so I thought I'd miss out on the bash they'd have on the Saturday night. So, the game plan was to show up, have some beers, congratulate the fine fellows, and eventually meet up with the fine Ottawa ladies.
As soon as I walked in the door, the boys recognized me. I was shocked, as usually cyclists don't recognize each other if we're in our casual clothes (if we're only used to seeing them with tight revealing clothes and a bucket on our head). Very good fellows, quite genuine, and also half in the bag (rightly so). It was great. After sharing some stories, I eventually heard about someone else who was suppose to show up tonight. This person, for the entire province of NFLD and parts of Cape Breton, I referred to as “The Ghost”.
You see, when I was biking through BC an Alberta, when I would stop at campgrounds, I would hear of “this girl from Victoria who was biking by herself across Canada”. I was quite sure I'd run into her at one point. But, it never happened. Once I hit Ontario, where I would take a different path than everybody else (until hitting St. John's), I would probably not run into any other xCanada cyclists. In Baddeck (where I had that lobster lunch), Bob and Joan, two older folks who were also biking this fine nation, told me that just ahead of me was this “girl from Victoria who is biking by herself”. Holy shit, The Ghost is back! Would I eventually run into her on the ferry or in NFLD? Time would tell. The big thing was which ferry she would take – the long one, or the short one like me. But, I never did run into her, and basically thought she took the long ferry and ended a few days before me. Alas, at Club One, where the big shin-dig for the boys was happenin', there she finally was. We met, and had a few stories of our own. She was amused at my story, and surprised as well. For her, she heard about me, as I was called (which became my reputation) “Mr. 200-a-day guy”. Thirty million people, a country that spans 8-9 thousand kms, and two individuals form a reputation that is known amongst select campgrounds and cyclists alike. Freaky. It felt nice to have a little rep. A nice heart-warming story about her trip – three girl-friends of hers from back home, flew to Moncton to ride the rest of the trip with her. They were busy hitting the sauce a bit, and tearing up the dance floor. One was feeling pretty good, was bold and said to me: “you're cute”. That was funny.
At the club, there was also two other cyclists, Darrick and Sinisa, that did the same trek, but did it with recumbent bikes. They, oddly enough, also arrived yesterday. Every one of us had a different agenda, different starting point, different day of departure, and we get there on the same day. Freaky.
At the club, I sampled (a few times) the local “Canadian/Blue” beer of NFLD – the Black Horse. Well, nothing major. It's like a one-legged, toothless, wrinkly lady – not pretty, but it can do the job. Now, would I meet up with the ladies from Ottawa? I was half in the bag at that point, and started doing what I refer to as “walking” back to the hostel. No meeting tonight. Bed time.
p
