Fredericton to between Boisetown and Doakland, NB
Traditional territory of the Mi’kmaq
81 km
First hot day of our tour, buggy really buggy, 24 ºC
Keeping it brief because there is much to do and both the main topics I’m about to write about need more refining and fine-tuning in my brain before I stumble to articulate it more thoroughly.
A cloud of blackflies hovered around us all day yesterday and by the time we set up camp, it was mosquitoes galore. Every inch of me which wasn’t covered (despite rain jacket, pants, socks, cycling gloves, toque) was under attack. We need to work on our efficiency for entering and exit the tent for buggy days. As we were swatting mosquitoes in our tent before bed, I realized the irony and sadness in killing something which was literally carrying my own blood. It was a visceral visual of how the stories we hear of aggrieving communities which for the sake of this piece are in our nation are in a not-too-far-removed manner of speaking akin to hurting ourselves. You were here or are here or will be here and therefore part of this collective quilt that is being knit.
There were trees as large as clouds.
The other piece for today which was a beautiful perfect day, even with the bugs (in hindsight, not while I was being eaten alive), in which we picked up our re-tensioned wheels from the oldest bike shop in Canada, Savage’s (special post on them soon). This was after breakfast at a fabulous local spot with marvellous company which was terrific and a secret so I won’t write about it here. Okay fine, stop weeping*, here is a photo.
We were given a rather thoughtful tour around the University of New Brunswick by our host and a guest of hers. This included a visit to the
We left town late, lingering to listen to some lovely tales, both recent and older, and it occurred to me that there exists now some sort of a spectrum of stories which all experiences that highlight a moment may be categorized as:
- Storyyelling, we all know storyyellers and I’m not listing any I know in case they are offended. (Some of them rightfully so.)
- Storytelling, we are fortunate if come across a handful of good storytellers in our lifetime, those who mix timing and experience and something tremendously indescribable.
- Storysmelling, you are fortunate to be here, so live in the moment, you cannot translate this olafactory magic into words or pixels. Don’t even try.
We see a lot of #1, we’ve been experiencing a lot of #3 (not just our own smells), and we’re trying to work on getting you some #2.
It isn’t easy but perhaps it’ll get easier.
Till next time, send some bug spray and/or aloe vera, whatever you do please do NOT be fooled by this picturesque looking campsite.
*Not that there is anything wrong with weeping or showing your emotions, just don’t make a public spectacle, not while I’m around, well, more specifically, not because of me