Something adventurous! (part 2)

Spare change for tires?

Determined to have a successful bike trip to Cavendish, I resolved to camp out in front of the Canadian Tire until it opened, in hopes of procuring a new tube for my busted bicycle tire.  I reasoned that even if the store didn't open until noon, if the trip took 2 hours, like Google-maps promised, then we would still be able to enjoy a couple of hours in Cavendish before coming home.  In the meantime, our spare time could be spent trouble-shooting where to get lunch.  The whole Maritime devotion to observing a day of rest was seriously hampering our attempts at locating a place to buy a sandwich. Fortunately, Pita Pit came to the rescue with its yummy custom-wrap goodness, and then, 10 minutes before the Canadian Tire opened, the owner of the bike rental place showed up with a new bike for me.  YAY!  The trip was delayed but not defeated.  Optimism had won!

Actually.... naivety had won.

The first clue I had that this trip would not be all that I envisioned it to be happened shortly after we detoured off the Confederation Trail and reached the crest of the first hill, only to be confronted with a landscape that looked like this:

At least you know that none of the hills go higher than 400m over sea level.

 Forging onward, we reached the top of that hill only to find an almost identical hill behind it.  And an identical hill behind that one.  And an identical hill behind that one.  The whole island was a freaking roller coaster on bicycle!  And, remember, I had not seriously ridden a bicycle for 15 years.  Oh God, what had I gotten myself into?

We might need directions.

I was a good sport for the first two hours, suffering patiently as I dragged my sorry bike-pedalling ass up hill after hill.  It was slow, excruciating work, so I did expect that we would be a bit behind Google-maps estimate - but nothing can describe the depths to which my heart sank after those first two hours to find out that we had only made it 1/2 of the way!  "How many kilometers is it to Cavendish?"  Josh finally asked and I realized, shamefully, that I had never looked that information up.  All I had depended on was Google-maps time estimate, as hours were the true Canadian way of calculating distance.  So I checked it out then and there and discovered that the route we were following was over 40 kilometres long from Charlottetown to Cavendish.  40 KILOMETRES!!!!  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and there was an incredibly low sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Still, we were halfway there and in the middle of nowhere.  Our only company on these pastoral roads were the potatoes in the red-soiled fields around us.  The only logical choice was to forge on ahead, through the rollercoaster hills.

My butt was beginning to hurt.  My legs felt like jelly.  I knew in the pit of my gut that I could not stop moving, because if I did I would not be able to start again.  Every time we reached a crest of a hill and saw the next one, just as high and steep at the last an audible groan erupted from my mouth, vocalizing the pain and disappointment I felt inside at my lack of poor judgement.  Still, defiantly I declared to Josh as we neared the 3 and 1/4 hour mark that I was not going to give up!  "I am going to get this done so I can say I can bike across Prince Edward Island in a single day!!!"  That silly, stubborn thought was thing that kept me going as I pedalled up the next hill like the Little-Engine-That-Could thinking to myself, "Bragging rights.... bragging rights... bragging rights...."

Part 3 is in the works!