Ride Day 6—St Barbe

Day 6, RT 24—Wednesday, July 7
Hawkes Bay to St Barbe
55 miles
Dockside Cabins (included in our tour price)

Tour Guide Description: We wind around numerous bays and harbours. People have lived along this shore for over 9,000 years. Port au Choix National Historic Site is the location of one of the most important archaeological sites concerning the history of aboriginal people. The lighthouse stands at the furthest point west on the peninsula. It offers spectacular photography. 

A very raw and thickly foggy start. I had both my front flashing white light and my red flashing rear light turned on, plus a flashing red light on my helmet. I’d found the helmet light that morning in my kit and thought it would be a good idea. Both Roger and Suz told me that it could be seen from some distance . . . unlike my rear bike light, which disappears into the fog in a blink. Somehow the vehicles on the road saw us and avoided us and that’s all that matters.



The foggy ride start

My muscles were sore, particularly my right buttock where I had fallen, and it was still difficult to turn my tender, swollen head to the right. (In retrospect, maybe I should have called this ride the Sorehead Sore Ass ride.)

Not too far from the motel we crossed the Torrent River, famous for its trout and salmon fishing, but there was only one fisherman on it. Then we crossed the Big East River. It had a falls on the right and one could see the Gulf on the left. There were quite a few fishermen on the river, so I stopped to take a photo. Suz stopped to take a photo, too, and discovered that she’d left her battery and charger back at the motel. She pedaled back for it. We’d come only 2.5 miles but she ended up riding about 6 “bonus miles" because Ed had the battery and she started off with that but then realized that she also needed the charger so returned again. The guys working a short stretch of road near the motel said “again?” the fourth time she passed through.



My bike parked at the Big East River

While she was gone, I occupied myself taking pix and talking to other riders who stopped to take pix and to the fishermen as they crossed the bridge to switch sides of the river. One hooked a good fish, and I was all set to catch the moment, but he lost the fish. The salmon were not quite running yet, so none were jumping up the falls but they were jumping in the lower pools.



Fishermen on the downstream side of the Big East River before it runs into the bay

The falls and snowmobile bridge on the upstream sideof the bridge over the Big East River; there are more snowmobile trails than roads in Newfoundland

For the first 17 miles we had heavy fog and overcast wet but no real rain. The remaining 34 miles however were miserably cold and wet with light rain and headwinds. This time we stopped and put on the little $2 plastic raincoats that we’d bought in a dollar store. Not a single rider took the day’s “diversion” to Port aux Choix described above.

Yesterday in the downpour, I had the thought that not a soul would envy us our wet, cold struggle as they passed cocooned in their snug warm cars. Today I had the same thought. 

At the raincoat stop, I looked up to see a large bull moose crossing the road. It ambled into the woods on the opposite side of the road and instantly disappeared. This is what I think of as “moose magic.” To think that this huge, ungainly animal can disappear so quickly into the brush and woods.

The farther north we got, the more small potato gardens we saw at the edge of the road. These gardeners find a place that is not bog, fen, marsh, rock or water and plant a cold-weather crop on this public soil. They must drive to and from their plots.

A couple of potato gardens at road's edge; there is so little good topsoil that people use it where they can find it. Even telephone poles need to be planted in large, rock-filled boxes because they cannot be sunk in bog or solid rock

At one point, Ed came by in the van, traveling in the other direction, and stopped to see if we were okay. We had just found a roadkilled male blackpoll warbler, so I held it up to show him. He and Andrew, who was also in the van, made obligatory “Aww” sounds, but then realized that we just wanted to show them the species. “Oh yeah, they’re birders,” they muttered. Ed told us that the lunch stop in Plum Point was only 4 km down the road. Our spirits lifted.

We rode and rode and rode. With each hill we crested we expected to see the Viking 430 Restaurant, but when we hadn’t seen it 9 miles later, we stopped beside the road and ate in the rain. Not a quarter mile later, we arrived at the recommended lunch stop in Plum Point at mile 34 of the ride. We were only 20 miles from our day’s end destination. It was our first dry stop. Roger Kalin, from Orange, NY, was there and also a likable family of four. The dad got the last of the fish chowder and smacked his lips gleefully, moaning over how good it was, while we bit into our dry sandwiches. We got to know Roger a little better and talked with the other family a bit, too. This interaction with others warmed us as much as the dry room.

Wood stacked at roadside; this wood is cut from under the roadside powerlines and appears to be up for grabs; in the winter people come with large wooden sleds and haul it home

Lobster traps stacked for the season; today there were hundreds of these traps neatly stacked in the woods on either side of the road

We next stopped at the designated grocery pickup store in Plum Point—Clover Foods—which was wonderfully stocked with fresh produce. We bought grapes and yogurt, cheese, and other goodies. We dutifully labeled each of our bags with a marker and placed them in the big bin of groceries that Ed would pick up to take to the cabins. This was another night when all would be housed in cabins near the ferry to Labrador. This night and the next were part of our tour fee so seemed like “free” nights.

When we pulled up to the cabins, Gary gave us the key to our room, which was in a nearby overflow motel (Dockside) and not in a cabin; thus, we did not have cooking facilities or a refrigerator, and did not have drinking water. The hotel’s water was not potable. Ed showed up a bit later with one of the big water jugs from the van and put it in our bathroom for use by all the riders who were in the motel.

Dockside motel near the Labrador Ferry Terminal where Suz and I stayed

Dockside motel cabins where most of the riders stayed before catching the ferry to Labrador the next morning

We hassled our bags and food and bikes to our small room that was up three steps, got out of our wet clothes, and then armed ourselves with spare toothbrushes and a couple of towels that the Ocean View had given us (actually a complimentary pkg for motorcyclists to clean their bikes that I had asked for). We then took the bikes back outside and cleaned them and their drive trains and oiled our chains. My chain was actually rusty in spots after being in the constant wet for so long, both on the road and on the back of the Volvo. We let the oil soak into the chain spindles overnight and then wiped the excess off with our kit rags the next morning.

That evening we ate dinner from our food kits. Gary came at 7 and told us what to expect tomorrow on our trip to Labrador. We have to be at the ferry at 7:40 am. After he left, we set the alarm for 6 and fell into bed.