GRAN FONDO GARNEAU

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a passionate cyclist, and have been for the past thirty years or so. Because of my bad knees, I’m limited to low-impact exercise like cycling and cross-country skiing. I actually got into cycling as a way to stay in shape for skiing.

In 2004, I was invited to join a cycling group called the Over-the-Hill-Gang; OTHG for short. The original members are brothers Ira and Richard Birt, Russ Melanson and Gerry Ridgeway. Gerry and his wife, Phyllis, moved to Wolfville last year after retiring from the provincial public service. Our newest member is John MacQuarrie. Annually, we travel to an off-Island event and, this year, we chose the Gran Fondo Garneau, a 110-kilometre ride along Route 138 from Trois-Rivières to Saint-Augustin-de-Desmaures, where the Garneau factory is located.

A gran fondo is a short to long distance, organized, mass-participation cycling event, typically held annually.

We left Charlottetown bright and early on Saturday morning after loading five bikes and our gear into a seven-passenger van. After an uneventful trip marked by too many pee breaks, we arrived at our destination, the Motel-Miami in Cap-de-la-Madeleine, a down-on-its-luck establishment in the poorer part of town. We never travel first-class, but this place makes any Travelodge look like the Ritz-Carlton! If you don’t believe me, check out the photo below!

After getting settled in, we set out to look for a place to eat, since the restaurant across the street was closed. We eventually stumbled upon a very good Cuban restaurant downtown, the Café-Bistro Le Paladar. After satisfying our hunger, we came face-to-face with a thunderstorm, one of those where the rain bounces off the pavement, and we waited for half an hour for it to blow over. When it became obvious it wouldn’t, Ira made the supreme sacrifice, and ran through the rain to pick up the van. 

After loading up on beer, we returned to the motel and watched a recap of the Olympics, seeing a heartbroken Jared Connaughton take the rap for the 4x100 team’s disqualification. Knowing I might wake myself up snoring, I brought along my best beeswax earplugs just in case and shoved them into my ears before retiring.

Sunday morning, Gran Fondo day, we got up bright and early and crossed the street to the finally-open Café Rétro, hoping to get a bellyful of some decent pancakes and coffee. The café was practically empty except for a few decrepit-looking men sitting at a table, one of whom announced reassuringly that we’d be served tout de suite. Along came the waitress, who’d seen better days and looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. The place was decorated with all manner of 50s memorabilia, including an old juke box, the front end of a ‘57 Chevy, and images of Elvis. The torn leatherette seats had been lovingly repaired with duct tape, which made us wonder whether Red Green had been there! A couple strode in dressed in their best black shirts and jeans complete with bejeweled guitar-shaped belt buckles. She sported the nicest black curly mullet I’ve ever seen!

Our bellies filled with greasy pancakes and good maple syrup, we donned our kit, prepared the bikes, and rode up to the start line. We stood around for a while, and then a reporter from the magazine Info-Vélo took this picture of us. 

Soon after, an official-looking guy came along and told us we’d have to ditch the OTHG jerseys and put on the ‘mandatory’ Gran Fondo ones. So, we pedaled back to the motel and put them on, arriving back at the starting line just in time to take our places at the back of the 30-35 km/hr group.

At 10:00, the 40+ km/hr group got the order to start, and we made our way slowly up to the start line, waiting for our turn. A few minutes passed before the 500 or so riders ahead got up to speed. It was decided that I’d lead out because “You understand the language”; whatever the hell difference that made is beyond me. But, as usual, I did what I was told. At least a dozen riders had mechanical breakdowns before we even got out of town; they looked disgusted as we passed them kneeling on the side of the road. Traffic control was awesome, and spectators lined the circuit.

We stayed to the far left of the eastbound lane, sometimes crossing over into the westbound lane when things got hairy. Bikes were at least three across, sometimes four, and we didn’t want to get boxed in. At every opportunity, we jumped from one group to the next, getting behind someone’s wheel to draft for a little while each time.

At about 20 kilometres, we came upon three crashes, with riders down on the pavement. We reached the 60 kilometre rest stop, disappointed to say goodbye to a couple of really good riders who’d decided to stop. From that point on, we had to work a little harder, as the groups got smaller and more spread out. We caught and passed a number of lone riders who’d run out of gas, and got into a few nasty little hills. People cheered us on all along the route.

Each one of us took a ‘pull’ on the front and we began to anticipate the end of the ride. It was a perfect riding day: no wind, dry pavement, a relatively flat course, and no breakdowns. We had the road mostly to ourselves for the last half of the ride, and were in the company of experienced riders for the most part, none of whom did anything stupid. The cycling culture is very strong in Québec.

As we got to the outskirts of Saint-Augustin, traffic control tightened up, and we prepared mentally for what we knew would be a nasty little climb to the finish line. As we came around a bend in the road, the wall appeared, at least a 12% grade, short but tough. John took off, with Ira and Richard not far behind, leaving me in their wake. Russ was cramping up, and told us he’d be taking his time. I’m not a climber but I gave everything I had left and, by the time I got to the top of the steepest part, was in range of the front three. I caught up to them before the finish line, and we crossed at just under 3 hours and 5 minutes, an average speed to 36 km/hr. It’s the fastest we’ve ever ridden over any distance.

The fastest riders came in at just over 2 hours and 30 minutes, comfortably over 40 km/hr, and well out of our range. We finished in the top third of male riders and in the top 25% of riders in the 50-59 age range. Russ finished 15^th out of 101 riders in the 60+ category; an impressive result! We passed at least 500 riders along the way.

At the finish line, we ate what little provisions we had left and rehydrated. It had turned into a very hot day as the sun came out. We showered in a trailer unit provided especially for the purpose, checked out the results, checked in our bikes for the return trip, and boarded the bus for the ride back to Cap-de-la-Madeleine. Our bikes arrived safe and sound not long after we did, and we rode gingerly back to the Motel-Miami, not much the worse for wear.

The next priority was to get some food into our famished frames. But first, the boys had to have a few ‘pops’; as the designated driver, I stuck to the Perrier. We made our way along the main drag, Rue Furey, and wandered around until we found a table at a terrasse, the Bistro Bar Fusée. The food was basic but good, and Richard had his first taste of poutine, Québec’s national dish. He professed to liking it. Russ put the moves on a female Elvis mannequin, but to no avail! 

After a couple of pitchers of draft, we headed back to the flashing lights of the Motel-Miami, watched the closing ceremonies of the Olympics, and engaged in male-only contests of the kind that naturally follow consumption of copious amounts of beer and greasy food.

Monday morning, we awoke bright and early and walked down to McDonalds, opting to forego the nearby Café Rétro. We were on the road at 7:45 and had a leisurely eleven-hour drive back to the Island. Our butts were a little sore, but we all agreed that it was a good trip, highlighted by our participation in a first-class event, and one hell of a ride!

À la prochaine!

THE JOBS I’VE KNOWN

　
What I Wanted To Be When I Grew Up

Many people have told me they chose their career path very early in life, and have followed it to retirement.  When I was eight years old, I chose to be what we’d call today a ‘heavy equipment operator’.  I was fascinated with ‘road machines’: graders, rollers, pavers, snowplows, trucks, and, most of all, bulldozers.  As a boy, I hung around every major construction project in Wellington: paving the main street; building the dam; installing the sewer system; and watching the arrival and departure of the Esso oil drilling rig in 1958.

I tried to get to know the equipment operators, harbouring the fervent wish that one would invite me to climb up onto the seat, and watch him move the levers to make the machine go.  As it happened, two men by the name of Bob and Ivan, from Mount Stewart, worked on building an earthen dam to replace the old Barlow Mills structure after it was destroyed by a spring flood.  I don’t know the exact year, but it was in the early 1960s. 

I got to know Bob and Ivan, and I spent hours watching their twin bulldozers move back and forth as they piled the shale ever higher.  And I got my wish!  One day, Bob asked me if I wanted to get on.  I eagerly climbed onto the treads and, from there, up onto the seat beside him.  I watched as the big blade pushed the shale along in front of it, smoothing it out, effortlessly.  It was magical, and I was hooked.

What I Actually Did

But, I guess I got off track.  I’m on my seventeenth job!  How this happened, I’m not sure, but it did.  I’ve saved my business cards in a folder, and here’s the story they tell of what happened after I graduated from UNB in 1975 with a Bachelor of Science in Forestry:

·                     Market Development Representative – CIBA-Geigy Canada Ltd.

·                     Agricultural Chemicals Inspector – Dept. of Agriculture and Forestry

·                     Weed and Pest Control Officer – Forestry Branch

·                     Development and Research Director – Forestry Branch

·                     Operations Director – Forestry Branch

·                     Director – Forestry Branch

·                     Director of Employee Relations – Treasury Board

·                     Director of Planning and Development – Dept. of Agric., Fisheries and Forestry

·                     Acting Executive Director – Veterans Appeal Board

·                     Chair – Federal Task Force on the Feed Freight Assistance Program

·                     Executive Secretary – Round Table on Resource Land Use and Stewardship

·                     Senior Advisor Resource Land Use – Dept. of Agriculture and Forestry

·                     HRA – Consultant and Partner

·                     Project Manager PEI Field Unit – Parks Canada Agency

·                     Director Human Resources Eastern Canada – Parks Canada Agency

·                     Executive Secretary – Commission on Land and Local Governance

·                     Member – Veterans Review and Appeal Board

So, seventeen jobs in thirty-seven years!  The shortest lasted one year and the longest, my time with the private sector firm, HRA, eight years.  Included in this, from 1988 to 1990, I was on educational leave, doing an MBA at Université Laval. 

But, not one of them involved operating heavy equipment.  In fact, the joke among my colleagues in the Forestry Branch was that I was named Director by default, because I showed the least aptitude for the operational side of things.  In other words, I didn’t understand machinery!  They were right…

I’ve given a lot of thought to the jobs I liked best, and why.  Here are my top three: Director of Forestry, Executive Secretary of the Round Table on Resource Land Use and Stewardship, and Member of the Veterans Review and Appeal Board. 

The Good Ones

I wasn’t ready for the position of Director of Forestry.  I was 29 years old and caught in the whirlwind of a major restructuring.  The previous Director had left under a cloud, and the new Minister was not at all fond of our program.  I had to oversee the work of thirty permanent staff and as many as two hundred seasonal employees.  None of us had any job security.  I was told that the job was to be mine only until a more experienced person could be found.  Five years later, mission accomplished, I left to do my MBA.

I learned more about myself in that challenging position than in any other.  I learned to respect diversity, to promote initiative, and to admire those who did their best with the skills they were given.  I learned about teamwork, not just at work, but away from work.  For example, I jumped at the chance to play goal for the Forestry Branch hockey team.  I wasn’t that good, but the guys admired me for standing up to their slap shots as they whizzed by my head during the warm-ups, and they knew I never gave up.  We had a lot of laughs, and we shared a few pops together after the games.

When my mother was killed in 1990, I had to drive my family home from Québec City, where I was attending Université Laval, to look after the arrangements and attend the funeral.  All of my former colleagues from the Forestry Branch called at the funeral home or attended the funeral mass.  One of my most vivid memories of that sad time is seeing them at the church, dressed in their uniforms, as we walked down the aisle behind Mom’s casket.  You can’t buy that kind of comradeship, and you never forget it.  This afternoon, I stood in line at a funeral home to pay my respects to a former Forestry colleague whose wife died far too young.  Joining me were many old friends I worked with thirty years ago…

I remember the day my Deputy Minister, Rory Francis, introduced me to the Chair of the Round Table on Resource Land Use and Stewardship, Elmer MacDonald.  I was in awe of the man, but he didn’t know me from Adam.  During the eighteen months we worked together, we never disagreed about anything, and he learned as much from me as I did from him.  We were fortunate to work with fifteen other sterling citizens.  All of them were determined to come up with strong recommendations for government on how to improve the state of our primary resources, and to strike a better balance between the agriculture and forestry industries and the environment.

The process turned out to be just as important as the outcome, and although we nearly lost a couple of members along the way, all sixteen signed the final report.  Sadly, fifteen years after the Round Table reported, few environmental indicators have improved, and many have regressed.  We still have fish kills regularly, because of landowners’ greed, and their inexplicable ignorance of the sound land stewardship practices advocated by the Round Table.  But, I’ll never forget those fascinating moments spent with committed people, determined to arrive at a consensus despite their differences.  I remember how proud we were the day the report was made public, and it is truly one of the most enriching experiences of my career.

I was reluctant to apply to become a member of the Veterans Review and Appeal Board when the ad appeared in The Guardian.  But, I wasn’t enjoying my HR position with the Parks Canada Agency, and spending my weeks in Halifax didn’t compensate for the good money I was making.  So, I decided to enter the competitive process, not knowing where it might take me.  I made it through the initial screening, the written test, and the interview.

One day, I got a letter telling me that my name was on a list of potential members and that I might be contacted if an opening occurred.  Eighteen months passed, and then I got a call from the Privy Council Office asking me if I’d accept the position if it were offered to me.  Duh!

Because of my previous experience with the Veterans Appeal Board in 1994-1995, I had some idea what I was getting myself into, and some of the staff were known to me.  But, as with all new members, I had to get comfortable with the legislation and the process, and I had to learn to write good decisions.  The thing that makes this one of my top three favorite jobs is that I felt respected from the moment I walked in the door.  For the first time in my career, I didn’t feel the need to prove myself.

The Not-So-Good Ones

I’ve gained something from each of the fourteen other jobs I’ve known but, in truth, several of them were real stinkers.  They weren’t the right fit for me, or vice versa, or they fell short of my expectations.  Other times I learned, to my great disappointment, that I was working for an incompetent manager.

My first job was the worst.  I am not cut out for sales, and learning to work and live in Toronto proved too great a culture shock.

When I returned from Laval in 1990 with a hard-won MBA in hand, I expected to be given a challenge.  Premier Joe Ghiz had promised me that, but I wasn’t expecting to be named Director of Employee Relations, the provincial government’s chief negotiator with the nine public sector unions.  In my seven previous years as a manager, I had never opened the collective agreement and, suddenly, I was expected to live and breathe collective bargaining, and endure all the crap that goes with it.  Three years was enough, and I was damn glad to get out.

My time with HRA was a learning experience, my first foray into private enterprise as a part owner.  When the company president invited me out to lunch one fine summer day in 1998, I’d had enough of the provincial government.  I wasn’t satisfied with how the Round Table’s recommendations were being implemented, and I needed a change.  I jumped in with both feet, but on condition that I wasn’t to work in the company’s bread and butter business, employee relations.  This meant I had to start from scratch, without too many client prospects.

Looking back, I think I gave a pretty good account of myself as a consultant.  But, when I was asked to invest a considerable sum of money to become a partner, I did so with the expectation that I’d be compensated for taking the risk.  While I loved the work, the return on my investment wasn’t up to my expectations.  So, as we say in French: J’ai décidé de rouler ma boule ailleurs!  In truth, my experience with HRA convinced me that I’m a public servant at heart, not a businessman.

I got a call out of the blue one day in October 2008 from a senior official of the Prince Edward Island government.  He asked me if I was interested in working with Ralph Thompson, head of the Commission on Land Use and Local Government.  The Human Resources job with Parks Canada was killing me: I had staff in three locations; was on the road over 100 days a year; flew 95 times in a twelve-month period; was travelling from Charlottetown to my Halifax apartment most weeks; and wasn’t getting along with my boss.  Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity.

Ralph and I worked very hard and put out what I consider to be a damn fine report, in French and English, in less than twelve months.  I loved working with him and we remain good friends.  The report was made public in January 2010 and has been sitting on the shelf ever since.  Yesterday’s Guardian editorial chided the provincial government for failing to act on the Commission’s recommendations.  I am disappointed that this is so, but I was well paid for what I did.

Final Thoughts

So, as I near the end of my career, I look back with great satisfaction on the things I’ve done and the many fine people I’ve met.  I’ve been very privileged to get to know my Island province like few others.  I’ve worked in a variety of fields and, while not expert in any, can discuss many matters of public policy with some degree of knowledge.

One of the worst bosses I worked with told me once, as he neared the end of his career, that he considered a couple of infrastructure projects he was working on to be his legacy.  The use of the word ‘legacy’ struck me as very strange, coming as it did from a public servant, and I considered it most improper in this context. 

My legacy is the many relationships I’ve had with co-workers, and it’s the people I meet as we go about our everyday lives, sharing memories of good times and bad.  Each positive working relationship was an accomplishment, and it provided all the satisfaction I ever needed.

Most importantly, I’m thankful for the support of my best friend, Elva, who has had to endure these career changes.  Many times, she wondered why I was leaving a good job.  She had good reason to question my decisions, but she always accepted them in the end.  Not every partner would have stood beside me, and her unfailing encouragement gave me the confidence I needed to succeed at most of the assignments I’ve been given.

In a way, I envy those whose career path was clear from the beginning.  But, for me, I’ve never quite known what I want to be when I grow up.  I hope I never will…