GRAN FONDO BAIE-SAINTE-MARIE

“ES-TU PARÉ?”

The weather couldn’t have been more different from last year’s as Elva and I stood in front of Vélo Baie Sainte-Marie: 15.5 degrees C and dead calm!  What a contrast from 2016 when we shivered at 9 degrees and were nearly blown away!

After the wonderful experience we’d had last year, Elva and I registered early for the third annual Gran Fondo Baie-Sainte-Marie.  I’d done the Lost Shores Gran Fondo in Guysborough two week before with my Charlottetown riding group, the Over The Hill Gang.  Elva opted for the 67 km Medio Fondo and I chose the 117 km Gran Fondo.

We branched off Highway 101 at Weymouth, drove through the pretty village along old Route 1, and registered at the majestic old Goodwin Hotel.  We’d stayed there many years ago during a driving tour around Nova Scotia and had fallen in love with the place.  Family-owned hotels like the Goodwin where the owner greets you herself and gives you the lay of the land are a dying breed, unfortunately.

We drove along the shore road past the massive granite Église Saint-Bernard that marks the entrance to La Baie Sainte-Marie.  We passed through the colourful villages of Anse-des-Belliveau, Grosses-Coques, Pointe-de-l’Église, Petit-Ruisseau, and Comeauville, their houses bedecked with Acadian flags welcoming us to Clare.  Gran Fondo headquarters in Saulnierville was all abuzz: helpful volunteers everywhere, the familiar smell of chicken fricot, and music.  We left there with full bellies and spent a quiet evening at the Goodwin, reading a book on the front veranda in comfortable Muskoka chairs, watching the sun set over the Sissiboo River.

Next morning, we got up bright and early, put on our kit and headed down to the dining room.  Sure enough, Pat was there to serve us breakfast.  She told us the Goodwin has been in her family for 47 years!  The meal was delicious.  A nice room and meal for two cost us the grand sum of $105!

Near the start line, we connected with several Islanders: Andréa Deveau, Cynthia King, Dwayne Doucette, Tom Crowell, Lisa McInnis, and the TeRaas, Tabatha and Arend.  There was a good vibe as the starter sent the first group off for the 160 Super Fondo.  I missed hearing last year’s Gran Fondo theme song, a piece by a local rap group called Es-tu paré?, Acadianese for “Are you ready?”

Then, it was our turn to go; a mad scramble as we crossed the start line; a gaggle of riders trying to squeeze through a narrow opening, all at the same time!  I felt much safer as we rolled along Route 1.  Unlike 2016, there was no treacherous cross wind to deal with and riders seemed much more relaxed.  I’d decided to follow Arend and Tabatha and hooked onto their wheels, ready to take my turn on the front when the time came.  Locals cheered us on, waving Acadian flags and ringing cowbells.  Their smiling faces encouraged us and made us feel appreciated.

Before we knew it, we’d reached the turnoff just past Saint-Bernard Church and headed inland on Route 340.  The fog was starting to lift as we rode through Weaver Settlement, our group down to a half dozen or so with the Islanders doing most of the work on the front.  One young rider, a 90-pound teenager, stayed with us for awhile, jumping ahead on every hill.  “He’ll be a good one, if he sticks with it”, I thought.

Rolling through Havelock, we caught up with a group and stayed with them through New Tusket and Corberrie.  The pace line was rather disorganized but I enjoyed the draft while it lasted.  A few riders missed the right turn at Corberrie Church but caught up before we got to Concession.  I remembered how cold it had been in 2016 when I felt hail going up the first hill on Patrice Road!

We rolled past the rest stop in Concession, onto Second Division Road, then a sharp right onto Saulnierville Road.  Soon, we were on the Bangor Road, my favourite stretch of the ride.  The scenery along Eel Lake and the Meteghan River is beautiful.  The water was like glass.  By that point, our group was down to six riders, each one taking a turn at the front.  We rode through Meteghan Station and along Clare Lake before turning onto the Meteghan Connector.  (I'm the old guy with the cleavage!)

I was feeling pretty strong as we rejoined Route 1 at the rest station in Meteghan.  Tabatha and Arend stopped briefly for water and I stayed with the two remaining members of our group, Dr. Mitchell Stewart and Sean Merritt, as we rode toward Mavillette.  But, as we climbed the hill that marks the start of the Mavillette Loop, my legs just gave out.  Non-cyclists may not understand this but, on a long ride, your legs don’t give out gradually.  They abandon you all at once.  One hill, they’re there; the next hill, they’re gone!

I watched Mitch and Sean ride off the front, knowing I’d seen the last of them.  I turned onto the John Doucette Road and coasted down to the dunes, taking in the beautiful sight of waves crashing onto Cape St. Mary’s Beach.  

Back on Route 1, I welcomed the slight tailwind although my old legs protested on every hill.  In Bear Cove, Arend TeRaa rode up beside me, saying “Those guys dropped you, did they?”.  “Like a sack of potatoes”, I replied.  Tabatha encouraged me to follow them, so I dug deep.  We wheeled into Meteghan and barrelled down the hill past Tim Hortons, so fast I didn’t even get a whiff of a “double-double”.  I suffered through Meteghan-Centre and Meteghan River, took one last turn on the front and then watched Arend and Tabatha ride away.  I used my last reserves to climb the hill up to Sacré-Coeur Church and coasted the last kilometre or so to the finish line.  My odometer read just under 3 hours and 36 minutes.  “Not bad”, I thought.

I reconnected with the TeRaas, Mitch and Sean, poured a bottle of cold water over myself and took in some much-needed fluids.  Elva was there to greet me, having finished her 67 km in a very good time.  She’d ridden most of the way alone.  The photos below show her riding past the Bangor Mill and arriving at the finish line behind two other riders.

We listened to the live music in front of Vélo Baie Sainte-Marie and I chatted with a few of the volunteers.  “How was your ride?”  “Where are you from?”  “Are you enjoying yourselves here?”  The locals were so friendly and seemed so glad to have us visit their community.  Acadien pur laine, I may be a bit biased, but the hospitality seemed to come so naturally to les gens de La Baie.  More than a ride, the Gran Fondo Baie-Sainte-Marie is truly a genuine cultural experience.

Half-starved, we rushed to the lobster tent.  Incredibly, all the beautiful markets lined up on the table before us had been donated by David Deveau of Riverside Lobster International Inc.  Nothing like a pound-and-a-quarter lobster with all the fixings to fill a 3,500-calorie sinkhole.  And what better way to enjoy such a treat than under a tent, on a folding table, sitting in a plastic chair, digging in with your fingers, juice flying all over the place!  Is there a more Atlantic Canadian ritual than that?

As I wrote in last year’s blog, I’ve ridden in organized events on Prince Edward Island, in Maine, in New Brunswick and in Nova Scotia, and in six Gran Fondos: three in Québec, one on Prince Edward Island, one in Ontario, and one other in Nova Scotia.  The Gran Fondo Baie-Sainte-Marie stands out because of its strong local flavour and the hospitality of the people.  It’s in my top two; maybe the best!  It’s also a great motivator for those who want to extend their riding season into the fall.  And where else can you get a cycling jersey, a lobster meal, and the experience of a lifetime, all for $100?

The online results showed that Elva finished 70^th of 368 in the Medio Fondo, and 3^rd among female riders in her 60-69 age group.  I finished 9^th of 256 Gran Fondo riders, 1^st in the 60-69 age group.  Tabatha finished first among female riders in the Gran Fondo, making it three Islanders in the top ten, four if you count Dr. Stewart who will move to Charlottetown soon to set up a family medical practice.

The 917 riders registered for the event ranged in age from 10 to 83.  Jim Hoyle of Dartmouth, a spry 83 years young, finished the Medio Fondo in 102^nd place, ahead of 266 riders who rode the same distance.  Incredible!

Congratulations to riders, organizers, volunteers and residents of La Baie.  You’re the best!  Elva and I hope to  be back next year to hear the call to the post: Es-tu paré?  And my advice:

CHANGEZ POINT RIEN! – DON’T CHANGE A THING!

LOST SHORES GRAN FONDO

I’m not sure that I’d have chosen to brand the region “Lost Shores”, but as we drove along Route 16 from Tracadie to Guysborough, I could see how the barren countryside could give you that impression.  “God-forsaken piece of ground, if you ask me”, one of us remarked.  Things lightened up a bit as we drove past the turnoff to Rear Monastery.  Now, just imagine the theories on the origins of that poor community’s name conjured up by a group of seven guys away for a weekend in backwoods Nova Scotia.  I offered that it may be a translation from the French: “Cul-du-Monastère”.  That didn’t help at all!

We arrived in the pretty village of Guysborough (population 900) late afternoon and checked in at the Gran Fondo registration desk.  Our next stop was Big G’s Pizza and Restaurant on Main Street for the obligatory pre-ride dinner.  There wasn’t much to do in the village, except maybe pick up a few bottles of local beer at the NSLCC store.  Comfortably ensconced in our five-star accommodations, the Coastal Inn near Antigonish, we watched Canadian Michael Woods ride with the best cyclists in the world in La Vuelta a Espana.

Coach Ira rousted us at the ungodly hour of 5:45 and herded us into the van for the foggy drive to the Fondo.  Our orders for the day: Food! Coffee! Dump! Ride!

We stopped at the Days Gone By Bakery, the only place open for breakfast in downtown Guysborough.  Katie and her staff welcomed us with open arms and we were pampered by our server, the lively and good-humoured Lucina, who served us platefuls of delicious rib-sticking pancakes.  How could your spirits not be lifted by a person that cheerful at 7:00 in the morning?  We even got our picture on their website!  Things were definitely looking up!

The Chedabucto Education Centre, Lost Shores Gran Fondo HQ, was abuzz as we parked the van and reassembled our trusty two-wheelers.  We linked up with the eighth member of the Over The Hill Gang, Kent, who’d driven over with Miguel Arsenault, co-owner of Atlantic Chip Sport Timing.

By the time the horn sounded for the 120-km group, the fog had lifted, and 100 or so cyclists barrelled down Route 16 toward the turnoff to Larry’s River Road.  The three young bucks in our group, Kent, Ian and Mark, were off the front before we reached the bottom of the first incline, leaving Ira, Russ, Richard, John and me in their dust.

The ride profile showed a three-kilometre climb at the 5-km. mark, just what we needed to wake up the old legs.  John and I lost track of the other three, thinking they may have had a mechanical, but expecting them to catch up at the top of the hill.  As it turned out, both Richard and Ira had had to stop briefly to sort out minor bike problems.

John and I latched onto a group of half a dozen riders and pace-lined with them for about 40 kilometres, as far as Port Felix.  Riding through the coastal community of Larry’s River, I was struck by the number of Acadian flags waved by the locals.  Made me feel right at home!  While the scenery was quite stunning, we had to be very careful of the rough pavement.

We lost the other riders in our group when they pulled off at the rest stop in Port Felix, so John and I rode alone from there to the turnoff where we rejoined Route 16.  We both remarked that it was one of the nicer courses we’d ridden in a long time.  Three other riders hooked on to the back and rode with us into Canso, along what Fondo organizers labelled the “Tickle Loop”.  And how could you not chuckle at a sign like this one!

We got off the bikes for a quick bite and some fluids at the rest stop near Canso wharf, greeted by a couple of smiling and able volunteers, eager to please and anxious to know what we thought of the event so far.  A half-dozen riders lined up with us for the last 50 kilometres and we pedalled around the Canso loop and back onto Route 16.

By the time we reached Half Island Cove, the group was down to four and my legs were starting to feel a little rubbery.  It turned out to be a long, hilly 30 kilometres from there to Guysborough: down to sea level; up over a headland; down to sea level; up over yet another headland.  We rolled through Philips Harbour, Queensport, Peas Brook, Halfway Cove, Dorts Cove and Cooks Cove.  The striking beauty of the coastline along this stretch, reminiscent of the Cabot Trail and the Gaspé Peninsula, was lost on me unfortunately as I began to suffer.

I followed a strong rider from Fredericton up a three-kilometre climb at Halfway Cove, and John fell off the back.  The two of us rode the last 16 km. to the finish line, taking turns on the front, although his pulls were longer than mine.  I stayed on his wheel until partway up the last hill, and then bonked.  My odometer showed about 3 hours and 50 minutes as I crossed the finish line, totally spent.  Not bad for a pensioner!  The young bucks, long since arrived, looked fresh as daisies as I crawled over to greet them.  I couldn’t wait to pour a bottle of cold water over my poor old head, thankful the day hadn’t been any warmer.

The rest of our gang crossed the finish line shortly after.  We piled the bikes into the van and took our places in the food line, desperate to fill 3,500-calorie sinkholes.  I dined on barbecued ribs, courtesy of the Days Gone By Bakery.  They were some good!  We listened to the live music for a while, talked to riders and volunteers, took on needed refreshments at the Authentic Seacoast Brewing Company, drove back across the barrens to the motel, and hit the showers.

We motored into Antigonish and settled in at the Townhouse Restaurant, an eatery popular with the Saint FX college crowd.  One of the guys got a text from his better half: “I’m cooking chicken breasts for supper.  How will I know when they’re done?”  We marvelled at this example of how gender roles have evolved over time.  In a positive way, of course!  Ever the devoted problem-solvers, and following an intense group think, we decided on the following response: “You’ll know they’re done when the nipples are tender”.  The text he received in reply was, not surprisingly, adult-rated!

We learned that Guysborough is a brave little community, its residents eager to please and to make you feel welcome.  Chedabucto might be the Mi’kmaq word for “Place of Great Two-Wheeled Suffering” after what we went through, but we all had a great time.  The ride was well organized, the route was challenging, and the volunteers were terrific.  The Over The Hill Gang found the Lost Shores, and we’re glad we did.  We wouldn’t hesitate to recommend the event to avid cyclists like ourselves.

In the end, it’s all about the ride!

Over The Hill Gang – September 9, 2017

L to R: John MacQuarrie, Jean-Paul Arsenault, Kent Wood, Ira Birt, Mark Grimmett, Russ Melanson, Ian MacIntyre, Richard Birt