It was a tit bit nipply this morning when I headed out on the bike after my coffee at the local Tim Horton's.
The area had only gotten a light dusting of rain the previous day, missing the wide bands of wind and rain from Dorian. Nova Scotia had some major power outages for almost 500,000 people and southern New Brunswick was not much better according to the outage maps, so I decided to head east for the New Brunswick coast where the hurricane had not impacted the area as badly. The French couple who ran the motel I stayed in said they felt sorry for me having to ride in cold weather, but it was in the low to mid 40s which isn't too bad.
As I motored east, it was apparent the rain was only a bit ahead of me as the roads were still wet in most areas. The temperatures seemed to hover between 46 and 50, with the dampness and constant 70 mph speeds slowly bringing a bit of chill as I cruised through the endless forest land.
The road rose and fell some, climbing slightly higher and giving some vistas across the landscape. Here and there along the way, fall colors were beginning to appear, a random group of red leaves occasionally and a general yellowing of much of the greenery. The skies remained dark and grey, with a lot of dark cloud features.
Strong gusts of wind pushed the bike randomly while the trees and roadside grasses seemed to remain in a constant state of gentle chaos. The remains of hurricane Dorian were rumbling along in front of me just a few hours ahead, leaving a trail of tossing wind and boiling clouds.
Three hours on the bike seemed to pass more quickly than usual, but by the time I rolled into Bathurst I was ready for a bit of warmth. Bathurst sits right on the coast, and the winds there were even stronger. I spotted a Tim Horton's and pulled in, going inside to warm up with a cup of hot coffee. For those unfamiliar with the chain, it would be the love child of Dunkin' Donuts and McDonald's in the U.S. Coffee and breakfast sandwiches, as well as a case of pastries and donuts.
A couple of the French gentleman having coffee were curious about the motorcycle and where I was from, chatting with me in English a bit before wishing me well. As has been the case since my arrival, everywhere I go, whether English or French-speaking, the people have been extremely friendly.
My goal for the day was the town of Caraquet since it sat on smaller roads out on the peninsula and on the way to the Miscou Island Lighthouse. The local road following the coastline towards the town was enjoyable. The wind off the whitecapped bay kept the bike busy. I enjoyed seeing the old structures along the roadside and I truly enjoyed the feeling that I was in a different place. In one stretch of the road next to the water, there were some areas of debris and gravel, which appeared to have come over the granite rock sea wall at some point during the storm, but it was relatively minor.
The winds remained high, and the water along the shoreline was a muddy red. Here and there along the roadway, along with old large barns and other structures, were little white churches that matched the little white frame houses that dotted the roadside.
I arrived in Caraquet, called the “capitol” of the Acadian French region, after riding some of the smaller roads to other villages. One has no doubt you’re in a French part of Canada, and I'm certainly glad that they are nice about speaking English. I found it interesting to be in the center of the Acadian French area, because my family roots are French from southern Louisiana. However my family were not “Cajun” (as “Acadian” became mispronounced) but came directly from France to Louisiana, not from the French expulsion from the Acadian region of Canada. Nevertheless, all my relatives could never be distinguished from any other Cajuns in language, diet, dancing, music or love of outdoor sports.
For those unfamiliar, after the French Indian war, the British expelled most of the French from New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia, which was collectively known as “Acadia”. A large group went to Louisiana and became known as "Cajuns", while others were sent to differing areas in the world. Some of the French escaped and settled in the area around Caraquet, where the British apparently left them alone.
The pride here is tangible, with the Acadian flag ubiquitous...
Was a good day and I'm really happy to be on the coastline. Tomorrow I'm aiming for going out to the lighthouse and then probably heading a bit further south.
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