cdmCyclist

Outside the Charlottetown City Hall

It’s a foggy 63 degrees here in Charlottetown Sunday morning. Any day could be the last of such warm weather; according to my phone’s forecast – today is. They’ve had a warm summer, winter, too, like everywhere else. Chances are that’ll repeat this year, too.

Later this morning a shuttle van will transport me to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I’ll arrive a few days early for the National Angel Summit. Long term followers will recall my 4 days on the bike in May after 4 days of business in Halifax. There are some great off-road trails here in Atlantic Canada and when you’re forced off the trails onto the roads you’ll encounter many fewer autos. Yes, it’s a long way to travel before getting on the bike, but it’s an opportunity to experience a different country, culture, too.

The fall foliage is well past its prime, but there’s a lot of color blanketing across each hillside. Toss in the definitely red soil many farmers have turned over and it makes makes for a very colorful scene.

People talk of winter’s snow and ice and each time I hear it I must ponder the possibility. It seems too coastal to get much cold weather, but I discount the northern latitudes.

Saturday night at the bar as I cut up a steak, the TV silently showed the football highlights. One amazing touchdown pass after another — I had little idea of where I was watching, until the news followed. It was a Boston station which no one seemed the least bit fazed by. So PEI’s under the cultural orbit of my home town. In a way I’m not surprised. Halifax, too, I tell friends, is the perfect New England town.

Back to that TV – no sound accompanied the flashing images, but it didn’t take long for a pattern to emerge. Scott Brown for Senate, the incumbent, followed only brief seconds later by Elizabeth Warren spots singing her praises.

Three ladies at the bar made some comment about Brown’s looks, flattering for him, less so for Elizabeth, but that was it. A bar tender should’ve spotted all this political downer and changed the channel.

As I write this I’m pleased that Starbucks has no TV.

I’m in Halifax at the oyster bar at the Five Fisherman’s restaurant.

Was it a rash decision to scrub this ride? Or was it a bad idea to squeeze this increasingly shrinking bike tour into this busy week?

It’s been distracting, fielding the phone calls and emails from a NH attorney, my sister in Maine, and the Northwood Lake realtor. It’s just too complicated, I’ve decided, to close a real estate transaction while pedaling around PEI.

Solo bike tours have a critical component for success — peace of mind. The lonely trail is no place for a racing mind. Yesterday was some unique form of torture as I rode 5 hours in solitary. There are too many loose ends with this pending estate sale.

Of course, I should have predicted as much, but when the offers came in on my parents’ cottage on Northwood Lake in NH, I never stopped to think when the deal would close. It must’ve been right around the same time, too, that I’m finalizing the details for this bike tour. I guess that betrays that I doubted the cottage would really close, but I shouldn’t have. We had multiple offers before we accepted one — and people waiting in the wings if this deal fell through.

Back in Charlottetown after a change of plans.

All this after a lengthy ‘discussion’ with the agent over the listing price — you guessed it, she wanted a lower price, but I stuck to my guns. This lakefront home sits on 2 lots at the end of a long dirt road. There are no neighbors to the south for 1000 ft; this place is private and it hasn’t been on the market since 1967. No wonder we had multiple offers.

I was with my Dad the day he found the property. Camp Wah Tut Ca sits at the far end of the lake; this Boy Scout camp was where my Dad spent summers and now I was about to. But first he wanted to drive around the lake and when he got the the end of the road he stopped to stretch his legs and ask the owner if he knew of any cottages for sale. It so happens he did know and a month later my parents bought this little jewel for only $9,000, furnished, with a boat and motor, on 190 ft of waterfront.

It was the end of the season by then and subsequent summers I’d be working to pay my way through college, but my 5 siblings would spend long, lazy summers up at the lake for many years. I would meet my future wife at this lake. It’s a magical place.

But times have changed. My parents are both gone leaving me as executor. Most of my siblings are on the west coast today, a long ways from the cottage.

Like second home markets in many locales, prices have been down. Today the appraisers are the one’s who decide whether a deal closes and historic comps are low. But exceptional properties, priced right, will move and this one has. I just never nailed the closing date into my calendar.

As I started to mumble my revised itinerary to Diana at the Historic Maplethorpe, I was more than a little surprised, “I’m going to Charlottetown right after I serve you breakfast.” That the rain was bearing down on me never influenced my thinking, well, maybe a little.

By 11am I was checking back into the Charlottetown hotel where this abbreviated journey started. There were surprisingly few questions asked when I returned the bike barely 24 hours after renting it.

Tomorrow I shuttle van to Halifax where a suitcase of dress clothes awaits. Next Thursday and Friday I’m speaking at the National (Canadian) Angel Summit there, but I can easily fly down to Boston by Tuesday or Wednesday to sign the papers and close out this long chapter in all our lives.

PEI, I’ll be back.

It’s the final day of cleaning out the cottage — 45 years of memories — everything must go.

While I’m cleaning up after my 40 mile ride, I hear laughter filtering up from the kitchen — that’s a good sign.

It’s Friday night in Bedeque, PEI and the Historic Maplethorpe is a B&B, but more — there’s a crowd gathering for a homemade super.

When I called to make the reservation, Diana was quick to say, “One for dinner? We’ll find a way to squeeze you in.”

Last night’s dinner was well attended.

This would be my first night’s destination, because of the dinner option. There are darned few places to eat once you leave Charlottetown. That’s one of the reasons Diana and Jim added the restaurant — scarcity of fine food. My next destination was also targeted at a hotel with a restaurant, but as soon as I made the reservation I was told the restaurant was closed for the season. Pack a sandwich, I guess. It sounds so unbelievable, I think more than a few friends doubted my claim.

Dinner is delicious and the fatigue from the ride helps me to sleep like a baby. I’ve learned there is no jet lag when you get right on the bike the first day.

In the morning it’s cool and breezy; the roads are wet and the forecast is calling for 2 days of rain.

But breakfast comes next.

I have a window seat again, but in the other dining room right off the kitchen. The little Village Store sits on the nearby corner; I can see the early morning patrons and they’re all dressed much warmer than I am. There’s a kid on a bike, maybe 6 years old, and dog walkers. I’m well off the beaten path here in Bedeque.

I attempt to spill a little wine on my route map.

In the past year I’ve learned a lot about the health effects of wood smoke. I wouldn’t want to live across the street from this neighbor.