I’m wet.

• Today’s Distance (miles/km): 31 / 50
• Time in saddle: 2h 50
• Max/min temp – in sun (or rather rain) (°c): 24°/18°
• Climbing (feet) : 1,929
• Calories used: 2,164
• Ferry + cafe time: 4h 46

As a result of this wetness – which is comprehensive, and came from only the finest of Atlantic rainwater, delivered from above between the hours of 2am and [enter any time you like here, it doesn’t make any difference] – I’ve changed my plan for today and booked myself a motel room, a few miles west of St John’s, New Brunswick.

As I write this I’m on the ferry across the Bay of Fundy. I’m pretty sure that this was once a French boat, because all the power sockets (outlets) are European. This means that I’m quite possibly the only person on board able to ‘leccy-sponge’. The air conditioning, however, is distinctly Canadian and blasting out a chill wind that doesn’t go well with my comprehensively-wet status. I’m insulating myself from it by sitting in the least drafty spot I could find, wearing my rain jacket (even though it’s damp), eating a piping hot breakfast panini, and drinking bottomless cups of hot coffee.

There’s a live band playing down the corridor, and a talk going on at the back of the boat about the amazing tides of the Bay of Fundy, and yet here I am, drinking coffee and eating a panini, rather than improving myself, and then sharing it with you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to imagine it. 1. The Band = jolly folksy tunes, guitar and harmonica (I can hear a bit from here). 2. The Talk = ‘The tides are very, very high in the Bay of Fundy’. I hope that’s ok with you. You know I’d do anything to entertain you on a dull Tuesday, and all I ever ask in return is that every single one of you buys my fascinating book, ‘Crossing Canada: Incidents of Travel on a Bike’, in either its paperback or kindle formats, on Amazon.

(Ha! The woman giving the talk has now moved to right behind me in the rear cafe to give another talk about whales and the wildlife of the Bay! Apparently there’s loads of both.)

I pre-packed as best I could before going to bed last night, knowing the storm was coming, then this morning I managed to push my bike through the deep floodwater out of the campsite and got my wheels rolling before 7am. There was only one moment when the rain stopped enough for me to risk getting my phone out for a pic, and here it is. This was taken from a bridge over a tributary of the Annapolis River, where it joins the main river. The hilly countryside is incredibly beautiful down at this end of the Annapolis Valley, even in the rain, reminding me a bit of Wales. Especially in this weather.

On the ferry I met a lovely Canadian couple, Anne and Ian, who had cycled together all over the world since retiring, including the Arctic, India and South America. We talked about many things, their incredible adventures, families, etc, but also about how odd it is that things often seem to go wrong just when you’ve very nearly reached your destination. Something makes you switch off, said Ian, or perhaps you get into another frame of mind that is a bit less attentive. He said that in the days when he did a lot of skiing they used to say ‘You never do the last run’, meaning treat each run the same and stay ‘with it’. Great advice, and something I’m going to bear in mind even more than usual on this trip. We compared notes on our ages, and Anne said ‘Well then, Ben, you’ve got at least another 20 more years of doing this sort of thing, like we do!’ Good for you Anne – you and Ian are my new heroes.

When the announcement came telling us to ‘return to your vehicles for disembarkation’, I heard a couple with young children discussing the word. Him: ‘Disem-what was that? That ain’t even a real word though, is it?’ Her: ‘I think it is, hun, I’ve heard it.’ Him: ‘You’ve heard ‘disembarkation? When?’ Her (getting annoyed): ‘Just now.’

The three bikes on the ferry had all been told to park up right at the back of the ship, which I knew meant I’d be breathing in loads of fumes whilst waiting to unload, unless I got a bit pushy. So I tried my trick of asking the man working on the ferry if he’d like me ‘out of the way’ of all the RV’s and flatbed trucks for disembarkation, and he said ‘Sure, go right ahead’, and waved me between the vehicles and up to the front.

Later that same day…

I’m so glad to have a nice dry room tonight, even though it has knock-on effects to the ‘itinerary’. I always enjoy these moments, when I throw out a plan and doing something less annoying. And I really like the thought of packing up bone-dry camping gear tomorrow morning. The room heater is set to maximum.

And now for some Some Signs That Are Funny (and two left from yesterday as promised):

Susie spotted lakes George and Paul on my route map yesterday, added the town of St John’s to her list, and then challenged me to complete the Fab Four line-up. Sorry Susie, this is the best I can do: John, Paul, George and Bingo.

I love it when you get to kill two birds with one stone:

I passed this tree stump yesterday and thought, ‘Where have I seen something like that before?’

Then a few pedal strokes later it hit me – it was Rudi, the mystical jazz-fusion guitarist searching for ‘the New Sound’ for his music, in an episode of The Mighty Boosh.

***STOP PRESS*** Just as I was about to publish this post, I got the following message from JustGiving. The support you’ve all shown for Humanity & Inclusion has been just phenomenal, thank you all so much for being the real heroes. Bxx