I grabbed the trail just on the outskirts of town. The rough gravel soon gave way to flat, crushed gravel. I rode that for a little while, nodding to several joggers as I went. After crossing a road suddenly the trail turned into a wide, hard road with some loose gravel. Worse, the road was like a washboard—my teeth were chattering in my head and it felt like my bike was going to shake apart. I was beginning to wonder if I was even on the right path. I wasn't in the finest of moods thanks to the weather, wind and lack of breakfast and now I was beginning to get angry at the state of the trail. As the jarring and bouncing continued, I found myself rather furious. I was swearing out loud with every bump—an uninterrupted stream of profanity.

PEI is NOT entirely flat.

Before long I came to Highway 13—I was surprised at how quickly I got to it. I guess I'd been so used to seeing PEI on my map of Atlantic Canada, and since the tourist map I was now using was in such a larger scale my mind hadn't yet quite grasped the difference. I descended the highway into the forest and, despite my mood, couldn't help but admire how beautiful a road it was with the trees, valleys and green hills. But, my God—there were more longer, steeper hills than in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. I wanted to smack whoever told me that PEI was flat. From what I could see it was an unending series of rolling hills and valleys. At one point I passed a ski hill.

Down by the sea.

I followed where he pointed, wondering where to turn. The wind was even nastier here, and the road was rough. Eventually I came to a sign that said, Richard's Point. It was the only road on my map that went down to the ocean. I scanned the nearby group of mailboxes for a familiar name. None. I decided, a bit reluctantly, to follow it. As I turned to go down it I noticed a sign nailed to the pole that said, "ERIC" and an arrow. Coincidence? I think not. I pulled the sign free and wheeled down the dirt road. When I got to the ocean I could see the Confederation Bridge spanning the water in the distance. I stopped to admire it; what a beautiful piece of architecture.

I continued down the road and looked for a car with Ontario plates. Bingo. I rested my bike against the cottage and went to the door, where I was greeted by Gill's mom, Lorraine and subsequently everyone else -- her dad Ted and her sister Allie. It felt good to have arrived. Although the mileage today had been minimal, it had been the worst biking as of yet.

Allison and Gillian.

After dinner Gill and I headed back into Charlottetowne in her car for the Canada Day fireworks. It felt weird—after fighting my way there that very morning the ride felt TOO easy, the scenery whizzing past. We parked downtown and made our way to the waterfront, throngs of people filling the dock and surrounding area. It felt like Ottawa, but on a smaller scale. We picked a place by the rocks and soon the streetlights went off and the fireworks started. I had seen better fireworks back home, but it still felt wonderful to be there. I found myself watching the faces in the crowd as they were lit up in the glow of the fireworks. Each face was turned towards the sky, staring intently at the display of colour. It felt like we all had some sort of bond, some tenous connection of commonality—each one spellbound by the same lights erupting in the heavens, each thinking their own thoughts and experiencing it in their own way. I felt like I was a part of that crowd as though I were physically connected to it.

After the fireworks ended Gill and I walked around the midway (like SuperEx... only smaller) and I bought some cotton candy. Mmmm. Sticky. We found a pub and sat down for a drink and chatted. I couldn't help but think how the evening felt like a date, and I was tempted to hold her hand. Eventually we headed back to the cottage around midnight and spent the evening lying on the picnic table in the dark, staring at the thousands of points of light in the sky. We talked and laughed—often hystercially at nothing thanks to our fatigue. It was cold (even though we were under a sleeping bag) and the mosquitos were nasty, and eventually we headed in when the sky began to get noticeably brighter.

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