Day 5 Thursday September 12th ~
Disaster and Disappointment
Well, which one of us pictured above is going to end up in the hospital by the end of the day?
Read on to find out!
All's well that ends well, I suppose, and no lives were lost or even compromised long term. But there was a very scary high speed crash on a treacherous mountain pass, which could have ended in complete disaster. But I get ahead of our story.........
The day started out with low visibility and steady drizzle. To inspire the group, Peter mounted a new flag on the back of his recumbent. This is the flag of Cape Breton Island.
Knowing that we would need extra energy for the three steep mountains we were to climb on the route between Cheticamp and Dingwall, Kirt dished up his signature breakfast of "Eggs Kirtland".
The secret ingredient? Mayonnaise.
Our first climb of the day was French Mountain; it occurred in continuing rain and mist just after we entered the National Park. It was a steady climb of @ 7% grade. In the rain it was the downhills that were tricky. Due to a blustery tailwind and mist, I did not notice until too late that I had registered 48 mph on one of the downhills! A crash at that speed would likely be fatal.
The road to French Mountain
Richard on top of French Mountain
We left the first summit and traversed across a most unusual geographical feature known as “The Boar’s Back.” This section of the trail , which runs from French Mountain (1,493 feet) to MacKenzie Mountain (1,220 feet), travels along the top of a narrow ridge, with near vertical drops of 1,500 feet on one side and 1,100 feet on the other. Below is one of the views from the Boar's Back.
On the Boar's Back
Tim learns about the glaciers that once filled the valley below.
From the top of MacKenzie Mountain the road began a steep descent, in a series of sweeping 180-degree hairpin turns. The view was awesome and quite overwhelming. In front of us stretched the vast expanse of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the entire west flank of the mountainous northern peninsula.
Richard and Kirt preparing to tackle the hairpin turns of MacKenzie Mountain
It was on one of the hairpins that disaster struck. Richard, who was third to start down, found his front wheel starting to shimmy uncontrollably. Heading towards a guardrail protecting a precipice of well over 200 feet, he managed to wipe out instead. This may have saved his life, but the cost was steep. He broke his collarbone, chipped off a large portion of his elbow, and sustained road rash covering one side of his body. Kirt, Tim and several passing drivers all stopped to render aid. Nonetheless, due to lack of cell phone coverage and the fact that Vanna was already down the mountain with a picnic lunch at the ready, getting word to Curt and Peter meant that it was nearly on hour before poor Richard was in Vanna and on a 45 minute run to the hospital.
Daunted and subdued, Kirt, Tim and Peter continued on towards the suddenly inappropriately named village of Pleasant Bay. From there the trail cuts inland and after a few miles climbs again, this time straight up the side of North Mountain (1,460 feet). A sign in the picnic area informed us that this section of highway takes you through the only untouched Acadian hardwood forest still standing in the Maritime provinces. It has never been cut and remains much the same as when John Cabot arrived. We really did not have much energy to savor the pristine trees, due to the uninterrupted 13% grade climb that went on for miles up North Mountain. Here the disappointment set in. None of us can remember the last time we had to dismount and walk up a hill, but all three of us ran out of gas and had to push our bikes. Guess that's why they are called "push bikes" in these parts. Nonetheless, we all got up the mountain on our own steam, if anyone cares. Just not in the saddle.
At the summit of North Mountain we paused for refreshment and contemplated another steep downhill. Suddenly the reward we all usually look forward to - miles of joyous descent- seemed fraught with peril. A crash now and not even Vanna would be available for rescue. We crept downhill accompanied by the smell of burning brake pads, stopping several times to "enjoy the view." Either we are cowards or sensibly careful. You can decide.
We ended our day by a pleasant ride through a farming area until we reached Dingwall, a peaceful fishing village on the north coast, if you can believe the locals........
Dingwall Harbour
We rolled through Dingwall proper and found our destination for the night, a lovely group of cottages called the Markland. There we downed a few bottles of the local brew while awaiting the return of Vanna and our wounded warrior.
Richard, bent but not broken. Well, OK, broken but not bent..........
Dinner at the Markland, Dingwall Nova Scotia
Peter, this is a great recap! Not only are you a talented writer with enough description to make the reader ride with you, you covered Richard's accident with compassion and without needless drama. I think the picture that scares me most is that guard rail, but I did not know the detail of the weather that day, nor the difficulties of the ascents and descents. Sounds like it was difficult for all of you.
ReplyDelete~Gail Tanner