After a filling lunch (Ted had oyster tacos, I a non-seafood burger) we headed off. We had probably biked 25 miles so the rest of the day should not be too difficult. While I was tempted to have a beer for lunch as did Ted, but my poor tolerance for alcohol prevented such an indulgence so I delayed such pleasures for the evening when I would not need to bike any further.
The farms in this area appear to be more oriented toward dairy as the distinctive smell of manure takes hold as do the lupines along the road. More grasses than potatoes are planted in this section and cars pass by only occasionally.
We decide to take a side trip to Gillis Point, which looks into Malpeque Bay. We pass an out-of-place modern development of homes before we start seeing dairies, potato farms and open woodland. The paved surface becomes dirt and we carefully and slowly navigate our bikes around and through the ruts that are the road.
At the point, there is a lone barn on the cliff looking out to sea, surrounded by slightly attended potato fields. A brisk wind is coming off the bay and I am reminded of an Andrew Wyatt painting as the isolation of this spot makes me not nervous but content.
After we return to the main road, the wind is at our backs and the ride is easy. There are more hills in this area, but nothing we can’t handle. We use the hills to get into high gear and go up to 25 mph attempting to capture the speed and energy to mitigate the slower (and more strenuous) uphill climb.
Passing through Birch Hill, there are more churches and gathering halls than people to accommodate them. But there must be folks, as they are all tidy and neat spired edifices painted a universal white. The lupines abound.
Leaving the churches behind, the road veers closer to the water. Fields are now running down to the bay with the solitary farmhouses nearer to the road. An osprey circles over us and around the fields. Usually I only spot such behavior over the ocean, but perhaps the strong wind to our back is keeping this bird of prey away from the water today.
We pass an alpaca ranch whose residents have been recently shaved. They appear somewhat comical as they have cuffs of wool around their ankles and their faces are still somewhat fluffy.
The weeds in the ditches next to the road have started to flower out. Besides the lupine, milk and butterfly weed are in abundance, and will feed the increasing number of butterflies that we are seeing today. A field of daisies flows from the road into the bay appearing as would a light coating of snow on a deep green carpet.
The road makes a slight turn by Grand River and we are hit with winds straight on in the face. That combined with a slight hill we must climb makes this the toughest pedal we have had so far. Our average speed of 18 mph is slashed to 8 mph.
We are offered a respite from the wind in a sheltered stretch of road where the dairy farms dominate. But as we make the turn to the other side of Grand River, we hit the wind head on again for quite a while. Our stops are more frequent but the good news is that the bugs are gone.
We decide to take another detour and head for the ocean to visit Belmont Provisional Park at Winchester Cape. Perhaps the gods did not want us here as they increased the velocity of the wind and gave us rutted and muddy roads reminding us of last year’s travails on the C&O tow path. But we persevere, fighting the deja vu, and make the point.
The park is tiny but a spectacular projection into the bay. Families are sitting around picnic tables getting ready to make a meal. The beach is rocky and covered with dried seaweed and red stones. The craggy cliffs fall into the water
A small boy comes by showing me all the sea glass he has found on the other side of the cliffs. Ted and I walk over and see the niche carved out of the ocean and a small ground of scavengers looking for more silicon-based treasures. We decide not to join the group in the search and turn back toward our bikes. It is 4 pm and time to head to our B&B.
This part of the ride is easy as the wind is to our backs. Ironically a group of windmills is spinning rapidly to our left across the water unlike the stationary ones we first saw at North Cape.
The ride has become less rural as more closely packed homes come into view and the farms are in the background. We make a final stop at Miscouche at the intersection of routes 2 and 12 to grab a cold water. We cross the main highway and rejoin the Confederation Trail.
We are ready to stop for the night. With all the side trips, we will have gone 63 miles today; a bit more than the 49 we had planned. The last time we went that many miles was when we took the final leg of the Great Allegheny Trail last year into Cumberland, MD. Except the last 20 miles was all downhill.
The trail is different as it is passing through more populated areas. The sun is casting long shadows into an adjacent potato field and the lupines have faded as the dominate roadside weed being replaced by wild geraniums. Raspberry bushes are beginning to form berries.
We enter Summerside spotting the bay and a lighthouse far in the distance. In a few miles, a sign on the trail points to the turnoff for our B&B and we are ready for a shower, dinner and sleep.
