A full day: Morning

It is another great day on the island. Clear skies, a slight breeze, and warming temperatures. We leave our hotel around 9 am, needing to have an early start today. Yesterday we needed to pedal only 29 miles; with side trips that increased to 36. Today we take mileage up to 49.

Turning onto the state road, there is still a dearth of vehicles, which is just fine as we feel as if we have PEI all to ourselves this morning. Farms flank both sides of the road and from the lack off movement it would appear that most folks have taken the day off, it being Canada Day. 

The flatness of the the terrain is an unexpected joy. We are both used to hills, me more than Ted, and in no time we cover our first 5 miles. Again we cannot help think of comparisons with our childhood home of Long Island though the names of farms give it away. On Long Island many of the potato farms have names indicating Polish ancestry while here it is more Scottish and  Irish.

We turn back onto route 12 and ride south paralleling the water. There is a distinctive smell of salt in the air. We make a quick stop on a small bridge that traverses a tiny inlet with an oyster farm bobbing on the surface.  The floating trays fill the view as a lone fishing vessel starts to make its way toward the ocean.

Potatoes are easy to spot as the furrows for their plantings are deep and for our first day route were almost the exclusive crop. But as we move south the diversity picks up a bit with farms dedicated to corn, bush beans, peas and various grasses for cattle. Even though it is July 1, there are still many fields that need to be planted.

We turn off route 12 to one off the major highways, route 2, on PEI. Here cars can go a maximum of 90 km/h, which is a little over 55 mph. But as it is a road where large trucks drive often, we pedal carefully with little sightseeing.

Unlike biking in New England, vehicles here for the most part are very respectful of bicyclists. There is a law requiring a minimum of 3 feet between a car and a bike and most vehicles have given us way more room than that. When other cars approach, they slow down and wait for the opportunity to pass us in the other lane. So with light traffic and polite drivers, biking on PEI is much safer than either of us could have imagined.

But now we are to leave the road at Portage and get on the Confederation Trail. This trail  extends 470 kilometers from tip-to-tip of the island with many side extensions. It is an old railroad bed that has been converted for hiking and biking.

As we enter it, it appears as if we have traveled to a different place. The farms and waterside are gone as we enter a forest thick with white birch and maples. To our  right, we pass next to a wetlands filled with exploded cattail heads, lilies, tall reeds, and deep blue irises. In less swampy areas, wild blueberry bushes fill the drier land. Adjacent to the trail there is a long line of wildflowers: daisies, buttercups, dandelions, red clover, grape hyacinth, and marsh marigolds. What is missing, however, are the flowering lupines that are so common everywhere else.

Unlike our travels next to the sea, the areas adjacent to the march are filled with colorful warblers, thrushes, finches and many other birds that made their way south for the winter. They chirp away alerting us of their presence. 

We find that pedaling on the trail is more taxing than that of the road. Over the past day we have become spoiled by smooth pavement that gives an easy roll. The crushed stone dust of the trail offers a bit more resistance and in sections that are not yet compressed an opportunity to spin out and crash. We slow our pace and watch for loose stone.

We continue through the wetlands. Cattails have colonized most of the space though in one area it appears that a thick mat of lupines are growing sans flowers or seed pod spikes.

Swallowtail butterflies accompany us on our trek, flittering about the trail. But they are not the only tiny creature that is around. There are the mosquitoes. So far we had not been too bothered by insects. Near the sea and wide-open farms, the density of these blood-sucking bugs was low. But now that we are in a forest, near a swamp, in the shade, we are in bug central.

A slight stop to rest for Ted and I becomes unpleasant as the bugs quickly hone in to sample imported aged meat, ready to eat. A large fly, either deer or moose, takes a small chunk out of my leg. Ted took no chances and covered himself with bug spray this morning but the bugs not wanting to miss a feeding opportunity continue to swarm. Time to keep moving.

We pass Art’s Place snowmobile club, just off the trailed marked by an “Enter at your own risk,” sign. The shed in the back of the forest appears abandoned though it is difficult to tell. Neither of us, however, are going to walk though the muddy bog to see if that is the case. And then there are the bugs.

Soon we leave the trail and stop at Kenny’s for an ice cream refueling. We turn back onto the road and soon reach our lunch destination: Backwater Burgers. It seems that we had lunch in the wrong order with dessert first, but hey we are on vacation.