We left around 9 am with the forecast for 12 to 25 mph winds coming from the southwest. Given yesterday’s bit of bluster and chill, we layered up with our windbreakers anticipating a cold start. But as the wind was coming from the south, the chill of yesterday was transformed into a hot wind that would stay with us for the entire day.
We quickly shed our layers and pedaled deliberately and slowly. We are unconcerned about how quickly we finish our day. And while a number of folks told us that we should expect few hills today, that was far from the truth. The only thing worse than hills are wind and hills.
We face the day’s wind directly and as we coast down some large hills, the wind holds us back from accelerating. Uphill, we are able to crest the hill without walking but at a very slow pace.
As we follow the coast, the ubiquitous oyster cages fill the inlets. This area appears more residential though dairy farms and their attendant cows and perfume of manure appear every so often.
After a turn that puts the wind to our backs, we reach another of PEI’s national parks in Brackley Beach. Like the prior in Cavendish, this beach has a separate, paved bike trail that runs along the length of the park. The topography of this park differs from the other we visited in that it has large, rolling dunes covered with sea grass.
An overview affords us a panoramic glimpse of our surroundings. To our right, a marshland falls into a long bay. The wind creates an undulating carpet of textured blue green and light green grasses appearing more like kinetic sculpture than marshland. The grass-covered dunes to our left are the same though the wind makes them appear as if they want to romp away as would an an awakening creature.
We finally get to visit the beach, which is composed of soft white sand much like the beaches at home rather than the hard red surfaces we have found elsewhere on PEI. It is a fine sand that blows over its wet, near water counterpart as a gossamer mesh. Our toes sink in the warm sand massaging them from the mornings excursions. Ted’s feet sample the water, which is not that cold and comparable to that of the ocean in New York. There are few people walking the beach and as the tide is high, any search for beach glass is futile. Time to move on.
The consistent wind crops the tops of the conifers that front the road. Their canopy is curved moving upward from the road and those closest to the sea find growing taller difficult.
Leaving the park we hit the wind full, face-on. Peddling flat stretches require the effort typically needed to climb small hills. But we have no choice. It strikes both Ted and I that we have yet to see any potato fields, just grass land. It won’t be for another 5 miles or so, halfway though our 50 miles for today until we see one. To our right a fisherman has spread his nets, drying quickly in the sun and wind, on his lawn.
Crossing the Winter River bridge, I am pushed into traffic and nearly knocked off my bike as a blast of wind catches me broadside. A little further up, the wind is blowing a cylinder of dirt from a road. It is propelled as would grass clippings would from a leaf blower. We slow our pace and and as quickly as it appears, it dissipates allowing us to pass.
Conifers are planted as wind screens giving us occasional relief from the force of the wind. We are ready to have lunch and rest and we turn left on route 2 toward a gas station/convenience store where we get a simple meal.
We now turn onto the Confederation Trail again at Scotchfort and the wind is to our backs for the remaining 20 miles into St. Peter’s. To the right are marshes and estuaries for the Hillsborough river, which runs into Charlottetown. Cattails, irises and wildflowers sit to our right amidst the river grasses. Though the trail follows route 2, a major road, we can see or hear little of it.
Away from the ocean, the heat and humidity has picked up and it will reach a high of the mid 80s. The breeze is welcome. Woodland birds fly around us as the dominant white and black birch trees flank either side of the trail.
We take a stop where a medicinal spring is supposed to gurgle up, but it is nowhere to be found. What we do find are a field of emerging pitcher plants, whose first shoots are poking out from the moss.
Peat bogs flank either side of the trail and we come across an abandoned blueberry farm. Hoping to grab a blueberry or two, we are disappointed as the bushes carry only dried and shrived fruits. Indeed along the rest of the ride, blueberry bushes are abundant along the trail, yet none have viable fruit.
We are back in a forest and a swallowtail butterfly races me for about 10 seconds before it flies over my helmet. Ted is competing with dragonflies.
Crossing route 2, we approach the northern shore and the ocean. It has not become any cooler yet. Passing over the Morell river bridge, we smell the sea for the first time since we left the park.
We pass a number of stands of native (and not so native) plants with signage. Joe Pye and milkweed line the trail in different places but a nasty invader has also found a place: Giant hogweed. Growing to nearly 15 feet high, this Asian transplant with its white umbral flower will soon dominate the side of the trail.
The trail swings next to the St. Peter’s Bay. In the distance we can see a cluster of houses and the end of our ride for today.
