Southbound to Charlottetown

Day 25

After our lazy day in the campground yesterday, our only outing being the race, we're heading to the big city today. Charlottetown is about 20 miles from Cymbria. It is where the PEI airport, the University of PEI, the Arts Centre and the Culinary Institute are. The main reason we're headed there is that we need another canister of fuel for our cook stove, some Dr. Bronner's and some dark roast coffee. You know, essentials. It is a gloriously beautiful day. The sun is out, there are no clouds in the sky. The temperature is perfect for riding in a tank top and leather jacket (no scarves, fleeces or long underwear). That is ideal riding weather, in my opinion. The only thing about this day is that it's Sunday, which we had no clue of, so the outfitter is closed. No matter, we hit the Canadian Tire (which are everywhere) and find at least the fuel. I would not buy coffee at the Canadian Tire.

We ride into downtown on River Street, which deposits us at the start of a lovely scenic drive along the waterfront. It feels like the battery in Charleston SC, only not so grand, and not as many weapons. People are casually lying in the sun in their bathing suits alongside their cars on this “battery”, something that may give the duck head clad Charlestonians a fit. The water in the bay is dark blue and sparkling and dotted with sailboats, white sails full and tight.

Soon we are in the unfortunate tourist section; marked always by throngs of people, stupid shops with sandblasted brightly colored signs, and tour buses in novel shapes. Here, they are boat shaped, and called “Hippopato-bus”es. Jeez. Away from the water, it's hot in the sun. I'm in no mood to poke through shops, stupid or otherwise. We retire to a shady bench to re-group. I notice that the other people doing this are well into their 70s or 80s, white haired couples with the men smoking pipes and the women reading paperbacks. It's fitting.

We decide to walk back to the Girl, who is parked on a shady side street, and hit the road. My mood is all wrong for this hot, crowded place. Once we're there, we realize that we parked in front of the island's only beer brewery, duh. It beacons us, and we succumb. The décor is lovely; old beams and exposed brick, a blending of modern edge and traditional. We are seated by the window, so we can peer at at people in the street. My mood improves.

We order the pot roast sandwich with onion rings. At $13 at lunch, we figure this will be a mountain of food that we can easily share (though it is our custom to always share a plate when we eat out). This would probably be a safe assumption anywhere but Canada. The plate is meager: a very small serving of onion rings along side what I would consider a half of a sandwich. It was delicious, don't get me wrong, but dang, they don't feed you in Canada.

We're realizing that our initial choice of “groceries not restaurants” is holding true. First, it's cheaper. Second, we're blowing the cuisine we've sampled at restaurants out of the water with our Whisper Lite stove and a good campfire.

After lunch, re-fueled and refreshed, we head to Beaconsfield, a grand historic home on Victoria Bay. The day we visited the Shipbuilding museum, we bought a pass that allowed us to visit three historic sites/museums for the price of two. One of the sites is here in Charlottetown (we discovered this at lunch, cleaning out our pockets) and it turns out to be our favorite of the three. This is a grand home of a ship builder from the late 1800's. It overlooks the bay, and anyone who was pulling into the harbor would see it. The original owners actually moved a house that sat here across the street so that they could have this particularly good site. The home is huge, with ornate details, room for servants, spaces for entertaining the likes of visiting British royalty. We figure that this guy sold his soul to the devil though, because he and his family only lived here for 5 years before declaring bankruptcy and moving out with only the shirts on their backs. Apparently, they didn't keep up once steam ships caught on. He and his wife also outlived all six of their kids. There are many lessons in this story.

On our way home, we pick up food at the country store: steaks, fresh corn, eggs and butter. We'll cook it over the campfire, and it will be more affordable and delicious than if we'd gone out for it. Plus, we make better cocktails. I guess we're just spoiled, being from Asheville where there are so many beautiful restaurants. I will not waste my money on shitty food on the road when I can go to the Admiral or Tod's or Rezaz once we get home, you know?