August 20th: Edmunston to Plaster rock

    Any activity can get repetitive and boring if you do it enough. Every activity but a few, and I will let you figure out for yourself what those few activities that you can't get bored of are. However, biking is one of the activities that do tend to drag on after a certain amount of time.
   Lately, Downey and I had been cycling smaller amounts every day.It was more depressing seeing that with every cycle of the sun we fell farther and farther behind schedule. This was not due to our bodies breaking down,  but simply because the boredom we experience while cycling became unbearable. Both Downey and my Ipods were water damaged. I had no more books to read and Downey and I had had every conversation imaginable. Even the countryside looked repetitive an boring regardless of the majestic beauty it displayed. Miserable is how I would describe our duo. Our spirits were taking a beating and our spirits weren't putting up much of a fight.
   It got to the point where I would relish any kind of stop we could make. Any restaurant, gas station or McDonalds offered a chance to break the common monotony of cycling and gave us a change from biking, which had began to feel tedious. While Downey and I headed through a small town just within New Brunswick I spotted the golden arches and within minutes we had convinced each other that a break was just what we needed.

   "Can I have an Iced tea and two cheese burgers please?"

   It was the same order I have heard repeated time and time again. Downey and I got our food and drink and ate. While in the restaurant we did our best at grasping at what little offered itself for conversation and attempted to provoke some sort of interesting in a subject that could breed conversation, but to no avail. As we exited the restaurant I noticed something that caught my interrest.

   "Yo Downey, check it out!"

   There, next to our bikes, was another touring bicycle. It had all the gear you would normally find on a touring bike, and then some. My mind was racing with the possibility of exchanging stories with another cyclist and the possibility of a new riding partner moved the core of my being. Only one has to be careful who they cycle with. some cyclists out there are just wierd and crazy. After all, would you want to cycle with Downey and I?

   "Its and old dude... Look at all the gear. Only old people need that much comfort." Said Downey

   "Nah man, check out that big seat. Its a young girl trying to find herself and her rich dad just bought her all that stuff." I responded

   "The colour is brown. Only guys ride brown bikes.... Its going to be some old guy. First of all he is going to avoid us, and if he does talk to us its only going to be about the path he took and he will show us map after map. I guarantee you, this guy will be boring as hell."

    While Downey and I argued about the possible owner of the bike I looked into the McDonalds to see if I could spot the owner. That is when I saw one of the scariest, most unappealing things in my life. There was a woman, sitting at a table by her lonesome who was going to town on a big mac. Only it wasn't just a big mac. In front of her lay a plethora of empty Mcdonalds boxes. Her eyes looked into mine as Big Mac sauce ran down her chin. She cast off the empty burger box to join the boneyard of other empty boxes before her. I had found our cyclist. It was too late for Downey and I to escape, I only pondered what kind of a mistake I made by hanging around here for too long. Now that she had finished her food, she was ready to converse.

    "Well I saw your bikes out here on the way in, I was going to say hi but I needed food" She said.

   "I could tell" I responded

   "My name's Kate.... Kate something" (This isn't what she said, but I don't remember her last name so bear with me).

    Turns out Kate was heading out to Plaster Rock, the same place Downey and I were headed as well. We decided to cycle together because an extra cyclist really does help the pace of the group. Kate was a school teacher from Campbell river on Vancouver Island. She had undertaken the journey across Canada for herself and fit suprisingly well in the group, so much so that our merry band of three would stick together for the next five days.
   We made it to Plaster Rock in great spirits. Turns out an extra cyclist was all we needed. The only thing louder than the combined creaking of our old bikes was the laughter that expelled from our lungs. Downey and I were back to our normal selves. Thanks to the renewed love of biking, I didn't think our night was too bad even when we got a good dose of rain soaking us and our gear through and through. Like the Rolling Stones songs says: "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need."