I stepped off the ferry in Argentia, Newfoundland tired and weary after a hearty night of ferry partying. I had spent half of the 15 hour ferry ride in the boat's lounge with cyclists from La Tour du Canada drinking and partying while two authentic Newfie entertainers tore the boat apart with laughter and jigging style acordion music. The other half of the time I was strolling around meeting people and frequenting the bow of the ship's deck where the head wind was raging madly on us and the spray from waves was being blown high up and right into our faces. I convinced loads of people to come up with me and experience the force. Once on deck it was already fiercely windy and while approaching the bow I had to tell them "Just hang on to the rail as you go around this sheltered corner and if you dont want to go right out and let go than I understand," I told them. "Yes B'y!," as the Newfies say. Indeed The wind turned savage as you rounded the corner away from the sheltered wall and on to the bow exposed to the full force of the open Northern Atlantic Sea a sea where some of the most ferocous storms in all the world's waters have take place. I was loving the rage and would stay out in the full force for 10 to 20 minutes leaning sharply against the wind while my feet slowly slid back. Apparently this was a relatively calm sailing even though the boat tipped deeply from side to side. The woman in the cafeteria said to me "Its not a rough sailin untils da chairs ares flyin back and forth across da boat, yes b'y." I also learned from her that its not very irregular for this ferry to get stuck in the ice during cold winters and if its stuck for long than its open bar for everyone. One time it was stuck for three days before they could get an ice breaker out to them so they had to airlift beer and food onto the boat to the keep people happy.

At around midnight I ate a big supper and drank lots of water in an effort to revitalize myself for a good days biking. It was a safety regulation that you wernt allowed to sleep on the floor and obviously I wasnt likely to pay extra money for a bunk or a sleeper chair so I kept to my overnight ferry style and slept under the gleaming stars and over the frothy turbulent sea outside on the sun deck. Of course the other overnight ferrys I had done thisbefore on were different, crossing the Adriatic Sea from Croatia to Italy and then over the Sea of Cortes from the Baja California to mainland Mexico both in very hot climates. I got on all my long underwear and warm gear and then found a calm secretive corner at the back of the boat where I dived into my sleeping bag and dozed off.

I woke up only a few hours later as the sun was rising over a line of small but rugged mountains. It was my first climpse of Newfoundland, Canada's most Easternly province aswell as the last to join Confederation only 57 years ago. The shore was jagged and unique and while entering the harbour where we were to dock the boat passed right by two giant looming rocks poking out of the water's surface. They were silohetted by the early morning light appearing in the sky behind them creating the first sureal moment of what turned out to be a very sureal day for me. At this moment I was sure that I was in for a beautiful experience on the island of Newfoundland.

Despite my fatigue from the night before I was charged with adrenalin and motivated to ride through hell or high water to reach Cape Spear that evening. Cape Spear is just south of St. John's and is the eastern most point on Newfoundland not to mention Canada and actually even North America. The air that morning was chilly but in no time I had stripped down to shorts and my warm jersey. I was passing and being passed by different members of La Tour du Canada who started out from the ferry at different times. This to me was wonderful, I was sharing in the optimism and encouragement of a whole group of happy and soon to be very satisfied people who had done sort of the same thing as me. I caught up to a girl named Iona who I met the day before and rode with her almost right to St. Johns. There was plenty of shoulder so we rode abreast talking and sharing stories of the trip but her and the rest of the group were going to end the day at Signal Hill atop St. John's so we split and I kept along highway 2 towards the southern end of St. John's. I just couldn't understand how nobody wanted to do it properly and ride right to the end of the road at Cape Spear. Possibly it was more important for me because I started at Cape Scott the bold western point of Vancouver Island protruding far into the wild of the Pacific and this was its counterpart on the other side of the country on the other big island.

I was given'er as hard as I knew how and was somehow passing lots of the La Tour du Canada riders who ride on slick road bikes with no gear( they pay for a truck to pull their gear) I reached St. Johns in increible time but was extremely exhausted and rested for just a moment at the bottom of Shea heights, a big nasty hill that stood before me and the rest of the road out to Cape Spear. I realized that since breakfast 5 hours before I had hardly eaten anything and had been riding hard on adrenalin. I dug into my saddle bags but all I found was half a chocalate bar. The thought of staying in St. John's that night and finishing tomorow seemed nice but that would be such a shame to take the easy way out after all I had put into it. I pointed my handle bars uphill and began the brutal uphill slog that ended in an imposibly cruel 50m climb up a slope I would grade to be about 18% more than only one or two hills Id seen across the whole damn country. My legs begged me to take a rest or walk my bike up but I didn't listen and so I pounded my knees like pistons and topped over the mountain as fast as I could with my mouth panting and pain written all over my face. After that I rampaged through the last 20km up and over steep mountains. Finally I could sense that the edge of the world was near. I made a point to bike as hard as I could, I wanted to hit the end in total exhastion as to feel the toils of the entire trip in my legs. Finally I started down a long winding hill, the ocean came into view below, a rocky barren peninsula with a lighthouse. This was it, the road bended and then ended in a parking lot. An incredible euphoria swept over me, an intense tingling sensation climbed up from my toes to my ears, the world suddenly seamed like a dream, as if it had all been a dream right from the start. I felt like I would awake at any moment. But this was no dream, reality returned although still vaguely. I had done it, I was there. I slowed down and almost stopped, it felt so sureal to see the end of the road. I crossed the parking lot and a sign pointed me down a winding boardwalk that said The eastern most point of North America. I slowly cruised towards the rocky point laughing, crying, overjoyed and exhausted. I had dreamed of this moment on so many occasions while riding alone and with nothing else to dream of. It was far more beautiful than I had pictured, the Newfoundland coast was of high steep cliffs with the raging sea crashing at their bases. And then this point stuck out wind swept and barren, this was the end of the world and thats exactly how it felt. I rolled slowly almost not wanting to finish, it hardly seemed right crossing Canada on bike had been my purpose, it had been my life for nearly four months. I rolled until I could not roll any farther and then I climbed over the fence and continued down on to the rocks. Right to the edge where the waves crashed furiously and the wind blew its mist hard into my face. All day it had been rainy, windy, and cold but 10 minutes after my arrival a giant patch of blue sky blew in and pushed off the harsh weather, It was absolutley glorious. The beauty was overwhelming but I could tell by looking at other peoples faces that they could not see what I saw. They wanted a photo preclaiming that they were standing on teh Eastern tip of the vast continent of North America. I wanted a photo aswell but more than anything I wanted to relish my location, it was not that I was there it was how I got there and how badly I wanted to be there.

I Started in the chill of mid spring from the Western tip of the great island in the west, Vancouver Island. I had travelled 8600km through wild logging roads frought with bears and mountain lions, numbing icy mountain passes, teasing plains that I though would never end, doomsday thunderclouds, blistering heatwaves, a milloin hills of all different sizes and steepness, 10 provinces and 4 1/2 timezones (Newfoundland is a half timezone, don't ask me) to stand here at the eastern tip of the great island of the east, Newfoundland. The first trees were begining to turn colour and the grip of fall was feeling near, the entire summer had been passed while on the road as if my wheel was propelling time aswell as myself. Time and kilometers melted together as I was lost and sucked into a life of perpetual motion. I pondered this as I sat on the rocks at the edge of the world and a great feeling of Satisfaction and self appreciation swept over me. After meeting riders in La tour du Canada I realized something. We had all rode our bikes across Canada and surely we all appreciated this but when I dreamed up this dream so long ago that was only half of the purpose. For me I had experienced Canada and for what it is it can only be properly experienced by climbing mountains, canoeing down rivers, exploring the lakes and the forest far away from the highway, by staying in citys and staying in peoples yard or houses along the way. I had done it all self sufficiently except for while in the company of my good friend Cameron. I felt as if I had accomplished far more than just biking across Canada.

There was many challenges along the way. The most obvious challenges were: the extreme and varying weather( cold, heat waves, head winds, lightning), dangerous roads and vehicles, insects and wild animals, the worry of theft or dangerous people(which neither did I experience any of), mechanical problems, and of course the great challenge of travelling on a tight budget which means trying to camp for free as often as possible. Of all these chalenges though there is the one great challenge which is that of facing all of these challenges alone. Something like a dangerous road, mechanical problems, or a tough headwind can be incredibly frustrating and while alone it is simply alll left for you to cope with and get through. In a hellish head wind all I could do was yell at the top of my lungs into the wind that it could never stop me no matter how hard it tried only to have my words thrown right back in my face. Also travelling alone can be lonesome but if your freecamping(not staying in a camp sight) means that sometimes you will spend the entire day alone sometimes many days. In the last week or so I've stayed at a few campgrounds simply beacuse it so nice to have people to talk to. And Ill admit right now that I've have had some very dark moments on the trip, long nights and scary rides which were all the worst while travelling alone but also my best moments of the greatest reward and total appreciation to be alive were also while travelling alone. Still I never expected it to be easy and if it wasn't for these challenges I really dont think the reward would be so great. Confidence, enhanced self-reliance, one hell of an experience full of beautiful memories, and a greater understaniding and appreciation of Canada is my reward for my summers work and there is no way that I have a shadow of regret. I fully recomend this trip to anyone but I urge not to do it with an organized group but rather find a companion and pack your bikes and get it done the true way. Now that Ive made it across Canada IM not sure what to do. Back home, back to work. No I don't think that sounds like fun, in one way or another the adventure lives on.

After enjoying the view and strolling around in a sureal euphoric state I started heading back to St. John's. I was absolutely beat and I considered trying to hitchhike but than realized how retarted that would be after travelling 8600km. So I kept my knees going and very slowly rode one hill at a time into St. Johns ending my day around 180km. Not nearly my longest day but one of hill climbing wind fighting and hard excursion not to mention after a night of partying. I found my hostel and by then I was ready to collapse, immidiatley I went to the grocery store and bought myself steaks and vegetables and cooked a grand supper.

I ended up spending about 8 days in St. John's mostly just relaxing in the hostel with short walks around town. One beautiful blue sky day I made a good hike up Signal hill where I again sat down and relaxed for many hours looking out across the open waters and to Cape Spear seen clearly not so far in the distance. The St. John's harbour below with two giant steep hills guarding its entrance makes an icredible haven from the choppy seas outside. I can only imagine the feeling it would be to make the rough crossing from Europe and then to arrive at a solid wall of towering cliffs on Newfoundalnd's coast and then finally to squeeze through the narrows into the calm and scenic harbour. Especially so long ago when immigrants from Europe spent entire months at sea before arriving here. A sign post of distances and directions at the top of the hill showed that Vancouver was a whopping 5032km away while York, England was only 3550km away. "Wow, shes a big country" I thought although I assure you that that was not the first time the thought occured to me.

The other highlihts of my stay were for one the tours I did with other hostelers down the Avalon Peninsula Coast including one morning we left the hostel at 5:50 AM and drove to Cape Spear to watch the first sunrise on North America. While we approached Cape Spear I said "there she is the end of the world," the Swiss guy said "no, its the beginning." "Yes b'y," He was right it was the beginning of the world.

The other was a night out on George Street. For those who have not heard of George Street it is in downtown St. Johns and is home to a greater concentration of bars than anywhere in North America. Im not sure how many but it seemed about 60 in two short blocks. It was the George Street festival and the street was closed off, 10 $ to get in and then no cover for any bar and you could bring your drink out into the street. It was wicked fun, I was with 4 other partiers from the hostel and we went from bar to bar in a drinking and jigging frenzy. I told people in a bad accent that I was a singer from Dublin and the rest of the guys were my jiggers from Ireland, Australia, and the North West Territoires even though none of us were from Ireland or the North West Territories but one of them was actually a Newfie and was an incredible jigger. There was bars lining both sides of the street with more bars on top and bars hidden behind bars. Some bars led right into other bars and bars then in the basement of that bar. Wow, Nefies really like to drink! I got home at 4 Am and then tried to leave the next day but had to get a new pump and the bike stores were all closed. I was happy to stick around though and check out the Sunday paper, I was featured on the front page of the second section. It was weird to see a giant photo of myself in the newspaper and a write up after being interviewed and photographed a few days before. If anybodys interested its probably on the internet in the Sunday Sept. 10th of the Newfoundland Telegram Finally I left St.Johns after my 8 day stay and battled a headwind west.