Bon matin!
The overnight downpour had resigned itself to contemptuous spitting as we broke camp Saturday morning in Mount Carleton. We had flirted with the idea of a swim or maybe a canoe rental in the morning, but the overcast morning deflated our eagerness. Baby Girl was also a bit subdued as she’s come down with a head cold. She sounds like a heavy smoker despite eating Halls like Tic-Tacs.
Before we left the campground, I effected some repairs to the trailer again. When we were escaping from Montreal down a potholed street in the suburbs, we were startled by a Québécois driver coming the other way honking, yelling in French, and pointing behind us. When I looked in the mirror I was aghast to see that we were dragging our propane tank by the hose. It looked like the bolts holding the tank on had rattled loose. The tank had fallen from its seat, pulling the hose mount out of the trailer wall, leaving ragged holes in the aluminium side. At the time, I had just tied the tank back onto the frame and crossed my fingers. It was time to fix it properly. I drilled out the holes and put in expanding bolts, then remounted the tank with lock washers. That’s not as interesting a story as our propane tank exploding on the highway, but probably safer.
My phone is a vital part of our trip logistics. It provides communication (sometimes), maps, research on upcoming destinations, WiFi hotspot for various devices, and photography. Imagine my dismay when Baby Girl kicked the charging cable by accident while we were driving and let the Magic Smoke out of my phone. (All electronic devices rely on magic smoke to function, and if it gets out, they don’t work anymore.) I yanked the blackened half-melted wire out of the phone, but it seemed too late. The phone still worked, but even with another new cable, the phone refused to charge. It was just a matter of time before the lights went out.
Given the crisis, we searched out a Bell-Aliant store in the town of Shediac, on the Atlantic coast of New Brunswick. Unfortunately, the fellow there couldn’t do anything to help because they were a Bell partner store, not a corporate store. He did let me know that my phone bill was overdue after two months on the road, so I took care of that anyway. When I throw my phone into the Atlantic, it should at least be paid for.
We bought a paper map and filled up on gas too before we left town. Baby Girl likes to do the pumping now, so I just run my credit card and leave her to it. It’s usually pretty helpful. Less so on this day, as we were to discover.
The bridge to Prince Edward Island is 2 lanes wide, about 15 kilometres long, and very high. With the ever-present rain, the grey clouds over the strait were vast and dramatic. I think it would be cool to ride a bicycle over it although the narrowness of the lanes would make it more than a little nerve wracking.
We stopped at the information centre on the PEI side of the bridge. We’re never sure what there is to do, so we like to visit the info centres to get the lay of the land. As we got of the car, Short Pants noticed that the gas door was still open and commented loudly as he shut it. I popped it open again with a nagging fear that turned out to be justified. We had no gas cap any longer. Baby Girl had pumped the gas, replaced the pump and collected the bill, but hadn’t replaced the cap or shut the door. Oh well. We needed candy. I needed candy. We got candy.
Nerves calmed by sucrose, I used a few previous milliwatts of my dying phone’s life to locate a Canadian Tire in Charlottetown. Then I had another good idea and plugged my phone into a battery, rather than the car. A competent scientist accounts for all variables, and I wanted to rule out the car USB adaptor. I left it plugged in while we made our way to Canadian Tire.
Happy, happy, joy, joy, it charged! It seemed like the adaptor had surged and fried the cable, not my phone. We purchased a gas cap and a new adaptor and we were a going concern again. Gotta roll with what hits you.
With the sweet tang of electrons filling my phone I called up Tourism PEI and made a reservation for the last serviced campsite at Brudenell Provincial Park. The lady on the phone had a great down east accent and was exceedingly helpful. It was full dark by the time we arrived. We chased out the mosquitoes and blackflies and went to sleep.