East Coastin’

Earlier this Spring I had to fly out to St. John’s, Newfoundland for 3 days of meetings. Despite the unenticing prospect of a red-eye flight, I was excited for the chance to finally visit the only Canadian province I hadn’t yet checked off the list, and resolved to build in some downtime to make the most of my trip – which for me inevitably means trying to get in some riding.

After a bit of cursory digging online, I found that despite its relative flatness, the area around St. John’s boasts some bikeable single track and a growing MTB scene. It had been a while since I’d flown with a bike, but not long enough that I didn’t recall the sting of having to pay for the pleasure. I don’t like paying a premium to transport a bicycle, but I’ve always regretted the times I end up in a new place without one. There had to be a way to have my cake without paying through the nose for it…

Enter Mike Chubey, ex-NSMB team member and professional free rider. Guy’s as smooth on his bike as he is awkward in front of the camera – though I enjoy the unintentional comedy guaranteed to be found in his Chuwbakasodes (“Mistamnevaletchugetaway!”), my favourite video of his is definitely the one where he dishes on how to globe-trot with a bicycle in tow without airline staff being the wiser.

I was a bit nervous to try this for two reasons: I’ve had a few strokes of bad luck (frame damage, bike gone missing) travelling with bicycles even when they were properly packaged and labelled; and flying being the high-stress activity it is post 9/11, there’s always the chance that you’ll get into deep trouble for straying even slightly from the straight and narrow. But I’m a cheap bastard and I figured if things went south I would have least have a good story, so after a quick pre-flight trip to Sports-Junkies for a hockey bag and the Sally Anne for towels, I got to work.

Mitch does a great job of laying out his technique in the video, but he leaves out a couple of things which are worth mentioning:
•    I found my cables weren’t long enough to allow me to sufficiently tuck my handlebars out of the way, so I had to remove a grip, shifter and brake lever. Your results may vary.
•    I removed my brake pads and stuck a spacer between the pistons – I could probably have pried the pads apart if they’d gotten squished together, but this seemed like a worthwhile precaution.
•    I removed my rear brake caliper because I figured it might add leverage to any force directed at the frame-brake tabs, which would be tough to straighten if bent.
•    And I wrapped things up a bit more thoroughly and carefully than Mitch seemed to do, though that’s speculation.

  After 15 minutes of work my hardtail was safely and compactly stashed in a Team-Canada replica hockey bag, which had a few hard edges but certainly didn’t resemble a bicycle. I humped it down to YVR on the Canada line and got it tagged and on to the over-sized baggage conveyor belt without so much as a raised eyebrow.

(I should note that on my way home, at both the St. John’s and Montreal airports, I had to personally take my bagged-bike to get X-rayed before I could get it checked in. This made me a bit nervous, but either the security hacks at the scanner were intent on looking for things that were actually dangerous, or they’d never seen a bicycle before – either way, no problems with the screenings)

In St. John’s I found myself an unobtrusive corner in the airport and unpacked my bag. The bike had made the journey intact, with only a slightly warped brake-rotor to show for 8000+ km in the hold of the Airbus. I pulled out my tools and reassembled her on the spot – which earned me a few curious stares but no trouble – then strapped the hockey bag to my backpack and coasted down the hill to my hotel.

After a few days of meetings and exploring the city, I had to bail on plans to meet some locals for a tour of a local trail centre called the White Hills, having developed a serious crick in my neck (stupid hotel beds). After an evening of self medicating with Robaxacet and Quidi Vidi, determined not to waste what might be my only opportunity to ride on The Rock, I ordered a taxi for 8 am the next morning to take me to the town of Pouch (pronounced pooch) Cove, near the northern tip of the famed East Coast Trail. There is, according to the friendly folks at Cychotic, definitely some DH/FR/AM riding to be had in the area around St. John’s. But I’m an XC boy at heart, and had heard enough about the gorgeous scenery on Newfoundland’s east coast that I had no doubt it was where I wanted to ride.

The taxi dropped me off next to the post office behind which the part of the ECT I was going to ride started. The part of the East Coast trail I was riding – Stiles Cove Path – was only completed a few years ago by the East Coast Trail Association, and marks the completion of the trail which extends 250km along the coast. After a quick trip around town to see if anyone sold maps of the trail (of course not, why would they?) I set forth, spinning along a shaley walking trail that skirted the coast. As Pouch Cove receded in the proverbial rear view, the trail started to gain elevation as the coast line got increasingly epic. Soon I was grunting up stairs and steep pitches through foggy coastal forest, pausing to admire the increasingly incredible views that seemed to present themselves around every bend.

To be honest the riding wasn’t great. The trail was built for walking, not riding, and bikes are officially verbotten – though everyone I talked to indicated that this policy wasn’t enforced. But the scenery – 200 meter tall cliffs, towering bluffs of red rock, waterfalls shooting out of sheer rock walls – was great, and the weather was cooperating. Once I got past Shoe Cove the trail started to flow a bit better, and the fog rolled in making the views less, er, distracting.

I was nervous about not having a map but signage along the trail was excellent and often (unintentionally?) comedic.

I arrived at the end of the Stiles Cove Path in the altogether uninspiring town of Flat Rock just as the rain, which had as yet made only brief cameos, rolled in with a vengeance. I’d covered 15km of coastline but was less than halfway back to St. John’s along the trail. I scouted around Flat Rock in search of a pub with fireplace where I could try wait out the rain, but failing to find so much as a corner store, I ate the last of my Clif bars, put on my rain jacket and headphones, and humped it back to town on the highway.

I definitely recommend checking out the East Coast Trail if you get the chance, though not necessarily by bike. It wasn’t a great ride by any stretch, but I managed to find some incredible scenery and got in a bit of a pedal, so I was happy. Having been fed a steady diet of resort and package vacations as a child (oh the hardship), I find that I get the most personal satisfaction out of developing and executing a plan of my own, no matter how half-baked and unsuccessful, rather than treading the beaten path. And knowing that I can fly about with a bike without having to pay for the pleasure definitely made the whole experiment worthwhile.

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I know we have some Newfie visitors on nsmb. What did Omar miss? Anyone else been on a bike on the far edge of the continent? Give it up here boy…