Our bikes have twenty speeds, ten sprockets in the back and two up front. Then the assist from the battery has four levels. So theoretically, we have eighty-speed bikes. With two shifters and the battery controller, we just tune in the right pedal resistance for the slope. Sounds all rational and engineer-y, right? But there is nothing like the magic when we get going up a steep hill of clicking on the full juice and powering up.
The Fundy Trail is famous for its hills. Steep ups and downs, lots of 15%+ grades. I’d never seen warning signs on a bike trail, with speed limits like 5 kph. Suffice it to say that we rode safely but didn’t quite observe the speed limit, down or up. What a fun ride, what a great trail! Thank you, New Brunswick!
We stopped at a beach and saw giant gravel mounds stacked up by the big tides. I wanted to be able to say I’d been swimming in the Bay of Fundy, like another merit badge on my sash of weird bucket list achievements. It was cold water, really cold! So I eased in slowly. No sooner had I summoned the strength to dip the jewels in the water when I turned around to see the fast advancing tide advancing on my bike shorts. (Of course, I had put them way above the water when I started. Milissa disagreed.) I just didn’t count on a) how long it would take to summon the requisite amount of cold water courage and b) the distraction of concentrated will to overcome the cold. Seeing my shorts start soaking, I launched a mad scramble to rescue my trunks that truncated my Fundy swim, and Milissa said I looked like Ned Devine.
My shorts dried off on the ride, my wallet wasn’t that wet, and my cell phone un-affected, and I shrugged off any indignation, so I’ll take credit for the swimming expedition.
On the way back, we stopped at the same beach, about 18 feet higher, and marveled at the swelling water. I took a closer look to see what kind of undulating seaweed was growing among the gravel and saw that it was a really busy crowd of herring, thousands about the size of small sardines. And then they scrambled and darted like crazy, some of them hurling themselves up out of the water and onto the gravel. Holy Mackerel! Bigger green almost zebra striped fish, a few hundred of them, stalking and attacking the herring – those were mackerel. They didn’t look real holy to me as they chased and hunted their prey through the rising tidewaters, but it was sure fun to watch.
–Fred
If it was not for the electric bikes I would have never been able to ride the steep hill (s) trail and enjoy life on this fantastic day! What comes to mind is the smells of the Forrest all along the ride. Some pine smells, flowers, ocean mist, it was really quite lovely.
–Milissa
https://funitude.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/quik_2019-07-23_20-23-30.mov