When I went to bed at the Aberdeen Motel, I figured I’d book it to Pembroke the next day. The weather radar showed nothing but rain and I was about done with getting wet.

When I woke up, however, it was such a gorgeous day that I decided to take the scenic south shore instead. It meant a longer day on the bike, but the Cabot Trail was a relatively short day. It was about five hours on the bike with my jaunt down the Meat Cove road and a frustrating detour before getting to my room.

Detour, you ask? Well, as I toodled down the road after my post Cabot Trail meal that day, I came to a crossroad. Petunia was telling me to go left, but it was blocked by a big truck and a big dude was turning me away. I asked how I might find my way to the Aberdeen Motel. He had never heard of it. How about Baddeck? He told me to go back the way I’d come and turn right at the big read barn.

Now friends, we all know I can get lost in my head on a bike and I miss things sometimes, but I KNOW I had not passed any big barns, red or otherwise, on this road. I turned around and found a quiet and spacious church parking lot to see what Petunia had to say. For the past hour or so Gretta (my Garmin) seemed to think I was bah-ha-ing through no man’s land, so she was no help. So far Petunia’s only advice was to turn back, but I was pretty sure the truck and the dude didn’t give a rat’s ass that my phone was insisting the blocked road was my only route to my room.

It was getting late in the day and with Petunia offering no alternate routes and Gretta convinced I was off-roading, I started to freak out a little. It seems like a small issue, but I still wasn’t back to my pre-shit-show self yet. If you’ve been following my story, you have been reading little hints about my last gig. For the past 16 months I’d been leading a team of wonderful trainers and developers for my client’s ERP project. I loved the work. I loved the people, and I felt like I was making a difference. But leadership was toxic, accustomed to bullying middle management, and made haphazard decisions without a thought to downstream impacts. It really was a shit show. Without going too much into the muck and the mire of it all, I can tell you it was an incredibly stressful place and I was burned out. Hence my decision to take time off. My contract ended and the next day I was on the bike. So yah…burnout impacts one’s ability to have faith in themselves at times. This was starting to feel like one of those times.

So there I was, forcing down the anxiety as I sat on Jules in that church parking lot. I was feeling the whole fight/flight/freeze stuff, so it took a concerted effort to regroup and remind myself there was no blood on the ground. Time to assess. The only value Gretta brought to the situation was the fact she was always tracking where I’d been with a thin blue line on the map. I zoomed out to find my line from the day before. I remembered passing by the Aberdeen after saying goodbye to Mom and Peter, so that was my best bet for finding my bed for the night. Sure enough, I could see yesterday’s line. OK, I had a plan now.

I canceled Petunia’s route, and carried on to the next road that Gretta’s display showed connecting to yesterday’s blue line. A couple of turns later, I DID see a big red barn. Big dude was sort of right, but there was no way I’d have found that barn with his directions. It took an hour to travel this detour, but I was so relieved to find the Aberdeen! I tucked into a spot in front of the office and wiggled out of my lid and jacket. It had been been so hot each afternoon that it was always a welcome relief to shed some layers!

The Aberdeen was an odd little place. It’s the low-roof, row of rooms motel that I really enjoy, but was eerily quiet when I rolled in. The office door was locked and a piece of paper taped to the window advised to call a number for more information. “More information?” I muttered. How about ANY information, like how do I check the hell in? I call and someone eventually opens the office door.

I get checked in and unload my gear and my take out supper for the evening. The tub was calling my name, but upon further investigation, I could see a soap scum line from a previous guest. Even a shower was unsettling as I wasn’t keen on setting my naked toes into who knows what may have been sitting on the bottom of the grimy tub.

Ok, I got a bit side tracked here and haven’t even gotten to my glourious ride down the south shore!