There is no doubt about it. Warm Showers made the trip. We both agree whole heartedly that our 2-month cycling trip through Maine, the Canadian Maritimes and New Hampshire would not have been as enriching and heart warming without the hospitality of our hosts.

Warm Showers is an association of long distance cyclists who participate in a free lodging exchange. By joining, cyclists agree to host other traveling cyclists in their home or yard, and in return have access to a world-wide network of host homes. Finding a Warm Showers host is as easy as pulling up an app on a smartphone. It uses GPS and Google Maps to find your location, and shows you all hosts in close proximity. By tapping an icon, you can send a message to the host requesting accommodations. As a host, you can choose the level of hospitality that suits you – camping space, beds, food, laundry facilities and kitchen use are some of the options.

Hosting is rewarding in itself. We have met fascinating people traveling through Duluth on bicycle, with a wide range of itineraries and length of trip. And after the wealth of hospitality extended to us on our trips, we are eager to continue to repay that generosity.

All the people that opened their homes to us were so welcoming and made us feel right at home. They not only provided us with hot showers and comfy beds, but let us give our hand laundered clothes a thorough wash in their laundries. And we were so well fed! Other cyclists totally understand the insatiable hunger and need for calories generated by long distance cycling – even if we didn’t quite recognize it ourselves. We ate many a gourmet meal and feasted on local delicacies. Equally enjoyable was the opportunity to use the kitchen and do a little home cooking ourselves for a change.

Because the network is comprised entirely of cyclists, by definition we always had a great deal in common with our hosts. And we knew in advance that they would have values similar to our own. Conversation was easy as we shared cycling experiences. We were wowed by the extensive travels our hosts had completed, and inspired by their destinations and cycling philosophies. As relative neophytes to long distance cycling, we always learned useful tips from our hosts. They were also the best source on local cycling. We avoided bad routes, enjoyed the best scenery and got the scoop on good eateries all through their sound advice.

But the biggest benefit of all was the local knowledge we gained. Had we merely cycled through on our own, we would have missed out on learning about the local history, customs and culture. The in-depth personal perspectives they shared with us were the gem stones of our trip. From understanding the background of the Acadians to getting the inside scoop on developing national geological parks, we found it all fascinating. We watched one host’s lobster boat arrive at the wharf, followed his catch from there to our dinner table and learned about the lobster industry. Our extensive tour through Old Quebec was led and narrated by new local cycling friends. Some hosts drove us to see local sights – places that were not on our direct route, and otherwise would have missed.

We knew that staying in Warm Showers homes would be useful, but in no way did we foresee just how it would shape our travels and enrich the memories of our trip. To all our wonderful hosts – who now feel like good friends – we owe a debt of thanks. And we sincerely hope that they cross our threshold in Duluth one day.

We're done. We finished. The Grand Gaspé Cycling Tour is over. So how does it feel? I have a myriad of conflicting emotions.

Sad to see it end. That's the overriding feeling for me. It was such a great experience that I just didn't want it to end. We had our cycling routine down to such a well honed process that it felt like we could carry on forever. We still felt strong. We had nothing but positive memories. We loved every minute (okay nearly every minute) of it. But perhaps that's what made it such a good time to stop. We definitely ended on a high point.

A Sense of Accomplishment. We did it! When we were planning the trip, it seemed like an audacious goal. And it was. But in the process of breaking the 2,354 miles down into daily chunks, I saw it more as a journey than a number to attain. Sure the miles mounted up, but upon completing the total it felt less like a victory than I thought it would. The compilation of rich experiences now deposited in my life bank of personal history was far more meaningful than any measure of distance traveled.

Thankful. We have so many reasons to be grateful. The fact that we covered all those miles safely was truly a blessing. We traveled entirely without incident and didn't even have any near-misses. Meeting so many wonderful people was such a privilege. And our Warm Showers hosts truly took care of us during each of our stays. We finished the tour with a plethora of new friends.

Fortunate. How many people have an opportunity to do something like this? I feel so very lucky to have the good health, strong body and financial resources to spend two months on such an amazing adventure. And I am so fortunate to have a like-minded husband who is as gung-ho (some use the word “crazy”) as I am to embark on such a trip. After spending 54 straight days together 24×7, our relationship is stronger than ever.

Ready to be home. Having stopped cycling and focusing only on our day-to-day progress, I have begun to turn my sights toward home. Our calendar for the next few months was a blank slate, but already I have started filling it in. I'm excited to re-engage in the lives of our kids and grandkids. I look forward to getting together with friends. I'm ready to resume my volunteer activities and freelance writing assignments. And I can't wait to cook and bake again!

Eager to do it again. It's hard to let go. And so our thoughts naturally turn to the next cycling tour. This trip has increased our confidence in our ability to cycle long distances and handle tough conditions like hills, wind and rain. We have a better sense of our limitations and how to manage them on such a trip. And we learned a lot about how to plan as we go. I choose not to look at this as the finish line. Instead, I hope it's only the starting line.

Our progress to date: 45 days, 1,975 miles

For 44 days we have followed the coastline. Always we have been cycling with a big body of water on our right. That was the whole point of the Grand Gaspé Cycling Tour, to travel the rim of the Canadian Maritime Provinces, and get our fill of coastal views. The sandy beaches, fishing harbors, soaring cliffs, lighthouses and deep blue waters have delighted us for over six weeks. But today we bid them all farewell, as we turned south from Quebec City and head inland. Back to our starting point in New Hampshire.

It also means leaving Route 132. We cycled 650 miles on the same road, first heading East along Chaleur Bay. When we rounded the point at Gaspé, it became 132 West and took us all the way to Quebec City. It was one of the best roads of the trip, with smooth pavement and wide shoulders. Good thing, as there were no alternatives.

We traveled East then West on the same road for 650 miles!

This is a virtual as well as a literal turning point in this trip. We've completed the portion that was our primary focus. And while the remainder of Quebec province and the length of New Hampshire will be interesting cycling territory in their own right, I can't help but see this leg as little more than our road home.

I'm already feeling resistant to the idea of completing our trip. I'm not quite ready to give up the mantle of Long Distance Cyclists. Already I'm growing nostalgic about the challenges of the big hills, the thrill of camping at the top of a cliff and completing a long day of cycling feeling tired but so very satisfied. We will just have to savor these last few hundred miles.

Today's journey took us along the Chaudière River. It is a large river that winds it's way through rich farmland. Having the river at our side seemed like an aid to wean us from the big water. We were able to follow small local roads, devoid of traffic that provided a silent trip through the countryside. Staying in the river's valley kept the hills to a minimum, and we enjoyed a chilly but helpful tailwind (for a change!). While the weather forecast called for the skies to clear, most of the day we seemed to be outpacing the front that delivered the sunny weather. It finally caught up to us by mid-afternoon, and we enjoyed the warmth of the sun as we rode.

Chaudiere River winds through farmland

Pretty farmland

Farms right along the river

Near the end of the day, we reached Notre-Dame-des-Pins where there is a beautiful covered bridge. It is the second longest bridge of its kind in Canada, and better yet, a bike path traveled right through it! The paved trail continued for the remainder of our day's ride, and brought us right into Saint-Georges with more modern but elaborate bridges. It also passed by a Chocolaterie where we reinstated our afternoon ice cream stop!

Molly waves from the covered bridge in Notre-Dame-des-Pins

Bike trail inside the covered bridge

Ice cream time, once again!

The elements all combined to make this a very easy ride today. We both agreed we could have gone much farther. Funny, that we could cycle 54 miles and think little of it. But it's time to slow down and make the most of our last remaining days of cycling. We've bid farewell to the seacoast. We're just not ready to say goodbye to cycling quite yet.

Six weeks down and about two to go on our Grand Gaspé Cycling Tour. All this time we've been living out of one set of panniers and a handlebar bag each. Plus camping equipment. Even other long distance cyclists have commented on how frugally we have packed. Many carry a second set of panniers on their front wheel as well. But we knew that every pound would count, and didn't want to carry any extra weight. Especially with the hills we'd be climbing.

By this stage, we'd know if we misjudged on our packing strategy. But I'm happy to report that we both feel we nailed it. The only superfluous item is my swimsuit. But it's not exactly weighing me down. I haven't worn my warmest cycling layers yet either, but I'm glad I have them in reserve. (* Items) And I can't think of anything that I wish I'd brought. So what exactly did I pack?

Cycling clothes: (this is on the wear-one, wash-one plan)

• 2 Grand Gaspé Tour cycling jerseys
• 2 pair cycling shorts
• 4 pair cycling socks, 1 pair wool socks
• 2 running bras
• 1 thermal quarter-zip top
• 1 thin cycling windbreaker
• 1 rain jacket
• 1 pair cycling gloves, 1 pair ski gloves
• 1 pair arm warmers
• 1 pair running capris
• 1 pair insulated ski tights *
• 1 long sleeve ski top *
• 1 hat *

Civilian clothes: (note most of this is athletic wear as the thin synthetic fabrics take little room and wash and dry easily)

• 2 running t-shirts
• 1 pair soccer shorts
• 1 pair athletic capris
• 1 long sleeve running top
• 1 pair knit long pants
• 2 pair socks
• 1 pair Keens sandals
• 4 pair travel underwear, 1 bra
• 1 swimsuit

Camping gear: (Rich carries our ultra lightweight 2-person tent)

• sleeping bag
• 2 sleep mats
• solar charging panel

Electronics and sundry items:

• iPad
• smartphone
• Garmin GPS watch
• good camera, with extra battery
• spare pair of glasses
• toiletries (in very small quantities)
• bagels, peanut butter and granola bars

Cycling supplies:

• 5 spare inner tubes (Rich carries a few more plus a spare tire)
• extra spokes
• bike chain lubricant
• repair tools
• bike lock
• 2 water bottles

And here's just how it all fits on my bike…

Oh, and one more critical item – ziplock bags. Everything is encased in plastic to keep it dry. The first rainstorm proved just how important that was.

That's it. No more, no less. And it's all I need. Wouldn't it be nice if life were always that simple?

At 12mph, there is plenty of time to take in one's surroundings. And traveling the lesser roads, we see far more interesting things than from a super highway. I thought it was time I shared a few of my recent favorites.

Church spires in the distance mark the next village

Throughout our trip, we have seen many beautiful churches with a great variety of architectures. Each town has one dominating church, which reliably sits in the center of town. The one common feature of all these churches is the bell tower topped with a tall spire. Or perhaps several of them. For me, they serve as a beacon. Whenever we approach a town, all I have to do is scan the landscape, searching for the tall spire piercing the sky above the trees. Sometime I can see it from miles away, pinpointing the hub of the next village. Rather a nice way to navigate!

Speaking of architecture, I can't neglect front porches. Ever since leaving Gaspésie, we have traveled through innumerable little towns on the St. Lawrence River. The one distinguishing feature of the homes is the presence of a front porch. From the grandest old historic home to the littlest cottage, they all sport a porch trimmed with a wooden rail. Many are adorned with colorful flower baskets and gardens, and all look to be a most pleasant place to sit.

Examples of homes with front porches - including one of our host homes at top right

Often it's the little things that catch my eye. Wildflowers, lawn ornaments, whimsical mailboxes, old boats and the like are all eye candy for the slow traveler.

Bicycles always attract my attention

Whimsical mailbox and lantern

Wildflowers enhance the scenery

An old boat becomes a bike prop

Musical Friends at the entrance to a singing camp

Not much goes unnoticed from the seat of a bicycle. It's a great view.

It seems that the weather gods are toying with us. We have four weather apps between the two of us, and none of them ever quite agree. And even if they do, the weather does not necessarily follow suit. So we plan our cycling day by day, or even hour by hour, with a wish and a prayer. When each day is spent nearly 100% outdoors, weather matters a lot!

Rich enveloped by fog

Yesterday we called the shots perfectly. With rain in the forecast, it appeared that the driest conditions would be in the morning. Accordingly, we were out the door and wheels rolling before 7:00am, even having had breakfast already. “Dry” turned out to be a relative term. It wasn't raining, but we were enveloped in a thick fog that materialized into moisture as soon as we encountered it. And we couldn't see a thing! It was as if someone had dropped a curtain beyond our bikes, and all we knew was the road immediately in front of us. It was eerie and certainly eliminated all sightseeing.

Making a selection at the patisserie

Cycling turned out to be a breeze. We started off with a gradual downhill that lasted for miles and miles. And from there on it was totally flat. With a slight tailwind, we covered 40 miles and reached our destination, Rivière-du-Loup, by 11am! Turning our attention to finding some lunch, we stumbled upon the Bic Patisserie. The scent of freshly baked bread drew us inside where we were mesmerized by the offerings. Rich had a wonderful pastry with ham and cheese baked inside, and I enjoyed a fresh sandwich followed by an apple turnover. Mmmmm.

Finding our way to our nearby Warm Showers host home, we barely made it inside when the rain came down in buckets! If we had dawdled just a few minutes along the way, we would have gotten soaked. Thank you, Mother Nature!

When we went to bed, today's weather forecast looked pretty ugly. But when we got up in the morning, there seemed to be a window of opportunity in the middle of the day. We took our time before leaving, letting the wet fog dissipate, and were pleasantly surprised to find that it seemed to be brightening by then. Indeed, the skies cleared, burned off the remaining fog and it turned into a nice sunny day! Who would have guessed? Certainly not us.

Cycling continued to be flat and easy as we traveled through farmland. Dairy herds and healthy crops dominated the countryside. It was a surprise to me to encounter farms in the last few days. After the wilderness of Gaspésie, I had no idea that it would morph into an agricultural area as we ventured further down the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Rich farmland

Cycling through flat farmland

We've seen these shrink-wrapped hay bales everywhere. These attracted a cat!

Our first view of land across the St. Lawrence Seaway

Flat farmland on this side, with a backdrop of hills on the other side

The towns along the way are popular resort areas and centers for artisan crafts. As such, they are attractive and tourist oriented, with more food and lodging options than we've seen up to this point. Taking a break in Kamarouska, we were enticed into a boulangerie. Loading up on treats, we sugared our way through the remainder of the day's ride. If this is a trend, it's a sweet one!

Finding a great boulangerie (bakery)

Anticipating the goodies we purchased!

Who knows what tomorrow's weather will bring. I'm not even going to hazard a guess. It's likely to change again anyway. Let's just hope we play it right.

We thought we were prepared for anything. But we were wrong. Setting out from Rimouski, which turned out to be a very bike-friendly city with a wonderful system of cycling paths, already a light rain was falling. We waved and grinned at other cyclists, united in our resistance to the conditions and considering ourselves among the hard core. We convinced ourselves that it was better than facing stiff headwinds. That it wouldn't last. And that we could make 60 miles today.

Ten miles into the ride the rain was coming down hard. The temperature dropped into the 40s, and the wind whipped away what little warmth we had. The big highway that had drained off the major traffic the day before joined our route. Semis thundered by, not only sucking us into their slipstream but dousing us with their heavy road spray.

Stopping under the awning of a gas station to wait out a particularly heavy burst of rain, I added a layer of clothing and even Rich began to shiver. We made a pact – next motel we find, we stop. Checking with the gas station attendant, we learned the bad news. The next motel was 12 miles down the road – at least an hour away for us. There was nothing to do but forge on. The good news was that he was right – as promised we found a “Resto-Motel” which would satisfy not only our need for warmth and shelter, but also conquer our hunger. We limped in on our icy feet and tried to thaw our hands to sign the registration forms.

We only made 20 miles today. But the beauty of this trip is that we have no firm schedule. No need to press on foolishly. We can bail out when we want. And so we did.

Huddling under the porch of an abandoned restaurant

Drying out in our motel room

Living it up with a gourmet dinner and wine from the local store