We don't cross the longest covered bridge in the world

Thursday 25th September.  Barb (and Rosie running ahead) accompany us on the start of our ride along the Trans Canada Trail to Woodstock, Barb well dressed for the occasion in her hunters orange, as it was the last day of the moose hunting season.

..and it was not long before we came across the gory evidence..

 The autumn colours on this isolated section of trail were stunning..

 ..though it was sad to see some of the destruction of the Acadian forest that has been taking place.

Unfortunately large companies such as JD Irving (known among other things for the famous chain of garages) that exploit these areas for wood, then spray these cleared areas with herbicides to prevent regrowth of less commercially viable hardwoods. This in turn has a knock on effect on the forest environment, as native fauna is not only effected by the chemicals used but by the resultant restriction of vegetation variety.
My hostess for the night near Woodstock was the public spirited Cindy Tozer, shown here with some of her many cats, twenty two at the last count!

This was not by design, but because of her generous nature.  Having inherited three cats on moving into her lovely property overlooking the St John river valley, people have kept dumping further felines on her doorstep. She feeds them all and has them neutered when she can - an expensive operation in Canada, unlike the UK where it is a free service. I had a hearty meal and a good night's sleep here while the horses roamed a large pasture.
It was a short walk down to rejoin the trail in the morning (Friday  26th September) - an idyllic section following up the bank of the St John river, utterly peaceful and beautiful.

 Posing in front of the longest covered bridge in the world at Hartland...

and it was slightly disappointing not to cross as the trail stayed on the east side of the river here, and I didn't have time to deviate. 

In the afternoon a young woman offered grazing by her house while we had a rest.  It turned out to be the cousin of Heather Salmon whom I was due to stay with!  Rather like Wales, "Mae pawb yn nabod pawb'  everyone seems to know or be related to everyone in this part of the world.

Late afternoon as we travel northwards up the St John river,..

 and eventually find a safe grassy spot to camp for the night...