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Pure Joy

September 2nd, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 72: Sherbrooke to Spry Bay (98 km)

That was nice. I’m glad I had a nice day near the end.

Today was a reminder of how wonderful cycle touring can be (when the weather is good).

As it’s my penultimate day on the road, I followed the coast south west towards Halifax. The coast is beautiful. Not in a big, showy way like the mountains, but in a gentle way that reflects the coast’s glimmering, smooth waters. The road swung to and fro between the hills and the natural harbours of the coast. The land was thick with Christmas trees and ferns. The ocean bays were framed in bronze and rock.

Nova Scotia can be very beautiful when it's not raining

Nova Scotia can be very beautiful when it’s not raining

I was treated to the sound of loon, their mournful call evoking memories of the Ontario wilderness. I crossed rivers rushing down to meet the sea, and glassy bays where a cormorant perched on a rock drying its wings. (Which, oddly enough, reminded me that my tent fly was wet and needed drying.)

By mid-morning the clouds had lifted, revealing a ceiling of perfectly blue sky. It was now hot enough for me to peel off my layers and hunt for the sun cream.

Cycling on days like today is refreshing and invigorating. Over breakfast I was getting annoyed by the man from the camper next door who talked at me for an hour, asking me endless questions. He did not get the hint from my monosyllabic answers that I didn’t want to chat. But soon enough my stuff was packed and Monty and I were on our way.

However annoying a person is (and, trust me, I’ve met some annoying people en route!) you know you can always pedal off. The difficulties of bike touring arise when you can’t pedal off (injury, broken spokes, awful weather, flat tyres etc). Problems that arise get fixed and the pedalling continues. I’m sure there’s a life lesson in there.

Certain moments today – the loon calling, an attack of bugs while I ate Second Breakfast – reminded me of other parts of Canada. It’s been a long journey and it’s hard to believe it will soon be over.

There are some things that I am, quite frankly, a bit bored of. Crackers and Kraft dinner, for example. Packing up wet tents. And answering the repetitive questions about my trip.

But there are things I love and appreciate even more deeply than before: sunshine, tailwinds, wildlife spotting, M&Ms, the crackle of a campfire, the silky darkness of the night sky.

But the best is this: that feeling I get when cycling along with the summer sun warming the skin on my back and the wind pushing me gently along. I’ve experienced that moment countless times on this trip. I believe I will never get tired of it for that feeling is called Pure Joy.

Gourmet cycling

August 12th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 54: Quebec City to L’islet (86km)

I don’t know what they are saying to me. It’s a sunny Sunday morning on a bike path hugging the side of the St Lawrence. The cyclists are out in force. Smiling couples, a peloton of club riders, a lone female cyclist headed to Halifax and MAMILs. Lots and lots of MAMILs sporting protruding middle age midriff wrapped in snazzy lycra jersey. They fly past me on their carbon forks, exclaiming… I don’t know. I imagine that they are saying:

“Wow, you’ve got a lot of stuff. Where are you headed?”
“Wow, you’ve got a lot of stuff. You must have strong legs!”
“Wow, you’ve got a lot of stuff. Are you carrying glass jars or something?”

I reply with a simple “bonjour” for fear of affirming or disaffirming whatever they have said. I pedal on.

Today has been brilliant. Absolutely smashing.

I didn’t realise what time it was and accidentally left the hostel an hour early. I had made good use of the hostel’s $5 breakfast by picking up: 2 bagels, 2 peanut butters, 2 jams, 2 margarines, 4 mini muffins, 2 glasses of orange juice, 2 sachets of porridge, 1 banana, 1 orange, 2 boiled eggs and 1 tea bag. No, I didn’t eat it all then and there but I figured if questioned by staff I could have.

I screeched down the near vertical streets of old Quebec to the clamour of church bells. The sun was already warm and the tourists had already started their guided walking tours of the cobbled side streets.

To continue my journey east I took the ferry over the river. On board there were a lot of cyclists. One MAMIL wandered over to chat. In very, very broken French I explained what I was doing. To be honest, one only needs to say “Victoria, Halifax” and people can tell from my tan lines and Monty exactly what I’m doing.

image

On the other side of the river I followed the MAMILs along the route verte bike path. I passed a gazebo and my heart panged. That very gazebo. I remember it. The last time (and first time) I cycled alongside the river in Quebec was on a ride with the Millers 8 years ago. I ate a muffin in that gazebo while we waited for the ferry. Alas, that is the last familiar sight I will see for a month. But on the plus, I’ve been promised more muffins when I return to the Miller’s in Montreal so that is a reason to keep cycling.

Perhaps it was the memory of a Miller muffin but my stomach growled. So I stopped on one of the lounging chairs alongside the bike path and ate 2 x protein bars in quick succession. I set a new record for eating Second Breakfast after only 3km. Go me.

All the way along the bike path I was passed by fellow cyclists. I was approaching a road crossing. The bike path cut over a quiet residential street. And then it happen.

A car stopped for me. A car. Stopped. For me. I nearly fell off my bike in shock. It wasn’t until a 2km later that realised I was going the wrong way so turned back around.

Mr Ferry cycled past. “Halifax is that way!” He called as he saw me returning to the residential road.
“This is the first time in 5,500 kilometres that I have gone the wrong way and had to back track,” I explained. For little did he realise the effect of the car stopping.

Cycling with John around Montreal reminded me how deliciously icecream complements cycling. So when I saw a dairy bar touting homemade icecream I figured I should stop for a scoop or two. it is amazing I received anything given how appallingly badly I spoke French. Savouring maple and Nutella icecream outside in the sunshine though I reflected on my new finishing point.

Thanks to the crashed ferry I have saved myself a sweet $400 (ie £250) by ending in Halifax rather than St John’s. I decided that this money should be reinvested in my trip. So for the next 4 weeks I have a $10 per day beer, icecream and delicious items budget (BIDIB).

Food was clearly in my mind. I couldn’t resist stopping at one of the roadside stalls to buy freshly picked sweet corn and a box of strawberries. All day I pedalled past neat rows of strawberries, rhubarb and fields of corn lined in stripes leading down to the river. The sun warmed my back and wind blew behind me. I felt free and happy.

After lunch I went grocery shopping, with my newly formed BIDIB in mind. I have decided to go gourmet. I have basically existing on a diet of peanut butter, crackers, avocado and Kraft dinner for the last 2 months. So I bought some maple butter. I am, after all, in Canada and intend at some point to attempt pancakes. But, yes, that does mean I am now carrying a glass jar.

After a pleasant 86km of riding I arrived at campground at the sweetly early hour of 3.30pm. I devoured a block of fudge and a beer. I set up my tent with great difficulty in the strongly gusting wind.

What now? Alas yesterday I discovered that my kindle has died. I followed instructions on the amazon website in an attempt to resurrect it but to no avail. I began to lament the lack of decent paperbacks for paperbacks do not have problems with the frozen screen of death. Then I realised I could download the Kindle app on iPad. Joy of joys. I continued reading Victoria Pendleton’s biography on iPad app and forgot about the demise of paperbacks.

A happy day indeed.

Goodbye Montreal

August 9th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 51: Montreal to Louiseville (109km)

The tailwind is gently pushing me along. The sun warms the skin of my back. A few whispy feathers of cloud float in the sky. Cornfields grow tall in the not-to-hot sunshine. The bike path along the river is flat. The road is quiet, the traffic considerate. This would be the most beautiful day’s cycling, but I can barely see the road through the tears in my eyes.

Why am I here? Why do I have to cycle today? The toned, muscularity of my shoulders and legs belies the weakness underneath. I feel like I am wearing a heavy cloak. Tears fall down my face as Monty pedals on. It feels like I am leaving home.

Montreal has been the highlight of my trip. In the last 3 days I have discovered a local fungi market stall, cooked spaghetti carbonara with 3 different species of fungi, chatted about bike fitting, touring and frame welding in the friendliness bike shop downtown. I’ve slept in a warm bed, eaten smoked salmon for brunch, sampled crime brûlée ice cream and clocked up 60km of pedalling around the city’s bike paths. But Montreal has felt more like home because the Millers (all of them) have made me feel so welcome.

Fungi stall at Jean Talon market

Fungi stall at Jean Talon market

I didn’t leave Montreal until 12noon. I packed so slowly, delayed for a bit and let the time pass. But isn’t it so late now that I should just stay here and leave tomorrow? In the haven of the Millers’ apartment, my body has relaxed these last few days and the peaceful, comfortable rest has unveiled the exhaustion that lies underneath. My body craves sleep.

But I had to leave Montreal today because I now have a flight to catch. My plans have changed because the ferry that I was intending to take to Argentia, Newfoundland, (but thankfully hadn’t booked) had been cancelled for the “next few weeks”. This is because one of the other Marine Atlantic ferries, on the more popular route to Port-aux-basques, crashed and so the Argentia ferry was moved over to the shorter crossing while the damage boat is repaired. Marine Atlantic seem to have made a complete muck up of handling the situation and information on the revised ferry schedule has been thin on the ground. In fact, if it wasn’t for Katie Wanderer I won’t even have known! Anyway, cycling from Port-aux-Basques to St John’s would take at least an extra week – a week I don’t have. So I have decided that I will meet the coast and finish my trip in Halifax. I will still have time for a final flourish around the Cabot Trail but finishing in Halifax will also allow me to nip to Toronto for a couple of days before I fly back to England. All I need to do now is cycle to the Atlantic coast. To be honest, that’s all I’ve been doing for the last 2 months.

John guided me along the bike path for the first part of my journey out of Montreal. I would have loved him to carry on pedalling for the next 2,000km but he just laughed and hugged me goodbye. My mini tours around the islands of Montreal with John have been some of the most relaxed, enjoyable rides of the whole trip.

I can’t really remember most of the ride. I was crying too much that my tears blurred my vision and didn’t see what was around me. Monty carried me out the city, along the bike path, over a bridge, through some construction and out into the country. I only came-to after about 40km when my stomach started rumbling. I stopped for a muffin (homemade with love, which nearly set me off again) and nibbled some grapes.

Miller muffins: the best in the world

Miller muffins: the best in the world

I was loosely aware that it was a perfect day for cycling (sunshine, not too hot, tailwind etc). Monty kept on going. Then I saw blueberries by the side of the road. I love blueberries. I even managed to understand what the Blueberry Man was saying to me in French. Just as I was getting peckish again we found a picnic spot with a shaded bench and a refreshingly cold water tap overlooking the river. Another muffin entered my mouth, followed by a large handful of blueberries. A friendly couple wandered over to say hello and ask about my trip.

Yes I ate all of them.

Yes I ate all of them.

Each warm smile from a passing cyclist, each bite of muffin and each gusting tailwind unpeeled another thin layer off my miserable coating. Slowly I was beginning to remember that this was fun. Passing over the main highway, I didn’t turn back west to Montreal.

I arrived at the campground. I was greeted first by a sign on the door declaring “bienvenue cyclistes”, followed by a cheery “Bonsoir!” as the proprietor came out the office.

“Let me show you where to camp,” she said in English. She led me round to the river. And pointed at a perfectly cut grassy site bordering the river, complete with picnic bench and gazebo. I looked around the rest of the campground. This was definitely the best spot. My jaw fell.

“Install yourself here.”

“It’s beautiful.” I muttered.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “this is the best site. I save it for women and cyclists.”

At this point a smile spread across my face and with it the final layer of misery peeled off. Bar for the emotion trauma of leaving the friendliest household in Canada, today has been a perfect day of cycle touring.

Monty gets his own gazebo to sleep under

Monty gets his own gazebo to sleep under

Ottawa!

August 3rd, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 48: Shawville to Ottawa (96.6 km)

Famous last words: “I’ve never had a day of continuous rain.”

Last night I met Tina at the campground. She’s biking around Ontario and we stayed up late (ie 10.30pm!) chatting, barely visible to each other in the dull light of a single orange glow stick. She asked me how my tour had been so far.

“What’s the weather been like?” She asked.

Note to self: do not tempt fate by saying silly things like “I’ve never had a day of continuous day.”

In the night I was woken up by rain. The flaps of my tent were already flapped down so I just rolled over and was lulled back to sleep by the pat-pattering of rain on canvas.

In the morning I was woken up by the rain again. The pat-pattering had become louder. I peeked out through the zip. Oh. The sky was a bleak sea of grey. I dug out my waterproofs and crawled out. If ever there was a reason to get out of “bed” and step into the rain it was this: maple syrup and pancakes. Did I not tweet my wish for maple syrup and pancakes yesterday? God is clearly on twitter.

I wandered over to Tina’s picnic bench with my French press (translation: cafetière). While Tina rustled up some of Aunt Jemima’s finest, I cut open a new bag of fresh coffee. We may be in a public park, we may not have washed in days, it may be pouring with rain but we can still eat breakfast like it’s Christmas morning.*

Tina making pancakes

Tina making pancakes

It was still raining. In fact, the rain seemed to have got wetter. I wandered back to my tent to discover, uh-oh, I had left one of my bike shoes poking out the tent all night. It was now soaked. Well, I guess they will both be that wet soon, I thought, wringing out the drenched sock which had resided in the shoe overnight.

I rolled up half a pond of water in my tent, clipped on my panniers and merrily cycled off with splashing tyres. It might be raining, but I had 95 kilometres of bike path to look forward to. The route verte (green route) is a huge bike trail that stretches all the way across Quebec. I would join it only a few hundred metres from my campground and only have to leave the bike trails again for a few hundred metres in Ottawa. After all this time cycling on highways it was bliss. Even the strengthening rain couldn’t dampen my spirits.

By 2pm I reached the outskirts of Gatineau and stopped by the beach for lunch. The beach was deserted save for a lone seagull eyeing me suspiciously. The snack kiosk was empty of customers. The only people in sight were a laughing group playing on the Ottawa river. Some were in motor boats, a few were on windsurfers, the majority were in kayaks and a few were out of their kayaks and squealing in the water. I imagine those in the water were equally as dry as those on it.

I watched the water folk splashing around while I munched my daily allowance of avocado and crackers. Munching cracker number one I could see the buildings on the far side of the river. But by cracker four the clouds rolled in again. Ontario disappeared in a damp, grey fog as the river met directly with the sky.

Back on the trail I enjoyed a wonderful final 30km to Ottawa. The bike trail was smooth, clean, signposted and surprisingly empty except for a handful of very keen folks skating along with ski poles (off season cross country skiers, I assume.) I couldn’t stop smiling as the familiar view of Ottawa rolled into view. Parliament! The Rideau canal! Yes, i was soaked like a drowned rat but I was dreaming of the hot shower and warm bed that awaited me.

Glorious bike path to the capital. Note roof of Parliament poking through the trees.

Glorious bike path to the capital. Note roof of Parliament poking through the trees.

On cue, as I rolled into downtown Ottawa, the clouds parted to reveal a warm blue sky. The sun warmed my prune-like, waterlogged skin and dried my drenched clothes.

Ottawa!

Ottawa!

I still had time to nip to Byward Market to get some beavertail. Beavertail is what you might call a local delicacy, although it is anything but delicate. It is deep fat fried cake-like pastry smeared in any number of artery-blocking toppings. I ordered one and demolished it. The dripping butter tasted so, so good. So I ordered another. I was tempted to go for a third but figured it might ruin my dinner.

Maple butter beavertail. A Canada delicacy.

Maple butter beavertail. A Canada delicacy.

Fuelled by beavertail, I pedalled alongside the Rideau canal to the house of my lovely hosts, Dale and Natalie. The sun was now shining enough that I needed to peel off my wet jacket and stick on my silly sunglasses. Because, after all, it never rains continuously for a whole day.

*in the Rock house we eat Canadian pancakes for breakfast on Christmas morning.

Vous etes des assassins

July 17th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (2 Comments)

Day 37: Lake Superior to Sault Ste. Marie (136km)

“Vous etes des assassins”

That’s what the Tour de France riders cried when the route organisers first plotted the tour’s route through the Pyrenees. The words are emblazoned on the front of the Rapha top that I have been wearing on most of the trip. And which I was wearing, quite fittingly, today as I climbed the steepest, most evil, hernia-inducing ascent so far.

This top was brand new and pure white when I left...

This top was brand new and pure white when I left…

I knew it was going to be a long day as my short(ish) day yesterday meant I had 140km to the Soo (aka Sault Ste Marie). The forecasted weather was hot with highs of 31 degrees. The predicted terrain was hilly with highs of… High.

So I set off at 8am from the campsite, enjoying the low glowing sun as it cast the westerly shadow of Monty and I pedalling. The wind was already beginning to pick up. A headwind, of course. As my average speed dropped lower and lower with each climb (down to 15km per hour at one point) I started getting concerned that I would not make it to the Soo before night fall.

Something needed to be done. I reached into my pouch and pulled out my “double latte” energy gel. Now normally I would not promote any specific item in my blog yet this Clif energy gel transformed me into a pro rider, like Popeye eating spinach. Within seconds my legs were pumping at twice the speed. I pedalled faster and faster. The hills slowly flattened out. Up ahead I saw the Wanderers (they had stayed at a different campsite 20km further ahead than me). I was gaining on them every second.

“Hellllloooooo!” I called, as I screamed past, “I’ve just eaten a caffeine gel and I can’t stop!!”

The scenery today was absolutely stunning. The road followed the shoreline of Superior. This is a place for adventure. Cars drive past carrying canoes and sea kayaks, hunting for adventure, chased by laden motorbike tourers. In the bay the black outline of a group of swimmers splashed around. The water is so clear that I could see the pebbles at the bottom of the lake from the roadside.

I really enjoyed today’s ride although I wish I could have stopped more, but with so many miles to do and keen to arrive at the bike shop before it closed, I kept pedalling. My only big stop of the day was at a picnic bench next to a signpost declaring that I had reached the halfway point of the Trans-Canada (oh so maybe I wasn’t halfway two days ago..) In the afternoon the heat intensified. All was still going well but then I met…

The Hill.

I have seen skateboard ramps that are more gently sloped. I have heard of ski jumps which are not as steep. Indeed, I have known chunky blocks of cheese that have a lesser gradient.

Oh. My. Legs.

Oh. My. Legs.

Ahead of me the road pitched up into the sky. For reference, the bit of road in the photo that looks flat is actually still uphill (or so my legs were telling me.)

Canadian road builders: vous etes des assassins.

By the time I met the Cheese Wedge of Doom I had already cycled a cheerful 116km. I slipped into my lowest gear (which is actually very very low since Monty has mountain bike gears). I had to keep pedalling to save falling off, rolling backwards and to stop Monty’s front wheel peeling off the near vertical ascent. Yet each pedal stroke felt like I was sitting on one of those leg press machines at the gym – doing the maximum weight possible. My heart was pounding. I was sweating so much that salt was visibly clinging to my skin. My head was sweating so much underneath my helmet that it felt like my head was crawling with lice. Yikes. I am actually going to collapse. Just before I was about to pass out I pulled over into some shade and poured a bottle of water over my head (thankfully remembering to first take my iPod off). But my water bottles were now all tepid.

The ascent continued for another 2 kilometres. Vous. Etes. Des. Assissins. I huffed, and I puffed and, finally, I conquered the hill.

There were still another 18km or so to the Soo. Just as well as I couldn’t have managed much more. I arrived at the Velorution bike shop, an awesome place that offers free camping for cyclists. Here I met Bryan (who I cycled with back in the Rockies) and Kat (whose blog I have been reading for weeks). Kat already had some beer chilling under a bag of ice. Just what I needed.

If I don’t have to do another hill like that again in Canada it will be too soon.

The study of sunshine

July 7th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (2 Comments)

Day 27: Kenora to Nestor Falls (120km)

Today the shadows of my pannier bags have been cast at every angle. In the 12 hours on the road it took to travel the 120km south to Nestor Falls my bike’s shadow has turned 180 degrees. Today has not been a bike ride so much as a study of the heat of the day.

After yesterday’s hot frazzling in the heat we wanted to ride in the cool of the morning. We were awake 6am, just as the sun was beginning to climb over the trees on the campground. It was so warm overnight that there was no condensation on my tent. I had slept in my underwear covered by only a thin silk sleeping bag liner. From now on it was only going to get hotter.

It was so much more pleasant cycling in the low 20s than it was yesterday in the heat of the day.

The hills continued relentlessly up and down. The ceaseless rise and fall of the hills was as sure and predictable as the inhale and exhale of breath in a yoga class. Inhale for 3, exhale for 5. We made steady progress against the hills although the wind was against us. Still the forest protected us slightly from the headwind. I would take the hills over the prairies any day. The scenery here is so beautiful.

The scent of pine wood drifts in the wind from the forest. Lakes and pools appear, cool and inviting, the water surface decorated with lily pads and reed. The road side is sprinkled with giant daisies, small fiery-orange flowers, and piles of jagged rocks which provide the occasional shelter from the igniting heat of the day.

The road is much quieter than I expected. I am already glad that we took the 71 highway south rather than continued on the busy, truck-heavy Trans Canada. This route is about 100km longer. But I think the distance is very much worth it. There often isn’t much of a shoulder but there are so few vehicles (and very few trucks) it feels a lot safer.

Sofi’s gears were skipping. And later in the day so too were Katie’s. But there isn’t another bike shop until Thunder Bay – another 4 days away. I managed to fix the problem by replacing the chain and tweaking the rear derailleur. I realised later this is the first new chain I have ever fitted entirely by myself. I know it’s not a hard job but it’s one thing to fix a bike in comfortable Oxfordshire with either a Dad or a Ruth peering over my shoulder and quite another to have two Wanderers peering over your shoulder while you fix their bikes miles and miles from anywhere.

We stopped for long break from midday sun at Sioux Narrows. During our siesta we swam in the lake. I dived in off the dock (nearly lost my knickers to the water) and swam lengths back and forth to a dock on the opposite side of the inlet. The cold water and swimming felt both refreshing for my tired legs and restorative for my knee.

The last 46km to Nestor Falls was a slog. Katie Wanderer and I have matching knee pain. Sofi Wanderer was experiencing sharp pain in her shoulder throughout the day. It only seemed to be getting worse. One shoulder is visibly lower than the other while cycling. None of us were feeling very chippy or chirpy. The hills didn’t stop as we ploughed into the headwind in silence.

I am continually amazed on this trip. When something goes wrong, feels awful, feels too tough then something happens that picks me up again.

Finally we pulled up at a place called Canadian Haven. It was listed as a campground on Google. but clearly there wasn’t anywhere to camp. The guy who now runs it had just taken it over. He showed us a small patch of grass, asked about our trip. Then paused. Then he offered us to stay for free in a log cabin overlooking the lake. He only asked for us to take our cleats off outside.

While the Wanderers made dinner, I sat outside fixing Katie’s bike and cleaning Monty in the warmth of the summer evening. There was chatter from the docks. Two American fisherman drinking beer on their porch discussed their best catches in the slow drawl of their accents.

The day closed as I was sitting on a rock by the lake shore watching the last of the watery light receded behind the hills on the far shore of the lake. I listened to the lapping of the water, gently stirred by the wind, against the rocks on the shore. I watched the silhouette of two spiders spin fine and fragile webs between a trio of pine trees. The air was cooler now and the frustrations of the day slowly melted with the disappearing colours of the sun.

The people you meet

June 25th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (2 Comments)

Day 20: Moose Jaw to Regina (79.5 km)

“Oh, I would have thought you would have cycled further than this,” the man said by way of introduction. I gave him a blank stare. Apparently he’d seen us in the bike shop in Swift Current two days ago. Further than this? We biked 173km yesterday.

“Do you have a pump I can use?” He asked. He’d flagged us down just as we were headed about 10km outside of Moose Jaw. He had been sitting on the verge with his bike strewn around him. He didn’t look like a tourer because he only had one small pack on his road bike. It was already mid-morning as we’d taken a leisurely breakfast at Timmy’s in order to catch up on blogs and drink a coffee that doesn’t taste like every other camp meal we’d eaten.

“Schrader or presta?” I asked.

“Huh?” He looked at us like we were stupid.

“Skinny or fat valve.” Sofi translated pointing at the difference between the tubes in her wheel and mine.

“Oh, skinny. I should cancel my taxi.”

Taxi? I dug into my pannier for the pump. The guy started talking to the wanderers. The usual conversation: where did you start, where are you going etc. Oddly this guy told us he was biking across Canada (albeit in stages) and was headed to Winnipeg. That’s 700km away I thought, overhearing the conversation. Would you not take a pump on a 700km bike ride?

The guy was clearly rich. A plastic tourer with a much greater credit card limit to pannier bag ratio than we have. Who else pulls out their cellphone in the middle of nowhere and calls a cab? Who else DOESN’T CARRY A PUMP WHILE CYCLING ACROSS CANADA?

The wanderers and I shared a glance: what a twat

Thankfully just as I was pulling out my pump a taxi pulled up and the guy decided he would head back to town. I would have thought he’d have got further than this… If only he carried a pump.

After meeting The Rich Twat With No Pump we merrily pedalled on in the sunshine. We passed through the Queen Elizabeth trees. Apparently, when Queen Elizabeth came to visit Saskatchewan in 1959 the powers that be decided to plant a corridor of trees on the road from Moose Jaw to Regina so that Her Majesty wouldn’t be bored by the endless, boring prairie view.

These are Her Majesty's trees

These are Her Majesty’s trees

The cycling today wasn’t too challenging but nor was it particularly exciting so Katie and I played Top 5, 20 questions and our own home brewed version of Sporkle to entertain us while Sofi focused on the pain of her chafing inner thigh hinge (!)

When we arrived at Regina we stopped at a bike shop so Sofi could fork out a small but worthwhile fortune on a shiny new Brooks saddle (it’s brown so it matches her handlebar tape).

We’ve spent the evening staying with a very friendly guy called Ron, a keen cyclist who has converted his basement into a bike workshop. After stuffing our bellies with turkey, strawberries and cookies we played bike mechanic with Ron. We all learnt a few things from Ron, clearly an expert, as he checked over our bikes. I was relieved that he wasn’t worried about the miscellaneous bump on my front tyre and chuffed that he approved of my true back wheel.

One of the greatest aspects of this trip is meeting people on the way: from friendly bike mechanic hosts to idiots without a pump. They all add a brushstroke to this expanding picture of Canada by bicycle.

Thunder and sunshine

June 19th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 15: Calgary to Brooks (106.5 km)

“Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me, That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine” ~ Tennyson, Ulysses

A shock of electricity burst in white sparks as it struck the pylon next to me. My vision flashed. Thunder cracked like a hammer against the anvil of my head. Booming, deafening thunder a metre from my skull. I cowered.

The words of John and Kumiko’s last email ran through my head: “…and don’t cycle in thunderstorms.” Here I am, cycling on Monty, in the eye of the storm.

I could see the washroom up ahead. I pulled off. The rain started lashing down more heavily, I opened the door and pulled Monty inside. I’m safe, I’m alive, I’m out of the storm.

The wanderers had sent me a message “hope you and Monty are sheltered right now.” “Monty & I are sheltering inside a washroom. lightning cracked above us.” I replied. They were in a car and had just passed a sign for 19k to Strathmore. I was 15k from Strathmore. Worried that they were about to drive past me I tried to type as fast as I could… Before I could get to the end of my tweet I heard the crunch of wheels outside the washroom.

I opened the door to rain and a Mercedes GL550 SUV. The rescue.

The wanderers climbed out and helped pile me and Monty into and onto the Mercedes. My wet feet squelched inside my cleats. And then we were driving. Karen, one of the wanderer’s aunts, in her car was the saviour of the day. She drove away from the charcoal clouds, away from the flashes and the cracking lightening. She drove until the sky was blue.

And then we climbed out the car and I saw still wet but it was hot. Only puffs of white cloud sailed overhead. We ate lunch at a picnic bench. Having eaten my fill of avocado and crackers I lay on my back and looked up. A rainbow shone in a perfect arch around the sun. I smiled. I was safe.

It was so hot we peeled off layers before getting in our bikes and heading out into the prairies. The land was flat. The road was dead straight. And the wind was behind us. Trucks rumbled by close enough that you could smell their loads: logs, hay bales and manure. Highway 1 cut a straight line through endless grassy fields. A red-winged blackbird called from a fence post. We passed some cows. Sometimes my vision would flash in an echo of the morning’s thunder. Yet all around was sunshine. And on we cycled, non-stop for 46km.

We pulled over at the outskirts of Brooks. This is a strange town. It’s famous for its XL meat processing plant which recently have to recall its products. Our campsite adjoins the town museum. The museum features farming machinery, a fake Adventist church and one train carriage. What a place.

We ate Popsicles in the sunshine at the campsite.

Addendum: We had just finished eating dinner and Katie Wanderer checked the weather online to discover a weather warning for “severe thunder and lightening with large hail stones.” There was a motel over the road. The wanderers went over to negotiate a price and, given that our lives are collectively worth the €85, we packed up camp as fast as possible before scuttling over the road under ominous violet clouds. Lightening cracked like a bloodshot eye on the horizon.

Thank you for praying for me. I am glad to be alive. I have survived the thunder and the sunshine.

P.s. I should add that the day actually started nicely as Steve and his young son Reid (people I’ve been staying with) led me through the bike paths of Calgary. It was a real pleasure staying with the family.

The ascent of Allison Pass

June 5th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (1 Comments)

Day 4: Hope to Manning Park

“When I imagined cycling across Canada I imagined it would be like this,” Nic remarked as we enjoyed the hardest cycling of the trip.

Sunshine, a cool westerly breeze, jelly beans, forest, steep ascending, mountains and even a bear – all these things made for a memorable day’s cycling.

Today we tackled Allison Pass. A hefty climb from 56m to over 1,300m above sea level. I’d read online that it was the toughest day of cycling across Canada. Monty and I were mentally prepped and focused on the ride ahead, but we also knew that we could do it. It’s ‘only’ as high as Mont Aigoual which we cycled up last year with Ruth (a reasonably horredous ride as it was so windy we thought we might be blown off the top of the mountain!)

In comparison to Mont Aigoual, Allison pass was a complete joy and pleasure. Yes it was steep, very steep in fact (for reference many stretches were much, much steeper than Nuffield hill or the hill up to the Lodge) but my legs felt strong.

Today was a day of firsts. First time I cycled past a bear, first time I cycled up a Canadian mountain pass, first time I cycled past patches of snow wearing just a tshirt and shorts (the exertion was enough to keep me warm.)

I should explain that I didn’t actually see the bear although it was only the other side of the road. How did I miss it? A car had managed to drive off the road so it was hanging precariously on the edge of the steep gravel slope that descended many feet into the Skagit river. It didn’t look like a great place to be. The driver was hanging out the window, as if trying to balance the car so it wouldn’t roll down the slope into the cold gusting river.

“I feel like a complete dumb ass right now,” he remarked, appreciating the stupidity if not the danger of dangling over a steep drop.

A couple of other cars had pulled up around, seemingly to help with a rescue although there was a distinct lack of a tow rope.

Oh well. We can’t tow up a car on bicycles. So we merrily cycled past. Now on the other side of the road from all this is a young black bear. It’s sort of like one of those physiology studies in distraction. Nic and I only found out about the bear when Rob caught up with us and told us about it (he even had time to take some photos).

I’m slightly disappointed that I missed my first bear. Yet also very pleased as it wouldn’t have done my nerves much good.

As you can see... Sunshine, forest, mountain and lots of pedalling uphill...

As you can see… Sunshine, forest, mountain and lots of pedalling uphill…

That's higher than snowdon

That’s higher than snowdon

Sunshine, a cool westerly breeze, jelly beans, forest, mountains and even a bear.

Today was exactly like cycling across Canada should be: awesome.

Sunshine and peanut butter

May 20th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada - (1 Comments)

When you imagine living on a boat isn’t the sun always shining?

You picture chugging up and down the leafy waterways of timeless rural landscapes, waving your straw hat in greeting to passing boats, licking ice lollies and lolling on the desk applying sun cream every hour. Bliss.

Cycling across Canada will obviously be a lot like that. Just replace the ice lollies with a peanut butter and jam sandwich, the straw hat with a nodding bike helmet, and the leafy waterways with the Trans Canada Highway and that is exactly what I am expecting.

Sunshine
I have just checked the weather forecast for Vancouver. Next Monday the sun should be out to greet me as I pedal out the airport.

I can hardly believe that I am only 1 small week away from my trip. I’ve spent 8 years dreaming about this. 8 years! What were you doing 8 years ago? I was getting excited about going to Canada for the first time*: packing my bag, emailing friends in Canada, checking my passport for the third time that day to check it hadn’t magically expired since breakfast.

Algonquin park Summer 2005. This isn't instagrammed. It's just a photo taken on a film. Remember those?

Algonquin park Summer 2005. This isn’t instagrammed. It’s just a photo taken on a film. Remember those?

Peanut butter
So not much has changed in eight years then? Nope. I am still me: a Dino is search of adventure and on a mission to discover the land of my birth. Even though I rightly know from my Oxfordian vowels, my inability to ice skate smoothly and the fact that I say ‘alright’ rather than ‘for sure’ that, yes, I am a Brit. However, I do love a good peanut butter sandwich made with jam. I love a good adventure. And I love this sign post:

I took this photo along 8 years ago. Note: perfect blue sky.

I took this photo along 8 years ago. Note: perfect blue sky.

So next week I will adventure** in search of sunshine, peanut butter, and a piece of Canada all to myself.

*I’m not including “being born” in first time.
** ‘adventure’ can be a verb