Post Wedding Bike Tour
Before I get into things, I would like to re-assure everyone that I have been simply really busy doing different kinds of hiking and camping trips, not wallowing at the bottom of a cookie bag as some of you may assume…
Bike touring marriage, you say. I gotta get me one of those. yeah you do. (no it doesn’t make sense, but sounds good).
Anyhow the day after the wedding, having refrained from punking the bride and groom, I rode to the scene of the crime, was loaded down with rolls and roast beef, and started riding. And I rode. The days were A) social, or B) >200km while pulling 65lb bike/ trailer combo.
I was supposed to A) meet Brent and Greg at their hotel… but I was 2+h late.
Plan B was meeting them in Nippagon.
Well my father found me while I was drinking chocolate milk and eating beef sandwiches, but I never found the boys. So Mom and Dad camped out with me and in the morning they drove off and I rode. And Rode. In a nutshell, I pedaled, and when I felt the ‘hunger knock’ approaching I ate raw oatmeal with meal replacement (chocolate of course) and water. And rode. Then it was stating to get dark, somewhere past Marathon. So I crawled down a dirt path, cooked, ate, and spent 45 minutes trying to hang my food (bear bag) in a very bushy pine tree. Eventually I was sap covered, and my food was dangling 6 inches above the ground… should keep the mice out.
The next morning was hazy, rainy, and I rode. At the poo, I was photographed for AAA Magazine – TT bars, Sprinergy Wheels, and BOB. Then I rode. The JAZ’s were camping down the road and I needed to get there. At Wawa I sped ate at a diner… and started into some rollers, and a 80km long strech with no services. Just cross winds.
I cracked badly on after my first tupperware of oats. Tonights camping path lead to a very long stony beach, without a building to be seen. As I set up my tent on the shore of Superior (and bathed neked) the thunder rolled in. I set up a ring of driftwood logs on end… you know lightning rods around the Huba, and slept.
Not having a watch I awoke to gray calm lake, and grey calm sky, and rode.
To Pancake bay and the Zeltkalns campsite, home of laughter, and gourmet food – Don-Geur I tell you.
I forget the name of the bike shop I stopped at in the Sault, but it was behind the Wal-Mart, and really cool. They straightened my wheels for fee, and some other dude was camping in the yard for a few days. Nice Place.
But I had to go ride. I helped some people fill a 120 gallon container of water (to fill their pool). And they let me camp in the bushes, and swim in the stream.
I woke up early, again. It was one of those times, when you are sooo excited to ride, but it still seems dark out. So you sleep 30 minutes. Finally the light was strong enough so that the tent was orange and not gray. So I started riding – > Sudbury bound.
It was all going well. But after the Soo the road was busier, and still just 2 lane, no shoulder.
One of those wide load trailers came past me, but the on coming traffic forced it over… and over… it was wider than the road, so I turned into the gravel. 3 minutes later I heard a honking, and happen to look. It’s the other half of the house, also hanging over the gravel merge, but not moving over, nor slowing down. Dive to the dirt again – really really close. I’m shaking. I ride the next 30km to the Manitoulin turn off looking over my shoulder ever 5 seconds. Yikes, I’m shaking.
Oddly the ferry I am not even supposed to be on, has Brent and Greg. Hooray. We ride to Waterloo together and I make my Aunts birthday party by 5 minutes.
A day later I leave for Ottawa… ride too much, get too hot. Stop and swim in lakes to try to cool down. Eat a bag of chips for salt, then drink 1L of chocolate milk to … who knows what, it seemed to make sense. I stop for a break with 70km to go, and wake up to a chap with a British accent asking me if I need help. After all he has just found me sleeping on the end of his driveway. ‘I’m fine’ I lie, ‘I was just getting on my bike’. I ride off, leaving a sweat angel behind on his tarmac.
I made it. The next day Sheri said that I looked like I was on an acid trip. I told her that everyone sounded like they were talking to me under water. Not sure what brought that about. Even though I met them at a restaurant I couldn’t think to order food. As I eat the scraps from everyone’s plates (and the waitress thought she could clear them) John feeds me pints.
The bottom of my chin starts cramping
Bike touring rules.
I don’t think riding across Canada is ever a good idea, though
