Day 18
Youngstown to Kindersley
Distance: 153km
Temp: Mild

Sometimes the kilometers tick by effortlessly, with hardly any notice at all.
Other times they drag by painfully slowly; today was one of those days.

Lewis and I were on the same page energy-wise when we started off this morning, and couldn’t seem to rev the engines-the first 50 kilometers just would not come, no matter what kind of mental distractions I could invent.
I was wondering why my heart rate monitor doesn’t reflect the state of my legs; it doesn’t seem right that my heart rate says I am not working hard enough, and my legs tell me they have worked too hard, and cannot be convinced to go any faster.
This is a major breakdown in communication between the pump and the pistons; I thought how unjust the situation was where I was told I was ‘under working’ yet could not increase my output.
What to do but keep my bum in the saddle and press on.

Again, the scenery is pretty monotonous, save for the road kill that decorates the side of the road.
Mostly I try to look the other way and avoid any seeing any of the carnage, but sometimes this is not possible.
For some reason it seems that the prairie-dogs (or Columbian Ground Squirrels) that we were introduced to at Roger’s Pass, like to come to the side of the road to die, or commit suicide, poor things.
Back in the Rockies we came across the grizzled leg of a deer on the side of the road; I hate to think how it met its end, but it wasn’t pretty.

We came across some very small little towns again; one called ‘Cereal’ and wondered if it is called so because of all the wheat and farming in the area.
I think Cereal’s population was even less than Youngstown, as at least Youngstown had two streets, where as this town just had one (and no library, or not that we could see.)
It was a Tuesday mid morning and we didn’t see a grown up sole on the streets, just a lonely looking little boy who was riding his little bike up and down Main street, looking at us longingly, as if we’d come into town to play soldiers with him.
I shrugged a ‘sorry’ as we gratefully pushed off, me happy to get out of that ghostly little town.

The other day one of the Aussies was joking about how she didn’t come to Canada to have to look at her husbands bum for three months; I can strongly relate as I have now spent so much time behind Lewis (and he behind me too) that I am grateful to ride with someone else for a while so I can study their bum for change.
Although that novelty too quickly wears off.
We can all now recognize each other from a distance from the subtle differences in our riding styles; some ride with their knees out, some rock from side to side, so hunch, some sit up-it’s quite interesting to watch.

For all of those who are interested in the score of Lewis and my placement in the arrival into camp; we are no longer winning the race I’m afraid; however, in our defense we are leaving about 1-2 hours after the people who come in first.
Some are getting up at 4:15 am to get ready to leave, which may as well be getting up two hours before going to bed, it’s just insane.
I am lucky to get up at 6:30, 6:45-I just can’t seem to rouse myself, plus there is so much to do in the morning; trek to the bathroom on the other end of the campsite, pack tent, sleeping bags, bed rolls, pillows, books, lights, and accessories, pack bags, make lunch, clean water bottles and make energy drinks and snacks, eat breakfast, clean plates, find stuff, can’t find stuff, zip everything zippable 7 times, misplace everything listed above, and repeat most of it, so but this time, all of the organized people who have smartly done most of this the night before, have already left.

We always seem to leave with the galley crew, who have, in addition to making breakfast for 27 people, have cleaned up the dishes and plates, put away the stove and equipment, as well as organized themselves.
I’m not making excuses, but this is how it is (OK, so maybe I am.)

Tomorrow we are on galley duty again (already) so we have declared that we are leaving earlier….we’ll see about that.