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.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Day 17
Drumheller to Youngstown
Distance: 140 km
Temp: Mild
Youngstown: population 100 and decreasing; we’re sleeping in a community centre tonight, which is basically a basketball court/community hall/square dancing/ hall.
It’s our first night ‘inside’ since the tour started, and some people have already got all cagey about being indoors, and are insisting on sleeping out.
It turns out that it is TDC tradition, of many years back for the community of Youngstown to cook dinner for the riders.
Apparently it started because there is no restaurant or facility in town to support feeding a large group, and when Bud the organizer called the town to enquire about accommodation and food, the person on the other end of the phone offered to host a potluck for all the riders, and hence the tradition started (over 10 years now.)
I am completely incredulous that a bunch of people would get together and cook a huge meal for a group of complete strangers, but apparently this is the attitude of those who live in these small towns; I am fascinated by these small towns and the people who live in them.
While we were winding down from our ride, locals started to trickle into the hall, and greeted each other as if they were all family.
They then proceeded to pull together this massive meal for us, with one table devoted entirely to desserts alone.
We were stunned.
I chatted with a few of them; most of them have been here their entire lives, and grew up on some sort of farm or another.
I apologized for my naive questions; as I have never lived in a small town and had many to ask about what it was like:
Does everyone really know everyone? (Yes)
What if some of the townsfolk don’t like each other? (They fight)
How many kids attend the school? (Grade 1-12, and approximately 66 kids, many bussed from the surrounding areas.)
Did the mad cow problem really affect them (hugely affected by it)
Do they ever get attached to their cattle? (Her no, her husband yes)
And so the questions went-all very interesting; she also said that sadly the size of the town is decreasing as the younger people move to the bigger towns and cities, and the older folks die off.
I can see this place being absorbed back into the desert-like planes it exists on in the not-too-distant future.
When we rode into town, there was no one on the streets; we went to the library (one room, in the same office as the town hall and business centre,) there just doesn’t seem to be anyone here; the library is typically closed on a Monday but they opened it for us so that we could use the internet.
After dinner we walked across the road to the one bar, which looks like a Hollywood reproduction of an outback Australian bar, like one of the one’s seen on ‘Crocodile Dundee,’ complete with the hard-livin’ rough neck types that hang out there.
I got to chattin’ with the local, who has been here his whole life, and works in the oil fields.
He was priceless; he told me he watches Breakfast TV and likes to watch out for accidents on the 401, and laughs at Torontonians for living in such a smoggy city.
He’s never ventured west of the Okanogan, and east of Regina, but hopes to make it to Toronto as he loves the Blue Jays.
He told me his sister froze to death years ago in a storm, and his brother recently died of alcohol related complications.
These people live hard out here, and it shows too.
Our ride today was tough; more mentally that anything else as the flatness of the land can be tiresome.
There were a few rolling hills but it is still the same scenery for mile after endless mile.
The skies are quite enchanting though, especially since there were storm clouds gathering, and we could see them do so to the ends of the horizons.
At one point Lewis spotted another sign for ‘beef jerky’ along a lonely country side road.
I didn’t really want to stop, but since he’d zoomed ahead and gave me no opportunity to object, I hung back with a few cows in the front field.
I ambled up to the fence, which caught the eye of a couple of the bored looking cows hanging about.
We made eye contact, which escalated the interest factor for all parties involved.
I was listening to The Ramones on my ipod, which gave the situation a surreal feeling; standing and staring at a bunch of cows while listening to an old school punk-band.
Since a couple of the cows were now very interested, the others joined in too; soon I had a half-circle of cows all staring intently at me, looking as if they were waiting for me to make a speech-I don’t think I’ve ever had such a captive, interested audience.
I waved my hands around a bit, which generated some excitement, and they gradually started to advance; by this time a full-bodied marengue had started to play, which seemed perfectly fitting as these rotund cows ambled towards me.
At this point Lewis pulled up with a hand full of beef jerky and after watching me interact with the cows, felt immediately guilty and declared that was going to become a vegetarian (after he finished the jerky.)
This lasted until dinner, when beef and deer sausage was served.
I am sitting and typing on my laptop at 9:30 and most of the group have gone to bed; most of us are sleeping in the community hall, which isn’t very big.
Some have set up their tents, but most have just laid out their swags, and are crashed out.
It seems much like summer camp (without the giggling and wiggling about until the wee hours.) I know we have a couple of snorers but I have strategically positioned us as far away as possible.
We had a severe storm watch in effect, but since it was predicted by ‘Environment Canada’ it has passed overhead.
(By the way the predicted tail winds for today didn’t happen as we had a head/side wind for most of our ride.)
Drumheller to Youngstown
Distance: 140 km
Temp: Mild
Youngstown: population 100 and decreasing; we’re sleeping in a community centre tonight, which is basically a basketball court/community hall/square dancing/ hall.
It’s our first night ‘inside’ since the tour started, and some people have already got all cagey about being indoors, and are insisting on sleeping out.
It turns out that it is TDC tradition, of many years back for the community of Youngstown to cook dinner for the riders.
Apparently it started because there is no restaurant or facility in town to support feeding a large group, and when Bud the organizer called the town to enquire about accommodation and food, the person on the other end of the phone offered to host a potluck for all the riders, and hence the tradition started (over 10 years now.)
I am completely incredulous that a bunch of people would get together and cook a huge meal for a group of complete strangers, but apparently this is the attitude of those who live in these small towns; I am fascinated by these small towns and the people who live in them.
While we were winding down from our ride, locals started to trickle into the hall, and greeted each other as if they were all family.
They then proceeded to pull together this massive meal for us, with one table devoted entirely to desserts alone.
We were stunned.
I chatted with a few of them; most of them have been here their entire lives, and grew up on some sort of farm or another.
I apologized for my naive questions; as I have never lived in a small town and had many to ask about what it was like:
Does everyone really know everyone? (Yes)
What if some of the townsfolk don’t like each other? (They fight)
How many kids attend the school? (Grade 1-12, and approximately 66 kids, many bussed from the surrounding areas.)
Did the mad cow problem really affect them (hugely affected by it)
Do they ever get attached to their cattle? (Her no, her husband yes)
And so the questions went-all very interesting; she also said that sadly the size of the town is decreasing as the younger people move to the bigger towns and cities, and the older folks die off.
I can see this place being absorbed back into the desert-like planes it exists on in the not-too-distant future.
When we rode into town, there was no one on the streets; we went to the library (one room, in the same office as the town hall and business centre,) there just doesn’t seem to be anyone here; the library is typically closed on a Monday but they opened it for us so that we could use the internet.
After dinner we walked across the road to the one bar, which looks like a Hollywood reproduction of an outback Australian bar, like one of the one’s seen on ‘Crocodile Dundee,’ complete with the hard-livin’ rough neck types that hang out there.
I got to chattin’ with the local, who has been here his whole life, and works in the oil fields.
He was priceless; he told me he watches Breakfast TV and likes to watch out for accidents on the 401, and laughs at Torontonians for living in such a smoggy city.
He’s never ventured west of the Okanogan, and east of Regina, but hopes to make it to Toronto as he loves the Blue Jays.
He told me his sister froze to death years ago in a storm, and his brother recently died of alcohol related complications.
These people live hard out here, and it shows too.
Our ride today was tough; more mentally that anything else as the flatness of the land can be tiresome.
There were a few rolling hills but it is still the same scenery for mile after endless mile.
The skies are quite enchanting though, especially since there were storm clouds gathering, and we could see them do so to the ends of the horizons.
At one point Lewis spotted another sign for ‘beef jerky’ along a lonely country side road.
I didn’t really want to stop, but since he’d zoomed ahead and gave me no opportunity to object, I hung back with a few cows in the front field.
I ambled up to the fence, which caught the eye of a couple of the bored looking cows hanging about.
We made eye contact, which escalated the interest factor for all parties involved.
I was listening to The Ramones on my ipod, which gave the situation a surreal feeling; standing and staring at a bunch of cows while listening to an old school punk-band.
Since a couple of the cows were now very interested, the others joined in too; soon I had a half-circle of cows all staring intently at me, looking as if they were waiting for me to make a speech-I don’t think I’ve ever had such a captive, interested audience.
I waved my hands around a bit, which generated some excitement, and they gradually started to advance; by this time a full-bodied marengue had started to play, which seemed perfectly fitting as these rotund cows ambled towards me.
At this point Lewis pulled up with a hand full of beef jerky and after watching me interact with the cows, felt immediately guilty and declared that was going to become a vegetarian (after he finished the jerky.)
This lasted until dinner, when beef and deer sausage was served.
I am sitting and typing on my laptop at 9:30 and most of the group have gone to bed; most of us are sleeping in the community hall, which isn’t very big.
Some have set up their tents, but most have just laid out their swags, and are crashed out.
It seems much like summer camp (without the giggling and wiggling about until the wee hours.) I know we have a couple of snorers but I have strategically positioned us as far away as possible.
We had a severe storm watch in effect, but since it was predicted by ‘Environment Canada’ it has passed overhead.
(By the way the predicted tail winds for today didn’t happen as we had a head/side wind for most of our ride.)
Day 15 to 16
Cochrane to Drumheller
Distance: 176 km
Temp: Mild
Tough ride from Cochrane, not only because of the distance, but the scenery oddly enough was mentally draining.
Although we are in the foothills and prairies, the land is still rolling and somewhat hilly; starting first thing in the morning.
Again, my legs heavily objected to the expectation of work so early on in the morning.
This time they took on the persona of two old Jewish ladies kvetching, moaning and crying about having to work so hard under such poor conditions.
I had to agree with them.
But there were no negotiations as it was a long riding day, and one cannot enter into any negotiations with the work force, otherwise you’re setting yourself up for further trouble.
Although the landscape is repetitive is repetitive it still offers beauty; the vibrant yellow fields of the canola right beside the green wheat or barley fields is quite startling.
It was sad to see the ghostly shadows of the Rockies slowly receding into the background as we pushed further into the flatlands; we’re sorry to see them go, as the setting and landscape is almost dreamlike with the snow-capped mountains and mouthwash bluey rivers and lakes that kept us company for much of the ride.
To keep us company on today’s ride were thousands of white little butterflies that flitted about us as we rode.
Some met tragic ends in our spokes and under our wheels unfortunately.
The landscape got flatter as we pressed further east; it looks like whoever created this land (insert Deity here) shook out a massive blanket and laid it down to rest, gradually pulling it tighter at the ends (although sometimes not tight enough, as the first 40 km were definitely rolling as we were bobbing up and down for quite a while.)
Lewis and I found ourselves feeling a little agitated by the endless sameness of the scenery, and got a into a tiff over something silly; Lewis took off in a huff and at first I was slightly alarmed as he had the map, but realized he wasn’t going anywhere as I could see him vigorously peddling for miles.
There is a joke about living on the prairies that involved a man watching his wife/dog disappear for days on end-I could relate.
I later did the same thing.
The emotional disturbance was a good distraction; we should try it again later when found in the same situation.
The other aggravation was that we had a head wind for much of the ride; there are a few things that matter most to cyclists, obviously the weather, and in particular, head winds (and where we can find a good coffee shop is also paramount.)
Due to our sensitive relationship to the weather, we heavily rely on Environment Canada, however, why we still invest so much of ourselves in them is a mystery to me; I think that EC must be running a racket of sort, where they’re purporting to advise on weather, but are really selling illicit drugs or something of the sort.
I mean what are the choices with the wind direction; we’re supposed to be getting prevailing winds from west to east (so far east is winning) so really it’s a 1 out of 2 chance of getting it right, and a 1 out of 3 chance for rain, clouds, or sunshine in the summer, and snow, or no snow in the winter, I mean really-how hard can it be?
They’d probably have better results if they flipped coins for the wind direction as I far as I can tell.
Lewis felt badly as he had read the weather report and gleefully passed on to the group the report that we were to have tail winds.
Sadly, on this ride two years ago with the TDC a cyclist was killed traveling from Cochran to Drumheller, so the organizers had us travel on another road, but some of the group decided to take a short cut and ride that road anyhow.
We took the new route and hit a couple of kilometer detour on really rough roads; our skinny tires don’t do well on gravel, so we had to take it very slowly over that stretch.
Eventually we hit Red Deer Valley which had us on a pretty fantastic descent into the valley, where I hit my magic 65 km/hour; I think I could have gone faster but the roads were pretty bad and I had to be careful about where I directed my wheels.
As soon as we hit the bottom of the valley, we were in the ‘badlands’ as we were met with these very strange-looking coulies, or coolees, which are little hills that have visible striations of the earth’s rock and sediment layers created over time; apparently this is/was the hotbed of dinosaur excavations.
After being under the open skies for the majority of the day I felt a bit cagey being surrounded by these hills all of a sudden-it was a complete change of scenery within a matter of minutes.
Eventually we came to our destination town, Drumheller-a tiny wind-swept desert-like town, which has replicas of dinosaurs at every corner, giving the place a surreal slightly sinister feel (like the anti-Disney-land, as the place is pretty deserted.)
Unfortunately for us, our organizers had us staying about 10 km out of town, which made the group pretty grumbly to be so far out on our upcoming rest day, as it meant either riding into town (which is to be avoided at all costs on a rest day) or taking a cab.
Lewis and I were lucky to get a ride to see the Hoo Doos (for real) which are mushroom type things that are coulies that have been eroded away by wind over time.
We also stopped in at the Dinosaur Museum, but I didn’t stay long as it was crowded with too many energetic screaming children.
Our camp site is a sociological experiment unto itself; camping is not what I remember as a kid, and the camping ‘technology’ is amazing.
People have tents that are larger, and have more room that our condo, replete with eating areas that keep the inhabitants safe from all manner of elements, most importantly the bugs which were horrendous.
Some of the RV’s are absolutely massive, and include the kitchen sink, and of course the dog.
Interesting to note that the people are pretty homogenous, as I didn’t see anyone with an ‘off white’ skin tone-is it the activity or just the area that we’re in?
Cochrane to Drumheller
Distance: 176 km
Temp: Mild
Tough ride from Cochrane, not only because of the distance, but the scenery oddly enough was mentally draining.
Although we are in the foothills and prairies, the land is still rolling and somewhat hilly; starting first thing in the morning.
Again, my legs heavily objected to the expectation of work so early on in the morning.
This time they took on the persona of two old Jewish ladies kvetching, moaning and crying about having to work so hard under such poor conditions.
I had to agree with them.
But there were no negotiations as it was a long riding day, and one cannot enter into any negotiations with the work force, otherwise you’re setting yourself up for further trouble.
Although the landscape is repetitive is repetitive it still offers beauty; the vibrant yellow fields of the canola right beside the green wheat or barley fields is quite startling.
It was sad to see the ghostly shadows of the Rockies slowly receding into the background as we pushed further into the flatlands; we’re sorry to see them go, as the setting and landscape is almost dreamlike with the snow-capped mountains and mouthwash bluey rivers and lakes that kept us company for much of the ride.
To keep us company on today’s ride were thousands of white little butterflies that flitted about us as we rode.
Some met tragic ends in our spokes and under our wheels unfortunately.
The landscape got flatter as we pressed further east; it looks like whoever created this land (insert Deity here) shook out a massive blanket and laid it down to rest, gradually pulling it tighter at the ends (although sometimes not tight enough, as the first 40 km were definitely rolling as we were bobbing up and down for quite a while.)
Lewis and I found ourselves feeling a little agitated by the endless sameness of the scenery, and got a into a tiff over something silly; Lewis took off in a huff and at first I was slightly alarmed as he had the map, but realized he wasn’t going anywhere as I could see him vigorously peddling for miles.
There is a joke about living on the prairies that involved a man watching his wife/dog disappear for days on end-I could relate.
I later did the same thing.
The emotional disturbance was a good distraction; we should try it again later when found in the same situation.
The other aggravation was that we had a head wind for much of the ride; there are a few things that matter most to cyclists, obviously the weather, and in particular, head winds (and where we can find a good coffee shop is also paramount.)
Due to our sensitive relationship to the weather, we heavily rely on Environment Canada, however, why we still invest so much of ourselves in them is a mystery to me; I think that EC must be running a racket of sort, where they’re purporting to advise on weather, but are really selling illicit drugs or something of the sort.
I mean what are the choices with the wind direction; we’re supposed to be getting prevailing winds from west to east (so far east is winning) so really it’s a 1 out of 2 chance of getting it right, and a 1 out of 3 chance for rain, clouds, or sunshine in the summer, and snow, or no snow in the winter, I mean really-how hard can it be?
They’d probably have better results if they flipped coins for the wind direction as I far as I can tell.
Lewis felt badly as he had read the weather report and gleefully passed on to the group the report that we were to have tail winds.
Sadly, on this ride two years ago with the TDC a cyclist was killed traveling from Cochran to Drumheller, so the organizers had us travel on another road, but some of the group decided to take a short cut and ride that road anyhow.
We took the new route and hit a couple of kilometer detour on really rough roads; our skinny tires don’t do well on gravel, so we had to take it very slowly over that stretch.
Eventually we hit Red Deer Valley which had us on a pretty fantastic descent into the valley, where I hit my magic 65 km/hour; I think I could have gone faster but the roads were pretty bad and I had to be careful about where I directed my wheels.
As soon as we hit the bottom of the valley, we were in the ‘badlands’ as we were met with these very strange-looking coulies, or coolees, which are little hills that have visible striations of the earth’s rock and sediment layers created over time; apparently this is/was the hotbed of dinosaur excavations.
After being under the open skies for the majority of the day I felt a bit cagey being surrounded by these hills all of a sudden-it was a complete change of scenery within a matter of minutes.
Eventually we came to our destination town, Drumheller-a tiny wind-swept desert-like town, which has replicas of dinosaurs at every corner, giving the place a surreal slightly sinister feel (like the anti-Disney-land, as the place is pretty deserted.)
Unfortunately for us, our organizers had us staying about 10 km out of town, which made the group pretty grumbly to be so far out on our upcoming rest day, as it meant either riding into town (which is to be avoided at all costs on a rest day) or taking a cab.
Lewis and I were lucky to get a ride to see the Hoo Doos (for real) which are mushroom type things that are coulies that have been eroded away by wind over time.
We also stopped in at the Dinosaur Museum, but I didn’t stay long as it was crowded with too many energetic screaming children.
Our camp site is a sociological experiment unto itself; camping is not what I remember as a kid, and the camping ‘technology’ is amazing.
People have tents that are larger, and have more room that our condo, replete with eating areas that keep the inhabitants safe from all manner of elements, most importantly the bugs which were horrendous.
Some of the RV’s are absolutely massive, and include the kitchen sink, and of course the dog.
Interesting to note that the people are pretty homogenous, as I didn’t see anyone with an ‘off white’ skin tone-is it the activity or just the area that we’re in?
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