Day 28-Rest day
Beasojour to Kenora, Ontario! Home Province
Distance: 172 km
Hot then thunder showers later on
The past couple of days have been tough rides (I think I always say that, but its all true, each one offers its own unique challenge.)
Day 27’s ride was pretty flat, but unfortunately Head and cousin SideWig decided to accompany us for the ride, turning what would ordinarily be a relatively easy ride, into a challenging one.
We started off the ride on some very rough road (for the better part of 60km or so) and had us riding beside all kinds of fields of wheat and sunflowers.
Also accompanying us were aphids, tiny, almost invisible buggy-things that flew nonstop into our faces, up our noses, and into our ears.
We couldn’t see them, so I thought I was imagining them; but luckily their existence was confirmed when talking to the other riders who experienced the same thing.
Bees are also very enthusiastic travel companions, (unwelcome) as they seem to love to zoom back and forth around our heads, and bikes.
Often we’re traveling up to 45 km/hour and they seem to have no problem keeping up with us; they make me nervous as I have been stung while riding before, and I can’t help but hope that they’ll fly into my wheels, although I heard that when they die they send out a ‘dying signal’ to their brethren to rally the troops, so on second thought, maybe not.
I am not sure whether they think we are the Queen Bee, Mother Bee, or Mother Ship, but whatever they think we must be important to warrant keeping up with us for so long.
We also saw a plane spraying crops, and that also made me quite nervous, as I didn’t wasn’t sure what toxins we were inhaling into our now pure and clean lungs!
Yesterday’s ride to Kenora started off well enough, although Lewis and I were still the last to leave camp, again, after the galley crew had done their thing.
The ride started off well enough, and we were making pretty good time.
We stopped at a little tea room run by an eccentric woman who was running around in bare feet, and barking orders at her minions.
I had one of the best cinnamon buns I’ve ever had though, so she must be doing something right.
The buns supplied us with jet fuel, as we were rocketing along, eagerly anticipating getting to Kenora (Ontatio) to begin our rest day.
Along we flew until Lewis blew a tire; we changed it quickly enough but things went into rapid decline once the little pump he carried went kerplunk, and pumped its last breath of tire air.
We ended up having to wait for an hour and a half for some other riders to catch up so we could borrow their pump.
At this point, we still had 60km to go before camp, and the skies took a turn towards the unfriendly.
By this time, I had crossed over from the rational, to the irrational as all I wanted at this point was to be back at camp, on with the serious business of relaxing.
We hammered it home, pushing as much as we could; my legs and lungs on fire with their exertion.
We crossed the border to Ontario, which was a strange feeling, knowing that at this point we’d pedaled our way from Victoria to northern Ontario.
Interesting that within 30 km of the border the landscape switched to the very telltale look of Ontario, with the trees and rocky terrain, and with lakes scattered along the way.
As we neared Kenora (not near enough) the threatening skies started to look even more ominous, and very suddenly the wind (Hedwig) turned on the jets and hit us with such force we almost came to a standstill.
I was raging, and wanted more that ever to be at camp before the rains pelted us, but it was not to be as we were hit with large fat drops which quickly escalated to a downpour within minutes.
My cycling shoes soon started to emit a ‘squelchy’ noise with every pedal stroke.
We kept seeing teasing signs telling us how close we were, “Canadian Tire welcomes you to Kenora!”, and “Come enjoy some warm apple pie and coffee at our cozy café, just twenty kilometers away!” and the like.
And as always, eventually we made it to camp, soaking wet, and feeling rather sorry for ourselves.
Today is our rest day, and as always internet and laundry are top priorities for all of us.
A few of the more energetic people in our group went out boozing in the later hours and came back to camp quite pickled, and apparently continued their conversations in tones used for deaf people.
I sleep with earplugs so didn’t hear anything, but there were a lot of unhappy people around camp this morning; especially the 73 day group, who were getting up to ride this morning (we overlap on our rest days.)
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Day 27
Portage La Prairie to Beausejour, Manitoba
Distance: 164 km
Hot, with side/headwind
Today, another near mental breakdown, this time thanks to Lewis leaving his saddle pack partly unzipped.
It was a tough ride, owing partly to the long week we’ve had so far, partly to the endless sameness of the scenery, partly to the length of the ride, partly due to the uncooperative ‘Wig’ family, partly to Lewis being drained and not having any energy in his legs, and not being able to do as much pulling as usual, and partly to my mind still grasping the vastness of the country, and how many more miles we had to do.
So much background, such a simple catalyst; he didn’t zip the saddle bag so as he road along on a bumpy road, the top of the bag bounced with every bump, momentarily opening to reveal a bouncing banana being flung around inside the bag.
It looked like a big gaping mouth opening and shutting; somehow it struck me as weave-all-over-the road, almost into oncoming traffic, crying squeals of hilarity kind of funny. The kind of funny that had you squirt milk from your nose as a kid, or get sent out of the classroom.
The sillier it seemed, the more I laughed and could not stop.
Poor Lewis didn’t know what was happening; I had to eventually stop my bike for fear of falling off.
I felt much better afterwards as was obviously feeling quite worked up about today’s ride, and the next, and the one after that.
Thankfully the day after tomorrow is a rest day (not before another 173 km ride tomorrow.)
Surprisingly the ride today was advertised on the map as the ‘flattest ride of the tour’. Even though, the winds worked their stuff to make it challenging.
We did have a fantastic mid-ride meal at a quaint little tea house in Stonewall. As we rode into the town, we thought it looked as if the houses had been put up overnight; everything looked so new.
However things were much older once we got into the town centre, as this house was inhabited by Canada’s youngest solider to be awarded with the Victoria Cross medal for bravery, as he shot down a bunch of planes during the war, and then ended up being killed himself by disease on returning home at the age of 19. I believe the house is called McLeod House, and is run by some ladies who obviously have a fine appreciation for tea.
Not surprisingly the Aussies sniffed it out immediately and were in heaven; good tea at last (they always come back to camp with some story of a thwarted tea experience.)
We had a very civilized experience, (although perhaps not as much felt by the others there, as we were all dressed in our cycling garb, and didn’t quite fit in with the blue-haired crowd-too bad, we were enjoying ourselves too much to notice.)
We had chicken salad sandwiches and soup; the chicken salad had dried cranberries in it, and the soup was very wholesome and home made.
I had an exotic blend type tea (I think caramelized Macintosh apples with some other herb).
The waitress tried, and successfully tempted Lewis with their home-made, made with fresh lemons, lemon meringue pie.
We later stopped at the most significant posting and fort for the Hudson Bay Company in Western Canada; Fort Gerry, which had a bunch of students dressed in period costume, re-enacting life back in the 1800’s.
All took on the roles very seriously and would only answer questions in the present-tense; when asked what one woman was knitting/weaving, she replied that she was making it for her friend’s wedding.
Someone asked if she was making it for real, or for her pretend-friend in the 1800’s, and she responded that it was for her friend Gretta, who lived two doors down, and was getting married in a couple of weeks.
We’re still not sure if Gretta is really getting married, or if she only exists back in The Olden Days.
We also learned the origins of ‘flash in the pan,’ ‘lock, stock, and barrel,’ and ‘mad as a hatter.’
The 1800’s was rich ground for today’s idioms and adages.
It was 4:15pm by this time, and we still had 40km to go before camp; it had been a long day, what with high tea, and Gretta’s wedding, so we had to make head way for camp.
Since I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch time, I bonked/energy crashed about 20km from camp.
I was determined not to stop; out of pure desperation to get back.
The last few km were hard enough, on rough gravelly road, and with having to contend with the absence of any fuel in my tank.
I got home on pure willpower alone; good to know it will act as my reserve tank when needed.
Some more drama unfolded at dinner time; turns our Button Pusher not only pushes mine, but also 25 others as well.
He hates music while camping, and while we were all enjoying some dinner time music, he demanded that it be turned off.
The argument quickly devolved into an all out name calling session between a few of the riders; it was actually quite entertaining, and I was glad that for once it was others involved with him and not me.
Tomorrow we will have to have a group meeting to discuss our feeling, our sentiments, and how it reminds of when we were kids on the playground when we were left out of the childhood games, or made us get hit, or hit Sally/Jimmy/Mindy.
It’s funny how worked up we all get over such silly things, but it does act as a good distraction, and provide entertainment for most of us.
Portage La Prairie to Beausejour, Manitoba
Distance: 164 km
Hot, with side/headwind
Today, another near mental breakdown, this time thanks to Lewis leaving his saddle pack partly unzipped.
It was a tough ride, owing partly to the long week we’ve had so far, partly to the endless sameness of the scenery, partly to the length of the ride, partly due to the uncooperative ‘Wig’ family, partly to Lewis being drained and not having any energy in his legs, and not being able to do as much pulling as usual, and partly to my mind still grasping the vastness of the country, and how many more miles we had to do.
So much background, such a simple catalyst; he didn’t zip the saddle bag so as he road along on a bumpy road, the top of the bag bounced with every bump, momentarily opening to reveal a bouncing banana being flung around inside the bag.
It looked like a big gaping mouth opening and shutting; somehow it struck me as weave-all-over-the road, almost into oncoming traffic, crying squeals of hilarity kind of funny. The kind of funny that had you squirt milk from your nose as a kid, or get sent out of the classroom.
The sillier it seemed, the more I laughed and could not stop.
Poor Lewis didn’t know what was happening; I had to eventually stop my bike for fear of falling off.
I felt much better afterwards as was obviously feeling quite worked up about today’s ride, and the next, and the one after that.
Thankfully the day after tomorrow is a rest day (not before another 173 km ride tomorrow.)
Surprisingly the ride today was advertised on the map as the ‘flattest ride of the tour’. Even though, the winds worked their stuff to make it challenging.
We did have a fantastic mid-ride meal at a quaint little tea house in Stonewall. As we rode into the town, we thought it looked as if the houses had been put up overnight; everything looked so new.
However things were much older once we got into the town centre, as this house was inhabited by Canada’s youngest solider to be awarded with the Victoria Cross medal for bravery, as he shot down a bunch of planes during the war, and then ended up being killed himself by disease on returning home at the age of 19. I believe the house is called McLeod House, and is run by some ladies who obviously have a fine appreciation for tea.
Not surprisingly the Aussies sniffed it out immediately and were in heaven; good tea at last (they always come back to camp with some story of a thwarted tea experience.)
We had a very civilized experience, (although perhaps not as much felt by the others there, as we were all dressed in our cycling garb, and didn’t quite fit in with the blue-haired crowd-too bad, we were enjoying ourselves too much to notice.)
We had chicken salad sandwiches and soup; the chicken salad had dried cranberries in it, and the soup was very wholesome and home made.
I had an exotic blend type tea (I think caramelized Macintosh apples with some other herb).
The waitress tried, and successfully tempted Lewis with their home-made, made with fresh lemons, lemon meringue pie.
We later stopped at the most significant posting and fort for the Hudson Bay Company in Western Canada; Fort Gerry, which had a bunch of students dressed in period costume, re-enacting life back in the 1800’s.
All took on the roles very seriously and would only answer questions in the present-tense; when asked what one woman was knitting/weaving, she replied that she was making it for her friend’s wedding.
Someone asked if she was making it for real, or for her pretend-friend in the 1800’s, and she responded that it was for her friend Gretta, who lived two doors down, and was getting married in a couple of weeks.
We’re still not sure if Gretta is really getting married, or if she only exists back in The Olden Days.
We also learned the origins of ‘flash in the pan,’ ‘lock, stock, and barrel,’ and ‘mad as a hatter.’
The 1800’s was rich ground for today’s idioms and adages.
It was 4:15pm by this time, and we still had 40km to go before camp; it had been a long day, what with high tea, and Gretta’s wedding, so we had to make head way for camp.
Since I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch time, I bonked/energy crashed about 20km from camp.
I was determined not to stop; out of pure desperation to get back.
The last few km were hard enough, on rough gravelly road, and with having to contend with the absence of any fuel in my tank.
I got home on pure willpower alone; good to know it will act as my reserve tank when needed.
Some more drama unfolded at dinner time; turns our Button Pusher not only pushes mine, but also 25 others as well.
He hates music while camping, and while we were all enjoying some dinner time music, he demanded that it be turned off.
The argument quickly devolved into an all out name calling session between a few of the riders; it was actually quite entertaining, and I was glad that for once it was others involved with him and not me.
Tomorrow we will have to have a group meeting to discuss our feeling, our sentiments, and how it reminds of when we were kids on the playground when we were left out of the childhood games, or made us get hit, or hit Sally/Jimmy/Mindy.
It’s funny how worked up we all get over such silly things, but it does act as a good distraction, and provide entertainment for most of us.
Day 26
Minnedosa, to Portage La Prairie, Manitoba
Distance: 134km
Hot, with side/tailwind
Since we paid our dues yesterday, the winds were kind to us today, thankfully giving us a tailwind.
Last night however, the winds railed and screamed outside our little tent; at one point I thought we might become airborne.
At least the tent was well aerated, which was much needed.
Again, Lewis and I were last to leave camp this morning, even after the galley crew; I got up late and made it just in the nick of time for breakfast, just as the galley crew were shutting the kitchen down.
Thankfully due to Tailwig, we were able to make up time and got into camp at a very respectable time today.
We’re staying in a little town in the fairgrounds, which is currently hosting a horse-riding camp; it is quite strange to be camping with horses galloping around, very near by.
I think it has crossed all of our minds to trade in our bikes for a horse, especially after yesterday’s ride.
Today’s ride took us along some very busy highways, some of which could compete with Toronto’s 401 for traffic and aggressive drivers.
Usually we ride on the shoulder, if we’re lucky enough to have one, but today at times required us to ride on the road.
Generally drivers are pretty decent about giving us room, but other times, not.
Some roads give us a generous shoulder to ride on, which allows plenty of room between ourselves and the traffic, but today the shoulder was approximately 6 inches wide, so even though we were on the right of it, there was not much room.
When the highway is a two lane road, with one lane for each direction, we are often at the mercy of people who think it a good idea to overtake slower traffic, right at the moment when we are passing, so that we are almost face on with an oncoming car, traveling sometimes over 120km/hour.
One sneeze or false move could ruin everyone’s day.
Today I was on Lewis’ wheel and happened to look over his left shoulder at the moment someone was overtaking; we must have had about 6 inches between us and the front bumper of this overly confident driver, who was overtaking the slower traffic. I was feeling quite sleepy at the time, and it gave me just the shot of adrenaline I needed to wake up.
Who needs coffee when one can ride on Manitoba roads?
At times like this I wish these people knew what it is like to be on bike and riding with the likes of them on the road.
Most trucks are quite courteous and will give us the lane if possible, but some seem to have a vendetta out for cyclists, as they will come as close to us as possible, and blast their horns.
Not nice Mr. Truck Driver.
Some cars also seem to get a kick out of honking at us for no reason (we are always very careful to stay on the shoulder, so we are no in any way interfering with traffic,) yet some drivers insist on making it difficult for us, or perhaps more fun for them.
I have become quite adept at picking out the friendly, ‘honkity, honk-honk’ opposed to the ‘BWAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH’ type honk that can almost throw you right out of the saddle.
Yesterday, when Headwig declared war on us we were riding in a formation of 9 along a quite lonely road, when a pick up truck pulled in front of us.
Since this was after the butter-tart incident, and our spirits and blood sugar levels were buoyant, we thought perhaps the truck was going to let us draft behind it; perhaps the people of Manitoba are sensitive to those who suffer at the force of the wind, providing sugary treats, and wind protection when needed.
But it was not to be, and was rather a big joke (although the humor was over our heads) for all the passengers in the truck, as the driver jumped out of the truck, and ran beside it for a couple of seconds, before jumping back in and squealing off.
But later on that day all was made up for once again, as the water guy gave Lewis and I fresh, clean water outside of the Canadian Tire.
We made it through (well not quite yet-there still is breakfast tomorrow morning) another galley duty.
Same button pusher as last time did go walk-about mid way through our cleaning session, and had to be reined back in.
I think our galley crew will win the award for ‘most dramatic’ as we all tend to bicker and pick at each other throughout the cooking procedures.
At one point a crowd of others had gathered to watch the antics as they unraveled during the cooking process; entertainment is sometimes hard to come by when camping (or not, if you look close enough, as in this case.)
This eve the arguments were over the type and quantity of the pasta to be cooked, as well as how much sauce was required, not only for and meat-eaters, but also for the vegetarians.
There were also mutterings from the button-pusher that he didn’t like tomatoes, and that we shouldn’t add more tomatoes to the tomato- based sauce.
I was in charge of making the spinach salad, and objected to the mayonnaise and sour cream content of the dressing.
Button pusher then decided, since he wanted to get dinner and the cleaning done early, to bring out the cake (for a pseudo-birthday) while we were all still eating.
Since people didn’t want to get short changed on the cake, they promptly dropped their plates of pasta to get cake-it was mayhem.
I keep thinking a team meeting will rectify any issues, but I really think our crew is a hopeless case.
Oh well, only seven more to do.
Minnedosa, to Portage La Prairie, Manitoba
Distance: 134km
Hot, with side/tailwind
Since we paid our dues yesterday, the winds were kind to us today, thankfully giving us a tailwind.
Last night however, the winds railed and screamed outside our little tent; at one point I thought we might become airborne.
At least the tent was well aerated, which was much needed.
Again, Lewis and I were last to leave camp this morning, even after the galley crew; I got up late and made it just in the nick of time for breakfast, just as the galley crew were shutting the kitchen down.
Thankfully due to Tailwig, we were able to make up time and got into camp at a very respectable time today.
We’re staying in a little town in the fairgrounds, which is currently hosting a horse-riding camp; it is quite strange to be camping with horses galloping around, very near by.
I think it has crossed all of our minds to trade in our bikes for a horse, especially after yesterday’s ride.
Today’s ride took us along some very busy highways, some of which could compete with Toronto’s 401 for traffic and aggressive drivers.
Usually we ride on the shoulder, if we’re lucky enough to have one, but today at times required us to ride on the road.
Generally drivers are pretty decent about giving us room, but other times, not.
Some roads give us a generous shoulder to ride on, which allows plenty of room between ourselves and the traffic, but today the shoulder was approximately 6 inches wide, so even though we were on the right of it, there was not much room.
When the highway is a two lane road, with one lane for each direction, we are often at the mercy of people who think it a good idea to overtake slower traffic, right at the moment when we are passing, so that we are almost face on with an oncoming car, traveling sometimes over 120km/hour.
One sneeze or false move could ruin everyone’s day.
Today I was on Lewis’ wheel and happened to look over his left shoulder at the moment someone was overtaking; we must have had about 6 inches between us and the front bumper of this overly confident driver, who was overtaking the slower traffic. I was feeling quite sleepy at the time, and it gave me just the shot of adrenaline I needed to wake up.
Who needs coffee when one can ride on Manitoba roads?
At times like this I wish these people knew what it is like to be on bike and riding with the likes of them on the road.
Most trucks are quite courteous and will give us the lane if possible, but some seem to have a vendetta out for cyclists, as they will come as close to us as possible, and blast their horns.
Not nice Mr. Truck Driver.
Some cars also seem to get a kick out of honking at us for no reason (we are always very careful to stay on the shoulder, so we are no in any way interfering with traffic,) yet some drivers insist on making it difficult for us, or perhaps more fun for them.
I have become quite adept at picking out the friendly, ‘honkity, honk-honk’ opposed to the ‘BWAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH’ type honk that can almost throw you right out of the saddle.
Yesterday, when Headwig declared war on us we were riding in a formation of 9 along a quite lonely road, when a pick up truck pulled in front of us.
Since this was after the butter-tart incident, and our spirits and blood sugar levels were buoyant, we thought perhaps the truck was going to let us draft behind it; perhaps the people of Manitoba are sensitive to those who suffer at the force of the wind, providing sugary treats, and wind protection when needed.
But it was not to be, and was rather a big joke (although the humor was over our heads) for all the passengers in the truck, as the driver jumped out of the truck, and ran beside it for a couple of seconds, before jumping back in and squealing off.
But later on that day all was made up for once again, as the water guy gave Lewis and I fresh, clean water outside of the Canadian Tire.
We made it through (well not quite yet-there still is breakfast tomorrow morning) another galley duty.
Same button pusher as last time did go walk-about mid way through our cleaning session, and had to be reined back in.
I think our galley crew will win the award for ‘most dramatic’ as we all tend to bicker and pick at each other throughout the cooking procedures.
At one point a crowd of others had gathered to watch the antics as they unraveled during the cooking process; entertainment is sometimes hard to come by when camping (or not, if you look close enough, as in this case.)
This eve the arguments were over the type and quantity of the pasta to be cooked, as well as how much sauce was required, not only for and meat-eaters, but also for the vegetarians.
There were also mutterings from the button-pusher that he didn’t like tomatoes, and that we shouldn’t add more tomatoes to the tomato- based sauce.
I was in charge of making the spinach salad, and objected to the mayonnaise and sour cream content of the dressing.
Button pusher then decided, since he wanted to get dinner and the cleaning done early, to bring out the cake (for a pseudo-birthday) while we were all still eating.
Since people didn’t want to get short changed on the cake, they promptly dropped their plates of pasta to get cake-it was mayhem.
I keep thinking a team meeting will rectify any issues, but I really think our crew is a hopeless case.
Oh well, only seven more to do.
Day 25
Binscarth Sask, to Minnedosa, Manitoba
Distance: 138
Windy from the south east at estimated 30-gusting to 40 km/hour
Our driver is complaining that her arms hurt from trying to stabilize the truck on the blustery road, so you can imagine how our legs feel.
I think for many people today was one of the toughest rides of the tour so far, thanks to our reliable companion Hedwig and his second cousin SideWig.
Both joined forces today and lashed us with relentless and persistent winds that railed against our ears and battered us about the road, making riding in a group perilous at times.
On days like this I will try every mental distraction to keep me from looking at my slow moving odometer; the kilometers just would not come.
When I kept forgetting that I was trying not to look, and my eyes wandered down to my ‘dashboard’, I felt like screaming, as we had barely moved.
Usually after dinner our group will sit around the ‘living room’ and chat, but this evening we all look like extras from ‘Night of the Living Dead’.
It is now 9:20pm and most are in bed, hoping that the wind Gods will be kinder to us tomorrow.
If they won’t be, I would prefer not to know at this point, so that I can go to bed in ignorant bliss.
I am sitting on a picnic table beside a picturesque lake, where the light breeze gives no hint of the gale forces its predecessor whipped us with.
There was one highlight to the day; we stopped at one point to rest beside a field of horses, and I got to play and pat some soft furry noses; their reassuring warm breath on my neck almost made me forget that we still had over 100 km to do into the wind.
I tried to feed them a banana as a thanks offering, but they turned up their velvet noses at my suggestion.
Sometimes the kindness of strangers takes us by complete surprise.
Today a large truck passed us, and stopped shortly up the road.
We saw him get out, walk to the back and open up the truck, and take something out.
Being in the middle of nowhere, this can put anyone on edge, but as we rode up to him, he started to wave two boxes of butter tarts at us, waving us down with them.
He said that he’d been driving and passing a bunch of cyclists, and thought that we must be hungry since it was such a windy day.
We immediately broke into to a relieved grin, and gratefully took the boxes.
We waited for the group of 6 cyclists a few km down to the road to catch us, and flagged them down with the tarts.
I have never seen such happy people; we welcomed our break from the wind with little bundles of glucose joy.
We came across a similar experience way back in BC, on a particularly hot, hilly and service-free ride; as we came up from this long climb, there was a guy standing off to the side of the road with the back of his car open, which had an assortment of water, Gatorade, and power bars on display.
We all though it extremely odd that someone would be selling such things off a beaten road, in the middle of nowhere.
However since it was so hot and we were low on water, we stopped. It turns out that he was a rider from the Tour last year, and remembered this stretch to be particularly difficult, and had decided to buy all the goodies and give them to us as goodwill.
We all could have kissed him; what a totally thoughtful thing to do.
We all agreed that we would do this at some point along the route in our home area.
We are on galley duty again tomorrow (already) so we’ll see what excitement that brings.
We had group therapy last time after the drama that unfolded, so we’ll see if everyone sticks to their resolutions.
The suggested menu for tomorrow is ‘green lentil soup,’ but after last week’s fiasco with the no-meat, we are too scared to offer the hungry people a meatless meal, so Lewis has orchestrated making spaghetti bolognese instead.
I hope it keep the hungry people at bay.
Binscarth Sask, to Minnedosa, Manitoba
Distance: 138
Windy from the south east at estimated 30-gusting to 40 km/hour
Our driver is complaining that her arms hurt from trying to stabilize the truck on the blustery road, so you can imagine how our legs feel.
I think for many people today was one of the toughest rides of the tour so far, thanks to our reliable companion Hedwig and his second cousin SideWig.
Both joined forces today and lashed us with relentless and persistent winds that railed against our ears and battered us about the road, making riding in a group perilous at times.
On days like this I will try every mental distraction to keep me from looking at my slow moving odometer; the kilometers just would not come.
When I kept forgetting that I was trying not to look, and my eyes wandered down to my ‘dashboard’, I felt like screaming, as we had barely moved.
Usually after dinner our group will sit around the ‘living room’ and chat, but this evening we all look like extras from ‘Night of the Living Dead’.
It is now 9:20pm and most are in bed, hoping that the wind Gods will be kinder to us tomorrow.
If they won’t be, I would prefer not to know at this point, so that I can go to bed in ignorant bliss.
I am sitting on a picnic table beside a picturesque lake, where the light breeze gives no hint of the gale forces its predecessor whipped us with.
There was one highlight to the day; we stopped at one point to rest beside a field of horses, and I got to play and pat some soft furry noses; their reassuring warm breath on my neck almost made me forget that we still had over 100 km to do into the wind.
I tried to feed them a banana as a thanks offering, but they turned up their velvet noses at my suggestion.
Sometimes the kindness of strangers takes us by complete surprise.
Today a large truck passed us, and stopped shortly up the road.
We saw him get out, walk to the back and open up the truck, and take something out.
Being in the middle of nowhere, this can put anyone on edge, but as we rode up to him, he started to wave two boxes of butter tarts at us, waving us down with them.
He said that he’d been driving and passing a bunch of cyclists, and thought that we must be hungry since it was such a windy day.
We immediately broke into to a relieved grin, and gratefully took the boxes.
We waited for the group of 6 cyclists a few km down to the road to catch us, and flagged them down with the tarts.
I have never seen such happy people; we welcomed our break from the wind with little bundles of glucose joy.
We came across a similar experience way back in BC, on a particularly hot, hilly and service-free ride; as we came up from this long climb, there was a guy standing off to the side of the road with the back of his car open, which had an assortment of water, Gatorade, and power bars on display.
We all though it extremely odd that someone would be selling such things off a beaten road, in the middle of nowhere.
However since it was so hot and we were low on water, we stopped. It turns out that he was a rider from the Tour last year, and remembered this stretch to be particularly difficult, and had decided to buy all the goodies and give them to us as goodwill.
We all could have kissed him; what a totally thoughtful thing to do.
We all agreed that we would do this at some point along the route in our home area.
We are on galley duty again tomorrow (already) so we’ll see what excitement that brings.
We had group therapy last time after the drama that unfolded, so we’ll see if everyone sticks to their resolutions.
The suggested menu for tomorrow is ‘green lentil soup,’ but after last week’s fiasco with the no-meat, we are too scared to offer the hungry people a meatless meal, so Lewis has orchestrated making spaghetti bolognese instead.
I hope it keep the hungry people at bay.
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