Day 49 Carrying Place
Dalington to Carrying Place
Distance: 116km

Day 50 Perth Road Village
Carrying Place to Perth Road Village
Distance: 129 km

Day 51 Ottawa
Perth Road Village to Ottawa (rest day)
Distance: 135km

Our stay in Toronto was brief, but everything we wanted it to be; we were well taken care of, fed lots of good food, and got to spend some brief time with our family.
We also briefly went downtown which was a strange experience as I have not been around so many people in a long time; the largest city since Vancouver has been Regina, which, when we were there was either deserted, or they don’t have enough people there as there hardly seemed to be anyone on the streets.
Not like downtown TO, where my elbows are rusty from not having to push my way along the side-walks. (Ok, maybe not that bad, but TO is certainly not lacking the masses)
After all the lonely desolate towns we have come across along the way, which have given the impression to visitors that Canada is devoid of people one only needs to visit a city like Toronto to realize that 80% of the population are all crammed into the metropolis.
Anyhow, it was very odd still being ‘on the ride’ and visiting our Other World, it felt like we were straddling two worlds, with one foot in one, and another on the bike.

My folks drove us back to camp; we missed the leg of the ride from Alliston to Darlington (forcing us to give up our EFI (Every F***** Inch status for the ride,) as we wanted an extra day to hang out with the family.
When we got back to the group, they were still simmering over the fiasco of having our driver taken away; there is still much talk and deliberation of how to get her back.

The ride from Darlington to Carrying Place was one of the most relaxed and enjoyable-pace wise of the trip so far; for some reason everyone seemed to be in a very mellow mood-perhaps due to the relatively short distance, and due to the really pretty scenery, we all rode at a very leisurely pace.
This part of southern Ontario is so pretty, with all these quaint little towns and farms along the way; one almost expects to see blue and pink bows tied around the necks of cows-the farm landscape is so quintessentially picture-book, right down to the painted mailboxes and red barns.
We had a lot of fun riding with The Fun People; we broke our own rules of not riding two abreast, and at times were taking up the whole road (small country roads only!)

Lewis and I were on galley crew that night; we made hamburgers which were a real hit-finally, we are working our way up to gaining a good rep’ for our cooking-it was touch and go for a while.
Also, we are all behaving ourselves, as BP and I have been nothing but polite and nice to each other, and avoid any potentially explosive topics by limiting the conversation to food only (seems to work.)

The following day we rode with two of our fave’s, the Aussies, who are always good for some laughs-we had a good ride with them.
I think that they are also converts to Tim Horton’s now (didn’t take long) as it always seems to be a hit with cyclists (and motorists, bikers, walkers, etc) as we hit a couple along the way.
We are now more or less riding the ride that I had envisioned from the get-go - riding from one Tim’s to the next across Canada.
I had anticipated that the rest of Canada was as populated with Tim’s as southern Ontario, but we went weeks and weeks without seeing any out west-their TV commercials are misleading as they portray a Canada that is dotted and connected through a community of Tim Horton’s, who are ready to supply hungry and weary travelers with that dependable cuppa cawfee or tea, done just the way we like it.
C’mon Timmy-the rest of Canada is crying out for more, there are vast expanses where nary a one is to be seen--most disappointing.
I digress.
At one point we came across a couple of other riders who are usually the one’s who are up before the sun and practically in camp while I am still having my brekkie.
One of the Aussies spotted them in the distance, and like a greyhound after the rabbit took off like a shot, us all trying to hang on; I was two behind her and could see her little legs working like pistons to catch them-the game was on!
I had ‘flight of the bumble bee’ playing in my head as we were gaining on them-caught them, and passed them like a freight train, not before the one looked over with an excited grin on her face (genuinely excited for us, and excited to be passed by us-and shouted, “Oh EXCellent, FANtastic, have a great ride!!”
And on we went.

When we pulled into camp, we found the assorted crew hanging about, some playing horseshoes and others lazing under a tree, and no truck in sight.
We received a message from the camp office to say the truck had broken down and was waiting for service.
A few hours later the truck rolled in-with the driver looking rather sheepish as he’d locked the keys in the cab and had to wait two hours for a locksmith.
Galley crew was not happy as it meant a late start and cleaning up in the dark, as the sun is setting earlier and earlier now.
Dinner was good, but this time instead of way overestimating the amount to make, they underestimated as some people were still hungry afterwards and resorted to toasting bread on the stove.
It is really difficult to estimate the quantity to cook; there are so many variables: length of ride, wind factor (headwinds=hungrier people,) amount of services along the route, quality of services along the route, temperature, drafting factor, and so on.
A true mathematical equation for quantity would probably look something like this:
Quantity (grams)= (number of riders + length of ride/numbers drafting)+(temperature/wind speed) x (estimated number of services/quality of services (Tim’s VS dingy truck-stop)-(number of hills x % grade of said hills.)
As you can see it is a complicated set of cumulating factors that all contribute to the hunger of a cyclist, thus making the estimates for quantity of food nearly impossible to make-often its over, but that night it was under.

The ride into Ottawa was equally as pretty as the previous days, and we passed through many more little towns.
We are the modern day cowboys and cowgirls-we roll into town (literally) with a glint in our eye, sizing up the place, and people, but instead of guns in our holsters and saddle bags we have bananas and fruit bars--‘stop, or I’ll fruit you.’

We are staying at Carlton University, which has a modern residence, much nicer than the last one which is in serious need of a Debbie Travis type make-over.