Duration of Trip: 13 Days.
Length: 1,182.4 km (733 miles).
Experience: Awesome!
Want to share the experience? Keep reading.
We mostly followed the blue line on the google map above. We didn't follow the blue line in those moments, and there were quite a few, when we got lost (Signage for this world renown bike trail was rather lacking at times), or changed our route due to emergencies (Such as brother Mark's unfortunate crash one day) or when we decided near the end of the trip to shorten one day and lengthen the next. But the blue line gives you a good idea of what we were up to.
To put the trip into a little perspective, consider these ideas, which may be particularly helpful for my Non-Canadian readers who are not up on their Canadian geography:
Our trip covers about the same distance as from San Franciso to San Diego.
Or, from New York City to Orlando, Florida.
If we were to pedal this ride on the USA side of the border, we would ride through the States of Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, and part of eastern Ohio.
Sometimes it's very challenging just to get to the starting place for a trip. That's what the next photo is about.
Somehow I must transport myself and my bike and travelling gear from my home near the village of Tiverton, Ontario, all the way to Montreal, Quebec. I need to get to the city of London, Ontario, where I will ride a train to Montreal.
On August 5, my wife Debbie, drives me and my bike and my gear about an hour south of our home to a little town called Lucan. At my request, she drops me off there. (Deb would have taken me all the way to London, but I thought I might as well pedal part of the distance.)
I pedal my fully loaded bike 35 km (22 miles) to London. I arrived in London around supper time.
After supper, my son, James, and I decide to go to the movies and see Ant Man. Good movie. After the movie, I sleep at James' home resting up for my train ride which starts at 7:36 AM the next morning, Thursday, August 6.
The photo above shows James and I doing a reasonably decent job of smiling in the London Via Rail Train Station, despite the early hour and long night dreaming of scheming ants.
I was permitted to take on my tightly packed and compacted bike gear as carry on luggage.
But not my bike or my essential bike trailer.
I must admit being nervous watching the baggage lady rolling my bike into the freight area and then place my boxed up trailer on the conveyor belt. Stories of lost suitcases flashed through my mind.
According to the schedule, this train will arrive with me, and hopefully my bike and trailer, in Montreal around 4:30 pm.
My train stopped in several towns and cities that morning as we made our way northeast.
Around 11:30 am we arrived in Canada's largest city (with Montreal in close pursuit with just a few persons less).
The photo above is a snap shot of Toronto's development just within the past 40+ years in which my life has been directly or indirectly lived in the proximity of this great city. (I actually graduated from Toronto's York University in 1975.)
I can recall when the Royal York Hotel was once THE dominate feature on the Toronto skyline. Kings and Queens stayed there. Now the building shrinks in shadows of modernity.
After many passengers disembarked and many passengers boarded, we continued our journey.
My view from the train window gave me a few occasional glimpses like this of the bike trails we would pedal.
Four granola bars, an overpriced and undersized chicken salad wrap, and two cups of tea later, my train arrived in the Montreal Central Station (pictured above).
Good news! My bike and trailer made it. But not without some anxious moments.
My boxed trailer showed up with all the other suitcases emerging out of the shipping room.
But not my bike.
It wasn't until all the bags and happy passengers were gone that a nice man rolled my bike out for me.
Sigh of relief.
Brother Mark was riding the train from the northeastern city of Quebec City (where he put all his Arizona students on a plane back to the Southwest USA at the conclusion of their cultural enrichment program). Mark's train was due to arrive at the Station about an hour after my train.
I spent most of that hour assembling my bike trailer and attaching my pedals and instruments to my bike (which were removed for safer transport) and attaching my panniers to the trailer, getting ready to roll. This bike is now my only immediate form of transportation back home for the next two weeks.
See me in the photo wondering where my brother might be.
Mark arrived.
We had dinner at the Station.
But to get to our accommodations for the night at the University of Montreal, and the starting point of our trip, we had to pedal 6.2 km (about 4 miles) through the city of Montreal (pictured above).
We arrive at our "dorm room for the night."
For one person this is small. For two persons it is very small.
But it works fine. We are both rather tired from our early start times and long travels.
I got the trundle bed. Fortunately I was not stepped on during the night.
The sunrises and August 7, Day 1 of our trip begins.
Notice how chipper and clean Mark and all his equipment look.
I, too, am a respectable specimen in this pre-trip photo.
Montreal is a big and understandably naturally crowded city.
Not usually a place I would anticipate fun biking.
But it was.
I've heard it said, and now confirm it, that Montreal might be the most bike friendly city in North America.
"Dedicated" bike trails and bikers literally everywhere.
Notice we get our own two way bike lane and dotted yellow line. Makes me feel special.
We are making our way across the west side of the city to find the Saint Lawrence River, where our bike trail officially begins.
We pedaled an entire 15 minutes before we found an essential Canadian food establishment called Tim Horton's, where you can order all things delicious, including Boston Creme donuts and the world's best hot tea.
One of the best parts about biking on these trips is that we burn about 4,000 to 6,000 calories each day. Which means I can eat and eat and eat and eat and not gain a pound. In fact, 13 days from now, despite my best efforts to avoid a calorie deficit, will have lost 20 pounds! I am rapidly re-gaining that weight now that I am back living civilian life in the the real world.
Our first La Route Verte sign which will (most of the time) guides us in the Province of Quebec southwesterly along the shores of the St Lawrence River towards Toronto, Lake Ontario, Niagara Falls and points beyond.
Still looking reasonably fresh, eh?
Brother Mark holding up the post for this picture.
A good view of the mighty St Lawrence River. This river was THE link for Quebec, Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, Ontario, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois during the 1600's and 1700's and 1800's and well into the 1900's. It military and economic significance to the history and development of the USA and Canada was, and still is, quite significant.
If the River looks shallow, it is because in many places it is. But in many places it is quite deep. To make the river usable, many canals and locks were craved out along the river bank to allow huge ocean going vessels to navigate huge around rapids such as these. The series of canals and locks are officially referred to as the St Lawrence Seaway.
A good example of the excellent bike trail provided to us by the Province of Quebec.
11 AM comes around and it's time for brunch of hot dogs, ice cream, and soda pop at the universally appreciated Dairy Queen restaurant. Got to fight off those calorie deficits!
Check out a good example of the lock system, still alive and well today.
Large ships still utilize it. But also many many pleasure craft.
Sometimes our path takes us beside scenic waterways.
Others times, as in this photo, it takes us next to major highways such as Autoroute 20 (an interstate class highway) in Quebec.
Sometimes through quaint villages lining the "ancient" canals.
Finally we arrive at our first night campsite, Montreal KOA West.
After setting up camp, and utilzing the much needed showers, we buy supper from the camp store; our only real option because we didn't fill like adding another several kms or miles to the 104.6 km -- 65 miles-- we already pedaled today.
Tell me, when is the last time you enjoyed such fine dining?
The T-Shirt purchased by Mark who has this affinity for cool T-shirts.
Our first night camp. Nice level gravel. This campground is full of nice RVs. There were about 4 of us tenters.
We shall call this "Little Tents in the Big Woods."
Morning August 8 and Day 2 of our Ride dawns in Montreal KOA West.
Getting ready to roll out for Day 2.
The Old(er) guy is still looking relatively fresh, eh?
The Old(er) guy is still looking relatively fresh, eh?
Our nice "dedicated" bike lane continues.
Mid-morning we cross an invisible line out of the Province of Quebec and into the Province of Ontario.
Also notice that our dedicated bike lane fades into a dedicated shoulder of the road. Not quite as nice, but still works well.
I'm back "home" in Ontario. But I've never actually visited this part of the Province, that has been my home for more than half my life. This segment of our journey is all quite new for me as well as Mark.
Notice our bike trail officially changes names from Route Verde to The Waterfront Trail.
And lots of waterfront we shall see for the next 11 days.
Our official bike path changes it's form frequently. Here we are on another dedicated path through the city of Cornwall.
Many thanks to this homeowner who created a feast in their backyard for the eyes of us cyclists. The folks of Cornwall, Ontario know their flowers.
One of several key bridges crossing the St Lawrence River and connecting the USA and Canada.
Take a good look at the map, because for some reason I didn't take any pictures of these islands.
But picture more nice bike trails and you'll have the general idea.
Showers conveniently located in building on left. You can use all the hot water you want for 25 cents per 3 minutes.
I awoke in the morning to the photo above. No photo editing involved. The morning glowed golden.
Pedalling southwest on August 9, Day 3 of our trip, from Morrisburg along the St Lawrence.
Good example as to why our bike route designated as the Warerfront Trail.
Just ahead of us is the village of Iroquois, where we purchased food at a convenience store that would constitute what could loosely be defined as our breakfast.
Just about ten minutes after our breakfast stop, I had my one and only flat tire of the entire trip. My trailer tire was punctured by a huge construction size staple.
Beginning our pedal along the 1,000 Island Parkway. A Cadillac trail through hours of groomed parklands.
For some reason I don't have photos of our 3rd night campground at Landon Bay Centre, near Gananoque, Ontario, advertised as an "ecological outdoor experience." Not sure why. But I did hear hungry wolves howling and moving through the woods during the night. If we would have been eaten we would have definitely become part of an ecological experience; a circle of life type thing.
But after 106 km of pedalling we slept well. We were in the bike seats for 6 hours and 18 minutes. Our day's total trip time was about 12 hours.
Sights along the way on August 10, Day 4.
Outdoor workshop of a very creative local artisan.
Reminds me of "How to Train A Dragon."
We crossed the drawbridge at Kingston. This is about our halfway point for today's ride.
Our route today has taken us through Gananoque, Thousand Island Region, Kingston, Bath, Sandhurst Shores, and Conway.
As the afternoon lingered on, the sky in the west became increasingly dark. Very obvious thunderstorm clouds heading our way. But I said to Brother Mark, "I know this region. That storm over there will blow past before we reach it." I was so confident.
Fifteen minutes later were seeking cover under some thickly leafed Maple Trees while water fell and thunder crashed. We checked and kind of repacked our gear, doing our best to protect it against the deluge in the making.
After waiting about 20 minutes, it was obvious the rain was not just a quick pass over. Also obvious that we were getting very wet and very hungry anyway. Also becoming a little concerning that there are probably no food services available between here and our campground, or at our campground. This is a beautiful, but not highly populated or serviced area.) Finding supper was becoming a concern.
As we pedaled along in the rain, worrying about our growing calorie deficit, an Ontario Provincial Police car (The OPP; Ontario's version of an American State Trooper) pasted us and pulled over in front of us, and flagged us to stop.
I pulled up to the patrol car window, wondering if there was a law about pedaling through a storm soaking wet.
The officer grinned and asked, "Where are you heading?" We told him of our crazy trip. Turns out he was a cyclist and always stopped to talk to us Pedalers. We asked him about places to eat; restaurants or even convenience stores, none of which seemed to be found.
He sighed and informed us that there is no food to find between here our campground in Adolphustown. We sighed and pedaled on.
Fortunately, the nice Officer was wrong. We came upon a little country store built on the front of a house near Adolphustown. The nice lady operating it was biz smart. She sells all the snacky stuff as well as basic groceries and hot coffee and tea. She got a corner on the market for about 100 km (62 miles). And we got packaged sandwiches and chocolate milk and potato chips to carry through the rain to our campground. (And donuts for breakfast tomorrow.)
And so we pedal on.
It was pouring buckets with substantial winds by the time we reached our campground around dusk, soaked to the bone.
We were assigned to Site 5. Apart from our presence, this beautiful town park and campground seemed deserted. The prospect of setting up camp in the middle of a soaking storm was daunting.
When we pedaled across the park to our campsite, we noticed a pavilion; the type of tent you might have a wedding reception in. Despite the downpour, the ground under the large canopy was dry. So we ate our supper there as we dreaded stepping into the rain to set up our tents.
And then I had a brilliant idea: Why not set up our little tents under the big tent? I called the lady at the front gate and asked permission. She said, "Sure."
So we set up our tents in the tent. Found our ways to the shower. Washed off the sunscreen, sweat, and road grit.
We delightfully climbed into our tents and fell asleep quickly listening to the rain and wind pound the tent above our tents after our 91.5 km (57 mi) day which found us pedaling for almost 6 hours since we left Landon Bay Centre almost 10 hours ago.
As morning fills the sky we find ourselves survivors of the storm.
"I'm just a poor wayfarin' stranger, a travelling through this land of woe......" (Thought every adventure needs some kind of soundtrack. And movie soundtracks, by definition, don't have to even relate to the movie, necessarily.)
You would enjoy a visit at Adolphustown Loyalist Park. Note the mighty St Lawrence River a stone's throw away in the background.
We pedal towards the exit of the Adolphustown Loyalist (a reference to the pro-British, Anti-American sentiment in these parts during the American Revolution, or War for Independence, depending on which side you are cheering for) Park on this very overcast Tuesday morning, August 11, Day 5.
Adolphustown Loyalist Park is also the home of the United Empire Loyalist Centre. The pro-British heritage oozes from this place.
Just a few minutes down the road from our campground we take our place in line for the Glenora Ferry which will float us across a bay, saving us the trouble of swimming across it with our bikes.
This Ferry service is free and provided year round by the Ontario Ministry of Transportation and Prince Edward County. (I suspect it is more economically efficient to run this Ferry, than build a huge bridge.)
The ride takes about 15 minutes.
Ferry Boat pulling into our east shore dock.
This is a really cool looking biker posing studly for the camera.
This biker is pretty cool too. But not as cool as the other biker in the previous photo.
Found breakfast in Picton after successful Ferry crossing.
But this picture is actually the McDonald's in Picton where we (once again) took advantage of their $1 Any Size Drink Sizzling Summer Deal and filled up our water bottles with good cold liquids. I prefer the ice tea. Bro Mark prefers Diet Coke.
Saw this sign and thought we'd try to make a few bucks off Mark's equipment.
No takers.
Typical view from my bike on this very warm summer day.
Yes it is.
For most of our trip between Montreal and Oakville (west of Toronto) we kept crisscrossing these Canadian National Railway tracks.
This photo is unique in that it was a quick draw, point, and click shot. I heard the train coming, very close, and just pulled out my phone and pointed (Didn't even look at the screen) and touched the button. And, wow, I got this cool shot.
After 98 km (61 miles) of pedalling for 6 and a half hours over a span of almost 11 hours (Got to stop to eat and pee, ya know), we arrive at the East Coburg Campground. A beautiful privately operated park nicely designed with respect to the beautiful forest hosting us.
We came in at dusk, as usual, and were motivated to set up camp quickly as the National Insect of Canada, the Mosquito, patriotically came out to greet us.
After setting up camp, we bought pre-packaged sandwiches and pretzels from the camp store for supper, which we ate after our showers.
View from our campsite. Enjoyed falling asleep to the sound of this creek.
We drift off to sleep pleasantly exhausted by the 14.8 kph (9.2 mph) pace we sustained throughout the day.
Breaking camp next morning.
I must admit one aspect of bike touring/camping that doesn't thrill me is having to unpack every night and re-pack every morning. Boring. Everything you see here is all my gear (Minus my bike and trailer, of course). On the last two camping nights of the trip, I started figuring out a way to deal with this mess more efficiently. I'll have a better skill set next trip.
As soon as I got this stuff packed and loaded we pulled out for Day 6, August 12, of the big ride.
First Stop: Tim Horton's Donuts (and etc) in Coburg. (Our campground was slightly east of Coburg.)
After topping off our Carbo Tanks at Tim's, we pedalled on to the town of Port Hope.
This massive railway bridge hearkens back to the age of the Iron Horse.
We also managed to get separated and lost at this point. Somehow I lost sight of Mark, and he lost sight of me. Mark went back to the starting point and got back on our route using his mapbook. I googled mapped my way forward and caught up with Mark at an intersection just a bit up the hill and down the road.
After several additional "getting lost" incidents, I'm getting used to this experience, and not giving way to panic each time it happens.
Mark leads the way out of Port Hope under the tracks.
For most of today we are pedalling along the shores of Lake Ontario.
My fearless (but not rear-less :-) leader.
Good pavement. Off the beaten path. Virtually no traffic. Hard to improve on parts of the Waterfront Trail Bike Route.
And almost impossible to improve on the scenery.
Here's that Cool Biker Dude atop of an old wooden bridge across the CN Train Tracks.
Here's the Almost As Cool Bike Dude on the same bridge.
I'm loving this!
Believe it or not, this wilderness looking trail is right in the middle of a modern housing subdivision in the town of Newcastle.
Brother Mark pedals around this corner and out of sight. I am about 15 seconds behind him. What is about to happen next is without question for me the beginning of the most terrifying 15 minutes of my life (so far). I'm super serious. Read on......
If you were standing here taking this picture, you see Brother Mark emerge from the wooded area and start accelerating (naturally due to gravity) down this short, but much much steeper than it looks in this photo, decline. And you can see something in this picture which Mark didn't see, in about the middle of the photo, a small looking bump, mostly veiled in shadow; which is also larger in life than in picture.
I didn't see what actually happened. I can only theorize.
But when I emerged from those woods just moments after Mark, he was laying face down, motionless, on his stomach and face, with his head twisted to the left, his right arm under his chest, his left arm pointing away from his body, and both legs sticking slightly upward and backwards through the frame of his bike which was laying sideways on top of him across his back and waist. From my vantage point at the top of the little valley, he looked dead.
I instinctively slowed, which is why I didn't collide with the bump across the trail. The bump was positioned "just so" at the base of the descent that it almost "catches" and grabs the front tire of the the bike.
On the left hand side of the photo is a retaining wall which actually accentuates some beautiful homes and the gardens in their backyards. They had caught my eyes before I came out of the woods. A pleasant view, but a dangerous distractions. Later on, Mark mentions that he too was looking at this sight as he emerged from the woods.
I suspect Mark hit the bump at a speed which impacted his front tire and resulted in a loss of control. Mark and his bike were sprawled on the trail, almost in the bushes, on the right hand side, just beyond the photo. His bike trailer had snapped off (as it was designed to do) and skidded across the trail, throwing off one of his saddle bags in the process.
I cannot describe the horror and sense of dread that crashed upon me in that moment I saw him there.
At the bottom of the dip, I dismounted and leaned my bike against the retaining wall.
Knelling down beside Mark, I saw and heard him breathing in hard, intense, short gasps. Except for the breathing he was motionless. His eyes were closed. He had blood starting to dip across his forehead. And then the most frightening moment: He did not respond to my rather loud pleas for some kind of acknowledgment. He was unconscious. I yelled, screamed. No response.
I grabbed my cell phone. Dialed 911. Explained to dispatcher what happened and requested medical assistance. But I have very little idea of where I am in regards to providing co-ordinates for an emergency vehicle. I was in Newcastle. On a bike trail that runs along the backyards of some very expensive homes. So while the Dispatcher patiently and encouragingly waits, I google map my location. I notice at this moment that I am down to 18% power on my iPhone. It normally shuts itself off at about this level.
But it didn't. I describe as best I can to the Dispatcher where I am in reference to the closest street and intersection. I also try to describe to her what I think might be the best way for emergency medical respondents to reach us. We are not on a regular street. I'm feeling way out of my league and almost out of my mind by this point.
But just as I am about to firm up our coordinates with Dispatch, Mark groans and comes to life. A strange and awful and wonderful all at the same time sound. I told him I'm calling an ambulance. His first words are something like, "No way. Don't need it. No." My dying phone is on speaker and the Dispatcher is listening in. She senses my dilemma and suggests, "I'll keep this incident open for awhile. Call me right back if you decide you need help."
Mark is now conscious and breathing normally. I encourage him to lay still. I'm still wondering if he might not have some broken bones or something. He seems very much ok with remaining still and quiet, but very much awake.
After a few minutes, he says he thinks he can move ok. So very slowly he crawls out from under his bike. No flinches or grimaces of pain. I'm amazed. I was expecting some broken bones.
I help him crawl a few feet over to the shadow of the retaining wall, and lean him against it in an upright sitting position. Mark has a puzzled look on his face. He looks at me, and in complete seriousness says, "Where are we?" I reply, "By the side of our bike trail." And the conversation proceeds:
Mark: Bike trail?
Me: Yes.
Mark: Where are we?
Me: I just told you.
Mark: No. I mean, what are we doing here?
Me: What do you mean?
Mark: We are on a bike trip?
(Now I am freaking out. Again.)
Me: What's your name?
Mark: Mark.
Me: Who am I?
Mark: Kent. My brother.
Me: Who are you married to?
Mark: Carolyn.
Me: Where do you work?
Mark: Yavipai College in Prescott, Arizona.
(I'm starting to feel a bit better and then Mark asks....)
Mark: Where are we?
Me: On a bike trip.
Mark: No. I mean where are we, geographically?
Me: Newcastle.
Mark: No. What country are we in?
(I'm freaking out again.)
Me: Canada.
Mark: So we are in Canada on a bike trip?
Me: Yes.
Mark: Give me a minute. I think this is starting to come back to me. Slowly.
It took about 10 to 15 minutes for Mark's memory to fully return. I encouraged him to think aloud. He slowly started to piece together his memory starting from the big picture (bike trip in Canada) to the immediate situation (Why we are sitting by the trail with blood on his face).
Fifteen minutes can felt like an eternity.
While Mark is looking for the data in his brain that was obviously knocked off the shelf when he crashed, I call my wife, Deb, just because I need to talk to someone. I think I was dealing with my own psychological trauma by this point. I couldn't talk to Deb but for only a few moments because I didn't want my phone to die from no battery power.
We sit beside the trail for about 20 more minutes. Mark is looking, sounding and feeling somewhat better.
(Interesting note: An elderly lady in house #43 has been watching over us from a distance. She actually saw Mark's crash. I went over to the retaining wall and fence which separates her property from the trail corridor. She was very nice. Said that if we needed anything she would help, etc. She also told me that Mark was not the first victim of the Crash Valley Bump. Apparently a young lady hit the same bump a few months ago and was in a coma for several weeks! Even while Mark and I were sitting here over the past hour, several groups of local youngsters on bikes pedaled by; they were all very careful to slow down for "The Bump." They truly "knew the territory.")
We agree to test our mobility. I suggest we walk our bikes up the trail out of Crash Valley. So we properly attach and secure all Mark's wayward equipment (Saddle bag and water bottle and trailer) to his bike. We walk up the incline where our trail becomes a wide sidewalk in this upscale Newcastle neighborhood.
I suggest we promptly find a place to recharge my waning cell phone. I am, of course, nervous that perhaps Mark may have less obvious injuries that might require an emergency phone call.
We mount our bikes and start pedaling down the sidewalk trail. Mark seems very steady.
Just a few minutes up the road we come upon an upscale real estate sales office prompting a new upscale development on the Newcastle Habour and shores of Lake Ontario. Both of which are only a stone's throw from us.
I go inside the sales office and briefly explain our "adventure" of the past hour and ask if I can plug in my cell phone somewhere. They are kind and obliging. When Mark enters, they are genuinely concerned about him. The blood on his forehead and arms seem to invite the concern of others. So while I plug my phone in and sit myself on the floor beside the outlet, Mark uses the restroom (or, washroom, as we say here in Canada) to clean his wounds.
I am somewhat relieved when he comes out of the washroom. His arms had only very superficial scrapes. And his forehead looks fine. What I thought might be a deep vertical cut right between his eyes, is hardly a scratch. Head wounds love to bleed dramatically, so it seems.
While my phone is plugged in, I call Deb to give her an update. I learn that her sister, Lynn, who lives and works in Toronto, is already in her company's van and heading towards the Highway ("Interstate") to rescue us. I am deeply moved by her concern. But I have to ask Deb to ask Lynn to "stand down." Mark says he will have nothing to do with a rescue.
Once my phone is up to a 25% charged level, we head out again. It is around 4 pm and I am getting hungry. I also think that maybe it would be a good thing to stop and eat and find out if Mark's stomach would hold a meal. The nice ladies at the sales office told us about an upscale hamburger joint at the marina just around the corner.
The marina restaurant was delightful. We sat at the table on the patio by the water's edge and ate our burgers and fries. Was nice to cool off and refuel.
Mark didn't barf. That made me feel better.
So off we pedal.
We have about 42 km (26 mi) to go to our Motel 6 destination in Whitby. Good thing we have the extended northern daylight hours giving us light until about 9:30 pm.
So we begin pedaling toward Whitby. Photo proof that Mark indeed lives.
Our trail takes on my different forms over the next two hours. Here our trail is paved and winds through an electric power corridor. We call them hydro fields here in Ontario. Don't let the word hydro, which usually refers to water, confuse you. In Canada we call our electricity "hydro." For a long long time virtually all our electricity was generated by hydroelectric dams. Thus, we came to call our electricity "hydro." Nowadays, most of our electricity is produced by nuclear fission. But we don't call our electricity "nuclear" or "fizzy." Go figure.
Somewhere about this time, Mark realizes that his bike is more beat up than he is. Both tires are slightly bent. They wobble untrue as they rotate. The rear wheel is so out of whack that it is rubbing and catching on the rear brake pads. After some fiddling, Mark simply dismantles the rear brakes. Not really an enhanced safety feature. This wobbling continues to get more severe the further we go. By the time we get to our destination, his bike will be almost non-functional and un-ridable.
At one point our trail gets really rough. Almost un-usable for our "road bikes" with their skinny tires. It seems to me that this was probably one of the worse segments of trail we encountered. But it was still passable.
Just about when we run out of daylight, we arrive at our Motel 6 in Whitby. I have no pictures because my phone has virtually no power left.
This night in a motel is great timing for us. This is the first motel we utilize on our trip. We are most ready for real showers and real beds and access to a washing machine for our very sticky and smelly bike clothes.
We take our bikes into the motel and up the elevator to our room. We prioritize our evening activities: First we shower. Then we walk across the motel parking lot to a nice Kelsey's restaurant where we eat something that I can't remember now. I probably had a hamburger!
We also plan our strategy to keep this bike trek alive and moving forward. Since Mark's bike is in serious need of repair, we decide that in the morning he will wobble on his bike a few kilometers to a local bike shop and hope they can fix his wheels. While Mark holds his bike's hand(dle bar) during its surgery (repair), I will load my pockets with coins and do some major laundry in the motel.
Now we must confess that at this time we agree to cheat regarding our trip. Our next day requires us to pedal about 100 km (60 mi) across and through Toronto, Canada's largest city and metropolitan area with a population of well over 3 million. And since we will be delayed until about Noon due to bike repairs, we will be pedaling through Toronto during evening rush hour.
So we add all this up, including the fact that our Crash Event has left both of us emotionally as well as physically fatigued, and we decide that when Mark gets back from the bike shop in the morning, we will simply hop on the light rail Ontario Go Train and ride across the city to Bronte Creek Provincial Park in the city of Oakville (part of the Greater Toronto metro area).
So with full tummies, clean bodies, and phones plugged in and charging, we drift off to sleep.
There are no pictures of our ride through Whitby or our messy motel room because I think I was mentally and emotionally fried by this point.
We have successfully completed Day 6, and pedaled 95 km (59 mi).
This picture was taken by a nice tourist at the Bronte Go Station on Wednesday, late afternoon, August 13. Prior to this moment, Mark spent the morning pedaling to a bike shop in Whitby for repairs of his two bent wheels. I spent the morning de-toxing our dirty laundry. Mark got back to the motel around noon. We rapidly packed our gear. We then pedalled to a few km (less than two miles) to the Whitby Go Train Station.
I never travelled by Go Train before. A delightful experience. Like a very clean and smooth above ground subway ride. They even provided a special area in each car for bikes and their riders to sit. Almost a private room. Classy, eh?
About an hour after boarding, we arrived at the Bronte Station. This ride magically transported us 100 km through the Greater Toronto Area and deposited us in the delightful suburb of Oakville. A pleasant middle to upscale neighbourhood where I think you could walk down a street alone at night and need not be fearful.
Exiting the train station (as show in the photo above) we are only about 10 km (6 miles) from our destination, the Bronte Creek Provincial Park and Campground. But we make two side trips before heading that way.
First we google and find directions to the nearest Canadian Tire Store (A great "department store" in Canada that leans a little more towards the automotive, hardward, and recreational side of life. They sell a lot more than just tires. You get just about anything at Canadian Tire that you can get at WalMart).
I purchase a small piece of lightweight metal shelving; about a half meter (2.5 ft) long, about 7 cm (4 inches) wide and some plastic cable ties. I also buy a new odometer for my bike. (I think mine got too wet in our storm the other night just outside of Adolphustown. It quit working for me yesterday after the crash incident.)
Once outside the store, Bro Mark helps me create and install a "rack extension platform" on my bike rack. This extends the length of my bike rack base over the rear tire and provides a surface for my tent and sleeping bag which have been tending to sag off the back of the rack and flirt with rubbing against my rear tire. The experiment is a great success. I think I should patent this brilliant idea. The whole upgrade cost less than $10 :-)
Our next stop is McDonald's Restaurant where we cool off (The day is quite warm) and re-fuel. I order and eat my first Angus Burger and am actually impressed. I'm not a huge McDonald's fan, but I must admit this was a good burger.
Now we head for our campground. We make one more en route stop at a convenience store where we purchase fluids, packaged supper, and fluids and food for breakfast tomorrow.
While Mark and I have sat around travelling on a train all day, my oldest son, James, an avid fitness trainer (As in he leads and coaches several Spin Classes each week for Goodlife Gyms; actually gets paid for it.), is pedalling his way from London (Ontario) towards our campground. A mere 162+ km (over 100 miles).
He left his home this morning. We know he's somewhere on his way here. James will be joining us for the next several days. Our wives, Deb and Carolyn, are very glad about this "because James knows CPR." Thus we shall forever be considered "old men," eh?
And here we are in our Bronte Creek Provincial Park campsite. Once more proof that Mark is still alive.
These Provincial (State, as they say in American) campgrounds are nice. Flat camping sites. Washrooms, showers nearby. Not too expensive. And -- dig this -- vending machines with Dr Pepper. I so love roughing it in the wild.
James shows up in an hour or so, just before the sun starts sinking low in the west. Amazes how he can ride so far and so fast in one day, with full equipment load, and seem so refreshed and happy. We all settle in for the night, getting our rest for the sunrise and Day 14 of our ride.
We are up before the sun. We broke camp and pedalled south through Oakville heading towards the Lake Ontario shoreline. We soon stopped at Tim Horton's for breakfast.
Here you see James and I getting ready to continue the trek after our meal. Notice his contagious smile. (One big reason I'm really glad he came on this segment of the ride. He's just really a positive, fun guy to hang around.). Notice me. I look grumpy. But I'm not. Really. I just look like a scary, grumpy getting-old type man. Why is that? I am actually very happy in this photo. I think perhaps I need to work on presenting a more joyful persona. But you know, my wife has been telling me for four decades, "Please let me know when you are excited about something so I'll know. It's hard to tell." Maybe I need therapy or something, eh?
Typical of our bike path through Oakville. You can't see it, but Lake Ontario comes right up to the backyards of the houses on the left.
The day is substantially overcast. Rain threatens. It will do more than threaten in just a few minutes.
Our Waterfront Trail bike path takes us right to the water's edge along this beautiful colonnade along Lake Ontario. That's Mark and James.
I love water.
This is an elevator bridge, kind of like a drawbridge, that lifts vertically lifts up the road horizonally so that the Ocean liners can access the huge harbour that services the industrial city of Hamilton. The "super highway," the Queen Elizabeth Expressway, has a huge bridge arching over the harbour opening. But since we are not allowed on the QEW, we wait a few minutes for the ship to pass.
And there she goes.
Our bike path along his western edge of Lake Ontario is like a super highway for bikes. Lots of room. Notice the puddles. By this point we have been rained on big time. Soaked. But it is also incredibly hot. So the rain is a relief. But it is so warm and humid it doesn't really cool us down.
We stop for lunch along the trail at a very classy and classic burger joint. Notice James is smiling. Mark looks, well, strange. Perhaps James takes happy pills? Maybe Mark is constipated. Who knows?
Our Bicycle Cycle Caravan outside the burger joint. James is still smiling. So am I. Really. You just can't see me on the other side of the camera.
Here we are many km (mi) down the trail. I think we are in St. Catharines. The rain has stopped and it is really hot. We have been pedalling most of the day since the hamburger joint along the service road paralleling and right next to the QEW (equivalent to an American Interstate Highway). While pedalling there we were rained on, getting coated with road grit which stuck to our sweaty, sunscreened bodies. We are having an adventure; but are we having fun yet?? (Experiences such as this remind me why I live in the rural countryside.)
In this picture, Mark's bike is torn apart. He is having multiple flat tires throughout the day. Like lots of them. Something is really crazy about that. But he and we can't figure it out. Checking the tire for implanted thorns, road debris, and the usual problems, etc doesn't seem to solve the problem.
We have also been frustrated today by the difficulty we've had reading the map and the trail signs. The directional signage for this section of the trip is very poor; as in, there are not enough signs telling you when you need to turn left or right. Our Waterfront Trail is just one of many local trails that crisscross and combine frequently. We've often found ourselves on a trail that wasn't our trail. Ggggrrrr.
But the trail itself is usually great. Wouldn't you like to ride on this path?
And even though we are in the thick of a major metropolitan area, some sections of the trail resemble jungles. (No trick photography used here. This is just what happens when you are pedaling through a jungle and just point and click with your iPhone.) I like to imagine this is James making the jump into hyper-space.
We kept pedaling and pedaling. By the end of our day, we will have pedaled 124 km (77 mi).
That wasn't the plan.
Something happened and I am mostly to blame.
In this photo we are on the Niagara Parkway segment of the Waterfront Trail; but I'm really too tired to appreciate it. We are literally within a few kilometers of our Motel (Yay! Our second and last motel on this trip). But something is about to go wrong.
But I'm not to blame for this: Another mysterious flat tire. I believe Mark is on the last of our extra emergency spare tube supply. We are all very hot and very tired.
After the flat is fixed we head out. It is my responsibility to google our motel and lead the way to a night of rest. But something happened with me and google. Google and I were confused. Somehow we kept going the wrong way. Several times. Soon it was pitch dark.
We were literally pedaling in circles around the town of Niagara Falls. If we hadn't already been on the road for almost 12 hours and about 100 km (62 mi), we could have enjoyed the mistake and laughed about it. But we aren't laughing. It speaks much of the individual characters qualities of my son and brother that they didn't yell and scream or attack me.
And then the bad gone worst. Not only were we lost and fatigued, but Mark had another flat tire. We had no more replacement tubes. So Mark would now have to walk his bike whatever distance it might be to our motel.
Tired and depleted, we stopped at a McDonald's restaurant and ate some food and consumed some milk shakes. Then we gave google another try. One thing we did different was ask Google maps for directions by car, instead of bike. This saved us. The 5 km (3 mi) to our motel seemed clearer.
Mark and James started walking together through the street light lit neigbourhoods of Niagara Falls while talking philosophy and sociology. (They do this about every chance they get.) I rode very very slow near or along side them. I didn't think my legs could walk. As we neared our hopeful motel, I rode ahead and scouted the way. I found the Niagara Falls North Super 8 motel.
At 11:00 pm we checked into our room. We weren't talking too much. Just too tired. We agreed to get up in the morning and patch bike tubes. We were asleep within minutes of our showers.
The next morning we were disappointed that the motel did not have laundry facilities. The closest such service was too far away to be practical.
So we put on our rinsed-out-in-the-sink or just plain stinky jerseys and spandex pants and patched our tubes in an assembly line type fashion. James managed to read a few chapters of his Greek mythology book.
Mark concluded that there might be something inherently wrong with his bike tire. I suggested he use a spare "folded/unfolding tire" that I carried just for such moments when a new tire might be required. It's a brand new compactly packed tire designed for occasions such as this. It worked. With a fresh tube and new tire, the wheel held air.
Mark then spent about 20 minutes fixing the rear derailleur on my bike. (The derailleur is the mechanism that moves the chain up and down over and onto the various gears on the rear wheel. The selection of gears makes the it easier to pedal uphill and easier to pedal faster on level or declining grades.) Somewhere, somehow yesterday my derailleur must have got bent. By the time we got to the motel last night it was hardly working at all. So Mark bent and adjusted and fiddled until it did what it was supposed to do.
By this time high noon approaches. The motel management graciously allowed us an extra hour to get all of this done. So we once again loaded our gear and pedaled down the road a short distance in search of a Wonder of the World known as Niagara Falls.
In a few minutes we found the Falls and another miracle; a Tim Horton's restaurant overlooking the Falls. We ate and talked and gazed out at the Falls. A delightful morning. I was so glad I wasn't voted off the Island last night for my dysfunctional navigational skills and am now allowed to continue with my friends on the journey.
Locking our bikes outside Tim Horton's.
An essential Niagara Falls photo. Notice we are all, even me, mostly smiling.
I've been here many times in the years I have lived in Southern Ontario. But this site is magically impressive. I never cease to be amazed by the sight, sound, and smell of the place.
Yet another essential Niagara Falls photo.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Today is a very short riding day. Only about 45 km (28 mi). And it is along the most beautiful and easy to follow trail on the entire ride. I got to hand it to the Niagara Parks Commission for creating the best and longest park and bike trail perhaps in the whole world.
A few kilometers heading upstream on the bike path following the Niagara River, nature called. I needed a restroom. But none seemed to be in sight. I pedaled by this old restored one room school, now a museum, with a sign out front reading, "Museum. Water. Restrooms. Open." I parked my bike and went inside. I was offered water and directions to the restrooms "out back." I wondered if I would find a pioneer "Outhouse." But no. Actually wonderfully air conditioned restrooms. I didn't want to leave it.
When I got back inside the 100+ years old one room school I was handed a bottle of ice cold water and invited to look around. It was a treat. (By this time James had wondered where the heck I had gone. He came back and found me and the museum. Did Deb and Carolyn pay him to watch over me like this? :-)
The one room school house museum prominently displayed three vintage bikes. Two of them were made mostly out of wood. No chains. No brakes. No inflated tires. Made me grateful for the technology I was riding on today.
I can hardly imagine anyone actually riding one of these. They look dangerous. Yet in their day they were used for long races over rough and muddy dirt roads. I don't think I would have been a cyclist had I been born back then.
More of our beautiful trail. Had lots of shade today to take the edge off the extreme heat. Apparently we are riding on some of the hottest days of our Ontario summer.
We crossed many creeks, actually small rivers, flowing into the Niagara River.
You see James on the trail. The Niagara Parkway two lane road to his left. Just across the road on the left is the Niagara River.
That "60" speed sign is 60 km per hour. That about 35 mph. This is a slow and easy region where autos and bikes cruise gently along at a Sunday afternoon pace.
When I saw this building, my imagination went to the world of Harry Potter. With just a tinge of "dark," some vines crawling up the walls, and perhaps a few candles eerily flickering in the windows, this could be part of Wogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But it isn't. Ironically, it is the Niagara Christian Collegiate High School.
Another lazy river finding its way to the Falls.
I can almost believe I am in Louisiana near the bayou looking at this.
Makes me want to catch and fry and eat a Crawdad (Crayfish).
Rather sobering, eh? Recovery is what happens when a Rescue is no longer achievable. Notice the sign on the side of the building: New Members Wanted. Chilling reality.
We have made our way to the western edge of the town of Fort Erie. We are a long way from Texas. But it looks like Texas has come to us.
I was really hungry. I ordered the house specialty: The Texas Burger. I actually ate the whole thing. It was so good. But it will take me three days to digest it. Notice the scoop of coleslaw on the plate. That makes it a balanced meal, wouldn't you say?
This is the internationally famous Peace Bridge linking Fort Erie, Canada, with Buffalo, New York.
I was an 18 wheeler long haul trucker for 8 years. I crossed this bridge hundreds of times. Often times I was parked in line on this bridge for hours and hours.
It is a delight to see it from this angle on a bicycle.
The Waterfront Trail is a network of bike trails created and maintained by many different towns, counties, and regions. We now leave the Niagara Park Commission trail and begin the Friendship Trail. Most of this trail is nicely reclaimed abandoned railway right of way.
But this part of the trail is not a railway. This is a super-sized sidewalk taking us by the 100-200 year old homes beautifully kept throughout Fort Erie.
This is no longer the Niagara River. The River drains Lake Erie, which you see in the photo.
This is a multi-use trail enjoyed by bikers and pedestrians.
Welcome to our day's destination, Windmill Point Campground. James christened it "Crazy Town." Why? Because.......
......We arrived on a day designated "Halloween In August." Almost everyone was costumed for the occasion. Even the staff registering us. Looking around, one could easily imagine strolling through a busy movie studio.
We paid our fee and where told we could "Just go find a fire-pit that isn't being used and set up your camp there." We did. Felt like we were camping out in the middle of a grass parking lot. A majority of the campers have essentially permanent trailers and have been spending the summers here for decades.
Once camp was established, we showered. Then Mark and I processed our dirty clothes in the laundry room while James, I think, went trick or treating, dressed as, can you believe it? A cyclist!
At 8 pm the Halloween celebration really took off with a live band of guys from the days of my teen years when dinosaurs roamed the earth, playing music popular before most of the campers here were born. They were musically good and they played for almost four hours, well past the "Quiet Time Lights Out" bell. Unfortunately, they only had one hour's worth of musical material. So they played the same set, four times. I kept count by noting how many times they played "Sweet Home Alabama."
Eventually we feel asleep wondering why Alabama didn't want Neil Young around.
The sun rose and Day 10 (August 16) began.
We ate breakfast next morning at the campground snack bar. This was our view from our breakfast patio.
The campground was once a large and deep gravel pit. The owners have done a great job creating a very family oriented vacation spot.
All across Canada and the United States a growing number of decommissioned railway right of ways, like a large segment of our Friendship Trail, are becoming super trails for bikers and hikers.
For about 100 meters (about 100 yards) as our railway trail passes through the town of Port Colborne it becomes artistically reconstructed as a train track. I thought this very creative and a respectable nod to this historical significance of the railway's key role in Southern Ontario during the mid 1800's to mid 1900's.
This box of books posted by a tree in someone's front yard is a Free Library. My sister-in-law, Carolyn, champions "free libraries" in her home state of Arizona. I had never seen them anywhere else than Arizona. But I find one right here in Ontario. People donate new or used books to "the box." Anyone can borrow a book and return it whenever. All free. All on the honour system. And all "community-powered." How cool is that?!
A very typical and increasing frequent moment on this trip. I call this photo, "Where the heck are we?"
Once off the rail trail, we are once again on low traffic roads. Most of our roads are essentially "beach roads" that provide a means for people to access their homes or cottages. These roads are winding and usually hard to follow, especially when they intersect with other cottage roads. Very difficult at times to discern which way to turn and which road to follow.
Beautiful vistas abound.
One of the few road segments that wasn't paved. But it was very short. Also a rare moment when somehow I was actually in front of these two speedy cyclists.
The lawn on the left that stretches down to the water's edge is not a public park, but actually owned by the cottage (which you can't see) just outside the right side of the photo. This was common all along our trail.
No bike ride would be complete without an official Turtle Rescue.
I do these rescues all summer long. Most of my Turtle Rescues occur when I am driving down the road in my car and spot a cognitively impaired turtle (which, in all respect to the species, I believe they all are) sitting in the middle of the road. I stop my car and get the small plastic snow shovel I carry in my trunk at all times for just such occasions. I gentle scoop and lift the turtle to the side of the road he appears to be very slowly heading.
This guy is quite small. I've rescued several turtles this summer than were almost two feet across in diameter. They were so heavy I couldn't actually lift them. They were gently pushed to the side of the road. They didn't appreciate the assistance. The larger turtles, some of the snapping variety, actually took chunks out of my shovel.
In total this summer I have rescued (i.e. saved from most likely squashings under a car wheel) 12 turtles.
But shortly after rescuing the turtle, I needed rescuing. Allow me to tell the story.
It is super hot today. High humidity. Temps in the upper 30's C (upper 90's F). Understand that "dry heat," such as we have often encountered on rides in the American Southwest, is hot. But in dry heat, the body can naturally sweat and cool itself. High humidity conditions make it difficult for the body to sweat. The body cannot in those conditions naturally cool itself.
This was my problem today. I wasn't cooling off naturally. I get getting hotter and hotter. I was aware that I was feeling yucky, but realize now that I wasn't fully aware of just how over-heated I was getting.
I was getting slower and slower. Not just my pedaling speed. But also my alertness.
James, who I think has a real concern for my well-being, and probably a promise to his mother to watch over me and bring me back from this trip alive, is staying close by. He has googled "heat stroke symptoms." He concludes that I'm not quite having a heat stroke, but I am definitely manifesting the symptoms of "heat exhaustion." That's what happens before you have the debilitating or deadly heat stroke.
I have to agree. I am operating now in a fuzzy hazy dazey mode. Kind of like life in the 1960's :-)
In another miracle type moment, we round a curve on our beach road that is also lined by lush, huge trees, and come upon a quaint little ice cream store. I go inside and purchase a ginger ale. I do not feel like eating a thing, and my stomach warns me not to. I sit in front of a fan, pitying the tourists on the other side of the room downwind from me.
I cool off a bit, but still feel very hot and unwell.
Mark and James, who are eating ice cream on the patio, have been conspiring in a benevolent manner. They have discovered that Turkey Point Provincial Park and Campground is just a few kilometers (miles) away.
Given my generally poor condition, and the unwise notion of me attempting to pedal another 45 km (28 mi) in the heat of the day, the way I am feeling, we decide to select Turkey Point Provincial Part and Campground as our destination of the day.
So we pedal a few more kilometers down the shoreline road. Arriving at the park we set up camp. I head for the shower. I take what is probably the longest, coolest, and most wonderful shower of my life. I feel the life returning to my body.
After my shower, around 2 pm in the afternoon, I stretch out in my little tent, and gaze up at the pine tree sky (as in the photo) and I fall asleep. It is still brutally warm, but if I lay still, it doesn't feel too bad. I gratefully fall asleep, giving thanks for the flexibility of my travelling buddies. Brother Mark took a nap this afternoon, too. But not James.
While we are sleeping, James, the human manifestation of energy and adventure, goes exploring on his bike. Ah, the perks of being young and healthy.
Around 4 pm, I am awakened as Jarvis announces from my cell phone that "You have a new message." I read it. It is James. He has discovered many fine things on his little explore. But significantly he has discovered a hamburger stand somewhere outside the Park, but not too far away. And he wants to bring supper back to our camp.
Of course we say "yes," and place our orders.
About a half hour later James appears with hamburgers, fries, onion rings, chicken tenders, cold drinks (beer for the adults; soda pop for me), etc. Wonderful meal.
As we nourish ourselves on bounty of highly processed simple carbohydrates and proteins, we discuss our travel plans. Cutting today short by about 45 km (28 miles) requires us to strategize as to how exactly we might organize the remaining two days of our journey.
We were supposed to end today in Port Burwell Provincial Park. But we didn't. So what are we going to do to make up our "lost" kms (miles)?
We decide to take our Port Burwell destination off our itinerary. Instead, we will head out tomorrow morning with James' home in London as our goal. Not a short ride. It will be about 120 km (74 mi). But the weatherperson says it should be a bit cooler tomorrow. Rain is actually in the forecast. By heading to London tomorrow, we keep our trip schedule on target (which means Mark will finish the trip in time to catch his plane back to Arizona).
Soon after this discussion and decision, Canada's National Insect, The Mosquito, patriotically appeared in full force. So we all fled to our tents agreeing to wake up at 5;00 am (0500) so as to get a good start on the day and get in some distance before the day heats up.
I have an interesting and funny memory of this night. As I lay in my tent, the sun sets and early twilight claims the sky. A pleasant moment. I am feel almost 100% better and can actually enjoy the moment. And then, in the far distance, someone fires a large caliber rifle. Its cannon-like sound echos in the still night air. And I find myself listening for the Capitol Anthem and looking for a projection in the sky identifying which Hunger Games contestants who have died today. I see none of our faces, so I drift to sleep.
It's pitch black when our alarms go off.
We crawl out of our sleeping bags and tents and very very quickly pack it all up and load it on our bikes, hoping we can get moving on our bikes before the mosquitoes drain all our blood (or we collapse with West Nile disease).
We've seen many "unique" sights on this trip. But as we pedal down the road looking for a place to eat breakfast, I think this is one of the most unique sights we have seen. Seems like we've come upon some renegade Minions.
Wonder if Gru knows where this guy is?
Mega Minion.
A few kilometers down the road we come upon Uncle's eating establishment. It looks just like a Tim Horton's, but actually better. A more standard type resturant. We fuel up on eggs, bacon, and hash browns, etc. The nice people working there even refilled my bicycle water bottles with ice tea, complete with the ice.
While eating, we watch the forecasted rain begin to fall. Not just sprinkling, mind you. Real rain.
So we hop on our bikes and for the first time in 11 days, turn our bikes northward away from the waters of Lake Erie towards the city of London.
We are blessed to have our own local and experienced guide for this portion of our ride -- James. With his previous experience pedalling in these parts, and his keen sense of direction, and his excellent skill with Google Maps, he takes us on a network of low traffic and beautiful country roads.
This is one such road.
About 20 minutes away from our breakfast stop, James realizes he left his cell phone recharging in the restaurant. So James points us north on a road and he double backs to get his phone. He got more exercise than Mark and I today.
Even on a cloudy, rain interrupted day, Southern Ontario is amazingly beautiful. Nearing the end of August I am awed by the depth of life and green at the peak of our growing season.
Pedaling down the road, I caught glimpse of these semi-mothballed trains tucked beside this building. These look like eventual contributions to some museum which someday will enshrine the contributions of these machines to a bygone era so crucial in opening up this big country.
On and on and on we pedaled Around 3:00 pm we get official notice of our day's destination.
The sun has come out and with the post rain humidty the temp spikes.
But we have the best creative response to hot weather......A celebration party with large milkshakes from the first McDonald's restaurant we encounter. (McDonald's is not sponsoring our trip. Honest. I've eaten at McDonald's more in this past week than I have in the past two years!)
But I got to wonder.....Why am I not using a straw?????
Please note how smiley we are all, at the same time. "Buddies......"
After reducing our internal body temps at McD's, we pedal the remaining distance to James house by way of the beautiful Thames River Parkway Trail that weaves it way along the long park hugging the Thames River. Such a pleasant alternative to the busy rush hour traffic just out of sight and a stone's throw away.
Here we have some "must get everyone in them" end of the long day ride and almost end of the whole trek photo.
Above we have the Father and the Son.
Here we have the Nephew and the Uncle.
Here we have the Occasionally Dynamic Duo.
As the evening sets, we shower, we eat, and we talk a bit, and then we sleep.
This concludes Day 12. We pedaled a significant 120 km.
The sun comes up and Day 13 commences.
During the previous evening, our expedition welcomed a new member for our final day of travelling.
Another son of mine, Bryan, arrived in London with his bicycle. He will pedal with us today to Goderich, on the shores of Lake Huron, and our final destination. It is also, very conveniently, the town in which he and his family live.
Bryan is no stranger to the Shelley Brother's Insane Cycling Adventures. In 2012 he had the courage (as did James) to join us for a segment of Route 66 from Ashfork, Arizona to Needles, California. A challenging 4 day trek across part of the largest desert region in North America. I think it took him these last three years to get over his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder created by spending those days with me and his Uncle.
Look closely at the bikes. The trailers are missing. Ok. I'll admit it. We are "cheating," a little, again.
This is our final day of pedaling. Tonight we are not camping, but enjoying the hospitality of Bryan and Steph in Goderich. We don't need most of our gear such as tents, sleeping bags, extra clothes, etc.
We will actually be returning to London (by car) the day after tomorrow, when I bring Mark back here to catch his shuttle bus to the Detroit airport.
So we have agreed to leave at James' home our tents, sleeping bags, extra clothing, and whatever items not needed to complete the last day of travel. No trailer. Lighter load.
We are heading towards the edge of the city limits traveling in a northwesterly direction.
We have seen over 1,200 km (740 mi) of assorted bike trails over the past 12 days. London trails are right up there with the best.
Mark and Bryan on a bridge crossing the Thames River.
Out of the city and heading north towards Goderich and the shores of Lake Huron.
Our speed today is impressive. For most of the day we average about 20 kph (Over 12 mph). This is because after 12 days of riding we have very strong leg muscles :-) and, perhaps more noteworthy, we have for the first time on this entire trip a strong trail wind; the first tail wind enjoyed during this entire trip!
A nice stretch of dirt road during our last few hours, just to keep things real.
We did it. Our destination town.
It's probably true.
In 2011 a tornado ripped through the centre of this town destroying many building and uprooting beautiful trees generations old.
This resilient community rebuilt and still, in my opinion, deserves its claim to the "Canada's Prettiest Town."
Can you believe it? We did it!
Montreal to Goderich, on the shores of Lake Huron.
This stretch of Lake shore is often referred to as "Ontario's West Coast."
An accurate theme. Several beaches up and down this coast line are actually surf-able; just like California!
I couldn't resist.
Humour me.
Ok. Enough is enough. This is getting embarrassing.
Our trip is over.
A grand adventure.
A memory to last a lifetime.
A story to tell when I am old(er) and less mobile.
Recently I was asked, "Why do you go on these long trips?"
My answer, "When I ride a bike I feel alive."
Recently, I was also asked, "What's your next trip?"
My answer, "This coming May, we hope to return to Ashfork, Arizona, where we will pedal eastward towards Albuquerque, New Mexico, recommencing our mega-goal of pedalling the entire length of old Route 66." (To date we have traveled the Mother Road from Los Angeles to Ashfork. You can read all about it in a previous blog on this site.)
For those of you who like numbers, here's some stats associated with our journey from Montreal to Lake Huron:
Distance Av Speed Time
km (mi) kph (mph) On Bike (Total)
Day 1. University of Montreal to Coteau du Lac, Quebec. 104.6 (64.9) 17.2 (10.7) 6:04 (9:30)
Day 2. Coteau du Lac to Morrisburg, Ontario. 113.5 (70.4) 17.4 (10.8) 6:30 (10:02)
Day 3. Morrisburg to Landon Bay Centre 106 (65.7) 16.7 (10.4) 6:18 (11:47)
Day 4. Landon Bay Centre to Adolphustown 91.5 (59) 16 (9.9) 5:43 (9:30)
Day 5. Adolphustown to East Coburg 98 (60.8) 14.8 (9.2) 6:35 (10:45)
Day 6. East Coburg to Whitby 95 (58.9) Unknown. Odo broke.
Day 7. Whitby to Bronte Creek/Oakville (Train Ride) 13.9 (8.6) Unknown. Odo broke.
Day 8. Bronte Creek to Niagara Falls 124 (76.9) 13.9 (8.6) 8:06 (14:00)
Day 9. Niagara Falls to Ridgeway (Fort Erie) 45.2 (28) 13.6 (8.4) 3:07 (5:31)
Day 10. Ridgeway to Selkirk 101.8 (63.1) 14.9 (9.2) 6:30 (9:30)
Day 11. Selkirk to Turkey Point Provincial Park 53.7 (33.3) 11.1 (6.9) 3:57 (?)
Day 12. Turkey Point to London 114.4 (70.9) 16.8 (10.4) 6:49 (9:45)
Day 13. London to Goderich (Lake Huron) 120.8 (74.9) 16.2 (10.0) 6:23 (9:30)
Total Distance: 1,182.4 km (733 mi)
Total Daily Average Speed: 15.3 kph (9.5 mph)
Thanks for reliving the journey with me. May you create and enjoy some adventures of your own!
Excellent, almost true, version of what REALLY happened. LOL. Great job, Bro! Mark
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