cycle across Canada

I have completed part of my trip across Canada in two stages so far. The first leg was about 15 years ago when I rode from Toronto to Montreal. Last summer, I rode from Montreal to Riviere du Loup, QC and then turned north.
This summer I plan on completing the section from St. John’s NL to Riviere du Loup. I love riding!

I am Endoplasmus…I have been cycling for many ,many years.I have developed what I hope is a highly dense Mitochondrial ratio in both lower leg and pulmonary muscle and viscera.I feel I have attained the physical and mental machinery through many years of km’s and falls and set backs and cheers that would make a X Canadian bicycle race/trip a natural progression at this point of life for me.A theme of charity would probably be adopted as to make things worth wild and to maybe offset some financial cost. If some otherperson may find themselves in this similair reality please get back.

I’m in training for a Toronto-Montreal bike trip I want to take at the end of the summer, which is in turn training for the main event. The hardest part, I think, is figuring out room and board: would I wild camp and forage for food, or live it large in sleazy motels? Something tells me the former would be better for the memoirs one day…

At the beginning of May 2005, I cycled from mile 0 in Victoria to Swartz Bay. I took the ferry to Saltspring Island and through to Crofton. I cycled north trying to pick up the TransCanada trail south of Nanaimo I got offtrack on logging roads, cutblocks, and shotgun shells. I kept going, Nanaimo and further north and then on the ferry across to Denman Island, and Hornby and back to Denman and back to Vancouver Island. I cycled further north to Campbell River across by ferry to Quadra, and Cortez to Hollyhock and back again to Campbell River where I changed the knobbies on my mountain bike for road tires. The wind picked up and I cycled north with the wind all the way to Port MacNeil, Port Hardy, and Port Alice. From where I cycled into the land of cougars and camped out beside lakes. I cycled back to Victoria via the Malahat. I changed the rims (tires) on my bike. After sleeping wet, I decided to buy a small hammock tent. I shed a lot of gear. And, trimmed down to a small pack on the back fender rack, my winter sleeping bag, and the hammock tent.

From mile 0, Victoria, BC, again I proceeded to cycle back through Saltspring, Nanaimo and across by ferry to Horseshoe Bay, Vancouver, and out of the blue I crossed paths with my cousin in Maple Creek. At some point in there I took a short ferry across a river. I tried to follow the so-called Transcanada trail. I got lost. I got back on roads. I camped.

I cycled up the Coquahalla. On the way up, raining off and on, I met a family of five cyclists going across the country. Once, at the top on the way to Merritt and with some encouragement from the other cyclists, I realized I could probably do that too. I kept on cycling, slept under the stars beside a lake, Kamloops, Revelstoke, and on to the Roger’s pass where I was going really fast down the mountain. I probably cycled over 200km a day at that point, through Banff National Park, Calgary, Alberta and onto Medicine Hat where I stayed in the cheapest motel for $30. The next day, I met two Quebecois cross country cyclists, and I met other cross country cyclists along the way. I cycled with the girls for about three days. We separated before Moose Jaw and I went on to Regina and Moosomee. The next day the wind shifted right around out of the east, I think because of effects of hurricane Dennis. The mosquitoes were thick in Manitoba, the water flooded the fields right up to the Transcanada highway which was two-way paved rubble with no shoulder. Huge trucks would pass by giving me the entire lane when they could otherwise they would gently honk their horns well beforehand to give warning. I would move right to the shoulder to give room. On through flooded Winnipeg I went and into northern Ontario where I swam in the lakes and enjoyed seeing trees once again.

I ate blueberries. I camped. I cycled. Before Thunder Bay, I met cyclists from a club who wished me well. Onward, Terry Fox, Marathon, and Michipicoten River, and I arrived at Sault-Ste-Marie where I stayed in the hostel for a night. And onwards to the crossroads on highway 17, and down to Manitoulin Island, and across on the ferry to the Bruce. And, through Wasaga, and I arrived at to meet my brother-in-law. Fancy that riding all the way from BC. I relaxed a few weeks with relatives and then got on the trails in Ontario, for the roads were too busy. Orrillia, Coboconk, Peterborough, and tiny obscure beautiful towns all the way to Ottawa, to Gatineau, back to Ottawa and along the river to Oka, Quebec! And into a rainstorm from the effects of Katrina which I would not realize the news of until my arrival at relatives in New Brunswick. Across the bridge to PEI which I was one day after the Terry Fox walk across the bridge. From PEI back to the mainland Nova Scotia by ferry and onto Cape Breton. I took the last ferry of the season from North Sydney to Argentia, Newfoundland. I was ecstatic. I cycled to St. John’s and a few days later I arrived at Cape Spear.

I left Newfoundland taking my mountain bike on a plane on October 9th, 2005.

I’ve already rode my bike from Winnipeg to Vancouver, but I would really love to make a whole summer trip of it and bike from Vancouver to the furthest tip of the east coast. I’m guessing it’ll take about 3-3.5 months.

The lights in the ferry terminal switched on at 6 am and I slowly proceeded through my morning routine. Biking shorts. Pants. Jersey. Shirt. Socks. Shoes. Jacket? No jacket. And I put the gloves in my pocket. We sat down for breakfast in the terminal and slowly filled our bellies. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Yoghurt. It would be our only meal of the day. As I climbed onto my bike, I paused just as I began to put on my gloves. I returned them to my pocket. Today, I wanted to feel everything. Every bump. Every turn. Everything.

The morning greeted us with an island shrouded in mist and such remarkable beauty unfolded before us that every pedal stroke was tinged with a tiny bit of sadness. Without the jacket, I could feel the wind chilling my arms and chest as I coasted down the hills. And without my gloves, I could feel the wheels spinning in my hands and the dampness of the pavement in my fingertips. It was overwhelming. Intimate. Sensual.

School buses passed with children inside. Trucks drove by, spraying a fine mist over me, dotting my glasses. Dirt sprayed up from the road, onto my pants, despite the fenders. Closer and closer. After 100 km, the morning’s meal had been depleted and my stomach cried out for more. We stopped and I had an apple, but it wasn’t enough. Though I had another one in my pocket, I wouldn’t allow myself to eat it. I don’t know why. Perhaps I thought that my hopes and dreams would carry me the rest of the way. But it’s more likely that I simply wanted to add hunger to the anxiousness and excitement to the flurry of emotions I was already feeling.

A huge hill. Onwards and upwards. Everything was focused on my breathing. Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah. And as I caught sight of St. John’s, my eyes blurred and I found myself completely overwhelmed. Not now, I’m not even there yet. Yes now, experience it now. And as I kept on cycling towards the harbour, all I could think of was how long I have wanted this. How badly I have wanted this. How many nights I have dreamed of cycling across the country. How much this means to me. How much this means to others. How I wish that I could share this incredible feeling with all the people I know and love. How I wish that I could tell all my students that their dreams, no matter how far-fetched they may seem, are beautiful and worthwhile.

Down the hill. We gently rolled into the harbour and our bikes came to a stop. I unclipped myself from the bike and stared at the water before us. We’re here. We made it. An a calm settled over us. There was no yelling. There was no epiphany. It was simply quiet and peaceful. And it was wonderful. We took pictures. We admired the scenery. But that wasn’t enough.

“I’m going in, hold the camera.” She looked at me in disbelief. We were already both shivering from the cold winds. I removed my shoes, grabbed my water bottle and leapt into the harbour.

I plunged into the frigid water with a splash. Everything came alive. Every part of my body screamed for heat. I quickly filled my water bottle with the souvenir of salty Atlantic water, screwed on the cap and hurled it up in the air. Remember. I lowered my head into the water and allowed the coldness to envelop me. Remember this moment. I climbed out of the water and stood shivering and numb, dripping salty trails onto the pavement. I could only laugh when I saw that my water bottle had shattered, spilling my precious souvenir water everywhere.

I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called Jenny. I could barely contain myself.

I love you so much. I’m here. And it all poured out, through my gasping breaths, the realization that it was over. 72 days. 7,257 kilometres. 160 pounds on June 28th. 145 pounds on September 7th. 3.4 million spins of the tire. 6 punctured tubes. 3 broken spokes. 1 worn down rear tire. 1 bent rim. A new appreciation for Canada. An opportunity to help communities in Malawi.

Thank you for everyone for helping to save lives on the other side of the world. Thank you for reaching out with your kindness, generosity and support.

Thank you for making a dream come true.

I’m upping the weekly mileage i cycle in London to 150 miles from 100 miles. Plus aiming to do more trips outside London. When the weather gets a bit better I’ll be cycling to Brighton and other places