While our nuclear clan has pumped out two generations of nothing but boys, the Riddell/Granger family is like Noah, rolling kids out two-by-two in equal-opportunity fashion.

After a long, wet journey Saturday, Clive and I landed in Warren, Man., on the doorstep of one of our many second cousins, Barb Riddell and her husband Tom. Barb grew up a Granger with her brother Stu, who I miss greatly having gotten to know him in the last few years before he passed away.

(As an aside, I’ve been to one Brandon Wheat Kings game since Stu’s death and struggled to watch because I couldn’t keep my mind off him working the Wheaties games as a minor official. I haven’t been back since even though I’ve been around every April and the team is frequently playing host to a WHL playoff game.)

Barb says their mother Mamie, another Granger I miss dearly, also grew up in a one-boy, one-girl family. Barb married Tom, a local lad. Guess what? You’re right. He had one sister, who has a son and a daughter.

So Barb and Tom weren’t about to break the tradition with their offspring Craig and Kyla. They’ve done their part, too, Kyla and her husband Scott have a son Ethan, 9, and daughter Madison, 6, while Craig and Colleen are proud parents of daughter, Maria, 7, and son Hayden, 4.

But despite this odd anomaly, Barb was caught off guard when a friend said to her four years ago, “So I take it you knew Hayden was going to be a boy.”

“Huh?” she replied. “Well yes, but what do you mean?”

The friend then pointed out the equal-opportunity reproduction pattern.

“I guess I just presumed [Hayden] would be a boy,” says Barb. “I had not thought of it until Hayden was born that that was the pattern.’

There are couples all over the world who try to manipulate the chromosome gender lottery, or at least cross their fingers, hoping to have one child of each gender. For this family, it just comes naturally.

What also comes naturally is Barb’s friendly and jovial attitude, and Tom’s genial manner. While I lived in Winnipeg (1989-2001), they kindly invited me to many Christmas dinners (almost always in frighteningly, frigid conditions).

Barb and Tom’s wedding in 1968 was probably the first nuptials the four Granger brothers ever attended. It was the highlight of our quadrennial prairie family vacation. We scampered back and forth between the church, the home of Charlie and Mamie, and the grain elevator Charlie ran in Warren.

Cousin Marg manned the guest book which myself, Owen and Ian signed. But Clive balked. He was nine and the pen intimidated him. Turns out he’d only been allowed to use a pencil in school. Despite Marg’s urging he wouldn’t do it. Bizarrely enough, Clive remembered the incident. Barb laughed when she heard the story. Sure enough, Barb looked in the book and his signature was nowhere to be seen, although expecting a nine-year-old to have a signature might be a bit of a stretch. He corrected his transgression before we left Sunday morning by signing nearly 48 years after the fact!

While raising Craig and Kyla, Barb taught at Bobby Bend elementary in Stonewall while Tom made the daily, long journey into southwest Winnipeg to his job running a package printing press.

For both, though, Warren was home. The peace and quiet and familial connections were just too strong. They still are.

Craig lives and works just a couple of blocks down a pock-marked, gravel road. Kyla has just joined forces with two other colleagues to open Quarry Ridge Pharmacy in Stonewall, although she’s still working at a Shoppers Drug Mart in northwest Winnipeg.

Craig runs a 3,000-acre seed farm that is quite the growing business (pun, of course, intended). He took Clive and I on a tour after dinner Saturday. It’s just a 50-metre walk down a path through the trees from his home to the Riddell Farm Enterprises Ltd.

There are bins, farming equipment and cleaning equipment, and more cleaning equipment, everywhere. The operation is extremely impressive in its scope and its success. However, there’s no truth to the rumour the seeds are loaded two-by-two before shipment.

What shocks me about Barb and Tom is she will turn the big 7-0 in 2016 while Tom already reached that mark two years ago. They’re both very active and agile. They’re a delight to deal with and talk to.

They were extremely generous to us in the hospitality and help they provided to us. They didn’t discriminate just because we were two brothers, and not siblings of each gender.

• Clive and I left Marg and Bob in Onanole on Friday. We took their advice to use Mountain Road to connect from Highway 10 to Hwy 5. It was a good idea because the busy Hwy 10 from Riding Mountain National Park to well south of Minnedosa is rough and lacks a shoulder.

Mountain Road (which to us B.C. boys is bit of moniker hyperbole because if that’s a mountain then I’m George Clooney’s doppleganger) doesn’t have a shoulder but it does have next-to-no traffic with nice rolling scenery. Hwy 5 was smooth asphalt with less traffic than 10. We also had a wind at our back as we rolled into Neepawa.

We arrived in Gladstone in mid-afternoon having already gone more than 115 kilometres. We contemplated picking up some food for dinner and going another 30 km to Westbourne gambling that town would have a campground. We were advised there wasn’t (although we may have had bad intelligence) so we decided to stay. 

We struggled to start Clive’s little cooker because of the wind and the wet wood but eventually made a pasta jambalaya which included smokies purchased from Jarvis Meats and Abattoir. The best part of the stay was breakfast the next morning at the Gladstone Bakery and Eatery. It had good bread, good pastries, good cooking, good coffee and Robin’s Donuts furniture hand-me-downs. Clive bemoaned the fact his hometown of Williams Lake, which services more than 20,000, doesn’t have its own bakery while this little town had a gem of one.

But after the sumptuous breakfast, we got hit with rain en route to Westbourne. After that it was an easy roll into Portage la Prairie. We then broke off Highway 1 to take Hwy 26 to avoid the freeway-like Trans-Canada. While it had little traffic it was a rough road. A very, very rough road. Another battle with a north headwind on Hwy 458 and then as a crosswind on 227 and we finally arrived worn out and weathered from a 137-km ride.

• The hardest I’ve pedalled all trip just may have come during that northbound stretch, but it wasn’t because of the wind. I was riding parallel to a sheep farm and saw a beautiful white dog chasing me along the fence. No worries, right. Well all of a sudden he ducked underneath the barbed wire and sprinted across the overgrown grass gully hell bent on getting after me. I pedalled like crazy to reach 24-km/h – until then that day I had struggled to maintain an 18-km/h pace – before the dog gave up. I have encountered a bear, bighorn sheep and elk on this trip but that canine scared the bejeezus out of me. 

• Despite the rough road, Highway 26 is picturesque with plenty of beautiful fields of rich soil where crops are already coming up. I thought maybe it was the rain that made the dirt so dark, but Craig says that area is rated as the best farming soil in Manitoba.

With such large homesteads along the route, we must have seen about eight people cutting their large-expanse lawns with riding mowers in the space of a few hours. When we reached Warren we saw two homeowners cutting their grass the conventional way. As we turned into Bob and Tom’s street, I turned to Clive and said, “It’s nice to see someone actually pushing a mower instead of riding it.”

Well, up from behind the bushes of the house on the corner popped up a woman in her golden years getting ready to start her mower who declared, “Yes, I do it to get some exercise.” I hadn’t even seen her, but she was the third in the block. She then asked where we had biked from, and we told her Gladstone. She replied, “You must be the Grangers.” 

Whoa! Talk about a small town. It turns out the woman gets more exercise than mowing. She was Barb’s regular walking partner and she knew all about us.

• We are visiting my old Winnipeg stomping grounds awaiting the arrival of Brody. Clive’s son feels his knee is strong enough to give it a go keeping up with us so he’s taking the train from St. Albert, Alta., where he’s been staying at the home of his Uncle Brian and Aunt Ruth Menegozzo. He’s expected to arrive Tuesday night so on Wednesday we’ll head toward our next challenge, Northern Ontario.

KILOMETRE COUNT

Day 28: Onanole to Gladstone 118 km Total (22 days riding): 2,501*

Day 29: Gladstone to Warren 137 km; Total  2640

Day 30: Warren to St. Vital 67 km; Total 2708

* Some farting-around-town kilometres, although far from all, included in total.

A visit to Casa Robinson/Rycroft in the growing town of Onanole, Manitoba brings back memories of the old radio show The Bickersons or the black and white television classic The Honeymooners starring Jackie Gleason.

The back-and-forth bantering, at first, can be uncomfortable but after a while visitors realize it’s entertaining and there’s no animosity involved.

Throw in the frenetic energy and antics of Charlie, a female Jack Russell terrier that is actually owned by their son Chad but always seem to be at Bob and Marg’s, and the best thing to do when you’re with them is just enjoy the show.

Marg Rycroft is a cousin to Clive and I. She is the daughter of our father’s sister Ruth, who died in the early ’60s. Marg grew up Lynn Lake, a remote mining community in northwest Manitoba. It’s most notably known as the home of the Johnston family in the For Better or For Worse cartoon strip.

Since they lived in a remote part of Canada as kids we had minimal contact with Marg and her brother Don, who now lives in London, Ont., and works in Toronto.

However, in 1976, we decided to take a trip together down the west coast of the United States in my new Toyota Corolla. I can’t remember how the trip came about but we our intended destination was San Francisco. But since we really didn’t know each other – and she was 27 while I was 20 – conversation didn’t come easily.

The most memorable moment came when we were in Eugene, Ore., and got to experience the July 4, 1976 United States bicentennial fireworks celebration at the University of Oregon’s football stadium. Eventually, as we ventured into northern California, I decided the silence was too much to take so we turned around and headed north. The amazing thing after that is we got along great on the return trip with the conversation flowing freely.

Marg became a lab technician in Brandon, Man. She was kind enough to invite me to stay with her while I covered the 1979 Canada Winter Games as a radio reporter. (At the time I was working for CKCQ in Quesnel, B.C..)

About that time she met Bob Robinson and went on to marry him. They became parents to Chad in 1985.

I got several opportunities to connect with Marg while living in Winnipeg from 1989 to 2001. And I visit Marg and Bob when I make by annual baseball excursion to Manitoba. Just a few months ago, Marg was kind enough to come out to Vancouver for my surprise 60th birthday celebration. It was a special gesture that I was highly appreciative of.

When Chad graduated from high school he took a culinary course at a Granville Island cooking school while bunking down across False Creek at Owen and Gordon’s place. Marg developed a special connection with those two. They’ve visited her and Bob quite a few times while she’s stayed with them – a couple of times she brought Bob along – in Vancouver several times.

When Chad was growing up they would spend their summers in a 12×24-foot cabin at the campground at Clear Lake in Riding Mountain National Park. When they decided to retire (Bob worked on the highways ministry painting crew) they went looking for a year-round home outside the park’s borders and found a special spot in Onanole only a kilometre or two from the park gates.

Bob and Marg banter about all kinds of things – food, home repairs, household duties, relatives, the weather to name just a few. In addition, Bob doesn’t hesitate to rant about all sorts of subjects. They constantly tease Charlie, but then again the little attention-seeking canine deserves it.

But, believe it or not, Bob and Margaret work well as a team keeping busy year round on all sorts of projects. They’re kind, generous and have plenty of friends in the area.

Marg is a breast cancer survivor and is involved in organizing the Look Good Feel Better program in Brandon that helps women cancer patients cope with the dreaded disease while receiving treatment. She’s also participated in dragon boat racing as part of a cancer survivor team, which was the reason for a couple of her trips to Vancouver.

On Thursday, Bob gave a fantastic constant running commentary while chauffeuring myself, Clive, Marg and Charlie on a two-hour tour of the area. The area has become a popular spot for retirees and the like with real estate prices on the rise inside and outside the park. It’s trees and hills make it seem like a little piece of British Columbia so it’s no wonder people are flocking here in all seasons.

During our time in Onanole they’ve fed us, provided tools to fix our bikes, and put up with an unfortunate toilet overflow cause by moi,

They’ve been consummate hosts and provided an entertaining show in the process.

• After taking six days going from cousin to cousin (Linda to Marg) and battling strong winds in Saskatchewan we decided to rest for two days in this beautiful part of the country.

We also decided to take advantage of Bob and Marg’s planned trip into Brandon on Wednesday to visit the A and L Sports bicycle shop. I got a much-needed new rear wheel, back tire and back bike rack while Clive picked up some more comfy clothing and other stuff. Clive has been fantastic in taking care of the mechanical needs of my ride. Since I’m mechanically challenged I’m grateful for his expertise and generosity.

The timing was interesting in another sense in that it rained both days. Not sure we’ll be able to avoid getting wet as we make our way toward Winnipeg.

• A little uneasy feeling for Clive when he found a tick in his bike shorts and plucked another from his leg following our trip into Marg’s.

Three provinces down …

Five to go.

KILO COUNT

Day 24 (May 23) Yorkton, Sask., to Russell, Man. 103 km; Total (20 days riding) 2,158 km

Day 24 (May 24) Russell to Onanole 124 km; Total (20 days riding) 2,182

Auntie Ruth loves family. She should. She has so much of it. Lucky woman.

She began life on May 4, 1930 in Winnipeg the second daughter born to Wanda and Joseph Stock, fresh off crossing the Atlantic by boat from Germany.

Her sister Hildegard (the mother of Clive and myself), six years old at the time, and cousin Hal Reich, were on their tip-toes peering over the window sill at 104 Eaton St., in the Elmwood neighbourhood in attempt to get a look at the new baby.

After growing up on the family farm in the Shellbrook/Brightholm area of Saskatchewan, an 18-year-old Ruth married a handsome young farmer from Radisson. Reinhold Meister was one of 10 siblings. The union automatically gave her a slew of in-laws.

They started a family of their own. They had Linda in 1951, adopted Richard a few years later, and gave birth to Anne-Marie in 1961.

Life wasn’t always easy. Ruth often had to help out with harvesting and all sorts of chores along with the many other duties she carried out in the two-storey farmhouse. Linda and Anne-Marie became nurses while Richard finally found a home in the computer technology business, first in Vancouver and now in Calgary. He recently lost his beloved husband Scott.

When Reinhold came down with a debilitating illness, Ruth became a caregiver to her husband. After doing so for many years in their home, she drove many a dangerous winter night from Radisson to Saskatoon to visit and help out Reinhold at the care home he eventually wound up in. It was hard to see such a vibrant, strong man become so reliant on others. It wasn’t like him to ask for help, but help was what he needed and she was there for him.

Shortly after he passed away, a recently widowed farmer named Alan Hosegood came calling to offer his condolences, as everyone in small towns do. They hit it off, and before anyone knew it these two septuagenarians were announcing wedding plans. They did everything together. All of sudden, Ruth was part of another large family because Alan had a clan of his own and both sides were very accepting.

Alan and Auntie Ruth were together 11 wonderful years. They made annual six-week winter getaways to Hawaii always making a point of visiting Mother and Father, while they were alive, during their stopovers in Vancouver. Unfortunately a few years ago, Alan, too passed away. The development devastated her. She moved out of her cherished home in Radisson she had shared with two husbands into a two-bedroom condo in Saskatoon. Eventually it was family that began to give her life again.

Her family has grown to the point where she has five grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren. And she follows all of their comings and goings in all sorts of ways including using her new iPad.

Her original family only included one sibling. That was our mother. They had an unbreakable bond that endured from the day by the window sill to being the one at Mother’s bedside when she passed away.

Auntie Ruth cared for her older sister’s kids, too. She’s always been a delight to be around and to talk to. She cares and she has fun. And she put up with us – I mean, put us up – when we came for our big Prairie family vacations in 1960, 1964, 1968 and 1971 as well as a few other times such as Linda’s confirmation in 1967.

Clive and I had some wonderful moments with Auntie Ruth on Wednesday when we had a super visit with her, lunch at The Station in Downtown Saskatoon, a walk on the Meewasin Trail and later dinner on her patio deck.

If she has one fault it’s that she worries so much. For example, when Fort McMurray was evacuated earlier this month, the day before her 86th birthday, her thoughts and prayers were totally with our brother Ian, his wife Rosamond Smith and son Matthew as they left their home and sought refuge in St. Albert, Alta. She was worried sick about them and frantically sought any news that she could get about their whereabouts and situation. She was so grateful when Rosamond was able to give her a call, and her concern was so appreciated by Ian’s family.

Love you Auntie Ruth. You’re the best!

• Permit me one more wind whine. I know I wrote a blog about the wicked winds of Saskatchewan earlier this week and you’re sick of my grousing and grumbling. Well it seems the weather gods didn’t take too kindly to the blog. It got worse before it got better.

On Saturday, it took Clive and I about eight to nine hours of riding to go 115 kilometres from Lanigan to Foam Lake. His average speed was 11.9 km/h, mine slightly better. We battled winds coming out of the southeast or south that were in the 30-50 kilometre range all day. Guess what direction we were going in. Of course, southeast.

The worst was a stretch of Highway 16 where it joins Highway 6 as it runs north up to Melfort. We had to go south directly into the teeth of the wind as we crossed a causeway between two lakes that looked more like oceans because of the whitecaps and surf on them.

We started the day at 7 a.m. hoping to only be saddled with the light wind that usually prevails in the early morning. Uh, uh. That was a no go. We staggered into Wynyard, 61 kilometres away, five hours later for our lunch break. It was another 50-plus kilometres to Foam Lake. Clive was the smart one. About halfway to Foam Lake he took a break seeking refuge from the wind and sun by resting beside farm machinery on display at the side of the road near the junction of Highways 16 and 2. He also stopped to rest and decided to walk his heavily loaded Surly instead of cycling into the wind. Clive said he hadn’t done anything like that since he had a single-speed bike when he was a teenager. I pressed on only stopping for the occasional gulp of water and in the process may have caused an issue with my right calf that flared up as I limped into Foam Lake.

In comparison, Sunday’s 92-kilometre ride from Foam Lake to Yorktown was a breeze (pardon the bad and obvious pun). As soon as we left we were doing speeds double and triple anything we’d done the day before. But this is Saskatchewan and adversity must be suffered. In addition to the cramp, or whatever it is in my leg, rearing its ugly head again Sunday, my back wheel broke down. Clive’s did a good job of making it rideable but we’ve got our fingers crossed we can make it into Manitoba and get it fixed in Brandon, hopefully, or Winnipeg.

• Speaking of Wynyard, Breanna’s mom Kathy Berggren-Clive notes her family moved there from Regina when she was in Grade 3 and they left when she was in Grade 9 (we’re presuming that was six years later and not more) to take up residence in Campbell River. Although Wynyard had been contemplated as an overnight spot for us It was just a lunch stop. However, it was a welcome sight to come into town after surviving the first part of our wind nightmare. My big-sized Subway diet cola went down fast as we watched the wind whip the trees across the road and the flags of all the businesses up and down the frontage road.

Kilometre count

Day 22 (May 21) Lanigan to Foam Lake 115 km; Total (18 days riding) 2,057km

Day 23 (May 22) Foam Lake to Yorkton 93 km; Total (19 days riding) 2,150 km

When I was a kid in the late 1960s, I answered the front door buzzer at our home one evening. On the top step was our cousin Linda Meister and her nursing school BFF Carol Gossen dropping by during a school break road trip. They both sported curly wigs. Linda declared that night she’d always wanted natural curls and was jealous of all the ones brother Ian had on his head. So a wig was the answer, even if it sent me into hysterics.

Fast forward about four and a half decades and Linda is a Gossen, is about to begin collecting old age security, but still a bit of a goofball. She took her mom, myself and Clive around to visit her daughter Janna at work.

Linda wasn’t getting Janna’s attention above the hum of the hairstylist workshop Janna is employed by. So simply walked up from behind and goosed her 33-year-old youngest child making Janna jump as if she had been electrocuted by the hair dryer she was holding. Linda laughed as Janna looked shocked before realizing the joke was on her.

During those early years hanging out with Carol, Linda started dating her friend’s younger brother Gerald. He’s got a playful side too. Despite more than 40 years of marriage, three children (Kara, Andrew and Janna) and nine grandchildren, he never fails to take advantage of an opportunity to remind Linda, and whoever else is listening, that he is three years younger than his wife. He also got in a few jabs at myself about saying how we were headed to Linda’s place, neglecting to mention he also lived there, as well as being a co-owner of the home! Oops.

In the 1970s, Gerald set up a cabinet making business in his hometown of Langham, about 30 kilometres northwest of Saskatoon. He also has become a big landlord in the town. They own 10 properties in Langham. Except for their own home, he renovates and rents them although he’s just finishing up a project of building a home and reselling it.

He’s still working away while Linda retired a couple of years ago from being an administrator at the Langham Seniors Home, about a 90 second commute by foot.

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t keep busy. Not Linda. No way.

She’s constantly got surprises on the go, a garden to upkeep, photo albums to update, and much, much, much more.

On the day we left Langham, she came out of her office with a full page list, three columns across, detailing each and every item to bring to their cottage north of North Battleford in preparation for having the Gossen gang up for the unofficial opening of summer, the Victoria Day long weekend.

But even though she had so much on her plate, Linda was, and is, always eager to discuss what’s happening in the lives of friends, ex-coworkers and family, or talk about Gerald and their family.

Despite the distance between them, Linda was very close to our mother, Hildegard Granger (nee Stock). Her niece was the daughter our mother never had. I have to admit our mother never made a secret of the fact she would have liked to have had daughters. She was particularly jealous of a family on her husband’s side who lived in Kamloops which had four girls.

The growing Gossen Gang is much more of a mixture.

While Janna and her husband Kevin Dauk, a pilot for an airline that flies in and out of Northern Saskatchewan towns and works sites, have yet to be blessed with a child, the same can’t be said for her older siblings.

Kara and her husband Aaron, who works in his family’s nursery and gardening business, have four kids. After running a day care for many years, Kara now specializes in eyelash aesthetics. The oldest, Rachael, is about to graduate from high school while 16-year-old Jonah already has his driver’s licence.

Andrew and his wife Teisha have five kids – Madelyn (Grade 5), Hailey (Grade 3), Samuel (kindergarten), Ellie (4) and Mason (20 months). They’re delightful. All but Mason escorted Clive and I on their bikes down the long driveway of their 19-acre homestead after we’d partaken of ice tea and watermelon during an afternoon break from our ride and from them planting a few hundred more trees to protect their property from the wind.

• Clive and I cried “Uncle” on Friday. The wind got to us. We ground through about five hours of fighting a 30 km/h-plus headwind before finally reaching Lanigan. Our speed was ridiculously slow. We had planned on going all the way to Wynyard, but that was about 60 more kilometres away, on top of the nearly 70 we had already accomplished. With no real place to stop between Lanigan and Wynyard we decided to call it a day. If it was only about 30 km away we probably would have gone for it, but the wind finally did us in.

KILOMETRE COUNT

Day 21: (West of Colonsay to Lanigan) 69 km Total: (17 riding days): 1,941 km

In the infamous words of Nancy Kerrigan, “Whhhhyyy??? Whhhyyy???”

We were wailing away asking that question this week, but not in regards to some nefarious figure skating soap opera plot.

Kerrigan might have wanted to know what Tonya Harding had against her. We want to know what the wind has against us.

Here’s another quote.

“It shouldn’t have been that difficult.”

That was Clive’s statement after we’d battled wind to The Battlefords from Lloydminster for more about eight or nine hours over 130 kilometres on Monday (May 16). It should not have taken that long.

But it was that difficult.

And it got even more difficult.

Tuesday’s ride to from North Battleford to Langham, where cousin Linda and her husband GERALD GOOSEN (trying to assuage hurt feelings here but doubt it will be enough) live, was supposed to be a breeze. Unfortunately, it was a big breeze. It came from the south at more than 30 km/h.

The ride was laborious, aggravating, discouraging. A real slog. We churned and churned and churned, but we didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Our pace was slower than an average recreational long distance runner. But we kept on chugging away. And chugging. And chugging.

We ached for tree banks, or large grain elevators or even a stationary train. Anything that would provide a wind break.

But once we got by any of those a big whoosh of wind attacked and literally stopped us in our tracks, sometimes even forcing us toward the 110-km/h traffic buzzing by.

We had an easier time making our way through the British Columbia mountains than what we endured Tuesday. Or Monday. Or even Thursday. (Wednesday we rested.) We had been counting on the wind being to our advantage when we reached the Prairies.

Oh, how wrong we were.

One reason for this misapprehension was the fact The Yellowhead Highway runs diagonally. We are travelling it in a southeast direction. Well that means, even if the wind comes from the west, which it did Monday, that there was still a crosswind involved.

On Tuesday, the wind came out of the south almost directly into our faces. What fools we were to expect the wind would help us.

Finally after 70 kilometres of slogging we reached the town of Radisson, where cousins Linda, Richard and Anne-Marie grew up.

We needed a break. Big time. And we got it.

Granny and Grandpa’s home in Radisson

Aunt Ruth’s home on Main Street in Radisson

After a quick much-needed, liquid fill-up at the little grocery store on Main Street we went and took a quick look at the former home of Aunt Ruth, just a block away from the store, as well as the house where our maternal grandparents lived.

Then it was back to the road again for what we feared was more slogging. Much to our surprise the wind subsided significantly. There was more foliage in the area so maybe that helped, but all of a sudden we were zipping down the highway at more than twice the speed we had been doing all morning.

What a relief!

Monday’s trip took 10 hours (including a one-hour lunch break underneath the trees in Paynter). It should have taken about seven or so (hence Clive’s statement). Tuesday’s took seven hours what should have been done in five.

Linda and GERALD’S house (more on then in a soon-to-come blog) was an oasis after what we’d endured.

But the wind didn’t die gracefully. The last two kilometres the wind gusted strongly just to show who was boss that day. It certainly wasn’t a cyclist in charge!

When we hit the road again Thursday, after we left the protected confines of urban Saskatoon, it was back to battling the wind. This time head on for our final 60 km. Yeesh!

It would seem our stormy relationship with the wind isn’t about to get worse. Friday’s forecast calls for 30 km/h winds gusting up to 50 km/h.

WHHHYYY???

• Latest word from Brody on Wednesday was he was holed up in Hinton waiting some rain out. Says he’s up to about 70 kilometres per day and his knee is feeling much better. Good to hear!

• To avoid the heavy, fast traffic on some Saskatoon’s so-called freeways, Clive and I took the Meewasin Trail, a path that follows the South Saskatchewan River through the city. If you get a chance to walk it or bike it, do so. It’s a beautiful piece of urban infrastructure that gives amazing access to its citizens and visitors.

• The puncture count grew to two when Clive’s front tire went flat while it sat in the Gossen’s garage on Wednesday.

KILOMETRE COUNT

Day 17 (Lloydminster to North Battleford) 143 km Total (14 riding days) 1,657 km

Day 18 (North Battleford to Langham, SK) 105 km Total 1,765

Day 20 (Langham to Colonsay) 107 km Total 1,872

It was about time I met the Menegozzos. Really met them.

I’d only really seen the family of Cheryl, Clive’s wife, twice. One was at their wedding in October 1982. The second was at Bryce and Breanna’s wedding last May. (Happy Anniversary, by the way since it’s coming up soon.) Both were situations not conducive to really getting to know others.

Both of Cheryl’s older brothers, Brian and Blair, have opened their doors to me in a very generous manner during this bike adventure.

In a pre-caravan test ride with Brody and his friend Noriko back in April, I got to know Blair, his wife Carmen and daughter Sumner. We visited with them in Nanaimo where they were camping. They had come down Vancouver Island from their home in Campbell River to support Sumner in her final show for her design degree.

We made pizza in their Canadian Tire pizza oven beside their beautiful and big trailer and had a great chat around the fire. A couple of days later, we made our way to Campbell River where we got to rest for a couple of nights. Blair was the consummate host, and also came to the rescue (after all he is a paramedic) by answering Brody’s emergency plea to transport us and our bikes to Nanaimo to catch a ferry back to Horseshoe Bay so he could rest his wounded knee instead of heading to the Sunshine Coast for the rest of the planned trip.

During a visit to an amazing waterfall near Campbell River while we were there, Blair told me he got his first paramedics job in Surrey, which is where he met his wife-to-be and where she grew up. (Or maybe it was North Delta, I can’t remember for sure. Sorry if I got it wrong. Forgot to take notes. Another journalistic no-no.)

Both wanted out (insert requisite bad-taste joke about Surrey here) and live in a smaller community. Their incentive was partly for the small-town feel, and also because of the Lower Mainland’s cost of living. He applied for a couple of openings before getting the Campbell River posting, and they can’t be happier. Don’t blame them. It’s a picturesque spot with trees, ocean and the Gulf Islands all around.

One little funny fact about Blair’s family is they live on Greystone Drive, their trailer is made by Greystone, and the factory colour of their truck is Greystone!

Older brother Brian met his wife Ruth while both attended Simon Fraser University in the 1970s. They were working together at an accounting firm in New Westminster. But the company closed its doors. However, one of the partners immediately found them jobs at a satellite office in Lethbridge. Later, Brian applied and received a teaching position at NAIT, the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, in Edmonton. They moved to St. Albert. It’s a town with a bit of a split personality. It has some lovely walks and green neighbourhoods along the Sturgeon River. Conversely, Highway 2 runs right through it and there are blocks and blocks of big box stores and strip malls along both sides.

Brian and Ruth, who works as an executive director for the YMCA) have raised three lovely children, Brooke, Brant and Renata.

Brooke (also a YMCA administrator) and Brant are in somewhat of a transition with Brooke’s stuff downstairs (she’s getting an apartment soon), while Brant’s man cave is about to disappear when he moves out. Brian’s pottery studio will its place.

The excitement in Brian’s eyes is highly visible when he talks about getting that room for his pottery passion. That enthusiasm was heightened when he got to talk about it with fellow potter Rosamond.

Brian’s a pretty darn good cook too. The first night we were there he whipped up a bunch of pizza ingredients, which we got to load onto the pie plate ourselves. The only limit was we couldn’t put on more than two inches of ingredients because that was the maximum height of the pizza oven. It looked extremely familiar. Turns out it was the same model as Blair’s.

The next night, he served up a fantastic spaghetti dinner for Clive, myself and brother Ian and his family who are staying in St. Albert as they await being allowed to return to their home in Fort McMurray.

Brian declared since Menegozzo was Italian that’s what we were going to get while we were there. He didn’t mention he is half Scottish, but there were no objections from this quarter. Pizza and spaghetti are much more desirable than haggis!

The hospitality provided at both Menegozzos was exceptional. I’ll never be able to repay their generosity but I’d love to at some point.

There is one Menegozzo I have not talked about. That would be sister Shirley. But since she lives in Yellowknife I don’t think Clive, Brody and I will be able to make that detour to see her. Maybe another year.

• When we left St. Albert, we took an unobstructed route across the top of Edmonton to avoid traffic in the city. However, it did add an extra 22 kilometres to Saturday’s ride to Vegreville taking 132 kilometres instead of the 110 Google said it would by going via Edmonton. Considering the heavy traffic on Highway 16 through the city it was probably worth it.

• During our journeys through B.C. and into St. Albert I was leading the way over Clive most of the time. I had done the same when I was with Brody. I was feeling pretty good about myself, but it turns out I really didn’t have reason to be.

As you know, it turned out Brody had a wonky knee. When we were in St. Albert a little piece of wisdom from an older brother – certainly not me – had Clive picking up speed the last two days. One reason is after two weeks on the road he’s hitting his stride fitness wise. But it was after Ian noted Clive’s tires were a bit low his performance has shown a big improvement with properly inflated tires. Now it’s him leading the way most of the time, and when he isn’t he’s right with me. Good stuff even if it means my ego has been sufficiently punctured.

• At last report, Brody was in Valemont on Saturday. While we reached the Saskatchewan border (we’re sleeping Sunday night in Lloydminster, SK) Brody has yet to reach Alberta. But that doesn’t matter because by all reports he’s having a great time.

His consulting physiotherapist spoke to him about how to rehabbing his knee. Rosamond reports Brody, as he is wont to do, has been making friends in the mountains. He even talked to one woman who fed him breakfast and gave him an audio version of the book she’d written. He’s a remarkable young man, but he may need to Go Greyhound to catch up to his dad and uncle.

• This weekend we put in more than 280 kilometres in just two days. We’re planning to reach North Battleford on Monday which is almost 140 km away before heading to Langham to visit cousin Linda.

• My apologies to Breanna for not getting her name spelt right. That’s a big no-no for newspaper journalists. But then again, I’m no longer employed as a journalist. Still, no excuse.

Kilometre count

Day 16: Grant (Vegreville to Lloydminster) 152 km. Total (13 days riding) 1512 km

Day 13 Clive: (Vegreville to Lloydminster) 152 km Total (11 days riding) 1,282 km

Ian Granger, Rosamond Smith and their son Matthew live in Limbo. Also known as St. Albert.

Our brother’s family has hunkered down in St. Albert while they await word on when they can return to their home in Fort McMurray.

Wildfires were threatening the oil boom town when Rosamond went out to pick up a few things and do some errands on the morning of Tuesday, May 3. Matthew was in class at Westwood Collegiate while Ian was working at Suncor.

Rosamond returned home about 11 a.m. and noticed the blaze was getting awfully close. It looked almost apocalyptic as she looked down their street, Cornwall Drive. She snapped a picture and posted it on Facebook remarking on how close it was.

The radio said some subdivisions had been ordered to evacuate. Although there was no outright alert for their area, she decided to start packing up some stuff and prepare to hit the road.

Matthew came home from school and began throwing things in bags. Then the order for the whole town to get the heck out of Dodge. Rosamond and Matthew did just that. They didn’t panic and just did what they knew they had to do. But the exit was not as fast as they wanted. Cars crawled along Highway 63 while the fires burned around the city. Fortunately, their gas tank had recently been filled because the lineups were long – very long – at the gas stations heading out of town and on the way to Edmonton.

During the trip their phones were going nuts as numerous family and friends frantically sent worried texts and emails. Matthew tried to answer as many taking dictation from his mother as she drove. But there were so many it was an impossible task.

Finally they reached St. Albert where some old friends opened their doors for them. But Ian was still stuck at Suncor and had to bunk down in the company’s work camp quarters. They didn’t let him out until Friday when he was allowed to join an escorted convoy of about 600 vehicles, with a cop car every 50 vehicles to make sure everybody obeyed the rules, as they moved through Fort McMurray. Fortunately, Rosamond had thought to pack a bag for Ian so he had changes of clothes when he rejoined his family in St. A.

Matthew is in Grade 12 and they had to await word on what was happening for marks before any further decisions could be made. Turns out they won’t have to write diploma exams and their class marks will count toward their final grade. But they did have to get back in the classroom. All schools in the province were required to accept any Fort McMurray students who came calling. (Despite the uncertainty, Matthew fully expects everyone will be back in Fort Mac for all the fun graduation stuff for the Grade 12s before the end of the school year.)

So they headed to the nearest high school with French immersion. The principal and its administrators couldn’t have been better say mother and son. That meant they needed something a bit more permanent, so to speak. They’ve rented out some space in a home in St. Albert and set up a base there awaiting word about when they can go home.

They don’t know what’s up with their house in Fort Mac. Although they believe it’s still standing, they fully expect there could be some water damage. Their lot is right across from a green belt, so they think there’s a good chance some preventative measures might have been taken by firefighters on their street to avoid having the fire attack their neighbourhood.

However, they won’t find out if that’s the case until they’re allowed out of limbo.

Limbo is where Clive and I found them. Believe it or not the fire had a side benefit. It meant we could get a good visit in with them.

While there had been some tentative plans to come down to Edmonton to visit with us as we passed through, we actually ended up spending a lot of time with them.

We arrived in St. Albert last Thursday afternoon to bunk down at Clive’s brother-in-law’s place. Brian Menegozzo wasn’t home but son Brant let us in. We contacted Rosamond and the family was over for a nice visit in a jiffy. We got reacquainted for about 90 minutes. Then on Friday – our rest day – we went over to their temporary digs for lunch and munched on delicious barbecued bison and beef burgers.

Having two cars available came in handy for Clive and I, especially me. I’d suffered the trip’s first flat on Thursday and in the process of fixing it we discovered a loose spoke. We thought we’d bought the right replacement at a St. Albert bike shop aptly named Cranky’s.

After much frustration as Clive tried to repair it Friday we found out it was too short. When we returned to pick up what we assumed was a fixed wheel the shop advised us they didn’t have the right spoke.

They were gracious enough, however, to send us to another shop that could custom cut spokes for us, Revolution Cycle. But it was quite a bit further south in Edmonton. Ian was kind enough to drive us through Friday afternoon rush hour traffic to get what we needed, at half the cost of the ones I had bought the day before. (I did get a refund.)

They also came over to the Menegozzo’s home for dinner to meet the other side of Clive’s family. Brian’s wife, Ruth, commented how she had been introduced to Rosamond at Bryce and Breanna’s wedding but they’d never hooked up to talk. Well that was remedied on Friday night and the talk flowed freely between families.

Ian’s limbo took another twist. He left early because he had a 7:30 plane to catch the next morning. Suncor was picking up a bunch of employees in one of its planes and flying them back to the oilfields.

So, for now, they are in limbo in two places.

Kilometre count

Grant: Day 12 (Edson to Entwhistle) 101 km Total (9 days riding): 1,116 km

Clive: Day 9 (Edson to Entwhistle) 101 km Total (7 days riding): 856 km

Grant: Day 13 (Entwistle to St. Albert) 108 km Total: 1,224 km

Clive: Day 10 (Entwhistle to St. Albert) 108 km Total: 997 km

Grant: Day 15 (St. Albert to Vegreville) 133 km: Total: 1,357 km

Clive: Day 12 (St. Albert to Vegreville) 133 km: Total: 1,130 km

Back in the 1970s, Granny, our maternal grandmother, mentioned someone from a Saskatchewan family they knew was going to cycle there from B.C. and back.

Teenager Clive Granger was impressed. Like any Burnaby boy growing up in the 1960s, Clive rode a bike. He loved it and did drop riding when he got his driver’s licence. So when he heard about this guy doing such a radical thing for those days he decided to do it too. He aimed for the summer of 1976, between his Grade 11 and Grade 12 years.

He told Mother of his plans. She put the brakes on. Hard.

“No. You’re going to find a job,” she told him.

Well, 40 years later he’s finally living that dream.

Although Clive has been active over the decades in rugby, skiing, waterskiing, boating and cabin building, he still maintained a connection to the bicycle. For instance, for many years he would ride his bike about four kilometres down Dog Creek Road from his home to his graveyard shift at the Lignum sawmill. Doing it in the dark before his 11 p.m. shift was no easy task. The road is bumpy and winding. Bike lights weren’t as light or strong as they are now. When his shift ended at 7 a.m., he’d hop back on and ride up the steep grade before getting some shuteye.

When he and Cheryl became empty-nesters, he began to think more about long-distance bike rides. They’ve gone on several week-long ones together in the last few years touring places like the Gulf Islands and the Kettle Valley Railway trail.

When his eldest son, Bryce, moved to Halifax in 2013 the idea of going cross-country began to percolate like his well-used coffee pot, especially as he contemplated retirement. Now he’s in the process of crossing that desire off his bucket list. The original plan was to be joined by younger son Brody, but only if he graduated from UBC after nine years of post-secondary education. That mission was accomplished. Unfortunately, Brody is lagging behind because of a knee injury, although it is getting better. Clive has been joined by me, his older brother Grant, putting up with his mechanical and camping deficiencies.

With nearly 800 kilometres already behind him heading into Wednesday’s trip from Edson to Entwistle, Alta., his 40-year-old dream is coming true.

• Now that we’re out of the mountains it’s likely the wildlife count will dip considerably. But we went out with a bang. On Sunday, I saw four elk grazing in the middle of the Whistlers campsite where we were staying in Jasper. Then during our trip to Hinton on Monday, we encountered four horned sheep munching away in the ditch only a few feet from the shoulder of Highway 16. I even went into the road to keep some distance from them as I went by. So many cars kept stopping to gawk and take pictures that the biggest danger wasn’t anyone getting attacked, but a multi-vehicle rear-ender.

• Along with the horned ones, Monday was a bit of a mixed bag weather-wise from clouds to rain to wind to small hail pellets, and then finally a bit of sun when we got to Hinton.

• We’re hoping to reach St. Albert on Thursday to visit with the family of Clive’s brother-in-law Brian Mennegozzo and to rest up on Friday. We’ll also hook up with the family of our brother Ian since they’ve taken up temporary residence there until everyone is let back into Fort McMurray. Ian and Rosamond’s Grade 12 son Matthew will finish his high school days in St. Albert.

Reaching to so-called summit at Obed

• Since our arrival in Alberta we were warned about climbing to the Oden Summit, the highest elevation on the Yellowhead Highway, between Hinton and Edson. Well after both of us tackled tons of tough topography in British Columbia, the climb was just ‘meh.’ However, we did obey Rosamond’s request for the requisite pictures from the summit. I’m kicking myself for not shooting a selfie when I reached the Coquihalla Summit.

Kilometre count

Grant: Day 10 (Jasper to Hinton) 90 km Total (8 days riding): 920 km

Clive: Day 7 (Jasper to Hinton) 90 km Total (6 days riding): 665 km

Grant: Day 11 (Hinton to Edson) 90 km Total (9 days riding) 1,010 km

Clive: Day 10 (Hinton to Edson) 90 km Total (7 days riding) 755 km

On the sixth day, a Sunday, we rested.

After five consecutive days of grinding out hills, dodging rumble strips and gravel shoulders, and surviving cold nights in a tiny tent it was time to take a break and rest our weary bones.

And weary they are. Why wouldn’t they? In his five days of riding Clive averaged 115 kilometres a day. I started last Saturday and have ridden seven of eight days averaging 118 a day.

Jasper seemed like a good place to pitch a tent and stay a while. In this case two tents. After sharing a two-person tent for a couple of nights, I decided to buckle under and buy one of my own. It only has room for one person. Barely. But at least we won’t be bumping our big bodies against each other in futile attempts to get a full night’s sleep.

Saturday wasn’t nearly the SufferFest I feared. There were a couple of substantial hills but getting to Jasper wasn’t too bad. Certainly better than trying to go the Rogers Pass route. The biggest hurt, besides a nagging saddle sore, was paying $67 bucks for a National Parks pass. But we’ll probably be able to use it a few more times on this trip (Hello, Riding Mountain National Park), and it’s good for next year, too.

The wildlife sightings count tripled Saturday. Along with the deer I mentioned between Little Fort and Clearwater on Wednesday’s ride, another showed up in similar fashion running in front of me Saturday on the road before dashing off to the other side. A couple of hours before that I had my head down chugging up a hill when I looked down into the gully and there was a big bear staring up at me. He didn’t know what to make of this human on a weird contraption carrying a bunch of bags. Because he was just standing there I thought for a nanosecond about stopping to take a picture. Uh, no. Not a good idea. Wasn’t willing to give a bear a standing target. So I kept on climbing.

A couple of other things stood out about Saturday’s ride to the Rockies. When we climbed a hill just before Mount Robson Provincial Park as we got to the crest,  there they were. The Rockies laid out in all their glory in front of us. Their sculpted majesty was overwhelming. They made the mountain ranges before them – the Cariboos, the Monashees, the Selkirks, the Columbias and the Coast – pale in comparison to these spectacular natural monuments.

That beauty kept on coming. I came around another corner and there, suddenly, to my right was a picturesque lake with that emerald green water iconic to the Rockies. Moose Lake was its name and it had stunning rock-faced mountainsides on the other side of its length. I almost ran my Kona off the road trying to take in the sudden overload on my visual senses. Despite soaking it in as I rode – and Moose Lake is a long one – I didn’t want it to end so when I found a rest stop at the eastern end of the lake it was time to stop for lunch with Clive joining me a few minutes later. It was so peaceful and beautiful. To me it was a better work of art than anything in a gallery.

Dinner was in downtown Jasper which was hopping on a hot Saturday evening despite it being early May. We went to the Jasper Brewing Company restaurant where Clive slaked his thirst with a 32-ounce stein of craft-brewed pilsner and sated his appetite with Bison Curry. After five days on the road it was well deserved.

The Sunday debate is whether or not to take three days or four to get to St. Albert where Clive’s brother-in-law Brian Mennegozzo and his family live. Looks like the four-day plan makes more sense.

Fortunately we’ve got all day to decide.

Time to find a laundromat.

Kilometre count

Grant: Day 8 105 km Total (7 days riding) 830 km

Clive: Day 5 105 km Total (5 days riding) 575

• Ian and Rosamond’s family is in a bit of a limbo waiting to find out what the school district in Fort McMurray decides what’s up for Grade 12 students like Matthew. They’re safe in St. Albert for now, but it does look like it will be a while before Fort McMurray is opened up to its residents again. We’re hoping to meet up with them this week. 

It was (close your ears Aunt Ruth) WTF Friday, full of suffering and surprises.

It began with suffering in Blue River. The temperature dipped to around freezing while Clive and I tried to sleep in a supposedly two-person tent. I wore four layers of clothing on my upper body, which was OK, but my sock-covered tootsies never warmed up. Getting in and out of the tent to assuage my nightly bladder needs was the usual chore but made more difficult by the tent being pitched on sand. (To alleviate some of those issues, I’ll buy a tent when we get to Jasper. I’d avoided getting one of my own because Brody had said I could use his while he slept outside. But the weather hasn’t been conducive to that and his wonky knee has him still in Kamloops where I left the tent for him to pick up.)

Making it more difficult to sleep were the train whistles, the big rigs rolling up and down the highway beside us riding their air brakes and, of course, our snoring. No bullfrogs though.

In the morning, we set off to reach Valemont, 90 kilometres away. The hills weren’t too dastardly but there were many of them. They just kept coming for the first 45 kilometres. My legs – which had already racked up more than 600 kilometres before the day had begun – had had enough and seemed to be yelling “Uncle” at me. I was hoping it was Brody trying to get my attention, but, alas it was my lower limbs that were yelping away in my head. To make matters worse, the trend of having crosswinds actually slowing us down on descents continued was becoming downright frustrating.

I’ve never understood why some people routinely use lip balm. Well those crosswinds dried out my lips something fierce. That was a minor bit of suffering, but just as I noticed that minuscule annoyance the surprises started arriving.

Nice surprises, that is.

Besides the sun coming on strong, when we got to the halfway point we needed to find a place to eat lunch. Well, there’s absolutely nothing between Blue River and Valemont, so we had to improvise. I stopped short of a bridge that seemed to have an inkling of potential. I could hear the sounds of a rushing water – although this time of the year in this neck of the woods swollen creeks are ubiquitous. I checked it out and Dominion Creek had pounding rapids rushing through stone and tree-filled banks flowing fast as it passed under the highway.

So I sat down on a rock and began to munch away on my grilled chicken sub from the Rocky Mountain Deli in Blue River, enjoy the view and wait for Clive to arrive.

Although impromptu and not a regular rest spot this tiny creekside spot started to change the day around. When Clive came he began eating his roast beef sub a few rocks away and that’s when I noticed we were right on top of a Kinder Morgan pipeline. Lunch was on Kinder Morgan, so to speak. But it certainly wasn’t free! The view was, though.

The second half of the trip into Valemont went smoother than the first thanks to more downhill than up. We got into town about mid-afternoon and began contemplating pushing on another 20 kilometres to Téte Jaune Cache, where Highway 5 meets Highway 16, which is more commonly called The Yellowhead Highway.

Although we were tired it seemed a good idea because it was still early and it would cut some time off the expected 120 kilometre journey to Jasper we’d scheduled for Saturday. An extremely competent and pleasant young woman at the Valemont visitors bureau advised us of a campground to check out when we got there.

First, however, we detoured to the IGA in Downtown Valemont to pick up some grub for the next day’s lunch. And lip balm.

Even though we were tired the trip to Tête Jaune Cache was quick and pleasant. We rolled up to the Tête Jaune Cache Lodge. It looked like most in-the-middle-of-nowhere motels – the Bates Motel model so to speak. But what we got was a small-sized, cottage-country style experience.

This time instead of a campground, we took a cabin that is basically bunk beds, mud room and a porch for just $20 more than we’ve been paying to suffer by pitching a tent.

We knew there was a restaurant attached but figured it was the typical roadside gas station restaurant.

Well, when we meandered down the hill toward the banks of the Mighty Fraser River we began to realize this just might be a much better spot to eat than we ever expected. It was a quaint little rustic eatery with a modern patio with unbelievable views of Simon’s waterway, the forest, a neat little wooden bridge and mountains, and more mountains.

We were greeted by a red-faced, rolly-polly guy in a chef’s hat and apron. It turns out since the motel won’t be hiring any other staff for the summer season until Mother’s Day, he was the maitre-d, the server, the cashier and the cook, although it did appear he had a kitchen helper in the back. Although it seemed like he was walking around in a flurry, constantly flustered forgetting this and forgetting that. But, somehow, he managed to get the job done. He was a hoot to watch in action.

The menu offered up many interesting possibilities beyond a banal burger, clubhouse sandwich or turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy. When he brought out two impressive pizzas for a table of four it caught our eye.

We kind of looked at each other and thought, ‘No way. Those look delicious.’

Along with a local craft beer, Clive ordered up a Canadian Rocky Mountain Burger (or something to that effect) which would have matched or surpassed anything found at a gourmet burger restaurant. I asked for the Fettuccini Jambalaya. It was plentiful and put to shame Boston Pizza’s version of the dish. It was spicy, tasty and plentiful. It was goooood!

Then we hit the showers for another shock. A pleasant one, not an electrical one. Unlike the previous campground showers, most built in the 1960s before building codes came into force, this one was big, modern and bright with lots of room to maneuvre. They even had towel bath mats for us to use to soothe are sore feet as we emerged from the hot shower.

So now it’s on to Jasper. We’re told, just like Friday, there will be plenty of hills to climb through Mount Robson Provincial Park and on into the national park.

Great. More suffering.

But then again, that’s what we signed up for. Surely it will serve up some surprises too. It’s all part of an epic journey of a lifetime … or at least of an early retirement bucket list.

Kilometre count

Grant (Day 7 trip, Day 6 riding): 113 km. Trip total: 725

Clive: (Day 4 trip, Day 4 riding) 113 km. Trip total: 447