The original idea for The 7Cs blog was for Grant and Brody to share the posts. But logistically that hasn’t been possible since Brody’s been battling injuries and has been basically on his own since my third day out, with the exception of the first day leaving Winnipeg. Well, he’s back with us having used the train to catch up. And his knee is doing much better. So he’s kept up with us the last couple of days of riding using his own strategy of early morning and late afternoon/evening rides. So now that we’re in Ottawa he’s finally able to contribute and this his debut blog:

Hello Followers of Blog. Until now, you have been getting second-hand reports of Brody, supposedly one of the the central characters of Blog. That’s all fine and well, as it builds a tantalizing mystique around me, but now you’re about to get something a bit different. Broda Fide Blog. This is a first-hand account, probably largely true, of just some of what’s happened. Canada’s been so good to this dirtbag cyclist, it’s hard to decide where to start, so I’ll flip open a page in my journal at random and start there.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

I’m at a highway rest stop off the Trans-Canada in Ontario at a place called Dixie Lake, part way between Kenora and Dryden. I’ve been dodging rain all morning, watching the first downpour come and go while eating an omelette and listening to depressing news out of Florida, and now hearing the first few drops pelting the metal roof of the two-table picnic shelter just a stone’s throw from the shore of the small lake. In a haze of optimism a couple of days ago I’d decided to try to make Dryden by tonight. That way, I’d have a comfortable two days’ ride to Sioux Lookout where I’m to catch a 6 a.m. train to Sudbury on Wednesday morning.

I have a rain jacket but no rain pants, and I usually don’t ride in the rain anyway because it makes a mess of my sweet lowrider’s shiny chain and cogs. With still about a hundred clicks of road left, and the sky beginning to crank up the metal roof volume to 11, the odds of my making it to Dryden are looking about as probable as a hitchhiker getting a ride on a day when a mass murder is in the news.
The rain stops for a bit and I decide to try to thumb a ride anyway. Hitchhiking with a loaded recumbent is a tall order on the best of days, and humanity’s faith in humanity is understandably shaken this morning. I spend the better part of an hour on the side of the road, but as predicted, nobody travelling this highway is inclined to stop for a tall beardy dude with cumbersome luggage. It starts to rain again. I go back to the picnic shelter.

Way back before the start of this trip, I’d decided that I’d stay off the road and out of the sun during the middle of the day. I’ve been told that the Ultra Violent Rays from our sun cause skin cancer and aging, so from about 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. I try to be in the shade. This means that I spend a fair bit of time in highway rest stop picnic shelters like the one I’m in now, and as a result I’ve become extraordinarily good at killing time until the late afternoon comes.

I travel with a foam roller for massaging, a stove for cooking and tea brewing, and a concertina (that’s the little accordion) for music making. Add to that a journal to write in, a machine to shine, and an unfailing ability to attract conversation from strangers (largely due to a shiny, funny-looking bike, and in spite of the beard and dirtbag smell), and the hours pass by without boredom rearing its ugly head. Boredom is the true enemy.
When in these picnic shelters, I make an effort to be tidy and compact so the rest of the space is free for others. These are public spaces, and I’d hate for people who want to use them to think that I’m occupying the whole shelter. And so it was on this rainy day that a silver minivan rolled up to the shelter and saw a free table waiting for them. I greeted the driver as he stepped out of the van and offered him a cup of tea, which he politely declined as he and his wife were also travelling with a stove for tea brewing and were about to do just that.

They were originally from England, had raised their children mostly in Canada, and were on their way across the country from Vancouver Island to see their grandchildren in Ontario. We chatted about the the upcoming baby in my family, the trip I was on, and where I was headed next. People that I meet at highway rest stops often offer me food, which most of the time I gladly and graciously accept.
“Would you like a ham sandwich?”
“No, thank you. I would but I just finished a big lunch. What I could really use though, and only if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, and only if you have space in your vehicle, is a ride to Dryden.”
A somewhat reluctant look came over their faces. It took a bit of nerve to ask, but I still wanted to make my train and had a lot of ground to cover before Wednesday morning. Lucky for me, it’s a handy bit of human nature that it’s easier to say yes than it is to say no.
“Sure, if there’s room for the bike. We’re quite full already, and you’ll have to ride with the dog on your lap.”
Fortunately, I like dogs. I had a look in the minivan, and there was no denying that there was space for a bike and a dirtbag. I took off the bags and spun the front wheel around to make the bike as short as possible. Minivans are cavernous things, and the bike went in without a hitch. We loaded up the bags, the dirtbag, the pooch, and hit the road.

The trip was pleasant conversation and dog petting at 100 km/h, which feels very warp-speedish after so many days of cycling, and the couple kindly dropped me off on the far side of Dryden. I found a camp spot behind the Walmart and spent the night being woken up by transport trucks passing within a few feet of the tent as they made deliveries to the store.
Poor choice of camp spot aside, it was an amazingly fortunate day for me. I had no trouble making Sioux Lookout in plenty of time to catch the train. While picnicking outside the municipal offices in Sioux Lookout I was approached by a man who asked me about the bike and the ride before introducing himself as the mayor. He asked me when my train was scheduled to leave, and offered his guest room to me for the night. As it happened, the family had a full-sized piano accordion in the basement, so I played for the mayor, his wife, and their grandchildren while they did laundry for me and fed me dinner.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my first contribution to Blog. More to come from me, but for now my daily quota of staring at a glowing screen has been exceeded. It’s a beautiful day in Ottawa, and I’ve got a hankering for a sauna. If you’d like to share your thoughts, please comment below. Thanks for reading!