Homeward Bound

This installment comes to you from Ottawa, where the rain is pouring down as I write but that's OK because I have the day off. The truth is I haven't even made it home yet (although I will make it over this afternoon to drop off some no-longer-necessary things off and pick up a few nice-to-have items, sift through the mail that has accumulated, etc.), and I am content now just to catch up on computing and do laundry. And eat (of course). Being back in a hectic urban environment after having lived so simply (and quietly) for so long is actually a bit unsettling, and I am grateful for the simple and soothing sound of the rain hitting the leaves outside my open window.

Day 47

The day started in incredibly thick fog that lingered for quite some time before yielding.  As I was familiar with the terrain because of previous bike tours in the area, I was not as snap-happy as usual - e.g. I didn't pause to record an image of the Holland Marsh (known as "Ontario's vegetable patch" and located just 50km north of Toronto (known as many, mostly uncomplimentary, things)) because the Marsh is really not that photogenic - mostly a bunch of fertile mud. But then I felt guilty about not documenting it for those reading this who are not familiar with Ontario geography, so I later took this picture of a cornfield from Davis Drive looking back westwards. If you look closely you can see a car traveling on Woodbine Avenue in the background.

This shot further along towards Uxbridge better captures the farming environment

There were also the usual "rolling" (i.e. increasingly long and steep) hills, but as I was riding alone (I had gone out of my way in Uxbridge to visit the tourist information office, which, despite the signpost in town that usually suggests an office  located at the Chamber of Commerce, turned out to be housed in a rural museum up a hill on the far side of town) I chose not to photograph empty roads. In any case, our route eventually took us to this portending sign

I should now mention that our route maps generally show little, if any, context - very few roads other than the ones we are to travel on are shown. So when confronted with the above that provided nary a hint of what an alternative might be, I pressed on through the construction

"Yield to construction vehicles"

and paused to enjoy the restful view that was in marked counterpoint to what I had to pedal up and over.

Eventually, though, I arrived at camp only to find the following.

As I was on cook duty that night, there was nothing left to do but sit in the heat and wait for the truck. At least while riding there had been an occasional cool breeze from off the lake to counter the hot ones that had wafted across the fields; here, I just watched a praying mantis.

Day 48

Most of today seemed to have been spent zig-zagging back and forth to avoid 'busy' roads, and encountering some uncharacteristic headwinds. We rode though the requisite hills,

past some interesting yard ornaments (reminiscent of the previous day's fauna)

and finally came to Lake Ontario.

Then it was off through the hills of Northumberland and Durham counties.

I made a pilgrimage to the site I had stayed at as a coop student in Cobourg (a town whose character has changed completely in the intervening 33 years. It is now completely pimped and plumped out and totally unrecognizable) before detouring north to a BBQ generously hosted by our rider Tim and his family (with help from his neighbour Rick, who not only did all the cooking but hunted and prepared much of our food and had even built the house Tim lived in). Then it was a return to the lake and our Eastward trek.

That night in the campsite's pool, I noted I was able to swim easily as I seemed to have more flotation than normal. It was sobering to appreciate that this is likely due to loss of muscle mass in my increasingly under-utilized upper body. 

Day 49

Sometimes all you want is a decent night's sleep - say one uninterrupted by country music [sic] and boisterousness, bereft of snorers (and I am chastened to have been told I may have become one! I am hoping that is an anomaly that will pass once I return to more restful conditions), and free of those who rise before the sun and commence to break camp just on the other side of the thin nylon barrier that separates your world of slumber from the one at large.

At any rate, I set off towards Prince Edward County, another area I am familiar with and one which once again has seen its character change over the years. After having ascended the escarpment at Rednersville, we swooped down around  a curve and were met by a rush of warm, moist air - giving perceptible testament to the notion of a microclimate - and it was not long before we were among the vines and wineries. 

I made another side-pilgrimage to visit the wonderful Bloomfield Bicycle Company (and was so absorbed in soaking up the atmosphere that I neglected to document my visit photographically) before heading out through the traffic jam(!)  in Picton to the Glenora ferry that connects the eastern part of Highway 33 with its western sibling the Loyalist Parkway.

It was then a pleasant and speedy ride along the lake with thankfully cooling breezes that brought me to Kingston, where I arrived in time to meet up with my high school buddy Iain who is forced to work out of this Lakeside Victorian mansion in his capacity as Vice-Dean at Queen's

The city is better known for its wealth of limestone buildings, and it recently added this market square whose surface is in fact refrigerated so that in winter it is used as a downtown skating rink.

The Zamboni really does reside in the limestone shed on the left!

Old Fort Henry presides over things on the east side of town,

making Kingston a charming place to visit even if  we did ride by 4 correctional institutions. I also almost got run over there by an SUV that did not respect my right of way, the driver blithely powering down the passenger side window and offering a cheerful "sorry" as I (less than calmly) voiced my concern.

That night in camp we were welcomed by Alan Medcalf, member of the TdC Board of Directors and generally nice guy, who lives nearby. He brought some fresh pies for us to enjoy and, as I write this, should have just completed his first triathlon.

Days 50, 51

I had a blast of a morning: the combination of tailwind and knowing I would soon be home saw me arriving in Merrickville (1/2 way to Ottawa, and the only portion of the route that would be unfamiliar to me) a few minutes past 10AM, my enthusiasm making me somewhat early for my proposed meeting up with my friend Linda (herself no cycling slouch, who had to battle against the same winds that were assisting me). She even brought me broccoli!!

Along the way I passed some pleasant Thousand Island/river views,

went by typical Ottawa Valley farmland,

noted the Rideau Canal locks are still mainly operated by hand,

and even saw more than one set of 'hay cyclists'.

I also made a side-trip to keep my MS Bike Tour participation record intact by visiting the Kemptville Campus of the University of Guelph - I was only 1 week late in getting there!

And I have to admit I was embarrassed by the state of the roads outside Ottawa. But I was able to use my local knowledge to take a gamble and go off-route: this led to a brief (and initially unrideable) construction zone before yielding fresh pavement that wasn't yet even open to traffic.

Eventually we all collected at Carleton University for a pizza dinner before dispersing into the Ottawa night, where I partook of a pleasant patio party with precious people.