"You have to like to ride": It's Squall or Nothing

I am writing from Alliston, home base for Cycle Canada, operator of the Tour du Canada. We are near "the land of many suburbs" so traffic has increased, and the weather has not been kind to us. Even now that the rain has stopped, the humidity lingers. But I am getting ahead of myself....

Day 42
The ride to Manitowaning was one I had enjoyed most in 1994. This year's version started off well, with a wind-assisted ride out of Spanish past pleasant fields. Even the chip-and-seal back road we took to avoid the highway traffic was enjoyable.

Pleasant views from the road

And then it was time to enjoy the southward jaunt from Espanola. The road was as I had recalled - an engaging series of swoops and curves through the rocky outcrops, with views of the quartzite Lacloche Range shimmering in the background.

As we neared the swing bridge to Manitoulin Island, the wind intensified and the landscape flattened.

The grass was flattened by the wind as well

Once on the island, however, the roadway deteriorated considerably, and it was largely due to reliance on the wind's assistance that I endured the final 30km to the campground. There, our resident highway expert decreed that "if they don't fix that road, after next winter it will explode". It is a sad state of affairs indeed when a numbered provincial highway is less rideable than a back road. At least the view from the island's lookout was pleasant.

As was the evening view from the campsite beach

But once the sun went down it was a different story. Our camping area was next to the "Rec Hall" where evening bingo was being held as we prepared for bed (we had to rise early the next morning to make the 9:10 sailing of the ferry some 36km away). We were not prepared for (nor amused by) the subsequent teen dance (or whatever they called it) that had music blaring for several more hours and that kept most of us awake and cursing in our tents. Ironically, that same rec hall later blocked the light from the toilet building giving us perhaps the best views of the star-filled night sky yet.

Day 43
With many people rising at an ungodly hour to ensure they didn't miss the ferry, there was no choice but to wake with their ruckus and endure a brief but chilly ride to the ferry terminal, where we languished for over an hour waiting for the boat, our bikes joining the long line of other vehicles waiting to embark.

Finally the Chi-Cheemaun emerged and we were off

Some people took advantage of the crossing time to catch up on their sleep, while others took in the views

Once in Tobermory there was no point in riding the 6km to the campsite since the truck was still in town, so I opted for a liquid lunch and discovered the following in the bar toilet (putting the "wheee" back in wee).

And just in case you're wondering, I'm pretty sure I'm better at urinal soccer than the real thing.
Then it was off to camp and thence to The Grotto, where put off by the seething mass of humanity I merely noted the typical Bruce peninsula terrain (the stuff they show in the ads but without the crowds) before beating a hasty retreat, vowing to return some time midweek and post Labour Day to properly enjoy the site.

Sadly. the same raucous behaviour of the beach crowd was displayed at our campsite that night (in addition to alcohol-fueled hooting and hollering, these people even drove ATVs to the toilets) and we did not sleep well at all.

Day 44
It rained during the night and had stopped by morning, but any hopes that we might have dodged further wetness were soon dashed as both the weather and the road deteriorated.

Scarified pavement and rain: not the best start to the day

At one point it was raining so hard it hurt. Plus I could barely see. But it was a warm rain so I pressed on, and eventually even dried out (more or less). So when squall #2 hit I was miffed and sought out the shelter of the woods to try and dodge the raindrops in the forest canopy. That actually seemed to work fairly well (especially once I got my rainjacket on) so when squall #3 hit at Colpoy's Bay I beelined it to the shade of a tree on someone's front lawn. After a (wet) while I happened to notice one of their garage doors was open and was about to make a dash for it when a woman from across the street emerged and gently inquired if I would like to come inside. So it was that (after handing me a towel) Tara and her young daughter Bronwyn got to relive the tour backwards as I scrolled through the images on my camera (and dried off. Thank you!).

When eventually the rain seemed to have stopped, we checked the weather radar (which showed the precipitation moving off and "nothing" behind it) so I set off again. When squall #4 hit (the bugger had swirled around and approached from the other side!) I found refuge in a barn among the tractors and snow-clearing equipment. The dogs appeared only when I was leaving, and since I was walking my bike to the pavement, fortunately decided to pay me little heed.

A scant few kms later the weather (#5? I'm losing count) returned, and this time the wind was so severe that I actually managed to stay dry simply by hiding in the lee of a conveniently-nearby hill/hollow. Eventually, I managed to make it to Owen Sound, which was by then emerging into sunshine, the anticipated gorgeous views of Georgian Bay having eluded me.

Georgian Bay (not at its most scenic, but the best I could do)

Days 46,47
The morning started off well, with sunny skies, nice roads, and beautiful rolling terrain (Bruce and Grey counties look to have a wealth of riches) but the lingering humidity told me we were likely in for some late day showers.

There actually is a cyclist in this shot to give some perspective

Still, we were getting close to some terrain I already knew from the Southern Ontario Century Rally, and after crossing (i.e. descending then ascending) Beaver Valley I thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful descent into Dunedin and the fresh pavement that ensued to Creemore, where I knew free beer (a clear violation of the First Law of Thermodynamics) awaited.

Enjoying the samples at the Creemore Springs Brewery

And it was precisely because I had been to the wonderful Creemore Springs brewery before, that I knew to ask for some coasters - and consequently spent about an hour waiting for someone to pick them up from the warehouse ("it'll just be a few minutes") because they had run out at the retail store. So by the time I finally left Creemore it had started to sprinkle, which naturally soon progressed to full deluge, and I was just leaving Alliston and only a few kms from camp when I suffered my first flat of the tour. Fortunately, I was able to walk to a nearby VW dealership and shelter in their garage while I tended to repairs, but it was hard to locate the leak because of the incessant noise of the nearby traffic on the wet roads.