September 23, 2016
Madawaska to Petawawa: Why do nice people insist on ruining my bad days?
After yesterday, you'd think that I would've learned my lesson and would steer clear of snowmobile trails from now on, or at least until the memory had faded.
But no. I couldn't believe it, but I was contemplating taking the snowmobile trail into Barry's Bay to avoid trucks and hills. Even after last night's rain which probably wrecked the trail surface.
I'll just take a look, I thought, recognizing the danger of that thought but thinking it anyway. I was getting worried about myself.
Ultimately, the decision was made for me when I missed the trail entrance. The highway wasn't so bad and neither was traffic at that hour. (Only the sign for a passing lane filled me with dread, since they always put those on the biggest hills, but even that wasn't bad, though it was definitely a "don't look up don't look up" sort of hill.
Barry's Bay was exciting, a real town, with a Subway and a Tim Hortons and Ontario's Last Wooden Railway Water Tower. This last was key because reinforced a pattern I had noticed: the former rail towns looked healthy and vibrant, the other small towns mostly looked like a few dilapidated buildings along a road.
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But the drivers were awful. Everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone who wasn't merely passing through on Highway 60, appeared to have not quite grasped the concept of the steering wheel, gas pedal, brakes, or figured out what those funny lines on the road were for. People accelerated toward stop signs, turned right while angled left across the lane, pulled into driveways they had already passed.
They were all seniors, and so I attributed the driving to age. But a few minutes out town, after passing many Polish street names, a Polish heritage centre, and recalling a park in Barry's Bay dedicated to a Polish-Canadian pilot, something clicked. It wasn't age, it was that the drivers were all honouring their Polish heritage. (For context on this, see the Poland section of my No More Taxi Drivers journal.)
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The rest of the ride was terrible. First were the back roads, gravel and disintegrating chipseal, with many walking hills. After Round Lake the road was busy with construction and logging trucks--and no shoulder.
Tired after yesterday's adventure and mentally exhausted by the hills, light headwind, and all the trucks, I was stopping every few kilometres to check my phone's GPS.
I passed a woman standing at the end of a driveway next to a mailbox and thought she seemed really eager to get the mail today. She smiled, we exchanged greetings, and I got the idea she'd be happy to talk, but I didn't stop. I had a long way to go, no bike computer to reassure me that my speed was okay, and I wanted off that road.
Not much further along, three vehicles were coming up behind me while I was on a short stretch of paved shoulder, which was ending very shortly. The first vehicle appeared to be slowing down instead of passing me, which annoyed me because it meant I'd have to stop and wait for everyone to pass.
The car pulled over in front of me and the same woman got out of the passenger side.
"Do you want a hot meal?" Kate had been waiting for someone to pick her up and told the driver they had to find me. Her husband had toured across Canada, so she knew.
I was touched that someone would go to the trouble of tracking me down to offer me food, but--this is hard to believe--I declined. No way was I backtracking on that road, and I was concerned about time; earlier sunsets are getting to be an issue. Still, the offer alone had brightened my day.
"Have you had lunch?" she asked.
"No." She didn't like that, so I added, "I'm looking for a spot to stop for some roadside peanut butter."
Like so many before her, she was unimpressed. I don't know if I appeared exhausted or if I had mentioned it (probably both), but she wasn't letting me go without feeding me. "I'll send my husband after you with food."
That sounded great to me.
A few minutes later, a car passed with a friendly honk, the first of the tour, so I thought it might be him, but the car kept going and I put it out of my mind. Not long after that, I stopped for a break and saw a person in a red shirt waving to me just at the top of a small hill.
It was Jim, with a basket full of food. I devoured the chocolate cake, drank the electrolytes (and realized I hadn't had nearly enough water today), talked about touring, and then found out he's on this site, too. So someone here has now seen my face. I guess I'll post a selfie sooner or later.
Kate and Jim were worried that I might bonk. That wasn't the issue; it was that I was pushing too hard, too far, on legs that hadn't recovered, with a body that hadn't slept well in months. But meeting people who went out of their way to brighten my day was a huge mental boost on that tough ride.
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When I arrived in Petawawa, I went directly to GearHeads, the bike shop.
"How busy are you tomorrow?"
Laughter. Ah. But they took my bike right away and fixed it up and even cleaned up the drivetrain, and sent me on my way, no charge. The shifting is vastly better now, though it'll need more work after the tour. [February 2017 update: It turns out that my theory that my basket smushed the cable enough to affect it was a good one--I finally removed the basket and shifting was instantly messed up again. I like being right, and I'll conveniently ignore the fact that I directly caused the problem in the first place.]
Petawawa is a town that exists primarily because of the army base next door. It felt very much like an oil town to me, with a young population, a gun store, no real community. Boring teenagers everywhere, lots of muscular men, everyone wearing jeans.
Tomorrow I want to spend time by the river because it looks beautiful, but I'll be so tired that I'll spend the day in bed instead, apologizing profusely to my body for what I've put it through.
The concept of going around Lake Ontario has been hard for people to grasp when I'm so far from the lake, so I've telling people I'm going to Montreal.
Today I was questioning my ability to make it any further. I knew I was pushing myself too hard and now I'm feeling the consequences. I should have paddled into a campsite in Algonquin amd stayed there for three days, not portaged and battled headwinds. I definitely should NOT have taken that snowmobile trail. I should have rested more rather than try to make long distances on the days I think of as repositioning days.
It's a good thing I rode a hilly loop every week during the summer; if not for that, I would've quit this tour.
Today's ride: 110 km (68 miles)
Total: 685 km (425 miles)
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