Rest Day: Enjoying Georgian Bay

September 15, 2016

How am I doing after three days?

Legs: Exhausted, but colourful. Sunburn on outside of left calf, bruises down back of calf, large dark purple bruise on inner left knee, blister on right heel (shoes were fine all summer but didn't push the bike uphill then--bought cushy socks yesterday), couple of cuts on right calf, large bruise and scrape on right thigh, bruise on outside of thigh, smears of chain grease all over. Extrapolating this to a six-week tour suggests I'll need my legs amputated before long.

Rest of body: Hands are sore between thumb and index finger, upper back is sore, heart rate is a bit lower while biking than it has been (this is good and due to a medication adjustment just before the tour).

Butt: Feels okay.

Sleep: Not enough. This is mainly a medical issue and is the most likely cause of ending this tour early.

Hygiene: I showered yesterday but am unlikely to do so again for over a week. Clothes are filthy, except for my cushy new socks.

Bike: No computer. Shifting problems, will fiddle with the derailleur some more. Otherwise doing just fine, maybe a bit wobbly, but a better tourer than expected.

Power: Questionable. My phone has stated draining like crazy and charging the camera batteries is too time consuming for most of my stops. We shall see.

Definitely time for a day off and a splurge: a trip to Georgian Bay Islands National Park for some iconic Canadian scenery.

I camped on Beausoleil Island, then went for a morning hike. Nothing too strenuous on my day off, just rocks and trees that went on forever. Clambering up slopes of rock, breathing pine-scented air, watching huge red-crested woodpeckers frantically attacking trees. It was perfect.

The soil here is thin to non-existent and the winds of Georgian Bay are persistent, so the vegetation is tenacious and, along with the expanses of fairly smooth rock, makes for a raw, bold landscape.

Moss and lichen growing in clumps on Beausoleil Island

The dominant rock on the island is pink gneiss, which this might be. The early morning sun shows the glacial markings really well.

At one point, the trail entered a proper forest, with real soil; a dark and foreboding place, though it might not have been the forest so much as the frequent bear droppings plus a bear sighting at the campground yesterday that combined to put me on alert.

Nevertheless, I still managed to get lost in thought and was thus extremely startled and confused when I was attacked from behind by a flying squirrel.

Okay, not exactly attacked, but it did swoop right over my head like a territorial bird, and I looked up on time to see what looked like a grey carpet sample thrown at a tree. It quickly scrambled to the other side of the trunk and remained there, motionless. I couldn't tell whether it was afraid or waiting for me to turn my back so it could have another go. It must have been afraid, because I survived the rest of my walk, but just barely, having been smothered by the many, many spiderwebs strung across the trail, particularly at face level. I looked like Halloween after a few kilometres.

Edible or poisonous? There's only one way to find out! (Disclaimer: there is NOT only one way to find out)

Later in the day, I noticed that a massive, but dead, spider in the outhouse had apparently moved. On closer inspection, it was now missing several legs and it appeared that another camper had gone to some wasted effort to kill it. As an aside, this is a gorgeous place, but is not a place to be if you want solitude. It belongs to the world of boaters. There was one couple there, staying on their boat, who came ashore for a fire, a sunset, to smoke weed, and to let their dog bark at me every time I came near.

These cages do a good job keeping bears out, but a horrible job keeping chipmunks out. One actually popped out of my pannier while I was sitting nearby!

I watched the sun set, never a disappontment here; it went down, then I turned around and the full moon came up. The wind died, and the mosquitoes attacked, so I soon retreated to my tent.

Nobody does pine trees better than Georgian Bay

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