Like Some Kind Of Provincial Horsefly Day

June 14, 2016

Winnipeg, Manitoba

Just for fun, I thought it would be interesting to aim my phone directly into the sun and snap a picture as it rose above the trees this morning. The result was better than the white-out I thought it would be.

Before you congratulate me on my 90-mile day, an explanation is in order. The minute I pulled out of the campground I felt something pushing me forward with significant force. I shifted my front derailleur onto the front chain ring and it never left that position for the rest of the day.

You guessed it, I was blessed with not only a tailwind, but also a cooler day and a totally flat Trans-Canada Highway that exceeded even my wildest expectations of Manitoba flatness-ness. It is no exaggeration to say that I only remember going uphill one time and that was for about 50 meters at a grade of approximately 1%.

Flat and fast--it was literally a bike rider's dream. There was one 20-mile stretch where I was pedaling in my highest gear while wishing I had one or two more. In all my years of riding, I have never experienced an easier 90 miles, which, by the way, sounds even more heroic when I refer to it as 146 kilometers. And now that I am in kilometer-land, I really should be writing in terms of kms.

Flat Manitoba (the part that still has trees.)

At approximately 35 km. into my day, I noticed a vehicle pulling over to the side of the highway ahead of me. The driver got out and waved me down.

"Do you need any water?" he asked as I pulled over onto the gravel behind him.

"Oh, man, thanks for asking, but I've been flying along with this wind and I haven't even taken a sip of my water yet. I haven't even broken a sweat."

"Yes, I could see you were keeping a good pace." He had an obvious accent, but I couldn't quite place it. "I'm sorry I stopped you," he added, "but I ride a bike too, and I know you can never have enough water."

"I really appreciate the offer, but I'm fine." I looked at his vehicle which appeared to be a cross between a Land Rover and an ambulance. With all the recreational gear mounted on top, it had the appearance of being an outdoor adventurer's dream machine. If that librarian in Grantsburg, Wisconsin thought I looked like a rugged outdoors type, she should have seen this guy with his ponytail, his high-tech clothing, his bulging muscles, his accent, and his hardcore off-road vehicle. I spoke up again, "I see you're pretty well-equipped for a big adventure. Are you on a cross-Canada trip?"

"Yes, I'm on my way to Vancouver and then as far into Alaska as I can go," he said in his accented voice.

"I just have to ask, where are you from?"

"I'm from Germany," he proudly replied.

I glanced down and indeed, his license plate was German. He must have brought it over to Canada on a boat. As we talked, I realized he spoke English very well and was making a concerted effort to pronounce his W's like we do, but sometimes he mixed two pronunciations into the conversation, as in "water" and "vater."

We shook hands, wished each other well, and when I started pedaling again I was glad to feel the wind had only increased in strength.

Soon thereafter, I ran into a phenomenon that defies verbal description. I had a long stretch where the horseflies were relentless. First of all, those f^@&ers were HUGE! Secondly, they're FAST--as I've said before--and whenever they had the opportunity, they'd land on an arm or leg or a back, or behind your sunglasses. They don't always bite, but when they do, it's painful.

Even though I was going pretty fast, they swirled around me as if I was in the vortex of a horsefly tornado.

What shocked me was when I looked behind. I saw countless numbers of the bastards flying in the vacuum of my wake. They were like the kind of roadies who ride for hours in a paceline behind you without ever taking a turn in the lead.

I could not escape them no matter how fast I rode. I didn't even want to stop for a drink of water out of fear of getting swarmed and eaten by those vicious creatures.

But here's the strangest part: When I finally DID stop, they hardly bothered me at all. They just dispersed. Then when I resumed riding they were all around me again. It's as if they just wanted to play! I was so fascinated by this behavior that I almost reconsidered my hatred for the insect world.

****************

These were the last of the trees I would see on the Trans-Canada Highway. It was wide open prairie from this point.

Had it not been for the favorable wind, I would had no chance of making it to the silvery streets of Winnipeg today. I was planning to camp somewhere among the French towns of southeast Manitoba--towns with names like Ste. Genevieve, Dufresne, Richer, St. Pierre Jolys, La Broquerie and, my personal favorite, Ste. Anne de Chenes.

In this part of Manitoba, every road sign in English is followed by a road sign in French.

I pressed onward and made it to Winnipeg--91 miles and 146 kilometers--in less than six hours, and that includes several stops for snacks, water, and urination.

Cruising toward the heart of Winnipeg, I noticed an unusual building and veered off-route to check it out.

The mint makes coins for many countries worldwide. This is the "parade of flags" of all of those countries.

Including the stars and bars of the U.S.A. (2nd flag on the right)

After a few struggles with traffic and navigation, I made my way downtown, found a hotel, and settled in for a couple days of exploring the city. A downtown hotel is sort of a budget buster, but I consider it my reward for camping, cheap motels, and not eating a single meal in a restaurant during the first half of this trip.

The view from my 11th-floor hotel room. The Manitoba Government Building is on the far left. I think I'll go visit it tomorrow.

Today's ride: 91 miles (146 km)
Total: 719 miles (1,157 km)

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