June 10, 2016
Entering the boreal shield: My man-of-the-wild pride restored
Before I’d gone to bed I had noticed that Vivian had not bothered to peg out the flysheet of her tent properly. “I’m doing it the lazy way!” she said, before flopping inside. Before very long a thunderstorm came along.
In the morning I awoke to the piercing wail of “All my stuff is wet!!!” from across the green. As I climbed outside myself I was treated to an early morning story all about a giant bug that had also gained entrance to poor Vivian’s tent somehow. She’d killed it, but apparently it smelled really awful in her tent. It seemed a dubious conclusion and I made further enquiries: “Are you sure that smells nothing to do with all the wet stuff?”
We began and immediately Vivian had a problem with her bike. The cassette was not spinning freely and so we had to stop and I fixed it for her. Things were still alright between us but I could feel myself beginning to get more irritated by the day. It wasn’t too much longer before our planned routes would naturally split in different directions anyway, and I was confident I could happily ride with her until then.
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We continued on and soon turned east on the 44 highway, which signposts told us was the historic Highway 1. Its heyday long gone now there was almost no traffic on it at all and it was a great ride. It also represented the start of the huge ‘boreal shield’, a mixture of boreal forest, bare rocks, lakes and rivers that extends all the way from here to the Atlantic Ocean. The flies continued to be seriously annoying, but otherwise it was great cycling.
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Garter snake. Their color patterns are extremely variable. Sometimes they are a bit pugnacious and almost always they smear stinking musk all over you if you grab them.
https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/28339-Thamnophis
6 months ago
We made a stop at Rennie and made use of the wifi at the hotel in town. As I sat on the steps outside a surprising number of people came and went, with most of them saying at least a few words to me, including one particularly strange man who said that cycle touring seemed a bit dangerous because I might drown, in the rain.
It was so nice to be away from the highway. If only there were more roads like this in Canada it would be a much more enjoyable ride. The road began to rise and fall more, cresting peaks that revealed new combinations of trees, rocks and lake. The smell of pine permeated the air but it was hot and humid and felt like the tropics. I loved it but at West Hawk the road ended and we had to rejoin the highway. It was the only road east into Ontario and it was seriously busy now, though at least it had a decent enough shoulder.
We arrived in Ontario, a huge great big sign telling us so at the side of the highway. A couple of kilometres later, at a closed visitor centre another huge sign reminded us that we were now in ONTARIO. Vivian, who was making photos and videos at each province sign wasn’t happy with these though. “Do you think there will be another one?” she asked, hoping for something better. “No,” I said.
Twenty kilometres later it was time to camp and we did so down a little track that led away from the road. The track dead-ended in the bush and so we decided to set up camp. There was even a little fire pit so we could build a fire and sit outside, hoping that would be enough to keep the mosquitoes away. Unfortunately, however, the fire did nothing to deter the ticks. We had unwittingly wandered into a location completely over-run by them. It started with one or two crawling up our trouser legs. I cut them in half with scissors. But as we sat out by the fire and cooked, more and more kept appearing. Vivian was appalled, and even more so when I said that I would actually quite like it if one bit me, just so that I could have another go at removing one after my dismal failure back in Whistler. I got my chance when I got into my tent and discovered two ticks burrowed into my legs, one in each calf. Following the good advices I’d received since my last tick encounter I sprayed them with repellent and then turned them gently anti-clockwise, coaxing them out before cutting them in half. I felt good. My man-of-the-wild pride had been restored.
Today's ride: 97 km (60 miles)
Total: 51,747 km (32,135 miles)
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