June 25, 2016
I like money more than happiness: Timmins, Ontario
My eventful day was swiftly followed by an uneventful one. Very little happened for the remaining 160 kilometres to Timmins. I spent some time sitting outside of a general store in the little settlement of Foleyet, where I savoured every minute of the Wales versus Northern Ireland football match. Not because the game was exciting, of course, but because the cool breeze that flowed through the storefront kept the flies away. After the match I went inside for water, where I spoke with a friendly local man, and after recent events the topic of conversation soon became political. He asked me what was the deal with brexit and I could offer no rational explanation, and then he told me in this strange political climate he was sure that Trump was going to win now too, in a way that made me believe him.
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That seemed quite likely to be my last conversation for the day, with this remote road still stretching on out in front of me and no further habitation expected until Timmins, but that did not turn out to be the case. In the afternoon I was cycling along up a gradual climb when I noticed a bright orange construction worker at the side of the road. He was banging in some wooden post or something but when he saw me he quickly threw down his tools and urged me to stop, in a way that suggested he had the pleasure of even less human company than me.
Philippe was a young fellow, only nineteen years old, and he was an extremely funny character. The reason he had stopped me was to declare “I want to do that!” by which he meant not that he wanted to ride a bicycle across Canada exactly, but that he wanted to travel. He told me that he’d been saving up a lot of money doing this job but that he didn’t have the balls to leave and go and travel. I told him that he should, if that was his dream, and he had the money, then he should go. He tried to resist, and declared “My favourite thing to do is to look at my bank account and see how much money I have.” But he said it in a joking manner, and it made me laugh, even as I told him that there were more important things in life than money. “Yeah, but I like money more than happiness” he said.
Philippe asked me lots of questions and every time I hinted that I should get going he’d say “Please don’t go. Don’t leave!” Until eventually his boss arrived in a truck and he had to get back to work and I could move on. Before I did he insisted on getting my Facebook details. A few weeks later I received a message from him, telling me that he’d been inspired to quit his job and go travelling and he was on his way to Italy.
I was still enjoying cycling on this great road, though I knew it was not a popular choice for cycle tourists. In fact Philippe said I was only the second he’d seen passing by in months. Almost everyone riding across Canada follows the #17 highway around Lake Superior, but I would definitely recommend this alternative. Much more peaceful and somehow more like the real, wild, Canada. Only problem with that was the flies. I’d at least noticed that the little sandflies could not keep up with me so long as I went at least 18 kilometres per hour, and my ride became more and more like the movie ‘Speed’, with me keeping a constant eye on my cycle computer, knowing that if my speed should drop below that magic number I would be in trouble.
The bigger horseflies were another matter entirely. In fact they seemed to enjoy the thrill of the chase, and would orbit around me constantly no matter what speed I went at. The only time they lost interest, in fact, was when I stopped. But stopping wasn’t much of an option, because then hundreds of sandflies appeared. In the end it got so bad that I couldn’t stop at all without putting on my bug net. My breaks now consisted of stopping, putting on the bug net, making some sandwiches, taking off the bug net, getting back on the bike and quickly getting my speed up above 18 kilometres per hour, then eating the sandwiches on the move.
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The next day I reached the big town of Timmins in torrential rain. Home to over 40,000 souls this remote outpost was built on gold and still gets along alright thanks to a range of large mines surrounding it. My host for a couple of nights, Ben, was about as far from your stereotypical miner as you can imagine. For one thing he was not a miner, but a professor at the local university. He confessed he had no interest in cycling, but had kindly offered to put me up as he had previously rented a room to a young cyclist that I’d contacted through warm showers. I decided that I was in need of a well earned day-off and it would also give me the chance to watch the England versus Iceland match, though again I ended up wishing I had not. With my country exiting Europe twice in a matter of days, I was now genuinely very much looking forward to the day when I could marry Dea and reinvent myself as a Scandinavian citizen. I just about had the beard for it already.
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Saturday 25th June - 143km
Sunday 26th June - 29km
Monday 27th June - 0km
Today's ride: 172 km (107 miles)
Total: 53,252 km (33,069 miles)
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