So long, goodbye, and farewell: My mistake

June 16, 2016

We woke up early at our wild campsite. We had stopped overlooking an area that had recently been logged, the remaining debris of discarded branches and overturned roots reminding me of my old tree planting days, when I would have to clamber over such terrain planting new seedlings. The mosquitoes were becoming really rather bad, and we didn’t want to waste too much time before getting back on the bikes. Annoying, then, to see my rear tyre deflated.

I pumped it up and it made it five kilometres to an extremely isolated little motel/restaurant/cafe where, with little else on the road ahead for a while, we knew that we had to stop and get water anyway. The female owner greeted us with a free breakfast of toast and jam, and talked a great deal about her businesses. Vivian was very interested and wanted to interview the woman, and everyone else who stopped by for breakfast. I took the opportunity to fix my tyre, and then tried to stream the England vs Wales Euro 2016 football match on my laptop. Unfortunately the connection was very bad and kept cutting out at the wrong times, meaning I missed both England goals, including their late winner.

Despite England’s victory I was in a pretty bad mood (I’d only really wanted to watch the game to distract me from where I was, sometimes you need that escape when you’re cycling all day). So it was bad timing when, just after the match had cut out at a crucial time, I overheard Vivian behind me talking with some men about our ride together.

“Why are you leaving each other?” I caught one of the men asking, referring to the fact that we would be going our separate ways soon.

“We’re not leaving each other. He’s leaving me!” Vivian replied, indicating me with an accusatory tone.

This made me quite mad. I had done everything that I could to help Vivian across three provinces, sticking by her all the way from the Rockies to the Great Lakes, and now, just because our preferred routes differed and we were to part ways, she was painting me as the bad guy? Just another heartless cyclist abandoning her?

I bit my tongue when a little later the man came over to me and told me that I should “take good care of this girl.” I should have liked to have told him that if he cared so much perhaps he would like to get a bicycle and escort her the rest of the way.

I was trying not to react. There were only two more days to Thunder Bay. There was really no need for me to say anything, but unfortunately, as Vivian and I went outside to our bikes and prepared to move on, I could hold it in no longer. I told her that I thought it would be better if we cycled separately for the rest of the day. I meant it so that I could have some time to think, I meant it so that we could meet up later and still be friends, but she asked why, and the floodgates opened. I told her how annoying I’d found her comment, that I did not appreciate being made out to be the bad guy now that I was no longer of any use to her, and a whole load of other things too.

For a moment it felt good to have got all these things, things which had been building up inside me over the past few days, off my chest. Only for a moment, however. Then I saw how hurt and upset Vivian was by my rebuke and I felt terrible. I felt like I had just scolded an innocent puppy. She got on her bike and stormed off ahead, not to be seen again.

I felt terrible about parting with Vivian on such bad terms. The truth was that I had greatly enjoyed cycling with her. We came at the ride across Canada from completely different backgrounds, we were completely different people, and yet we had formed an unlikely friendship. She had constantly astounded me, not only with her baffling statements, but also with her resolute determination not to quit despite the odds. If I could have only kept my mouth shut for a few more days everything would have been alright. Soon after the cafe there was a trailhead with an information centre where they also had wifi, and I stopped to write a message to Vivian saying how sorry I was and that we really must meet up again in Thunder Bay and make up before going our separate ways.

So I rode alone for the rest of the day. Vivian was faster than me, I’d sadly realised this by now, so I took short breaks and cycled steadily all day in the hopes of catching her up by the end of the day to apologise properly. It was a really nice and sunny day. I broke it up by diving into lakes whenever I could to cool off, and crossing the Atlantic watershed and into a new timezone made me feel like I was finally starting to make progress across this huge country. In the evening I returned to a main road and civilisation, and I scanned the front of a couple of gas stations, hoping to see Vivian’s tent pitched up on the forecourt, but to no avail. So, for the first time in a while, I camped alone (not on a gas station forecourt.)

I remembered from John Burt's blog that he took a pee right next to the sign, so that half of it would flow into the arctic, the other half into the atlantic. Judging by the smell next to the sign he wasn't the only one. And it hadn't flowed anywhere.

An abandoned gas station on the long empty road

Ah yes, I wasn't camping *entirely* alone

Today's ride: 123 km (76 miles)
Total: 52,317 km (32,489 miles)

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