The Road Beckons

As many of you know, I am fond of autumn, and especially of bike trips in the autumn. Granted the days are shorter and cooler, but after the last few weeks of humidity, I am looking forward to cooler temperatures. I’m also eager to see the fall colours. I’ve planned a two week trip to explore the Finger Lakes, and to have a brief glimpse of the Adirondacks. In order to avoid traffic, I’m going to ride the Erie Canal Trail much of the way, including from Buffalo to Rochester, where I will head south to Lake Conesus.

One of the most appealing aspects of this trip is it begins from my own front door, with no need for trains, planes or automobiles to transport me to the start line.

Going to travel a little lighter this year and leave my camping gear at home, opting instead for motels, hotels, and cabins, all of which I have booked in advance. On past trips, I booked as I went along, but this year it gave me peace of mind to reserve in advance. I can always change my plans if necessary, but it makes long days on the bike less stressful knowing there is a nice room and shower awaiting me.

I will be riding my beloved Stigmata, but she has had quite the makeover; thanks to a paint job from VeloColour in Toronto, she is more beautiful than ever. I also had the bike rebuilt by Speed River Cycle in Guelph. With so much wear and tear, the drivetrain, bottom bracket and the brakes needed an overhaul.  Finally, I put on new tires on; the Schwalbe Marathon Mondial tires are the most puncture resilient tires I have ever seen. In essence, it is a new bike, but it feels as comfortable as ever, and the lavender purple makes me so happy.

My goals are as humble as ever: find inner peace, evolve into a laid back person, stop every few minutes to take photos. Well, I might manage to stop for photos, and do I hope to claim some peaceful moments for myself, but perhaps an entire personality makeover is a bit ambitious for a two week trip.

In the days before departure, I’ll continue to fuss over what to pack (lots of layers at this time of year), and on Sunday I am running my first race since covid—the Oakville Half Marathon. Monday will be a recovery day, and I’ll head out Tuesday morning at the first sign of light in the sky.

I am excited and nervous in equal measures, which feels just about right the week before departure.

15 Minutes of Fame

Well, fame might be overstating it, but recently I had the pleasure of being interviewed by two wonderful women, Mel Webb and Cynthia Carson, for their podcast, Detours, about ultra cycling and other adventures.

Mel and Cynthia are both talented and fierce ultra distance bike racers, and it was wonderful to talk to them about what bikepacking was like when I was just starting out in the 80s. They found it especially interesting given that they were both born in the 90s. In fact, quite coincidentally their combined ages equal mine exactly.

I know this is a busy time of year, but if you have a chance, please check out the interview. ⬇️

https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/detours-an-ultra-cycling-adventure-podcast/id1703600573

Though I haven't been blogging, I have been riding. Here are a few photos from recent rides (and hikes) in lovely and not so lovely weather. Please let me know if you are looking for any tips on how to dress for winter riding.

Plenty

One of the things I love about being home is walking Griff several times a day. At 13 years of age, he finds one block to be just enough. He always begins energetically, and he might even work up to a trot of sorts for several meters, but then age and gravity remind him of who he is, and he returns to his slightly wobbly self, working with two back legs that seem to receive only the faintest signals from his brain. By the time we are back on our street, he starts to breathe more heavily and will take more time to inspect any given garden, or tree, or hydro pole.

I am happy enough to amble at his pace as it gives me time to enjoy the feeling of belonging. It is not that people rush out of their homes, or lean out of their windows to greet me, though of course I do often say hello to people passing on the street, or wave to neighbours up on their porches. No, it is more the feeling of familiarity that brings a wonderful contentment. It is such a different feeling than the euphoria that comes with spectacular views, or with an afternoon of riding in golden sunlight, but it also does not demand the emotional energy required when one is an interloper.

Perhaps it is not surprising that so many of us feel a division within ourselves. We desire those moments of otherness, but while we are out there exploring, there is a part of us that longs for the ease of home. Once we are back home and rested, we start conjuring the next adventure. We grow nostalgic for the feeling of pitching our tents, so to speak, in exotic locales. Or at least I do.

The question of what is enough begins to arise. Even as a child I can remember thinking is that all there is? I was often disappointed when having gotten caught up in the idea of something, no doubt as a result of advertisements on television (kids playing ecstatically with toys, or eating their wondrous sugar cereals), I found that reality failed to meet my lofty expectations.

What I have come to see is that the grandness I seek can only ever be made up of small moments strung together. They might be small, quiet moments or exotic, colourful ones, but they must necessarily exist side by side. Is it enough? I think it has to be, and when I shift my thinking and appreciate each small shimmering moment, it seems like plenty.