From Hypothermia to Heat Rash

If you put last Saturday and today beside each other, you would be hard pressed to find two more different days, wild though they both may have been.

Whereas Saturday brought its fury in the form of cold, lashing rain, and a relentless east wind, today’s theatrics came in the form of sweltering heat and ferocious winds out of the west.

On Saturday, I avoided stopping, for fear of hypothermia setting in. Today I stopped often to avoid overheating like those cars you see on the side of the road, with their hoods up, and steam rising from the engine. As it was my face was a big red ball, and my legs were covered in a heat rash. I’ll spare you the photos; think chicken pox on a youngster, then add the wrinkles of a non-youngster. Take my word for it, not pretty.

But heat rash and overheated face aside, it was a pretty swell day. Setting out from Whitney at 7:00, I paused briefly at the Opeongo River, which, along with the Madawaska River, is popular for white water paddling; it looked so serene in the early morning.

By the time I got to Barry’s Bay at 9:30, the heat was rising, and having only had my instant brew in the morning, I was thrilled to find Madawaska Coffee, where the young barista made me an iced latte. I also got two monster cookies for later. Yes, I did say two. Monster though they were, it was a long day of pedalling with over 1300 meters of climbing. I wasn’t going to manage that on love alone.

The wind really started kicking up as the morning went along. While first nudging me gently, it then started thrusting me down the highway, which was all very appealing, but for the occasional gust from the side, especially while descending some of the longer hills. All you can do is hang onto your brake hoods, and hold yourself steady on the bike. Well you could pray if you were inclined, or let Jesus take the wheel so to speak, but I found my methods worked well enough.

The route was pretty straight forward today, but for one section taking me south of highway 60 onto some quieter roads, including some gravel. All I could think of, as I climbed the sandy, rutted gravel was how brutal it would be to ride on were it wet and muddy. The route tried to take me on a road with a no exit sign, so I had to go another four kilometres south on the sandy washboard gravel, before I could reroute myself north. Other than that glitch, after which I got back in the highway, the day ran pretty smoothly.

I would have loved to take video of Golden Lake, where the wind was creating white caps, but there was debris blowing up from the shore, and I didn’t fancy the notion of getting hit with fallen branches while trying to video the waves smashing, and the trees thrashing.

From the town of Golden Lake, I headed north and then east into Pembroke.. The back roads outside of Pembroke were pretty, with lots of trees blossoming, but it was clearly a special garbage pick up day, as people had piled up broken furniture, tires, and even the odd mattress at the end of their driveways. I was struck by one house where, amongst a tower of garbage, I spied a sewing machine with the needle still threaded. A few yards past the house, I saw a spool of thread, as if it was trying to escape the sad heap of garbage into which it had been flung. Having been a terrible seamstress, sewing the shakiest of seams on sad tote bags, I could envision myself marching a sewing machine out to the curb, though I would like to believe I would offer it a better home than a landfill site.

Passing by the sad spool of thread, I had only a few more turns to make before I reached the Best Western. My final turn took me directly into construction and the wind, suddenly a making the last 500 meters of the day the hardest and the grittiest.

I was all too happy to roll my bike into my swell suite with a separate living room and two tvs. An embarrassment of riches really. The walk-in shower and spacious room were all I needed to recover from the day. I even made it down to the fitness center, where I did some much needed stretching.

Now it is time for some dinner, before my eyes close. Tomorrow, I will head for Gatineau, and much of the ride will be on the bike trails of Quebec. The weather looks much cooler, she whispered happily, so as to avoid offending those readers longing for summer.

Blue Skies

Here’s one thing I concluded today: you can tell a lot about a community’s needs and desires through its billboards. For example, I saw a sign promising me the dock of my dreams.  I didn’t even know people dreamed about docks, or about having the perfect dock, but up here docks are clearly a big deal. (The best was a real estate sign asking: have you ever received unsolicited dock pics? Now that is clever.  Am full of regrets for not taking a photo of that sign.)

As I rode through Algonquin Park, the signs were all about canoe rentals, paddling excursions, outfitter gear, and even promises to deliver a canoe to my campground. Uber Eats land this is not.

Another conclusion I reached today, and just about every other time the weather has shifted from horrendous to stupendous, is that the weather has the power to transform my state of mind. On some level, I was prepared for another day of rain and mess, but when the day offered sunshine instead, I was elated.

In fact the day offered a whole lot more than just sunshine, as the ride from Dwight to Whitney was one of the best ride I have ever had. The shoulder was wide, the hills were challenging, the traffic was minimal, and the wind was often at my back. It was a perfect opportunity to listen to some tunes( Gordon Lightfoot’s Carefree Highway of course), and to pedal without interruption.

The only break I took was to take photos at Smoke Lake, where a formation of rocks juts out into the lake. Just as I finished taking photos of myself squinting into the sun, I heard the voices of two men, father and son as it turned out, walking towards me on the rocks. I offered to take their photo, then learned they had come to Smoke Lake on paddling trips many times when the son was a child. We stood and talked about back country camping, dealing with misadventure (when their food barrel got stuck in the upper branches of a tree), and how nice it was to be coming through the park before it got busy. On such a beautiful day, I was not in a hurry, nor was I stressing about how many miles I still had to go. What a difference from Saturday when I was too cold to stop at all.

That short exchange helped me up the final climbs before rolling into Whitney, which I reached nice and early, giving me lots of time to get groceries, and of course a cider.

I had hoped to have my dinner outside, given my motel backs into the rapids, but given how quickly the black flies greeted me, I have contented myself with a view of the water from my kitchenette.

The early evening light is beautiful, the winds are low, and I am feeling pretty lucky to have had such a perfect day.

Do It Yourself

I thought I was a pretty good self-starter, one to do it myself, until I saw a sign advertising Do It Yourself Pig Roasts. Really? I mean is there a degree of expertise required, or some large equipment that you might not have kicking around the house? As a vegetarian, I find the whole idea of a pig roast fairly repugnant, but I confess I was fascinated at the notion, and being on a long stretch with few things to distract me, said DIY pig roast occupied my thoughts for some time.

But I am getting ahead of myself, as that sign was hours into another rainy, drizzly and all around messy ride, albeit nowhere near as crazy as Saturday’s saga.

Let’s start with the good bits, because positive person though I may be, I am not given to saying it’s all good.

Waking in Barrie, was in itself neither good nor bad, as Hamlet might observe. My view from the hotel was not charming, but I was pleased to see that the trees outside my window had ceased to thrash about, and the rain had abated. Still I set out with all of my rain kit on, knowing the brooding skies overhead might yield rain at any moment.

The first few kilometres, winding my way downtown to the rail trail were pokey, and I had to stop a few times to check the route on my phone, when the navigation on my bike computer proved insufficient. It is a small screen, offering a brief segment of the ride, and if I miss a turn, or take an alternative route, it beeps madly at me, telling me to make a u-turn. If I were more tech savvy, I am sure I would handle these small glitches with greater aplomb, but I find them stressful, and often stop to check the route on the Komoot app on my phone, which allows me to get more perspective as to where I am, and where I need to go. Cue metaphor.

Rerouting became the theme of the day, as my route to the cottage contained quite a few segments of gravel road, which was a beautiful prospect on a dry day, but less so on a wet day, when the gravel roads had turned to mud. Those of you who have ridden your bikes through wet mud will be familiar with the horrid sound of your disc brakes getting clogged with mud, and debris. You will also know that muddy roads slow you down to a discouragingly slow pace.

Having enjoyed the rail trail from Barrie to Orillia, on which for a few brief moments I shed my rain jacket, glimpsed deer, loons and a swan on the grandest nest, I then poked along shorter segments of trail between Orillia and Ramara, and finally reached the roads, only to discover it was now gooey gravel. The mud began churning, the disc brakes began protesting, and after a few kilometres, I stopped to check my options. Such became my day, finding pavement where I could.

Even on paved roads, with the steady headwind, I was moving rather slowly, but I now felt like I was flying, so in this rare case, comparison was not the thief of joy, but rather the bearer of it.

I was going to stay off Highway 35, fearing it would be too busy, but when I reached Norland, about 40 km from the cottage, I opted to take it, and rode straight north at a good pace. The road varied in quality, but for the most part there was a small shoulder, and drivers gave me a wide berth.

Finally I was making some progress, with lots of billboards, promising me well built docks, state of the art log homes, and waterfront property.

Rolling into the village of Minden, I was only too happy to find it all but deserted compared to the summer months, making it easy enough to deal with Foodland, which provided me with lots of groceries for dinner and breakfast, as I was on my own at the cottage.

With my groceries in my knapsack, I made a final push up the highway, and was thrilled to find a huge shoulder and a designated bike route. What a lovely way to finish my ride.

Arriving at the cottage, I took a few shots of the view to send with a few I-made-it-safely texts, and then my phone died. Yup. I had clearly used up my battery checking the route all day.

No problem, I would just retrieve the cottage key from its hiding place, which I was confident I could recall having been here years ago. Thus I hunted in the dark garage, feeling around for the key, and not finding it.

Okay don’t panic, there are neighbours about, and at that moment I saw their neighbour trundling to his cottage with a load of wood, so I walked over with phone and charger held aloft, and asked if I might charge my phone briefly. Of course the neighbours were lovely, and within minutes, I learned all about them taking care of their grandchildren all weekend (thus she was collapsed on the couch), and with my newly charged phone, I checked my sister-in-law’s email, in which she explained precisely where the key was hidden, and I made my way inside.

I would love to say that I was then able to flop on the couch, but alas, I had a very dirty bike to clean, and laundry to wash, so it was some time before I could in fact collapse in a heap and enjoy one of their many classic movies on DVD. To be honest, I was too spent to watch for long. I was happy to crawl into bed, cozy and content for the night.

This morning, though there has been no sunrise, I have enjoyed the loons crying out, and there is sunshine in the forecast. Time to pack up, and head for Whitney.

PS I have been unable to get the automated emails to send when I publish, so I hope you will check the blog regularly if you are inclined to read more.