If I had an editor, she might take me to task for overusing the theme of good fortune, but as this blog is a one woman show, I will risk such repetition, as I cannot help but tell you of the wonderful luck I had yesterday.
After breakfast, during which I packed up an extra bagel with pb, some granola bars, and a wee package of those powdered donuts that leave a ridiculous white O around your mouth, I headed into a slight headwind. The wind was less of an issue than the roadwork, though, as they were repaving a 10 mile stretch of highway, which meant lots of trucks rumbling past.
My good fortune began, ironically, at a stretch where traffic was reduced to one lane. The flagman held us there for about 10 minutes, as the westbound traffic was allowed to come through. My stress level rose as I turned to see the number of cars and trucks lining up behind me. When we finally got to go, the flagman stopped me, and said I needed to wait until all of the other traffic went ahead, because he didn’t want me between the traffic and the pavers. He must have seen the stress in my face, as he said, don’t worry it is only a mile to the next flagman, and he will hold the traffic until you are through. Once I knew this, I relaxed and asked him about his job. Did he get tired standing on his feet all day, did he get any breaks, did he have enough water? He said he didn’t get breaks, that he was used to being on his feet, and he would likely be there until 7 again that night. The thought of such sounded exhausting, but he was cheerful about it all, and I imagined he had a young family at home he was supporting through these twelve hour day shifts. He gave me a good dose of perspective, and once he allowed me to go, I flew down that road with the lane to myself. As I rode past the work crew, I could smell the hot tar and feel the vibrations of the roller going back and forth over the new asphalt. Knowing I was holding up traffic, I rode as hard as I could, and despite the wind kept my speed at 30 km/hr. I was also eager to reach the next flagman to thank him for holding the traffic. He offered a big smile and wave in return.
I kept cranking as hard as I could, knowing the traffic would be held up behind me for at least 10 minutes as the westbound traffic got to go through. I made it to Bruce, where the road work ended, and finally relaxed and inhaled a few granola bars.
My original goal had been Prentice. It would be a relatively short day of 120 km, but given the swirling winds it might be enough. I did have a stretch where the winds dropped enough that I could listen to Demon Copperhead for a few hours. I was thankful for the clear skies and beautiful forested roads to balance the continual darkness of that poor character’s life, but just as the clouds overhead started to build, his life began to look up.
Demon’s luck might have been turning around, but Prentice’s sure wasn’t. I rolled past the motel I was going to stay at to find not a car in sight and the curtains all closed. No problem, I would check out what else the town had to offer. Not much beyond a deserted Main Street. I checked Google maps and saw no other option for motels, so did a search for hotels nearby, and saw that 20 km up the road was a place called Palmquist Farm. The next resorts were 50 km away.
I went to the web site for Palmquist Farm and found they rented cabins, and offered meals. The place looked wonderful, so I called to book a cabin, but got only an answering machine at which time I left a typically long winded message, explaining I was travelling by bicycle, wanted to book a cabin, and would just continue on to the farm in hopes they had something.
I came to the turnoff for the farm, found it was down a freshly gravelled road, and tried to pick a line that would keep me upright through the deeper troughs of gravel.
Reaching the farm I was greeted by a beautiful archway made out of hand carved wood. I rode up to the farmhouse and was happy to see several vehicles, but there was no one in sight. I got off my bike and tried calling again. No answer. I went up to the farmhouse, where the only resident seemed to be a friendly black lab lolling on the grass.
Hearing machinery in the distance, I walked out past the big barn and saw someone working the backhoe. Feeling foolish but with no other options, I walked around to where he might see me, and waved until I caught his eye. He immediately turned off the engine and hopped down. In his 20s or 30s, he was very friendly, and said he worked for the owners. When I explained that I had tried to book a cabin, and got no answer, he said they were away at an event, and he would try to call their cell phone. It took him some time to reach them, during which he cheerfully showed me the farmhouse where guests eat, and introduced me to Buster, the beloved black lab. When he finally reached the owner, I could hear her explaining that they had no clean cabins and to tell me they were sorry, but then she paused and said, she’s on her bike? When James, the farmhand, said yes, and relayed, as I prompted, that I had enough food (yes Tami, I had a “pasta” kit) and a sleeping bag, so I didn’t need anything, she said, okay she can use the red cabin. Perhaps, gentle reader, you can imagine the relief I felt at that moment as James walked me over to a lovely cabin. It is huge, with three bedrooms, a stone fireplace, and a kitchen area with microwave and fridge. I could not ask for more.
After unpacking and showering, I went exploring. The farm has been in the family since 1919, when the family first came from Finland, and it has been operating as a vacation farm since 1949. It is a perfect spot for cross country skiers, as it has miles of trails on the property, which weave around a pond and lake amongst other features. If it were closer, I would love to come back in the winter to stay. These cabins would be even more charming then.
I made my way around the lake and back, and then began to feel the fatigue of the day set in, so I set up my wee stove on the front porch, and made my dinner, all the while gazing at the large apple tree that had been planted 100 years ago. (Much of these details I learned from a book published about the farm, which I found in the livingroom, and which I read on the comfy couch nestled under my sleeping bag.)
It was the perfect end to the day, so you can see why I felt compelled to speak of my incredible good fortune. Had I not found James out there on the tractor, digging out the manure from the paddock, and had he not pleaded my case, I would have been back on the road, pedalling for another few hours. I hope to see him this morning to thank him once more, and I am certainly looking forward to meeting the owners and to thanking them for their graciousness. I might even get to enjoy a good country breakfast.
PS will post all my pics of the farm tonight when I have wifi!
