Back to Living; overnight adventure in Norfolk County

Although my ankle continues to limit my cycling–more on that in another post–and despite my relative silence here, I have been getting out on the bike. About one long’ish ride a week plus one other shorter ride.

About a month ago I took the GO Train to Oshawa, putting together a 126km ride that went north to Utica, west to Goodwood, south through the Toronto Zoo then west along Kingston road to home. On Canada Day, July 1st, I again took the GO Train to Oshawa but this time I road the 150kms east on Hwy 2 to Bloomfield. As I passed through the little town of Port Hope, I charged down the empty main street just minutes before their Canada Day parade. A downhill road empty of cars or pedestrians, the sidewalks lined with kids waiting for the parade to begin. It was a blast! But, there was something missing.

One thing I’d been missing this season, something I’d not done since I was in Texas, was an overnight trip. Just me, my bike and a sleeping bag. Knowing I’d be in the tiny town of Mount Hope south of Hamilton Saturday night, I decided to take advantage of the situation. Parking my van a friend’s place for a couple days, the plan was to ride to Long Point and back over two days. Sunday I was packed, caffeinated and ready to ride by 8:30am…just as the heat and humidity was beginning to mount.

Equipped with 35c Schwalbe Marathon Plus tires, I was looking forward to getting off the paved roads. I started by riding south along the Chippewa Trail rail-trail to Caledonia. Easy cruising, finely ground, compact gravel with fields on either side. A perfect start to the day, waving and smiling hello to all as I rode. At Caledonia, my route had me follow the Grand River Trails to Brantford.

However, there is no trail, there are no trail markers. Nothing. I consulted my maps, chatted with a lady walking down the road and took a leap of faith. Basically, the “trail” in this area is a series of country back-roads. One piece of “trail” crossed a huge section of field following the power lines. I was warned it would be rough, that only motorbikers use that trail. Damn right it was rough! I would have been better served on my mountain bike. But Irene handled it beautifully. A few more dirt roads, a bunch of back roads, and I finally got to Brantford.

From there, a series of well maintained and well signed  rail trails took me through Norfolk County all the way to Port Dover on the shores of Lake Erie. I was 100kms into the day. Regrettably, my friends Brian and Julie–who I’ve not seen for several years–were out of town that day. But they left the side door unlocked and invited me to make myself at home. Following their directions, I made myself a perfect cup of coffee, ate a slice of cold pizza and even indulged with a couple of chocolate covered digestive cookies. Thanks Brian and Julie!

The final 50kms of the day followed the Lake Erie shoreline on Front Road. Here in Norfolk County, they farm three things: tobacco, corn and wind. The long history of tobacco farming down here is slowly being replaced by renewable energy. While some people bemoan those great big turbines, I think they are rather elegant and graceful.

After a long, slow ten hours and 152kms/95miles on the bike, I reached my goal; Long Point Provincial Park. There, I swam in Lake Erie, made camp, ate dinner and watched the sun set while sitting on the beach. A perfect way to end a great day on the bike. Or so I thought…..

Just as the sun fell behind the horizon, the mosquitos came out. Honestly, in all my years, I have never experienced mosquitos so bad. Wanting to pack as little as possible, I did not have a tent or bivy sack; just a light-weight sleeping bag, an air mattress and a tarp I strung up to cover me in case it rained. The mosquitos were swarming around me, in my face and ears, all over my head a neck. I tried to burry myself within my sleeping bag which proved useless. The little demons still got in while I found myself drenched in sweat; it was still too hot and humid to be under covers. After a couple hours of torture and misery, I got up and tried my luck on the beach. The wind was picking up and I’d be out of the tree cover. On the sand and within my sleeping bag, I put on a ball cap and pulled a t-shirt up over the brim. I finally found some peace. That was until a friendly Park Ranger woke me up at about midnight. He confirmed I wasn’t dead or drunk and wished me luck in avoiding the mosquitos.  By about 2am the winds were blowing hard and the mosquitos were gone. I walked back to camp where I discovered the leak in my air mattress was worse than I thought. It was totally flat. But at this point, I didn’t care. The mattress would simply serve as a drop-sheet under my sleeping bag. While the wind continued to wail all night long, I slept soundly till I woke at 6am.

Just before 8am, as the winds continued to blow, I was nearly packed and ready to roll. BOOM! The rain started. I scrambled to put on my socks and shoes, pulling them over sandy feet. The rain would continue for the next three hours.

My route followed back-roads north-west to Vienna where I refilled my water, purchased a few snacks and enjoyed a little break under the band-stand. From there, lots of dirt roads north-east to Tillsonburg, some of them very loose, steep gravel. Bliss!

In south-east Tillsonburg, I really wasn’t sure of my route. In fact, I really wasn’t sure how to get out of town in the direction I wanted. Rolling through a parking lot I noticed someone in their car with the windows open. Maybe he’ll know the best way out of here. “Hi there, you from around here? Do you know the roads around here very well?”

“Sure do, I’m a taxi driver, I know the roads really well. Where you headed?” He gave me excellent advice on some backroads that got me out of town and heading north-east towards Caledonia. While not gravel roads, they were long stretches of quiet asphalt where the hot, humid sun poured down upon me, making me feel limp like a wilting flower. I was drinking tons of water, stopping at businesses, private homes and even the side of a building to get water from the spigot. I knew that in this heat–35degC/95degF–I had to stay hydrated, drinking more water than I thought necessary.

Back in Caledonia, I found the Chippewa Rail Trail from Sunday morning, heading north to the van.

After another ten hour day, riding somewhere around 150-160kms/95-100miles, I was done. Cooked. I washed my face, drank two bottles of water and a couple recovery drinks. Working Tuesday morning, I started up the Sprinter van and drove back to the City.

It was long over due. I needed an overnight adventure. I needed to get out on dirt roads. I needed to see what is seldom seen. I needed to get lost and find my way. I needed to suffer and push through. I needed to feel low, I needed to feel triumph. This weekend, I found what I needed….and more. That’s cycling, that’s living.

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[sorry, no pictures from day two; my battery died after breakfast and I didn’t have a way of charging it]

[Garmin data, day one: https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1274307907

Day two[partial, battery died. https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1274307922 ]