Tedium, Terror, Joy and Triumph

Life perched upon the saddle isn’t all epic landscapes, athletic exhilaration and post-ride beers. In reality it involves endless hours of mind-numbing, leg-shattering, soul-sucking exertion interspersed with occasional moments of terror, joy and triumph.

Tuesday-Wednesday I rode back-to-back 100mile days(162 and 167kms respectively) loaded with camping gear. The route took me from Picton to Trenton, Gilmour, Cloyne, Flinton, Tweed, Deseronto and Picton, a huge percentage of those miles off pavement. Two long damn days spent turning the pedals one after the other after the other after the other after the other after the…

Among the tedium, however, were those moments of terror, joy and triumph.

After a long day on the saddle day one, I finally found my campsite in the woods just off the dirt road that would begin day two’s adventure. I tried to eat dinner but didn’t really have an appetite. I cracked a can of beer but it was warm and dissatisfying. The mosquitos were apocalyptic and forgoing a sleeping pad this trip, the ground was hard and lumpy. As the sun finally set around 9:30pm, I lay in the woods wishing for sleep.

All around me were the sounds of nature; birds, bugs, frogs, nocturnal rodents beginning to stir. Soon the sound of a large dog barking aggressively drifted through the forest, as though an intruder had roused this canine farm guard. Then came a howling the likes of which I’ve never heard. This was not a dog and certainly not the coyotes I’m familiar with. That howl was louder, thicker…more menacing. A moment later, a large animal came crashing through the woods from the direction of the howling…and it was heading my way!

Laying in my tent I peered through the netting in search of that hound of the Baskervilles. As it tore through the trees nearby I caught the slightest glimpse of what I knew could only be a wolf. Suddenly realizing I was camping in it’s domain, the beast stopped moving. It was watching me. Although I couldn’t see it among the trees, I could feel it, I was calm yet terror stricken.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely not even ten seconds, the demon beast quietly left me to my camp under the stars. Sleep would be slow coming, however, as every noise, every snapping branch caused my ears to perk up in fear of the returning wolf. It never did return and as the fear left me, sleep took hold…

Well into day two, the sun’s heat pounding upon me, the dear flies chomping at my hands, I descended Upper Flinton Road on the way to Tweed. Rounding a corner I heard a rumble ahead of me. Rolling across the bridge over the Skootamatta River, I spotted rapids among the huge slabs of Canadian Shield granite. I smiled broadly and knew I had to stop. Finding a little foot path, I rolled downstream along the river’s edge for a moment before being spat out onto the most idyllic little spot of paradise.

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Laying my trusty steed below the trees, I quickly stripped off all my clothes, strode into the rapid and dove under that cool water. It was magical. I splashed about, I smiled, I dove under the water again. I felt like a child exploiting the freedom of youth as I frolicked in the water. My body finally cooling down from the day’s exertion, I sat next to the rapids and ate my lunch in peace. With my belly full, my temperature lowered and my soul filled with joy, I got dressed, swung a leg over Irene and kept on rolling..

That last hour of riding, slowly cruising those familiar County roads, the vacant, wan look upon my face turned to a smile. Those last couple kilometres I upped the pace just a touch, knowing I’d soon be done. Rolling to a stop, I pumped my fist in the air in triumph.

As has been the case for most of us, our outdoor lives have been turned upside down. My summer cycling season has been very slow to start, just two previous rides over 100kms. I needed this trip, I needed to go out and suffer, to achieve something. I needed to feel the pain, to be reminded that I am truly alive, to escape the sense of hold on which our lives have existed the past several months.

Turning those pedals hour after hour, enduring the monotony of those long miles, I was happily reminded that while most of life may be tedious and routine, it is those moments of terror, joy and triumph that make it all worth while. Oh yeah, post ride beers don’t hurt either.