In 2018 I rode my bicycle across Western Canada, covering about 2300km. It's been two years and I figured I'd release my journal entries here for anyone interested in what a trip like this does to a person's sanity.
Given that they're real-life jou...
The first thing I noticed as I passed the city limits at around 10:00 was how much more wind there was on the highway as opposed to the city. Immediately I was exposed to this shrieking gale that caused me to ride at a thirty degree angle, or else be driven into the ditch. Even so, I almost was a few times, saved only by my willingness to uncomfortably jerk the handlebars to one side.
At around noon I stopped for a lunch break. The wind had only gotten worse in those couple of hours and it made for one hell of a time mixing my meal and changing out of my pants and into my shorts. Have you ever tried changing your pants on a roadside in the sort of wind that blows the protagonist's cloak all willy-nilly during those dramatic scenes in movies and anime? Yeah, you know the cheesy shit I'm talking about. Anyway, it's annoying to do.
The wind only continued to worsen from there, so I spent the next four hours walking my bike down the road. Real thrilling activity. A pickup stopped ahead of me around 14:00 and the guy offered me a ride to Brandon just to help me through the wind. I declined; it felt like cheating.
Around 16:30 I came to a sign stating St. Elie was 2km away. Reinvigorated, I hopped back on my seat and toppled pathetically into the ditch. But I tried again and, aha, it all turned up Jeremy. The wind was still awful, but I could at least see a checkpoint ahead now. Plus the occasional passing semi alleviated some of my struggle by way of the air that chases them helping to push me along. I even appreciated the passing of fetid livestock transports for this same reason.
In St. Elie I spotted a big, beautiful Tim's sign and stopped in to eat and wash up. I also set up my Snapchat map so my sister could see where I was.
I left after charging my phone and earbuds, but I hardly got onto the road before it started raining lightly. I fervently pitched my tent at the edge of a thicket—glad that I'd practised doing so with my roommates the night before—and waited for the downpour. But I don't think it's coming. I guess that's a good thing for me, but it's just been such a dry spring that I'm almost excited for a big rain.
I'm off.
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Better watch my pedalling.
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First road meal.
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I'll drink (water) to that.
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We'll see about that...
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I've found holy soil.
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