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...
There's a line in a Soundgarden song that goes "alone in the superunknown, first it steals your mind and then it steals your soul." Well, I can confidently say I'm losing my damn mind in this province. I may have hated those distance marking signs before, but I'm going mad over the lack of them now. And when I do see them, I have to wonder how accurate they are because their distances seem to take far longer to cover than the ones in Manitoba. Though that's probably because of the w—No! Y'know what? I don't wanna talk about it.
More on these odd-feeling distances, I swear there was a point at which a sign in the distance wasn't coming closer no matter how long I pedalled for it. Growing irritated, I set my head down and when I looked up again, it had disappeared! And there was also an Esso-Subway sign, claiming to be at the next exit. But I never found that damn exit.
Maybe I'm putting my head down for too long? I certainly wouldn't have to if not for... Nothing. If not for nothing at all.
I stopped at a vendor in front of a motel at around 13:00 and after an eternity more pedalling to the view of more fucking fields (about three hours), I came to Grenfell. I was glad to get out of the w—sun—as I stopped here to eat and shell out another $21 for a patch of grass to pitch a tent on. I'm happy that I did it, though, because it allowed for a fortuitous encounter with another cyclist, who pulled up just after me. A guy from Montreal going to Vancouver like me. We didn't talk much and probably won't in the morning, but that's okay with me. I like the tacit solidarity between us.
P.S. WIND! I hate the fucking wind. I can't go one entry without mentioning it because there isn't one day that it's not a problem. Christ.
Is that where country metal was stillborn?
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Peanutbutter break. A little prairie dog came out of the bush as soon as I scooped some out. Or whatever it was. Rat for all I care.
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This place isn't too bad. No Tim's, but not bad.
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Like I never left home.
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