Jeremy to the West

May 24 2018 Thurs $10 Day 10

The bugs have two strengths: their infinite numbers and their tenacity. The latter—this singular focus and inexorable will—would almost be admirable if not for the livid displeasure I felt at spotting two ticks embedded in my ass last night.

Today started out pretty damn nice. A bit cloudy at first, with a few raindrops here and there, but nothing too bad.

At around 11:00, I spotted a sign stating it was 60km to Chaplin and 19km to some other place—it's all melding together at this point. I figured there was no way I'd make the 60km, so I'd probably camp at the roadside tonight.

Not much happened for several hours. The sun came out. I spotted a coyote at one point, but it ran as soon as I stopped for a picture. A woman in an A&W laughed at my shorts before catching herself. That was pretty funny. And there was a long stretch of road during which the shoulder narrowed to allow me only about 70cm of manoeuvrability between lane and gravel.

No, not much happened until about 16:00, when I saw a sign down the road that I couldn't yet make out. I smiled at the sight of it, though, as the font looked to be spelling "Purgatory." I set my head down and decided to read what it really said once close enough. But when I lifted my head again, it was behind me. I shrugged—it might as well have said Purgatory anyway.

The inclines after this point began to lengthen. I checked my watch often, tired and in need of rest, but deciding that my 17:00 supper was close enough that I could keep going until it arrived.

I pedalled up one more hill before stopping on a long, flat stretch to eat. Ahead I could make out yet another incline. And above it, thick grey clouds.

I rode under the nimbus within ten minutes of finishing my meal and began the long, steep ascent. I must've toiled twenty or more minutes to scale it and at its peak, Mother Nature's fury erupted.

A windstorm howled in my ears and I was forced to remain in my lowest gear, as though still climbing the slope now behind me. The clouds spanned infinitely outward to the north and south, casting a foreboding shadow across the Earth. But up ahead, far, far in the distance, I could see the canopy's edge, from which, visible against the backdrop of the sun's rays beyond, descended great columns of fog, suspending the heavens above.

My ascent continued, twisting and turning, the gale never letting up, the columns never coming closer, my strength waning. But the more I pushed my boulder up the winding spire of Purgatory, the more I found myself equal to the task. The lighter the burden of my sins weighed on my appressed palms.

I lifted my head at the first pitter patter of rain on my helmet. The columns were gone! No, not gone; I was riding through them now.

My heart pounded in my chest. My legs surged with blood and fire. Nature's breath ceased to hinder me and became a fuel, consumed through my bared teeth. And the pouring rain was a sweat to regulate my temperature.

The climb came to an end, the rain came to an end, the wind came to an end. I descended now and gazed up at the clear blue sky, more numinous than ever I'd recognized it to be.

I drank in this moment of respite, but soon pushed again. Though the sun shone now, illuminating the wet road with the glittering of a trillion tiny diamonds, I had time to make up if I was to see Chaplin this evening.

"Spirituality? Oh, we charge an arm and a leg for that 'round these parts."

I'm not satisfied with this shoulder.

The pillars of Olympus in the distance.