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 wind was a capricious mistress today, blowing against me for several hours before beginning to stop and start up again repeatedly for the rest of the day. I guess that's better than a day of constantly putting up with the crap.
I wanna elaborate on the nature of a wind here, just in case my future self ever is struck with an idea half as stupid as the one I'm currently enacting.
Let's say you're moving west and there's a northerly wind. If the road curves north, you're now riding directly into the wind. Duh. But let's say the road curves south. The wind's at your back now—right? Wrong. By some anomaly, the wind turns with you to continue battering the side of your head.
This paradox is the single most annoying trope our antagonistic Mother Nature has to throw at your heroic past self, Future Jeremy. "Inexplicable Inhibition" is what I call it, given that there can't be a reasonable explanation in the world for why the wind should still impede me after I've turned from it. This doesn't hold true in cities or towns, to be clear. But the highway is where progress is made, so it's what matters anyway.
Okay, now for the day's events. I rode my bike. Thrilling as ever.
I stopped to take a piss at one point and got swarmed by mosquitoes, causing me to decide I'd ride all night to cover the remaining 90km to Calgary. Hours passed with my resolve unwavering before I stopped in a Tim's in Strathmore, 50km from my goal. Here I enjoyed a meal and watched the twilight darken when it occurred to me that I can't see in the dark. Not a problem in the city. Big problem on the highway.
With no way to mount my flashlight on my head and the temperature outside lowering, I took a motel room in shameful defeat. I'll reach Calgary by noon tomorrow—a full day sooner than predicted—but the accomplishment will be sullied.
Three white horses after two have fallen in the mud.
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There's a speaker blaring country music in this tiny bathroom.
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Wheat? Where the mountains at?
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Look at me. Back when I was young and naive, thinking I could make the 90km remaining to Calgary.
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