Jeremy to the West

June 3 2018 Sun $34 Day 20

Before I left, Father told me I should try to remember that for every uphill, there's a downhill—even if it doesn't always feel like it. Not everyone I repeated this to agreed, stating that it's pretty much all up in the mountains. But I've cycled through two of the three legs of my journey now and his statement has held true. Gratification doesn't always come immediately, but it does come.

At least that's what I kept trying to tell myself today, legs pumping for every metre more they could as the inclines spanned and twisted before me. There were downhill segments, of course, but they did little to encourage me. Especially when the rains began to fall. Lightly at first, but they picked up and soon I was soaked.

I turned my sights to every sign advertising lodging from this point on. I didn't care about the price or the progress I would fail to make by stopping early. I needed a warm bed and hangers to dry my socks and pants. But every advertised lodge or motel only shot my hopes back down when I'd arrive to see them closed.

The rain ceased in the evening, giving my pants time to dry, though my feet were still sopping. It was around this time that I came to my greatest incline yet. Steep, long, twisting and turning. It was never going to end and I could feel my will waning. I cursed with every push and screamed in anger when I thought my legs could do no more. I screamed like I thought was only acting in movies. A loud, grating cry like fire scalding my throat, until I could taste copper. And with each cry, I would burst forward with one more explosion of effort.

I did this until I was reduced to whimpering, desperate and on the verge of tears. But the slope did end, if only for a moment. I relaxed during the brief descent that followed before the road rose again in a shallow climb. Ahead was a dark tunnel and here I saw why the way had to be so difficult.

I dropped my shades to the tip of my nose to peer over them as I entered the mouth. The way was dark, but I could see by the light at both ends. And so my vision succeeded.

The next tunnel wasn't far off and I could tell it was much longer. I entered it, lit only by the grey light of the sky seeping through slits in its far wall as that of the mouth faded behind me. All I could do now was follow its curve almost blindly, guided by my heart and hoping none of the passing semis mistook the shoulder for another lane.

Finally my efforts prevailed and I crossed the threshold to find rain had begun to fall again. I pedalled up the steepening incline into the third tunnel. Again I could see by the light at the other end, but my legs were afire now. I screamed in frustration again and finally heard the monstrous timbre of it as it echoed back to me. It was ferocious and terrifying. A tiger clawing its way up my throat. But it was empowering and propelled me out the third tunnel, proving my body equal to the task.

The road evened now as I entered the fourth tunnel. My confidence was building and my determination renewed even as the darkness threatened to close in.

And here at the highest point of my travels this day, I came to the final tunnel. My soul slipped inside and was siphoned through to grant me passage to the descent I'd been awaiting through my trials. The rain was heavier now, but I knew after all that I could weather the storm.

I didn't have to pedal long before coming to another lodge. My spirits rose at the sight of it and I pushed to reach it. But my fervour didn't last long. It was closed just like the others.

My heart sank. Nearby I spotted a little museum of some kind. I'll stay here the night, sleeping in the front doorway, just out of reach of the rain. There are other cyclists here too, under another roof. They're heading for Halifax. We'll all have to be sure to bundle up tonight.

Just waiting for the downhill now.

Climbing the Misty Mountains like Bilbo.

Sleeping out in the cold with wet feet. Sounds fun.