June 28, 2014
My relationship with mornings is complicated if not a little ridiculous. I hate getting up in the morning. Nothing would please me more than to remain snugly ensconced in my cocoon of a sleeping bag. I’m of course always full of regret when I do. It’s embarrassingly pathetic but I possess so little willpower when it comes to getting up. However, I love riding early in the morning while the freshness still lingers in the air. The traffic is usually lighter, the heat hasn’t begun, and naturally little to no wind to speak of yet. I could also mention the birds chirping but what really thrills my ticker in the morning is the optimism and hope for the day. It’s like I can smell the sweet possibilities of the day in the dew so light and clean. I know it’s not so much the early morning dew as the fact that I thrive on a schedule.
There is a deeply buried inclination in me to organize my day around what used to be the milking schedule on the farm. Everything gives way to the start in the morning and the return in the evening. As unfettered and open as a bike tour may seem traveling from one place to the next without routine responsibilities, I’m most content when I get on the road early and off before six. Whatever the place may be, once I set up my tent it’s as if I’ve returned. I made it home again. And on occasion I’ve actually been beside a pasture hearing cattle lowing.
In other news, miracles can happen. I got an email last night with one line telling me to call a certain number for my phone! Calling the number this morning, it turns out this guy found my phone. But getting it back is going to be more complicated. When I suggested sending him money electronically to mail me the phone, he said he didn’t use email or e-banking. He was busy at work but I could call him back and he’d give me an address to send him money. Considering it’s Canada Day long weekend, the time it’d take to send money and then get my phone, and he didn’t seem particularly keen to help me out, I have decided to chalk this one up to a loss. The phone successfully erased so I’ve lost some contact information but otherwise the trip continues. Champlain lost his astrolabe and he seems to have fared relatively well. He even got a monument outside Cobden where it was found. I suspect a monument outside Bruce Mines may be expecting too much.
Road Report:~146km
The hills eventually flatten out, which is a relief. However, a new challenges arises. It turns out truckers a falling asleep at the wheel too often, presumably at dusk when I’m off the road, and so some counties put a rumble strip along the highway taking away my few feet of road outside the white line. I know it’s about truckers but feels like a personal affront to cyclists when this beautiful space is destroyed by those horrid divots.