May 29, 2014
In British Columbia I wrote about the unreliability of the mountains. It turns out that in the prairies, the wind plays as cruel a trick as any mountain. Yes, I’m talking about wind again. For a cyclists, winds alone defines a good or bad day. Today was a good day…no a great day! Getting onto the road this morning it felt as though someone secretly installed a motor on my bike. I flew along with so little effort, so quietly. Stopping sharply reminded me again the gusts that were in fact there all along. I came across a guy going across the country, or at least to Ottowa, on a unicycle. The wind didn’t help his stability. So if you thought me crazy for biking across the country, at least I’m not doing to on a unicycle! Or if you need other comparisons, I ran across Ben from Newfoundland for the second time today and he’s on his fourth trip across the country. As he put it, he swore never to do that again after the first time but every spring he feels the itch to do it once more. I can appreciate that as I’ve been thinking about doing the Erie Canal trip when I only have a short time off in the future. Anyway, to returned to the wind again as I likely will until I leave the prairies, one day it curses you and the next blesses for no apparent reason. However, when you’re trying to setup or breakdown camp, there is no good wind. A tent tarp blows in remarkably many ways but the one you want. When you end up in a campsite without any protection, you begin to feel particularly exposed. I can’t imagine what the early settlers thought.