It feels like home

Lakes, hills, rain and thunderstorms. Welcome to Ontario.
Since our last post, our four legs have got us through Manitoba, across a border into familiar territory, and into Thunder Bay, where we are now taking a much needed rest day. My hips, quads, back, chest and arms have been telling me to get off the bike, and I finally surrender. Ontario has been a rollercoaster of emotions, due to extreme weather conditions - the good, the bad, and the very, very bad. But before I go into that, here's a breakdown of our past 2 weeks on the bike:
Dauphin to Neepawa, 150km - rode through Riding Mountain National Park; stunning, with more hills than I ever imagined there could be in Manitoba.
Neepawa to Portage la Prairie, 102km Portage to Winnipeg, 75km (cool city)
Winnipeg to Elma, 96km
Elma to Kenora, 130km (crossed into Ontario, and lakes and hills became more prominent)
Kenora to Vermillion Bay, 92km
Vermillion Bay to Ignace, 153km
Ignace to Upsala, 102km
Upsala to Thunder Bay, 143km. Thunder Bay is a fairly large town of 120,000 situated on North Superior, and has a high Native population.
I'll admit, there were various occasions during this past leg when I felt like getting off my bike and catching the next flight home to Toronto. Thunderstorms and near-tornadoes have been slowing us down, both physically and mentally. But spirits are never low for longer than a day, for once the sun comes out, our stuff dries, and the winds change their course, riding becomes enjoyable again. We have also been passing other bikers daily, as there is only one route to take across Northern Ontario. It is an uplifting reminder that we are not alone in this journey; there are others who are equally determined to get across the country. Their conviction strengthens our own, especially if they're doing it for a cause (like Mitch and Matt, who are riding west to east for cancer research).
While camping in Vermillion Bay, at a deserted site by the water, we were woken at 7am by strong winds and rain. Having gotten used to such conditions in Ontario, Rob and I tried to tune it out and go back to sleep. Within minutes, the wind had reached an angry howl, and our tent was pushed down over our faces, rain spraying through the tough fabric and soaking ourselves and everything else inside. Realizing that this was more than just a minor downpour, we began to hold the tent up against crazy winds like I've never seen before. Cold and terrified, we sat for over 20 minutes in puddles, our tent seeming close to being blown into pieces. We feared for our lives - tornadoes can kill, and this was definitely something close. As the wind and rain died down, so did our hearts. We gradually emerged from our tents to find that, miraculously, our panniers and bikes had not blown away. Besides a tree that had fallen a few meters away from our site, everything seemed to have survived. All our gear was wet, and we had to carry it for the day, but it didn't matter. We were happy just to be alive.
A few days later, in Ignace, we read in the newspaper that the storm was as close to a tornado as you can get without a funnel hitting the ground, with winds reaching up to 150km/hr. We no longer take a calm, warm and dry night for granted. Sleeping under a roof has become a luxury, and often a necessary precaution to avoid the storms that seem to be characteristic of Ontario. But the past couple days have been sunny, and Northern Ontario, with its bounty of lakes and trees, is beautiful. It's good to be home.
It continues to amaze me how vulnerable we are to nature. Spending all our days on the bike and at a campsite, we are constantly victim to its unpredictable whims. It makes one feel powerless, but adds apprehension and excitement to every day. I wonder which direction the winds will be going tomorrow? Here's to praying that it may be at our backs. Peace out, y'all!


Amazing clouds riding into Winnipeg.

Every town seems to have its over sized mascot to greet you, things like prairie chickens, dinosaurs, muskies, but Upsala, Ontario had this mosquito to greet us. It was actually the black flies that were really bad though.

The four of us enjoying our almost rest day in Winnipeg.

Finally home! Our salute to the mountains and prairies, a huge chunk of the trip behind us.
Kakabeka Falls outside of Thunder Bay.

The in-between places

Three down, baby! After having left Vancouver exactly a month yesterday, we have biked about 3000km, and are approximately a third of the way through Canada. After five days of riding through Saskatchewan, the landscape changed rather suddenly from flat, open farmland to rolling, aspen-covered hills. As coniferous trees, larger hills, and even a lake came into view, I didn't need the Manitoba sign by the side of the road to affirm that we were approaching the hundredth meridian, where the great plains begin. As we left Saskatchewan, I learned that provincial borders are largely decided by the shifting landscape.

We are now in Dauphin, Manitoba, a medium-sized town of population 8000, 110km east of the Manitoba/Saskatchewan border. Like pretty much every town we've passed through, it has an A&W, Subway, and Safeway; but unlike all the smaller towns, it also has a newspaper, library and crime. It was a real battle getting here, with a ridiculous head wind that required some strategic drafting to get through. (I guess we had it coming, after the strong tailwind that pushed us to Saskatoon. But we are here now, eating homemade meals and sleeping in real beds, one thing I've come to really appreciate.

I've decided that biking across Canada isn't about seeing famous sites or towns, although there has been a bit of that. It's more about exploring the in-between places: the stretches of highway and towns that, although marked on maps, are forgotten to all but those who live there. It's the in-between places, where no one goes except in a vehicle and in passing, that we are getting to know the best. Having been born in raised in Toronto does not give one a good indication of what Canada is like, because most of the country is unpopulated.


On the really long days, with the strongest winds, I remind myself what I'm pedalling for: a school in rural Kenya, and a group of children who wish for nothing more than to complete their education. As I have the privilege of eating, sleeping and biking all day, these kids have to worry about whether they will be in school next month. I don't mean to make their lives sound miserable, because I can tell you with certainty that they are not, but only to remind you of the reality of these individual lives. So far, we have raised about $1700 for SEED. We encourage you to continue supporting us as we strive to reach our goal of $10,000. Thankyou to all who have donated so far.

Farewell from Dauphin, Manitoba!

Land of the living skies

Welcome to the Great Canadian Praries, where the skies come alive, grass fields reach out to the horizon, and the cows roam unfree. Nine days ago, we waved goodbye to the mountains, and within a day found ourselves in a landscape of fields, farms, infrequent towns (if you can call a convenience store, campsite, church and a few houses a "town"), and not much else. The praries are consistent, flat, open, windy, and after full days of riding with nothing around us having changed, they seem to never end.

Here's a summary of our travels since we left Canmore over a week ago:
Canmore to Camp Chief Hector, where we visited Brad's sister who is working there as a counsellor - 40km
Camp Chief Hector to Okotoks, where we stayed with Brad's second cousin and managed to avoid the ferocious storm that swept through much of Alberta, causing family and friends back home to worry - 140km
Okotoks to Drumheller, where we visited the Royal Tyrell Museum and the hoodoos in the Alberta "badlands" - 170km (we were tired)
Drumheller to Big Stone - 120km
Big Stone to Alsask, which as the name suggests, is basically on the border of Alberta and Saskatchewan - 110km
Alsask to Rosetown, featuring government-subsidized dollar ice creams, which has become a staple food in our diet - 150km
Rosetown to Saskatoon - 115km (although it felt like 30, as a strong tailwind pushed us all the way in under 4 hours, with an average speed of 30km/hr). We are currently taking a rest day in Saskatoon, where we are staying with Steph's cousin, a PhD student at the University of Saskatchewan.

This is my first visit to Saskatchewan, and so far I have no complaints to speak of. The people are friendly and extremely talkative, which doesn't surprise me, given that most people we have met live in towns with populations around 100, and seeing a new face doesn't happen everyday. Populations above 3000 are rare around here, with numbers dropping as more and more people leave the calm rural life for the hustle-bustle of the city. (As a side note, I missed the excitement of the city until we arrived in Saskatoon and found ourselves amongst swarms of cars, people, buildings and lights, and then I didn't miss it so much anymore). Just recently, it was announced that over 50% of the worlds population now lives in cities, and I fear that this number will only go up with time. But the rural life will always prevail in Saskatchewan, where the economy and society is centered around agriculture. Seriously, that's even all the radio talks about.

I'd like to write a bit about moods, a strange human phenomena that has been a significant part of our trip, and one that I have spent some time contemplating. Moods are funny. They can change so quickly, but once you're in a mood, you find yourself stuck there, and even if you want to get out of it, something prevents you from doing so. (I'm trying to figure out what this something is. If you have any ideas, please post a comment.) Being in a group affects your mood alot. Some days, we are all grumpy, for no reason except that everyone else is grumpy. Our moods change with the wind, hunger levels, time of day, or when we reach or miss a goal. Our moods vary more than anything you can find in the prairies. As my bad moods are highlighted, while the good moods are taken for granted, I attempt to realize the root cause of each, and gain some self-awareness as to how these can be more controlled.

That's all for now. Please add comments on Saskatchewan, moods, or whatever else your heart desires - we love reading them. Tomorrow, we start inching towards our next goal: Dauphin, Manitoba, where we will stay with a friend's mother. From there will reach Winnipeg and into Ontario, a monster of a province that we are all dreading and looking forward to at the same time. Thank you to all who are supporting us back home. All your thoughts are keeping us going.

Peace,
Meg and Rob
In Drumheller, the 'badlands' were carved by a huge river which formed at the end of the last ice age.
Meg and I at the hoodoo's, slightly upset as the pictures made them look about ten times taller than they are.



Yeah, two down!

Taking advantage of the beautiful grasses for a short break alongside the highway.

Meg enjoying the local radio station, she just found out that wheat prices are going up!
Beautiful scenery but fairly repetitive.
Wow traffic!

Pictures!!

Biking above the Okanagan valley, with Kelowna below (we took the loooong route there...but ended up getting a great view).
One province down, baby! (Check out Brad's height on that jump!)
Lake Louise was still partially frozen when we visited it on May 28th after crossing the Continental Divide.
Rob biking the Bow Valley Trail, from Lake Louise to Canmore, May 29th.
Meghan swinging over the Bow valley on a giant swing hidden in the forest.
The sheer bliss of the mountains...

The grizzly that spent some time outside our campite in Lake Louise. An electric fence seen in the foreground is the only thing that kept us safe.

Elk seen on the Bow Valley Trail, where wildlife sightings are frequent.