Last week we got a bit of bad news in that we have to move. The cost, hassle, and timing of the move conflict hugely with my upcoming bike ride so instead of training I have been looking for places for us to live and visiting a few of them. On the one hand it’s a huge pain – moving is stressful. However, it’s also exciting. The area we’re looking most in is 1 hour (each way!) closer to work so after our move I’ll likely gain 10 hours/week of free time.

I still did get out for a really long bike ride a couple of weeks ago. Like every other one of these long rides, the weather report was not something to be consulted except just before the ride to determine what I would wear and anything I might want to bring to be prepared. Today’s verdict was: “Bring a rain jacket.”

At 7:00 AM sharp I got on my bike and headed west. Today’s goal was to see two Great Lakes in one day. Toronto is right on Lake Ontario so that one was a given, the next would be Lake Erie, about 140 km west of home.

Having just picked up new, faster tires, I was going noticeably quicker. Riding along Lakeshore in Oakville and Burlington, I settled into the aero bars and pedaled along comfortably at 27-30 km/hr – much faster than on my heavy steel (and quite upright) touring bike. It was exhilarating. Along the way I saw several cyclists also out for a morning ride. The mood was genial with people waving and shouting good mornings at one another. Even the drivers seemed nice – the one truck that I heard approaching honking their horn revealed a passenger giving me a thumbs up as they passed with two bikes in the back.

I brought a lot of extra snacks this time and had been pretty consistently fueling – eating pieces of Clif bars at stoplights, grabbing a small wrap and some scones at Timmy’s in Burlington.

The weather was still sunny and pretty when I reached the town of Stoney Creek, Ontario, and with it, my first challenge. My bike computer warned me of it first:

The Niagara Escarpment isn’t a particularly long climb, but it’s steep, nearly 14% at some points.

A hill like this can get really tricky as you grind up it, slowly in your lowest gear but still pushing, trying to stay quick enough to maintain balance. Go too slow and you will fall over, and with your feet clipped in the pedals it will painful and embarrassing at best and risky at worst. So I did walk the bike up for the last little bit. No shame in keeping safe!

At the top the view really showed just how high up I got and how quickly it happened. What a gorgeous view!

My route profile showed that there were no more big hills for the rest of the day – until my return trip when I’d get to descend down the hill I just climbed.

The riding was an interesting and uniquely southern Ontario mix of traditional farms and fields, the occasional small town but also a Gurdwara and a Malayali community centre at different points along the rural route.

Traffic continued to be good. The route I chose was all paved but still very quiet with very few cars. Mostly I had the area to myself and some places even had very few houses. Mostly this was fine but as the day went on and the sky got darker I started keeping an eye out for where I might take shelter if a storm rolled through.

When I reached Dunnville I could feel I was closing in on the lake. Some people had boats outside, there was a big river (The Grand River – the same one under the covered bridge I saw last time). Also, as it had been some time since I refilled my water bottles and had a snack, a chip truck by the side of the road caught my eye. I picked up a huge order of homemade french fries, poured lots of salt on them (I’d been sweating so I’d lost a bunch of salt) and enjoyed water and a pop as well. Once I’d eaten all the fries, it was time to get back on the bike.

In Dunville proper, the “Mudcat festival” was underway with music, concessions and loads of families out having a good time next to the river.

By this point the wind had picked up. Sometimes it was a crosswind, other times I would duck down low as I turned directly into it. After fighting the wind for about twenty minutes, two things happened. The first was that I saw the Port Maitland lighthouse ahead. The second was that light rain started to fall. It quickly accellerated, though, and by the time I reached the pier it was pouring down in buckets. While many ran for their cars, those fishing on the pier put clear garbage bags over their heads and torsos and hunkered down. I was the only person heading further into the water.

I wouldn’t have believed it possible but the intensity of both the wind and rain increased until the rain was falling sideways, sending little needles into my face. The sky grew nearly as dark as night and my eyes began to sting from the sunscreen running from my forehead into my eyes. I finally reached the stairs at the end of the lighthouse and stopped the bike. At this point it felt like the end of The Truman Show:

I leaned the bike against the stairs, climbed up to the top, fumbling in my pocket for my phone to try to capture this ridiculous weather. It took about 30 seconds but that was enough time for the storm to pass. And so, all I was able to catch was this:

As I rode out through the storms, the waves were high and crashing – it looked like the ocean but now even those were small.

I could tell, though, that I had a very tricky window to find my way home through. Time it wrong and I could be caught in that mostly empty space of fields and trees in a massive thunderstorm. But the fact was, I was 120 km into the trip. Here near Lake Erie, everyone has cars. There is no public transit to speak of within 80 km. If I was to get home, it would have to be under my own steam. And so I turned back.

On the way back the clouds were looking extremely ominous. Tall thunderheads, dark skies with lighter, faster moving clouds underneath, and alternating stillness and heavy winds. The Mudcat Festival, which was hopping just 40 minutes earlier was all but abandoned.

There was, however, a giant mudcat to be seen on the side of the road.

When I reached the chip truck again, the sky was looking awful. This had to be my decision point. If I didn’t stop here, my next possible shelter would be 3-4 hours later. I decided not to risk it and ordered a burger and another pop and settled in the covered outdoor dining area.

The storm arrived not long after my burger did and it came down heavy with a cool wind. Between the drink, the wind, and already being wet it was cold in just shorts and a raincoat to say the least.

The rain started to pour and another family asked where I was riding from. They were shocked when I told them I’d come from Toronto and confessed that they were going to offer me a ride home if I lived nearby but apologised that that was just too far. They soon left and I decided to look at the radar to figure out when my opportunity to leave might be. The radar did not look promising – we were in a wide and slow moving band of storms – all red and orange on the radar. And so I sat, so glad that I had stopped.

After nearly two hours, the rain was still coming down. But then, a massive lightning strike happened in the river just behind it with a thunderclap almost immediately after it. And then, like the finale of a fireworks show, it was over. The sky grew lighter and the rain turned to sprinkles. Back on the bike I went. If I rode hard I would make it to the train station where I would end my ride just before the sunset.

Surprisingly, while I had to fight the wind most of the way home, the rain cooperated and I didn’t get rained on much more for the rest of the day. In fact, the sun even came out for a short time.

The sky might look pretty but the wind was rough, and there was something about that pavement that just dragged – it felt like a gravel road despite being solid.

At that point above, I reached the point I talked about in the previous entry: the one where I just kept wanting to stop. I didn’t want or need to rest but I was just tired and overwhelmed about what was ahead of me: still 2-3 hours of riding, a headwind, and cooler weather. But ironically, taking a break wouldn’t make this better. I had the strength to finish the ride, I was just grumpy that this part was difficult. Stopping would do nothing to fix that and so, I continued to push myself.

I reached Burlington, tired and thirsty 15 minutes before the train home would arrive, and also just before sunset. I’d reached my goal. In the end I fought headwinds (Later I learned that 67% of the ride was spent riding into the wind!), rain (I spent the latter half in wet clothes) and rode over 200 kilometres (124 miles). On the train I ate some energy bars to replenish my carbohydrate stores and drank another pop – the only thing available in the vending machine. The ride home from the station was cold and windy – the storms dropped the temperature a lot and my clothes were still wet) but finally, cold, wet, and tired, I made it into the house.

I’m pleased not only that I finished that but that I’ve now done several 200+ kilometre rides – to the point that they feel like 100 kilometre rides felt when I was in my early 40s. I won’t use that endurance in a big way this summer but I have learned not only how to build it but how to use it once there.

So now, the next project is to keep riding – not to that level as training 12-14 hours every Sunday is not compatible with apartment hunting and moving. There will be some work commuting, maybe some longer weekend rides too. But I’ve also put on my running shoes again and am starting to run again with the hopes of setting a personal record for running 5K – if not all time PR, at least to make it faster than last year’s race. I think it’s possible.

And as for the ride to Montreal? I’ll try for that one next year. Maybe I can even do it in two days!