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Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson

Bicycle touring journals

August 7 Sunday Bicycle touring from Edmonton Alberta - Ryley Alberta

Vicky arrives at 10 AM. Today is the day, come hell or high water, that we vowed we were going to get out of Dodge. The way it has been pouring rain we figure for sure it will be high water.

We go to the Space Sciences Centre to buy a mini star chart. No use seeing those thousands of stars night after night and not knowing their names.

We have been camping in a spare bedroom at Faye's house in town. Faye is still sleeping in a downstairs bedroom when Sharon calls down an air vent leading into Faye's bedroom. Faye is still sleeping. She wakes with a start and tells us that she thought she was dreaming about hearing voices. Giving Faye a final final goodbye hug for the umpteenth time ... we would go through this daily ritual before Faye left for work each morning. Then it would begin to pour and we would stay another day. Each day Faye would come home from work and say, "Haven't you guys left yet? I'm getting tired of saying goodbye to you!"

"We have to wait for the right launch window," we would tell her. Well, I guess that time has come. Vicky is forcing our hand. Time to put up or shut up, I guess. World here we come! Ready or not. As we were to discover, it was mainly not.

We load up our touring bikes and head out the back gate. Faye comes out to see us off. She's still probably not entirely convinced that we'll actually leave. After all, there are some dark clouds looming on the horizon and they look like they're about to leak.

Vicky leads the way down the back alley and out onto the street. We take Whitemud Drive to 23rd Avenue and follow that east out of town to Hwy 14. We head for Wainwright, straight into the strongest headwind I've ever cycled. This is supposed to be fun? Whose idea was this anyway? Vicky doesn't have packs, so she has volunteered to ride in front and is breaking the horrendous wind for us. We are making a pretty good pace -- if we were slugs.

And that's exactly what I feel like. Sluggish. I am pedalling along in a quasi twilight state. An I really awake or is this just another bad dream? I toddled off to bed at 2 AM last night and 3 AM the night before. Plus I am loaded heavier than on our trial run to Cypress Hills. Why do I always do that? In the interim from our trip to Cypress Hills I bought a short-wave radio. It that takes four batteries, so I'm carrying that, plus spare batteries, of course. We have a flashlight (more batteries), a couple of family-size bars of soap, and an extra large bottle of shampoo. I just couldn't pass up the bargain savings on the economy size. The stupid thing will probably last our entire cycle trip around the world. I have two spare tires and two flat proof tubes as extra insurance. And, of course, everything is full at the moment from toothpaste to fuel bottles for our Whisperlite stove. It may just be ounces by itself, but it all adds up to serious pounds.

I should take a lesson from Vicky. On past trips with her I have learned that she bike tours very light. Usually she only has her minimal clothes and a sleeping bag when we travel with her. Sharon and I, on the other hand, carry everything from soup to nuts. Vicky had hoisted my panniers back at the house this morning in an effort to help me carry them out of the house to my bike. "Did you pack your rock collection!?" she asked.

We stop at an IGA on the way out of town and buy milk, bananas, and apples. Great. More weight. How about a few dried raisins?

Somehow we make it to Cooking Lake. We hit the store for popsicles and a fudgesicle with a gooey centre. Not that we're not cold enough already. We should be looking for hot drinks. At a park we inhale banana bread that Vicky has made. Each and every time the sun breaks through a small opening in the overcast sky and warms our backs, we cheer. The temperature is still rebounding from the thunderstorm last night in which over 50 mm of rain fell.

We get back on our bikes and head out into the headwind. At Tofield, the 80 kilometre mark, we visit an info center. We look at displays of animals and bird nests. Some of those nests look pretty comfy, with lots of feathers lining the sides. Hmmm. Do you think I'm tired?

We pedal down the street to a restaurant and go inside for hot chocolates. After feeling has seeped back into our extremities Vicky decides it's time for her to turn her bike around and head back to Edmonton ... with the tailwind.

Sharon and I watch our wind blocker cycle down the road away from us. We sigh, get on our bikes, and pedal off towards Ryley, eighteen kilometres distant.
Partway there, from the opposite direction, a cyclist passes us ... pulling a canoe. I knew it had rained a lot, but isn't that a bit excessive? Maybe he lives across the lake?

Eight kilometres from Ryley, we pass a small roadside campground with a cookhouse and a bunch of trees surrounding it. Good sense would indicate that we stay there. But no, we're devoid of good sense and continue the rest of the way into Ryley.

In Ryley we go into a café and place an order for their biggest nachos. After we place our order, we see the waitress sprint by our window. Apparently they are out of salsa and she has gone to procure more.

After eating our fill, we reluctantly abandon the warm environs of the café. Maybe they wouldn't mind if we camped behind a booth at the back? We pull on gloves and mount our bicycles to find Ryley's fairgrounds and ball diamonds. There, we set up camp. By 9:30 PM I am snuggled deep into my sleeping bag and ready to get a good night's sleep. It is quite chilly and there were lots of mosquitoes. Funny. I thought they would have all frozen. Guess we're just living the life of Ryley.

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