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Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson

Bicycle touring journals

September 28 Wednesday Bicycle touring from Kingston Ontario to Kingston Ontario

It is still raining. Today it was supposed to clear, but it is worse than yesterday. Shades of the start of our bicycle tour in Edmonton! The only consolation is the wind has shifted from SE to SW, so it is blowing more behind us. We staggered onto our touring bikes sometime after noon, finally deciding it wasn't going to clear. We want to be in Ottawa by Thursday to meet Claren for the weekend. And the art museum in Ottawa has free admissions on Thursdays.

The ride to Gananoque wasn't too bad for traffic on Hwy 2 -- except for one van driver who passed another vehicle around a corner on a double solid and headed straight toward us. When one buys a van do they suck out half his brain? Insert brain here.

The parkway from Gananoque to Brockville runs along the St Lawrence. There is a bike path for about fifty kilometres. It is great not having to worry about traffic. This area is the Thousand Islands. There are some islands just large enough for a small house and a tree.

With the wind, it is a pretty fast cool down for us once we stop pedalling our bikes. Sharon went in to a store to buy some food. I stayed with our fully loaded touring bikes and was frozen by the time she got back.

We were trying to make it to Rideau Provincial campground, but we only made it to Merrickville before it was getting dark. Drat those short daylight hours. I went into a nursing home to ask if it would be all right to set up our little tent on their huge expanse of grass out back.

I was waiting at the nurses' station when an elderly patron wheeled up in her wheelchair and asked, "Can I help you?"

I asked her if she worked there. She told me "the girls" are in the dining room.

I explained to the helpful elderly resident that Sharon and I were bicycling across the country and wondered if it would be all right if we set up our tent on their lawn.

The old lady, hard of hearing, said, "You have bicycles to sell?"

I was beginning to see this wasn't going to be so easy. I re-explained and she asked, "You want a safe place to store your bicycles? Why they've stolen vehicles right out of the parking lot. They wouldn't be safe here."

Fortunately, just before I checked myself in, a nurse came along and gave me directions to the Lion's Park in town.

The old lady said to me, "Do you know where Wainwright is? I have a friend there who has a pig farm that is 4000 acres."

I eventually manage to escape, and when I get back outside, Sharon already has directions from another more astute nursing home patron who was going out for a walk, had overheard my lengthy conversation in the hallway, and had relayed the appropriate information to the still-waiting-in-the-rain outside Sharon.

The gate to the park was locked. We wheeled our trusty bikes around the gate and went to the very last spot at the end of the park and set up our tiny bike touring tent. The park is right along the canal. It is still raining. My shoes make a gooshy sound every time I take a step. My 'storm shelter' gloves are saturated with water like two giant sponges.

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