First Period: The small ferry, Algonac, churned across the St. Clair River from its Michigan dock toward Walpole Island, a First Nation’s community, just west of Wallaceburg, Ontario. Autumn was unravelling its cavalcade of color, and the smell of cannabis drifted in the air. Mike and I waited just beyond the gate as ‘The Beast’ twisted off weathered steel decking and passports were surrendered to waiting Canadian Border Services staff. The Canadian ‘leg’ of C2C had dawned.
Meters beyond this portal was the Sunset Café where Niibin (Summer) was multi-tasking. She sat in the mid-day sun rolling joints, serving customers and watching butterflies dance. We rolled into this charming corner of Chatam-Kent, parking our bikes in the shadows of a sign reading,’ “Cannabis Heals”. Niibin’s mother brought us coffee, cookies, and sweet grass (symbolizing healing, peace, and spirituality) in a gesture which wafted in kindness.
Crossing estuaries and a meandering Sydenham River, cycling day 41 ended in the parking lot of the newly renovated Days Inn, Wallaceburg. Champaign was uncorked in celebration, and Salt and Vinegar chips (eaten from the bag) moved in concentric circles. Unfolding was a new spin on friendships begun at Colorado College in 1974. Mike (from Cambridge, Ont) and John (from Vail, CO), although not past residents of Slocum Hall, freebased the memories and drank in the fun.
Paul and Angie (Ridgetown) joined us for dinner at Crabby Joe’s (who wasn’t too cranky at all). A Saskatchewan Rough Rider first down and farm tractors at work were harvested in conversation, but the pure joy came in being all together again. Under a full moon, we all walked back to the hotel reflecting on our blessings to have friendships so deep and enduring.
Second Period: The giving fields of Southwestern Ontario are sliced by quiet rural roads, where F-150’s and Silverados swing wide. Tall cornstalks, working barns and crop-dusting helicopters merge in vistas which paint every horizon. C2C trundled along, pushing into Lake Erie’s wind, toward Port Stanley. Today’s ride, a distance of about 100 km, tested my conditioning. It began in rain and ended in complete satisfaction.
Highway 3, a well-marked portion of the Great Lakes Waterfront Trail, is relatively flat. But water courses which drain fertile farm lands are always found in lower elevations. Here, the road dips and sways, only to be followed by steep climbs out of lush valleys. Afternoon humidity brushed my furrowed brow, but encouragement triggered the initiative to finish. Whizzing by the Frisky Beaver Vineyard and the Natterjack Brewing Company, we braked at the Tall-Tales Café to refresh. This pastoral, West Lorne setting was fused into our shared history.
Skiegs (Edwardsville) took planes, trains and automobiles from St. Louis to Chatam. We met up at a rural intersection, harvesting another box car of mirth. He mobilized the Peachmobile and drove in tandem with John who piloted the well-equipped RV. As late-day sun began its westward dip, spinning wheels rounded onto the lakeshore’s Edith Cavell Boulevard, Port Stanley. This active fishing port and popular tourist destination, oft referred to as Canada’s Coney Island, was where new friendships were born. Our posse was corralled over 3 locations; John and CC with Ed and Jane (Air B n’ B), Skiegs and Tex at Terry’s (Warm Showers) and Sandy (who drove 5 hours from Baysville) and I with Bob and Margaret (Warm Showers). So many kindnesses were shared by our generous hosts this night. It is, as cyclists often reflect, the way of the road. We all slipped into a deep, blissful sleep as Lake Erie waves kissed the shoreline.
Third Period: At first light, the Carol Ann II, a small fishing boat moored off Main Street, turned over its creaky diesel engines. Churning up Lake Erie, it found passage beyond the harbor lighthouse to deeper waters. Nearby, C2C gathered at the Village Square Coffee Shop. Jumbo sized biscuits were popular fare. Ed and Jane had arrived early, sequestering several coveted tables typically set aside for a morning coffee-club. Terry, Bob and Margaret also joined in, temporarily qualifying us as ‘locals’. Casting our hearts around Port Stanley’s giant Perch statue, symbolic of this vibrant town’s connection to the Great Lakes, a historical record of this brief stop on the Canadian leg of a trans-America adventure was captured. And then we climbed!
Skiegs and John drove ahead to explore regional backroads between Port Stanley and tonight’s planned stop in Port Dover, a distance of 100 km. The 2 wheeled peloton, meanwhile, meandered quiet rural roads toward the heart of Day 43. CC, Tex, Robbo, Terry and I all found our comfortable cadence. From the back, Robbo would often attack, rolling to the front of our line creating a pulling vacuum. A chain ring tattoo on Tex’s calf swirled like a frenzied Texas tornado. CC and Terry rode together sharing reflections from the saddle. Comparable to a Clydesdale, I was simply ‘heading for the barn’.
Witnessing rich maritime heritage in coastal towns like Port Bruce, Port Burwell, and Port Rowan was pleasurable; lakeside conservation areas such as Long Point and Turkey Point provided a natural back-drop that was dazzling. And of course, there was plenty of corn. By late afternoon, we had checked into the Erie Beach Hotel and found comfort on its roof-top where drinks and vittles were shared. By nightfall, The Cove Room, famous for its Perch dinners, provided a taste of Norfolk County. For dessert, we all tasted the immense joy of friendship.
Overtime: Today, we would say good-bye to Skiegs and John. Each planned to drive ahead to Niagara Falls, drop both the Peachmobile and ‘The Beast’ at the Niagara Grandview Manor and get a misty makeover near Canada’s Horseshoe Falls. They both snacked on the commercialism of Niagara Falls and would eventually fly home from Buffalo.
The Great Lakes Waterfront Trail was beautiful on this sunny day. East of Dunnville’s Flyer Café, where a friendly staff served delicious tuck on ‘Senior’s Day’, we crossed paths with Cops for Cancer. This group of 25 ‘first responders’ were riding together to raise funds for pediatric cancer care. In their wake, my back tire collapsed to the rim. Robbo, ably assisted by a friendly horse just beyond the fence, took charge and had me rolling in minutes. Drafting along the windy roads near Low Banks and Belleview Beach, we pivoted to starboard at Port Colborne. C2C sailed along the Welland Canal Parkway Trail. Here, ships from around the world take 8 progressive steps while traversing the Niagara Escarpment between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. It was a scenic and ‘dedicated’ trail for walkers and cyclists; very rich in history. Past canal-side banks flourishing in flora and across clattering bridges painted in rust, the Tiger travelers rode centimeters from each other’s wheels. 2019’s version of Lundy’s Lane, where in July, 1814 American and Canadian forces clashed, was pocked with congestion as tourists ambled to and fro. Where was Louis Tussaud’s Waxworks, Ripley’s Believe it or Not, the Butterfly Conservatory or the Whirlpool Jetboat? We dodged them all.
During our final night together, we enjoyed the comfort of a 3 story house closer to the trembling waters than any other on the Ontario side of the Niagara River Gorge. One of the Blue Planets foremost natural wonders was just a 5 iron away. CC, Rob, Tex and I strolled into the heart of town and felt the power of nature. But this ‘zoom tour’, juxtaposing the region’s natural beauty with the hyper-flash of heart-shaped waterbeds and ‘barkers’ drawing walkers into all things garish, allowed each of us to get a glimpse into this complex carnival. Simply put; it’s strange. Shrill street sounds of a late summer’s night were off the charts, so we chose to dine indoors. A mountain of chocolate closed the curtain on a wonderful day.
Good nights and good-byes peppered the Canadian ‘leg’ of the trans-America bike ride for each of us. This 3 day, 4 night experience has reminded me of the enrichment that Colorado College has given. These amazing athletes; such dear friends. From a chance encounter on campus 45 years ago to the roads less travelled, each inspires action, commitment and caring for others. Sharing in this Gran(dest) of Fondos will never be forgotten.
May the wind be at your back.
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