|
October 1 Saturday Bicycle touring from Ottawa Ontario to Orleans Ontario Got up early and left Val and CJ's as Claren wanted to get back to Kingston to hit the Chili Fest and it only went until noon. Sharon and I found a bike path leading downtown. I took a picture of the locks. It is amazing how high they have to lift the boats. I've never seen a vessel in the locks. We went to the Parliament buildings. It was 10 AM and nine tour buses were already there, plus a prayer rally via satellite was just getting underway with hundred of chairs filling the expansive lawn. We went to the Parliament buildings because I wanted to set up our biking tent and take a picture of me in it. I have always wanted to camp on Parliament Hill. Sharon doesn't want any part of it, fearing that I'll get arrested, but I convinced her she will just have to take the picture. There are police around, both city and RCMP, plus plenty of uniformed security guards (and probably plain-clothed guys as well) milling about keeping an eye on everything. Sharon tells me again that I will get arrested. Fine with me, I say. There are a lot of people walking around everywhere. I size up the situation like a SWAT team commando. Where is the best location? I want to set up the tent quickly, jump in, and have Sharon snap a quick picture. In a precision put up and takedown I think I can do it all in under two minutes ... the guards and a few hundred people will never know. Sharon suggests that possibly there is grass on the back side of the Parliament. No way, I tell her. Besides there was construction going on back there the day before. "Let's leave," she pleads. "No," I say. "Look, over by the flowers," I tell her. "We can lean our bikes against that lamppost and set the tent in front of the flowers with the Parliament's clock tower in the background." "I'm not helping you!" she says and gives me a look like you and your crazy ideas. "Fine," I say as I pull the tent bag off the rear rack. Hmmm. I'd never noticed before how much it looks like a gun bag. I take out the poles and snap them together. I don't look around to see if I am attracting any attention or not. The two aluminum pole lengths assembled, I hastily spread the tent out with a single flapping motion. Still not looking around I thread the poles through their sleeves. It is going to be sans fly. I have a bit of difficulty holding back the tent door once I have it unzipped. I dive inside and flash a big grin and a peace sign. Sharon sure seems to be taking her time in the shutter release department ... just paying me back, I figure, for dragging her into this. She finally presses the shutter. I hop out and flatten the tent. I have one pole removed and I am starting to remove the other when I look up and notice Sharon is talking to a woman. So we had been spotted after all. What!? She wants to know if I would set the tent back up so she can take a picture. "I don't think so," I say. She insists. "Do it for France!" the lady says. Huh? I have no idea how that is supposed to convince me, but okay, I do it. I sit in front of the tent this time. What? Another lady comes over. She takes a picture, too. Jeesh. I should have charged. Take a picture of the crazy cyclist about to get arrested. I never knew I would be a tourist attraction. The lady tells Sharon to get in front of the tent with me and she will take both of our pictures. Amazingly Sharon complies. By now a crowd of onlookers have gathered. Bus drivers in the group grin. We jump up and I dismantle the tent as fast as I can, load it onto Sharon's bike, and attempt to make a hasty getaway. The crowd assembled on the sidewalk parts for us, waving and cheering, as we set out. Cries of "Bon Voyage!" ring in our ears. Do it for France? We ride out onto the street as four cops move towards us. I phoned Uncle Dennis, who lives in the nearby town of Orleans. We take a bike path, following along the river through Rockcliffe to their place. It is a wonderful bike ride along the scenic river with warm sunlight shining on us. A multitude of people are out bike riding, fishing, walking or just laying around. Dennis and his wife, Rolande, greet us. We meet their son, Devon, and Rolande's mother, or Mama, as they call her. Dennis is Bill's (my Grandfather's brother) son. Rolande made tomato sandwiches, fresh from her garden. We had tacos for supper, homemade by Dennis. They spent five months in Mexico a few years ago. Later, we relaxed and watched John Wayne in True Grit. It was the first time Sharon had seen it. I really liked it when it came out in the theatre years ago, but my, times have changed. |
