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Hold the Anchovies "Ice cream is exquisite - what a pity
it isn't illegal." Claren took us shopping - for bike gear, of course. When Dave, at the Frontenac cycle shop, learned we were bound for overseas destinations he handed us reflective Canada flag stickers. "They work great on helmets," he said. "Folks are very friendly to Canadians overseas," he added. "What's the difference between Canadians and Americans travelling in Europe?" he asked. I shrugged. "Canadians have a small Canadian flag on their backpack." I nodded. "Americans," he continued, "have a large Canadian flag on their backpack." Heartened by the good news, I bought a Specialized Tri-Cross knobby tire for my bike's front end. If uncaring or inattentive drivers were going to run me off the road, I intended to hit those gravel shoulders with aplomb. It was true that knobbies required additional energy to overcome their greater rolling resistance, but the control, and confidence, I gained when off-tarmac more than made up for any extra friction - besides, on a fully loaded touring bike, I wasn't going all that fast to begin with. And there was a bonus too: after installing the heavier-duty knobby tire, I suffered fewer flats. So, when I factored in the amount of time usually spent patching tubes and changing tires, I may have even come out slightly ahead. Returning from our successful shopping foray, Kevin (bless his little military heart), encouraged us to pack away the calories. "Yes, sir!" I said. (I always obey orders from an officer.) Kevin ordered more stacks of calorie-rich pizza; he barbecued enormous slabs of beef; Claren stuffed us with baked apple pies; they drowned us in buckets of ice cream. What amazing hosts! Claren had received a letter from Sue, one of our longtime cycling buddies, and ex-workmate of Claren and Sharon. We had made prior arrangements to meet Sue and Vicky (the same Vicky who had led us out of Edmonton so many days before) for three weeks of cycle touring in Portugal and Spain. Sue's letter said that she and Vicky were meeting Sharon and me November 20 in Lisbon, then flying back from Malaga. All as planned. That fateful idea of mine is coming together rather nicely, I thought smugly. "See?" I said to Sharon. "And you were all worried it wasn't going to work out." But then Claren read the bombshell: "For two weeks." Huh? Hadn't we planned three weeks? Reading further, we discovered Sue hadn't been able to get an entire three whole weeks off work. Ah, life in the corporate world. I scoffed. "Why doesn't she just quit?" Seriously though, I wondered if two weeks would give us enough time to ride from Lisbon, Portugal to Malaga, Spain? Sharon's rigid jaw betrayed apprehension. Schedules and deadlines reared their ugly heads.
Early Monday morning, the weekend over, we said goodbye to our hosts. Were we already leaving our comfy surrounds? Hell, no! But the two of them had to go to work. Someone had to pay for all that pizza and ice cream we were packing away. "See you in Ottawa!" Claren said before jumping in her car and speeding away to her job in the nation's capital, a mere 180 kilometres away; Kevin studiously packed his rucksack, getting ready to depart on a week-long outdoor training mission. (I try - with varying degrees of success - to keep items in my panniers in some semblance of order, but compared to the army I'm in complete disarray. I had no idea the military was so regimented. Kevin showed us a list that instructed him where to pack every single item - right down to the little pocket where all soldiers keep their extra set of underwear! Important to know, I suppose, when someone is shooting at you. I know I'd certainly need clean undies after that.) With our hosts out earning a living, Sharon and I had the run of the house, complete with large screen TV and matching La-Z-Boys (with built-in chip and beverage holders). With such outstanding hospitality, how would we ever pry ourselves away? "Ya know," I drawled to Sharon while dipping a nacho into creamy bell pepper dip, "I'm beginning to like this biking stuff." For two whole days, rain deluged the area (oh, darn). "I'll bet Kevin is having a terrific time on his training mission," I mused, gazing out from our snug and dry confines and imagined the poor guy crawling around in the muck and oozy mud. Ironically, massive electrical storms knocked out the power several times. By the third day, we determined the rain was unstoppable and it was never going to clear (ever). We pulled on our rain gear, double-bagged our cycling shoes, and departed for Ottawa to meet Claren. "At least the wind is at our back," Sharon said, attempting to console me. "Ah, yes," I answered. "I was getting tired of the pampered life anyway." Sure I was. |
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