The Mariposa Centenary was an exceptional brevet. Just being a Centenary had its own appeal as opposed to a brevet that can be repeated sometime down the road, but the special edition brevet card and medal was an extra incentive.

Years ago, I never had much of an appreciation for medals. Over the years the ones from my youth found their way into recycling as trinkets of little use.That changed with PBP. Here was an event that continues to inspire me even years afterwards, and the medal with it’s individual number is unique.I decided to buy some adhesive rare earth magnets and turned any remaining old medals into fridge magnets which we can’t seem to get enough of, so adding another to our fridge which holds up kids painting and family photos seemed desirable.

Over the years I’ve forged some great cycling partnerships, one of which happened on a rainy Hockley Hills 200 brevet. Jocelyn Delarosa had recently immigrated from France in 2018 and we chatted for a while as we rode away from the group.He then joined another club which I ride with, the GGG (Gravel Grinding Group) and over the years since we have shared many a great ride including brevets this year.Jocelyn & I agreed to ride the Mariposa Centenary together and we are in similar form these days so it was going to be a spirited ride. Better yet we invited Alex Stephen from the GGG to become an RO member and join us.

I arrived with time to spare and saw quite the gathering of randonneurs all well spaced apart except for a brief photo op. It was great to see so many familiar smiling faces.It was nice to check out some new bikes and catch up with fellow riders. Erin Marchak presided over the formal duties, and Martin Cooper gave a brief talk about the ride, and the history… Before long 7am had rolled around and we were off. I noted one of the riders had his dog in a chest harness. Cute and ambitious!

We started at a gentle pace, negotiating street car tracks and numerous turns away from the downtown core but it wasn’t long before we were heading east towards the Waterfront Trail. The pace started to pick up as we warmed up and by the time we left the Beaches only a handful of us were left at the front. I got to meet Burke Adams, who’s reputation preceded him as Jocelyn had filled me in on another rider that had been pushing the pace on multiple brevets.So Alex, Burke, Jocelyn & I formed a group of four and settled into a solid pace.

We made it to the first control at 9:23am and I set about orchestrating a coordinated refuelling. We each had an espresso, a bottle of water to refill our bidons and an ice cream sandwich.I had called a friend on route to the Coolest Ice Cream Shop, who lived around the corner and who’s son is my godson, but our stop was so brief that he missed us. No time wasted and legs still warm we were back at it.

Burke was feeling strong so we shamelessly let him be the locomotive for some longer stretches while we pushed our average speed to around 32km/hr. Before long we had reached the northern limit of the route and we turned west into the southwest wind. We knew winds were forecast to gust up to the 50s in the afternoon so settled into a working pace as we rode to Bradford.

In Bradford we stopped at Portugalia Bakery at 10:49am. Alex was starting to feel tired from the pace. On many days he is a locomotive, but that day he needed to hold back. We’ve all been there. Speaking Portuguese may have had it’s benefits at the bakery, if not for ordering, then just knowing about the desserts. We enjoyed a more leisurely break and then set off once more, but this time we knew we were in for a windy return and fighting wind is a battle rarely won but often endured. It wasn’t long before we came to Canal Rd and then went across the Holland March and south towards the rising tide of hills on Keele.

Burk & I spun our way to the top and waited for the other two who weren’t far behind. Alex offered to go solo and I had full confidence he’d be fine but we were having fun and it wouldn’t have been a pleasant return solo against the wind so we turned the pace down a notch and managed our effort. There were numerous lights going back into the City anyway and pushing a harder pace would have resulted in a series of intervals between lights so it was for the best anyway.

Before long we passed the current location for Mariposa Cycles and then came to Muddy York Brewing. Since we knew the finish was probably going to be anticlimactic we decided to stop for a beer and finish the ride in good style. If I had it my way the ride would have officially ended at the brew pub! It was the best part of the ride and we joked that there are easier ways to go for a beer.

Finally we wove our way back to the start, chatted a bit and with a little luck we’ll all ride together again soon.

A great day out. Thanks to Erin for organizing such a fun ride!

This ride took place on 09-10 August 2021

By Timothy Ormond

I love this route. I first did it in August 2014. It was then my second 600k ever and it confirmed my belief that the 600k distance is the best. Seven years later, I still think 600k is the best.

I was eager to do this route to resurrect it. It’s name comes up from time to time during planning because it has similar terrain to PBP. Ultimately it is always dismissed because of the potential for riding through the night without any possibility of getting water or food. Back in 2014, there was a 24-hour Tim Horton’s in Minden. Even if everything was closed in Haliburton, you could count on the two controls in Minden to save you. That Tim Horton’s is no longer open for 24 hours. If you miss the closing times and you haven’t arranged for accommodation, it’s possible you will ride from Buckhorn to Bobcaygeon without the chance to resupply (a distance of roughly 280 km).

I came prepared for this possibility. I brought a “pocket rocket” and ISO fuel I use for canoe camping with a small 600ml pot for boiling water. I brought noodles, oatmeal and other food. I also brought a spork (aka fpoon). I didn’t want to boil water from lakes or streams, but I was prepared to do this in an emergency. Also, for emergency, I brought my SOL bivvy (which stands for Stay Outside Longer, not the other meaning of SOL, no matter how accurately it might describe circumstances).

So I was well prepared for most problems, but I also had a ridiculously heavy bike. The other big challenge was the extreme heat. These two factors combined made me perspire furiously at the crest of every hill. Soon I decided to walk up the giants. There is a part of me that really dislikes walking my bike up hills, but I wanted to avoid heat exhaustion. Before long I accepted that walking was going to be a thing on this ride. It forced me to admire my surroundings a lot more.

Working with Erin and Dave, I suggested a few significant edits to the 2014 version. Originally it began and ended in Markham. I suggested changing the start and finish to Rouge Hill GO. It also used to have a control in Peterborough. I suggested moving the control to Lakefield and bypassing Peterborough completely. The final edit was Erin’s suggestion for the leg between Bobcaygeon and Lindsay. I didn’t manage to check this portion of the route because I DNF’d.

I had forgotten how relentless the land is between Toronto and Peterborough. Constant up and down without any flats for getting into a good gear and cadence. My heavy bike really highlighted this. Nevertheless, it is gorgeous countryside and a good challenge (just bring a lighter bike!) I was really happy to avoid Peterborough. I remember it being very busy in 2014.

Lakefield is a great control. There is a Foodland with lots of fresh fruit and a park directly across the street with lots of shade. The public library next door gives free wifi. I had a good little supper there (though I was concerned that it was already dinner time and I was only 160km into the ride!)

After Lakefield comes Curve Lake First Nation, Buckhorn, and then Flynn’s Turn. After that is the amazing 507 road. Once upon it, you know you have left the lowlands and entered the Shield. It winds endlessly, and around every bend is the type of terrain where beavers and moose thrive. It’s 40km from Flynn’s Turn to Gooderham. I don’t recall seeing a single car. Dusk was falling gently. I considered stopping to boil water for noodles at the trailhead to a skidoo track. No traffic there today!

But the mosquitos said that the price of my having a meal was that I would have to give hundreds. Supper could wait until dark. I pedaled. The mosquitos could not bite while I was riding, but there was plenty of evidence that they wanted to: dragonflies escorted me, bouncing of my shoulder, face, and sometimes getting caught in my spokes. Then, just as suddenly as they arrived, the dragonflies disappeared. The crepuscular food chain had completed its course for the evening.

By now I was at the control in Gooderham. Nothing was open. In any case, all that there is an LCBO and a Chinese restaurant. I don’t know if I arrived too late to eat there or if it’s permanently closed. Hard to tell in these COVID days. I had to make do with what I had. And if I couldn’t get to Minden early enough, I may be forced to boil water from some unknown river, pond or lake…

With the sun going down, it was now time to put on my reflective vest. It was still so hot that I decided to take off my jersey. It felt great to have the night air on my shoulders and arms and no sun. It’s funny how much attention I pay to the sun when I’m cycling, especially when it’s hot or chilly. It’s almost like randonneuring is a branch of astronomy.

Which leads me to my favourite thing about this ride. The stars, the planets and the Milky Way. There is virtually no light pollution in this area, much less than I’m accustomed to. Being a city slicker, I can go years without seeing the Milky Way. Both times I’ve done this route I saw it clearly. Thank goodness there weren’t any clouds and it was a New Moon. It reminds me of those stories about a voyage into darkness that turns out to be a journey to wholeness, you know, like Dante’s Divine Comedy. I dunno, it just seems to me that there is more to riding a bike than just spinning wheels, hammering cranks and counting kilowatts and kilometres. You’re out there, pushing yourself to your limit, under the cosmos (which is always there anyways, but you don’t get to see it because of Rayleigh scattering).

Whenever I muse like this, I get weird looks. I once suggested to another randonneur that riding the landscape around Belfountain was like being an ant crossing a pair of corduroy pants. The look on this person’s face… you’d think I said something offensive. But I digress. I will return to this report.

I arrived in Minden at midnight. I thought for sure I’d be stooping to the river to get water to boil. But, no. There is a Pioneer gas station open for 24 hours there. I suspected something would be open and I was happy that I was right. I bought more water than I could carry.

Three young men, locals with extremely red necks, were hanging out at the Pioneer as I sipped a Coke.

“Sure picked a hot one.”

“You can pick your day; you can’t pick your weather,” I replied.

I rode over to a picnic table, boiled my water, and made my noodles. Wow, noodles never tasted so good. I was glad to be getting all that salt too. I’m fairly diligent about getting sodium, potassium and magnesium into my system on a hot day’s ride. I’m not sure how much of a threat it really is, but I certainly want to avoid hyponatremia, which can happen if you only drink water without any minerals/electrolytes. About 40 minutes later, I could feel the impact of the broth and noodles. I really got my second wind.

This was on the so-called Bobcaygeon Road (which does not lead to Bobcaygeon). I really enjoy this road too. I’ve never seen it in the daylight, but at night it feels very rugged and remote. You turn off your lights and it is absolute night in the deep forest. It seems to me that it was a dirt road in 2014, but I’m not sure. It is paved now, but there are some very rough patches. It is a real roller coaster ride and totally worth the price of admission.

Despite joyriding on Bobcaygeon Road thanks to broth and noodles, I was still making very slow progress. I arrived in Haliburton at 4:30am. I was pretty sure there was no way I could finish the 600 in 40 hours. I lay down next to the public library and decided to make a choice when I awoke. I used my bivvy, not because it was cool, but because I was so damp from perspiration. It also kept the mosquitos off my body. I used my rain shell to cover my face.

When I awoke around 6:30am, I was still undecided. I had until 10pm. I didn’t mind the idea of going longer than 40 hours, but then I thought about then next day. Two whole days without proper sleep. I had to work on Wednesday and I had a major drive to Sault Ste Marie on Thursday. I decided to take the quickest route back to Lakefield, catch the bus at Trent University, and then take the train from Oshawa back home.

This was a mistake. Or at least insisting on taking the shortest route was a mistake. This meant passing through Bobcaygeon on roads we had not designated for the ride. Between Kinmount and Bobcaygeon is horrible. Between Bobcaygeon and Flynn’s Corner is even worse! I stopped for a snack and asked for some advice on using secondary roads. The locals were surprised at my question; I was even more surprised at the response! They seemed to think that bicycles had no business on the road, and, for reasons that are unclear, they blame cyclists for closing their shop for two hours. I didn’t even ask. All I could think about was how pointless it would be to tell them about the sections on bicycles in the Highway Traffic Act and the fact that the Ontario Legislature endorsed cyclists with the right to ride on roads in the late nineteenth century. I just smiled and nodded and got out the door as quickly as I could.

I rode back to Lakefield into a moderate headwind. With morale pretty low, and my new and uninspiring insight into the locals’ mentality, I felt a little fed up with the traffic. I longed for the late night hours when I had the entire road to myself. I got another picnic at the Foodland. I caught the GO bus on the Trent University campus and then the train from Oshawa back home.

I was a little disappointed that I didn’t finish, but I was just taking far too long. If I had more free time after the ride to recover, I would have just pushed through regardless of the time limit. The biggest learning lessons from this ride:

1. Pack less! I used do 600k rides with only a pump and tubes and sunscreen. This time I think I was carrying the equivalent of a second bicycle.
2. Cottage country traffic can be scary, especially on Sunday evening, but work traffic during the week can get pretty heavy too. Large trucks are particularly noticeable.

And what was good about this ride:

1. The stars, Milky Way and Mars
2. Certain roads (see above)
3. The park in Lakefield
4. The animals: I saw four deer, one wild turkey, countless turkey vultures, I nearly hit a porcupine and a skunk, countless goldfinches, and I helped a painted turtle safely cross the road. Oh yeah, and those dragonflies at dusk were pretty amazing too.
5. spoon/fork, fpoon, spork. I will probably not ever bring my stove on a brevet/perm again, but bringing an eating utensil — yes. You can eat yogurt, soup, fruit salad etc.

I don’t know if this route will ever get formally put on the schedule. It is a little unruly and unpredictable. Sure, Minden was open 24 hours this year, but what about next year? Despite its flaws, Haliburton Highlands certainly offers a unique experience. And for the Toronto Chapter it is definitely the wildest route we have on offer.

By Fred Chagnon, ridden on 17 July 2021

Today was the day — the day I would try to complete my first 200km brevet; an organized group-depart event with the Randonneurs Ontario club. Earlier this year I didn’t think I would be able to make this event, which was a shame because it was the only brevet that starts in my resident city of London, Ontario. I was scheduled to participate in Race the RockStAR, an annual multi-sport adventure race up in the Haliburton Highlands. But it’s cancellation freed up this weekend which turned out to be serendipitous. 

However, pulling in to the Tim Horton’s at 6:45AM, I was in a bit of a state. Sure I was excited about the prospect of completing my longest ride to date, and my first official ride with this club. But it was raining, and that was wreaking havoc on my psyche. I had attempted this route before once, back in October 2020, and the all-day rain had played it’s part in preventing me from finishing that solo run. I did not want a repeat of that when other more experienced riders were present. 

While I unloaded and packed my bike, my wife, Kim ,went in and bought me breakfast — two farmer wraps, one which barely saw the light of day, and the other which I packed for later. Kim told me that there were several “bike people” congregating inside, so she bid me well and left me in their capable hands. 

I sat among the crowd of folks wearing brightly coloured vests amid rain gear. While I introduced myself, many of them were reuniting after not having seen one-another for some time; this being one of the first brevets since the pandemic lockdowns had been lifted. Being in a group was putting my mind at ease. After a group photo, we departed as a group, 12 in total, and were on our way. 

The ride within London was wet, but we stayed collected as a group for the most part. I chatted briefly with Brenda and Tim, both of whom had just completed a 400km ride the previous weekend. I met Xinghua who, along with Jersey, had driven in from Oakville earlier that morning. However, it wasn’t long before the lead pack started to peel off ahead, becoming nothing more than an array of blinking tail lights on the horizon ahead of me. Ride your own ride, Fred. 

Headwind and rain through St. Mary’s
I queued up an audiobook to keep me company; Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, expertly narrated by Wil Wheaton. The book was periodically interrupted by navigation cues from RideWithGPS. 

As I pedaled into the wind and rain along Prospect Hill I eventually lost visual on the group of taillights, but I was aware of a single headlight that was slowly gaining on me. That turned out to be Ben, who had just the day before, made the 220km ride from Amherstburg into London with the rain in his face. I assumed without asking that this also meant that he’d be making the reverse trip home tomorrow — over 600km on the weekend. You’re made of strong stuff Ben. 
As the two of us pulled into St. Mary’s the headwind picked up. It was as if the small quaint town was exhaling, doing whatever it could to prevent us from arriving. After the climb on the way out of town I was gassed. My bike felt like deadweight underneath me — as if I was pedaling my old Honda Shadow motorcycle. As Ben continued on his very consistent 20+kph pace, I fell back to something more manageable. Ride your own ride, Fred. 

Deja Vu all over again

Somewhere around Rostock I pulled over. The rain had stopped and I wanted to lose my rain jacket. While protecting me from the rain, it was acting like a giant sail, making it very hard to ride into the ceaseless headwind. Since I was stopped, I thought I would check the batteries on all my electronics. My Garmin fenix watch was the most important; it’s job was to record the ride for proof of completion (and bragging rights). Over 90%, so it was going to last. I had a Garmin 200 I was using for visual navigation — it was about 75% so was ok for now. My Android phone was running RidewithGPS for audio navigation cues, as well as audible — 56%. I decided to plug it into my external battery for charging. 

USB port disabled. Despite having my phone sealed in a bag secured to my top tube, the rain had found a way in and the phone was wet enough to refuse getting charged. I tucked the phone away in my much safer top box, and told myself to figure it out at the first checkpoint. 

Checkpoint 1: Millbank – 94km – 12:15PM

The first checkpoint on the route was Anna Mae’s bakery; a small bakery in Millbank at the 94km mark. While the rain had stopped, the wind certainly had not, making the ride into Millbank a mental and spiritual battle. 

My last visit to this place was during a full lockdown, so the bakery was closed. Today, it was open….well….kind of. The pandemic restrictions in Ontario were due to be lifted the following Monday. As I sat on a bench eating the other wrap I’d purchased earlier, I listened to the restaurant patrons bemoan the fact that the bakery was not yet open for indoor dining. This didn’t deter any of them from lining up, however. The more the line grew, the more I knew I wasn’t going to be using that washroom to fill my bottles and empty my own reserves. It seemed that, for a second time in a row, I’d be leaving Anna Mae’s empty-handed (and full bladdered). 

I heard the approaching buzz of a freewheel behind me. “Little bit of wind, eh?”. I laughed before even turning around to greet the newcomer. Similarly dressed in a highly visible vest, bike packed for all kinds of adventure, this understatement came from Richard (Dick) Felton. Dick and I had connected briefly online prior to this event, resolving to ride together. However in the flurry of the morning departure I had lost track of who was who and wasn’t sure if he ended up in the lead pack. I was happy with the prospect of sharing the road with someone.  
My phone also started accepting a charge, so I secured it away in my top box and crossed my fingers. Dick and I left the checkpoint resolving to find another place to solve the water bottle / bladder issues.

With a blue sky in front of us (and not the stormy kind of blue), it was shaping up to be a nice afternoon as the two of us headed out to close the back half of the route. 

Where there is headwind, there must also be tailwind

The moment we made that turn southbound the world went eerily quiet. I’d had the wind in my ears for a solid five hours, and now it was right at my back. Dick must have noticed this too as he commented that “there’s nothing wrong with our bikes after all!”.

Dick was a great riding companion. We traveled at a similar pace, and when the road conditions permitted it, I got to hear all kinds of tales. This was a guy who was now in his mid-seventies, and took up ultra endurance running and cycling only after retiring at the age of sixty. And in that time he’d run in over one-hundred distance running events, and countless randonneuring events. He’d even been to France four times to compete in the Paris-Brest-Paris event. This 1,200km (750 mile) signature event occurs every four years, and is attended by amateur randonneurs who qualify by completing a 200, 300, 400, and 600km brevet within a single calendar year. The next such event will take place in 2023 and Dick figures he’s got one more in him. While Dick wishes he’d have started much younger, he stands as an inspiration to anyone that it’s never too late to make a turn to a healthy and active lifestyle. 

Checkpoint 2: Stratford – 140km – 2:40PM

The ride into Stratford was glorious. We’d long passed the high-point of the route, so most of the road before us was filled with sweeping descents and a tailwind that made for easier riding. The sun was out too — it was turning out to be a glorious day for riding. 

The route took us along Lakeside Drive which follows Victoria Lake and passes the Stratford Festival Theatre. As we approached the Boar’s Head pub, the site which marked the second checkpoint on this route, we saw no evidence of any fellow randonneurs. Like all eateries, the bar was closed to indoor dining, so we decided to make our pitstop at a Foodland up the road. 

When we stopped, I opened my top-box and checked on my phone. Battery was showing 10%, and it refused to charge. I sent my wife a flurry of texts indicating my estimated arrival time in London, and that my phone was likely going to die. I skipped taking a Checkpoint 2 photo. Once the messages were sent I swore as I put the phone away. 
“Don’t worry, there’s no need to get angry.” said the angel on my shoulder. (Actually, maybe that was Dick). 

While the Foodland didn’t have a bathroom (at least not one they would let someone who looked as though a clown had thrown up on a construction worker make use of), I grabbed some raspberries and a large bottle of water I used to fill my own bottles. Upon depart, the bathroom issue was still unresolved, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be handled discreetly once we were out in the country again. And so it was. 

The long ride home

At around the 150km mark Dick and I were introduced to another rider in our group approaching from behind. James was from Cambridge, and had missed the group depart. I didn’t catch the reason why — maybe he made the same mistake I did and set his ‘Monday-to-Friday’ alarm for a Saturday morning wake up. Whatever the reason, he’d started an hour after us and caught up. After a brief chat James resumed his regular pace and disappeared into the horizon. 

Sustaining an even tempo of about 20kph, Dick and I eventually made it back to London. As we approached the arrival at Tim Horton’s he motioned for me to take the lead. Recognizing this was my first completed brevet, he probably didn’t want me to feel like I was being pulled in by a ride sweep. So I made the final push to finish strong. 

As I rode into the Tim Horton’s parking lot, I spotted our SUV. Kim, along with our youngest son West, had been there for an hour and a half! Having lost the ability to track my movements live after my phone died, they arrived early and had kept themselves entertained with a Nintendo Switch. These little adventures don’t work without some degree of support and I’m always so thankful for this from both Kim and the kids.  

I introduced Kim to my newfound friend. She mentioned having seen the other members of our troop, who tasked her with the duty of taking our picture upon arrival, before they themselves departed. And so she did.  

I had done it! I had completed my first 200km brevet. Like a runner who has completed their first triathlon and wears the mantle ‘tri-athlete‘, I could now proudly call myself a ‘randonneur‘. Lessons learned from this ride: 

• Randonneurs are tough as nails. Also very friendly. 
• In case of rain, pack your mobile phone like it’s going to be underwater.
• Ride your own ride…
• BUT…if you can find someone who also rides your ride, so much the better.
• Even when it’s raining, pack sunscreen.

July 3-5, 2021

Coureur de Bois had been on my to-ride “bucket list” for a decade.  Fellow Huron randonneur Terry Payne rode Coureur de Bois in 2011, and his descriptions of a challenging ride with beautiful scenery, horrible roads, and ambiguous cues convinced me that I had to do it one day!  After doing my first 1,000 (Lake Ontario Lap) in 2015  and doing 1,200’s in 2018 and 2019, I realized that a 1,000 is actually much more challenging than a 1,200:  With top-notch support and organized controls, the Granite Anvil was a “picnic” compared to LOL!

In addition to Terry Payne’s yarns of Coureur de Bois, my motivation for doing the ride was fed by the romance of the fur trade and French Canadian history that was taught to all children in Canadian Schools in the 1960’s (before the realities of certain events and the treatment of indigenous peoples tainted our perspectives).  Perhaps more than a lot of English-speaking Ontarians, I had a fascination for rural Quebec which evolved while I was a summer student in the Gaspe in the mid-1970’s.   Bicycling along the shore of the St. Lawrence River on my CCM Gran Tourismo 10-speed during that wonderful summer was, in fact, the only real cycling I’d ever done in Quebec! 

Until a week before the Brevet, I expected that I might be the only rider signed up for Coureur de Bois 2021.  (If it had worked out that way, I am certain that my ride would have ended in dismal failure).  But on June 25, I was delighted to receive an email from Peter Grant indicating that he and JungAh Hong also intended to do the ride.  Peter explained the history of the CdeB route:

“The route has been used since about 2005 and has been updated after each ride with input from our riders as well as notes sent by Quebec riders.  There is a lot of Route Verte, particularly approaching and leaving Quebec City.  There is more than 20km of bike paths around the city of Quebec. 

   Some the paths on the south shore I have ridden before on a cross Canada ride.

  I remember that there were areas were bike paths were the only option for cycling, but that they could be confusing.  That was true of the area where we will cross the Chaudière River just after turning west bound and leaving Quebec.”

It was a relief to know that I would not be dealing with the ride alone!  I told Peter and JungAh that I would be arriving in Ottawa the day before the ride, and JungAh suggested we get together for lunch, to discuss last-minute logistics.  Peter, JungAh and I were joined for lunch on a sun-drenched roof-top patio by Vytas Janusauskas, who rode the inaugural CdeB in 2005.  We were cajoling Vytas to join us on the ride, which he said he would do if we paid a high enough fee!

After lunch, I headed to my Orleans Air BnB (from which I had intended to bike to ride-start the following morning).  Guy Quesnel, with his usual top-notch organization skills, had arranged for car parking close to the official start, so a pre-ride to the brevet starting point wasn’t necessary and getting prepared to ride became even easier. 

While “killing time” on Friday afternoon before ride day,  I received an email from Vytas informing us that he and his wife Colleen had decided to provide drop-bag and meal procurement support at the two planned overnight controls!  Only true randonneurs will fully appreciate what a significant commitment and “godsend” this offer presented.  Peter, JungAh and I had anticipated that we would be arriving at each overnight hotel after near-by restaurants were closed, facing a mere few hours of sleep on an empty stomach.  But with Vytas and Colleen procuring meals, ready and waiting in our hotel rooms on arrival, life would be good!  Even better, I could plant a few cans of beer in the drop bag for my favourite form of day-end “carb loading”!! 

From anticipating a “solo” ride with no support and unknown weather a week before, prospects for the ride, and the weather forecast, were definitely getting rosier!   

I arrived at the ride-start parking site about 4:15 am and began to get my bike ready.  There was another car at the far end of the parking lot, with what appeared to be another cyclist.  I was completely focused on my own tasks so I didn’t walk over to see who it was.  Guy Quesnel, and Peter and JungAh arrived a few minutes later.  Guy informed us that we would have a fourth registered rider, but I didn’t recognize the name when Guy pronounced it.  It was only when the “mystery rider” rolled under the light of the street lamp that I realized it was Serg Tsymbal, who I had ridden with on several brevets.  In classic “rando” style, Serg had driven down from Kitchener the evening before and slept in his car!

So four riders set off promptly at 5 am, with two days of “no rain but strong North East Winds” in the  forecast.  Peter stormed out of the gate, setting a brisk early pace as we weaved through the streets of Ottawa suburbs into the countryside.  I’m never very good at remembering specific details once the ride itself starts – geographic features, weather and road conditions, and hazards and highlights all blend together as the kilometres accumulate. 

It was apparent that both JungAh and Serg were excited to be approaching their first-ever visit to Quebec.  Serg wondered whether we’d be able to do a short detour to see “Montgomery Falls” (I explained it was “Montmorency”, and that I, for one, would not be joining him to see the falls!).  Aside from his jacket, Serg had brought no additional clothing, having anticipated that “Quebec is warm, right?!?  It’s not Manitoba!”  His plan was to catch a few hours of sleep on convenient park benches under the temperate Quebec night sky.  But with the brisk cool winds off the St. Lawrence River blowing in our faces, Serg readily accepted the offer to share the hotel rooms which I had booked for each night.  Serg continued to talk about “Montgomery Falls” being higher than Niagara, and I realized that his mis-pronouncement probably sounded no more absurd than my own efforts to pronounce place names, or menu items at control stops!  Montgomery Falls it is.

It was about 8:30 am when we crossed the bridge at Hawkesbury into La Belle Province!  Apprehensions that we would encounter legendary bad roads were not immediately realized.  (As Peter had indicated, much of the route in Quebec follows “La Route Verte”, which Vytas described as “roads dedicated to cycling because they are so bad that car driver’s wouldn’t want to use them!”).  While we eventually did encounter some pretty bad roads, we also encountered some wonderful new sections of pavement.  Overall, I won’t make an assessment on the state of roads in Quebec vs. Ontario, although JungAh, Serg, and Peter may have a strong opinion about it.  As for the drivers in Quebec, we experienced a full spectrum of behaviours ranging from ultra-polite to aggressive and hostile.  Unfortunately there was more of the latter, with a number of dangerous close encounters and verbal (unintelligible, to us) taunts.  This was a big surprise and disappointment for me, given all I had read about Quebec’s push to be a haven for safe cycling .

For the most part, we rode traditional randonneur “accordion style”, sometimes as a group but often separated.  Three of us were carrying Spot Trackers, which greatly facilitated Vytas and Colleen’s control support efforts.  So when we arrived at the Travelodge in Trois-Rivieres at 10:15 pm, the Pizza and Salad we had previously ordered (along with the aforementioned drop-bag of beer) was hand-delivered to our rooms by Vytas & Colleen!

After a few hours of sleep we were back on the road at 5 am, contemplating whether we might find any quick breakfast stop before the next control at St Stanislas.  Thinking the control closed at 07:28, I raced ahead of the others, only to note as I rounded the corner into the tiny hamlet that the control card said 07:48!  The others rode leisurely into town a few minutes later, ahead of the control close time.  Of course, the only gas station / variety in town was closed, and breakfast would be further down the road.

As we pushed on toward Quebec City, Serg and I gradually rode ahead of Peter and JungAh.  Having to stop at a traffic light part way up a >10%  incline, I was forced to dismount and walk.  Serg, with a much lighter load and superior biking skills, was able to keep riding and got ahead of me.  I had to work hard to catch back up to him as we wove through the streets of Quebec City.  An extremely steep descent towards the ferry terminal was an excellent test of new V-brakes recently installed on my ancient LiteSpeed.  Extensive reconstruction and detours on the bike path along the waterfront slowed us down – I expect this section will be wonderful for the next running of CdeB, after the construction is complete.

Serg and I arrived at the Ferry Terminal at 14:13 and easily found the kiosk for bike tickets.  We were delighted that the Ferry was just loading when we arrived.  Standing in the queue, I checked the “Follow Riders on the Road” on the Randonneurs Ontario website.  It looked like Peter and JungAh were close behind, but we could not see them as our Ferry left the dock.  Although Peter and JungAh were back only a few minutes, waiting for the next ferry (which was itself delayed!) put them further behind.  While JungAh and Peter waited on the north shore, Serge and I were being pushed southwest, along beautiful bike paths in Levis, by a strong tail wind under a hot afternoon sun!  We easily maintained a 25km/hr moving pace and arrived at the second hotel in Becancour (across the river from our first night stay) at 21:35!  Again the custom food order (2 subs apiece, along with my remaining beer) had been deposited by Colleen & Vytas in our hotel room fridge.  Aided by the sleep-inducing qualities of a cold tallboy, Serg crashed quickly.  I couldn’t “turn off”, and waited for JungAh and Peter to arrive more than an hour after us.  Unlike the hot sun and tail wind that Serg and I had enjoyed, JungAh and Peter had to deal with post-sunset cold temperatures and unhelpful still air.

With much less sleep than Serg and I, Peter and JungAh were once again ready to ride at 5 am.  We covered the 72 km to Sorel by 8:06, conscious of the 8:44 control close time and 9:00 scheduled ferry departure.  Riding beside JungAh towards Sorel under the early morning sun,  I asked if she had any idea what “coureur de bois” was all about.  It surprised me that she had no idea what the name referred to – but then, in perspective, I realized I knew nothing of her South Korean history nor the folklore of Serg’s Ukrainian heritage.  I tried to explain the “Coureur de Bois” to JungAh.  I also tried to teach her a song which I understood to have been popular with the Coureur de Bois, helping them to pass the hours as they paddled along.  The song is “Mon père n’a plus qu’vingt-neuf poulets “, and it had been an “earworm” which I had been humming to myself for over 700 km!  

As I began to sing it out loud, JungAh took out her phone to capture my poor singing, which you can watch here.  Whether paddling a canoe or pedaling a bicycle, the song is a perfect anthem for Randonneuring …

…

Marchons au pas accéléré

…

Et allongeons la jambe

Et allongeons la jambe, la jambe

Car la route est longue!

(Very roughly translated,

 “Step up the pace,

and stretch out your leg,

because the route is long!”)

We arrived in Sorel with sufficient time to enjoy a “grande” A&W breakfast before racing to the ferry terminal.  Under bright sunshine, we enjoyed the crossing back to the north shore, and the ride south west toward Blainville.

When I had been sharing my plans for Coureur de Bois with family and friends in the days before the ride, a family member asked “don’t you have to tow a canoe full of beaver pelts, to make it a real Coureur de Bois ride?”  While my heavily-laden bike sometimes made it feel like I was towing a canoe, the one experience we got to share with original Coureur de Bois was the “portage” – We encountered several serious sink-hole-induced road closures, where we were obliged to carry the bikes over treacherous paths.  If I had been on my own, I probably wouldn’t have scouted out a way through these road blocks.  Input from Peter, JungAh and Serg “saved my bacon”.

I should also mention my Garmin 1030.  A recent software upgrade, complete with enhanced map display and directional chevrons, was supposed to make navigation easier.  But on the bi-directional segments of the Coureur de Bois route, I still found the Garmin (or me interpreting the Garmin, or both) to be error-prone.  On more than one occasion, Serg kept me from heading back toward Montreal as I heeded my 1030’s prompts.  Whatever brand of bike GPS you use, you should spend as much time together as possible to be sure you understand each other’s limitations!

As my Garmin announced completion of each 100 km “lap”, I was pleased to see that Serg and I were more or less sticking to a 24 – 25 km/hr moving average.  Vytas and Colleen texted me, indicating that JungAh had encountered problems and was thinking she might dnf.  If they had to go back to pick up JungAh, they might not be at the finish to give us our drop bags (a trivial concern, as compared to retrieving a stranded rider).

After being worn down by some bad roads, ferry delays, and what she experienced as hostile treatment by Quebec drivers and some people she encountered at controls, JungAh had a flat at 893 kilometres, and discovered that her pump was malfunctioning.  In her own words: 

“This was my first time in Quebec except Gatineau, and I was surprised to receive such poor treatment for speaking English. I love the little chats with locals during my ride which didn’t happen during this ride. As soon as I started talking in English, their face just changed. Now I know better what to expect. I better start learning French …I just laughed at myself how I never get flats on the road but it somehow happened during my biggest ride just 100km from the finish. I guess my pump got too much rain over the years. It was rusted inside and leaking air.”

 Unfortunately, Serg described his first impression about Quebec as being very close to JungAh’s.

Vytas and Colleen were able to rescue JungAh and drive back to the ride finish shortly before Serg and I arrived.  We pedaled into the parking lot at 11 pm, ahead of threatened rain, to enthusiastic smiles and clapping from JungAh, Vytas and Colleen, and Guy.  Peter was still out on the road, dealing with darkness and a short cloudburst.  He would successfully complete Coureur de Bois exactly three hours after our arrival.

Riders who have completed PBP will tell you about the incredible range of emotions encountered as you approach the finish.  For me, the Coureur de Bois finish also produced a complex emotional reaction: pride, of course, in completing a challenging course. And a sense of awe in travelling though the history of a country I love.  But also a feeling of sadness, that two relatively recent immigrants (and randonneurs extraordinaires!) had a less-than-positive experience.

For me, this ride would have ended very poorly without Vytas & Colleen’s support, Guy’s coordination, Peter’s insights, and the enthusiasm and support of three fellow riders.  I hope that JungAh gets back to Quebec soon (with a working pump) to experience good folk and French Canadian joie de vivre, and I hope that Serg one day gets to see the beauty of Montgomery Falls.

John Cumming

July 2021

It was still dark, and already raining when Kim and I set off for the departure point; my bike strapped to the hitch rack of the SUV, and all my gear in the back. I couldn’t help but think that I should have done this yesterday when the weather was cool but dry. This was not just a casual bike ride that I could decide to do another day, however. When you register a ride through a club like Randonneurs Ontario, the date is logged and there’s insurance involved. And besides, battling through discomfort is a core tenet of the randonneur.

Kim steered us through the drive through where I picked up two farmer wraps; one of which I ate immediately, and the other I stowed away for later. I thank her for the ride and told her that if I could maintain a pace of about 20kph, I’d be about 10 hours. She initialed my brevet card, we said our farewells, and I set off just before 8AM.

The Long Road to St. Mary’s (0 – 40km)

It was only about 500m up the road that I hit my first snag: I wasn’t getting any audio cues from my mobile device. I pulled over and pulled my phone out of my pocket. The marked route was there, as planned, but it seemed the data I downloaded to my device in advance of the ride failed to include audio cues. This meant that I would have to keep my phone mounted on the handlebars in front of me, which presented two issues: extra battery drain, and exposure to the elements. 

The first issue I was prepared for — I had a spare battery pack that I could use to charge the phone, so I could sustain the extra drain that would result from having the screen on. The issue of rain, well, it was supposed to stop around noon anyway, so we’d just have to see how that went. 

About 90 minutes into the ride, I had just passed through Prospect Hill, well north of London. The audiobook I was listening to was interrupted by the robotic ramblings of something else on my phone. At first I thought that my navigation app had decided to start using audio cues, but that delight was quickly dashed. The rain had soaked through the buff I was using as its makeshift rain-cover, and the water had activated talkback mode – the accessibility option for the visually impaired. After struggling to disable this feature for several minutes I finally screamed “Turn Off Talkback” to the Google Assistant. Decades of experience working with technology, and it was proving to be my undoing today. 

I decided to stow my phone in my rear trunk bag to keep it dry. After another 15 minutes of riding however, I had a nagging feeling that it wasn’t going to record the ride that way. Not wanting to lose the digital proof of the ride’s existence I pulled over to confirm. Sure enough, when I unlocked the screen, the navigation app had not yet resumed recording, as a result it cut off a small corner of my route. “Please let that not be the difference between 199 and 200kms” was all I could think. I confirmed the nav was running properly and put the phone in my inside pocket instead.  

St. Mary’s to Millbank (40 – 95km)

The ride from St. Mary’s had me pretty settled in. I had music, my phone was charging, and the fall colours were beautiful. But the rain was constant. In fact anytime I thought it was settling down Mother Nature would betray me with a gust of strong spray. Eventually I turned south into a strong, cold headwind. I was averaging only 15 kph until I could finally turn back north-east toward Milverton. It was only a few short kilometers, but that battle was draining. On this route, checkpoint 1 was Anna Mae’s Bakery & Restaurant. It was just a few kilometers ahead, but every time I looked at my nav screen it felt like it was getting further and further away. To keep my mind occupied, I began to list the things I needed to do at this checkpoint: eat, drink, pee, change sock, picture, brevet card stamp. 

I let my find conjure up images of the apple fritters I’d heard the bakery was famous for, and maybe something warm to drink, oh and a butter tart for the road of course!

When I finally pulled up to the bakery I wasted no time snapping a selfie. I’d logged 94.6km, and declared victory on reaching CP1. 

I removed my helmet and my wet gloves. I fished my brevet card out of my inside jacket pocket and found it was sopping wet, and completely useless. So too was my paper cuesheet. If this were a real brevet event, that would have been grounds for disqualification! I cursed myself for not thinking to pack these articles in the map protector I own for adventure racing events. Nevertheless, I donned my mask and proceeded to the restaurant entrance. 

It was closed. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It was a Sunday afterall, and Google confirmed that the restaurant doesn’t open on Sundays. Why I failed to work that detail into my plan is another thing I’ll chalk up to rookie mistake.

I walked my bike around the side of the restaurant and leaned it up against a bench. I pulled out the farmer wrap I’d bought earlier and ate it while I considered my options. I had food, and plenty of water. I’d taken note of my arrival time at CP1, and the fact that I had no witnesses was likely a non-issue, given the situation. Honestly the only problem I needed to solve was that I needed a washroom.

I removed my shoes and my wet socks. I used a buff to dry the insides of my shoes as much as possible before putting on some dry socks and replacing my footwear. So involved was I in this costume change that I failed to notice the patrol roll up next to me. The officer had clearly been watching me for awhile. 

“You picked a hell of a day for a bike ride” the officer said. 

“No bad weather, just bad gear, right?” I said, unconvincingly.  

“Where are you coming from?” he asked. 

“London” I replied. 

“London?!? That’s a long way back” he said. 

“Should be about 200 kilometers by the time I’m done” I told him. 

“Well you probably do this all time time”, he said, “But if you’re going back through Stratford, try to avoid highway 7, it’s pretty busy today.” I nodded in agreement. I knew my route didn’t touch the highway. “I bet you were hoping for a hot coffee and a pie, eh?” he laughed. 

“Actually, it was their little boys room that had me most excited” I told him.

“There should be a port-a-potty behind the building” he said. He wished me well, and he was gone. I packed up and mounted my bike. I looped around the building, and although there was evidence of a construction operation, there was no port-a-potty. This is normally an issue I could solve with a little discretion, but cycling bibs make that discretion more difficult. My spirits were lifted as I resume my ride. Despite my full bladder, I was fed, I was rested, and my feet were dry. On to CP2.  

Millbank to Stratford (95 – 140km) – Toil and trouble in the Bard’s backyard

My elevated mood was well timed because the afternoon was filled with a series of climbs and descents. I always tell myself that climbs are the price we pay to ride the descents — but today the descents were equally unwelcome. The hard rain just hits harder and cuts deeper as you pick up speed. And so the combination of effortful climbs with grueling descents forced me back into a game of mental endurance. “Embrace the suck”, my aikido sensei would say. And so I did. 

At around 130kms, the Bluetooth earbud I’d been wearing finally started alerting that it’s battery was low, so I pulled over. The earbud’s case stored a little bit of energy, allowing them to recharge when stored. I swapped the dying ear bug for it’s fully charged partner. While stopped I checked my phone and saw my battery was at 35% so I decided to charge it from my portable battery pack. When I plugged it in, nothing happened. I removed the cable and tried again – still nothing. I checked to see if the battery was capable of charging my headlight and confirmed that it was indeed issuing power. Tried the phone again, and this time I saw a warning message that told me the USB port had been disabled because it detected water or debris. Not good, but not something I could deal with by the side of the road in the pouring rain either. I was still 10km outside of Stratford so I resolved to evaluate my options over a pint, which would only happen after I used their washroom (yes, even now this was still a going concern). 

The route in Stratford was brilliantly mapped: a picturesque cruise along Victoria Lake that took you right through the theatre district. I imagine on a day that wasn’t pissing it down, where I wasn’t suffering from extreme battery drain anxiety, and worried my bladder was going to burst, I might have even stopped for a picture to take it all in. It was 4:30 in the afternoon by the time I arrived at the 2nd checkpoint. CP2 was marked at the Boar’s Head pub, a British style pub noted for it’s bicycle friendly patio. I pulled into the patio and parked my bike beside two others clearly packed for touring. I hoped I’d be able to swap stories with these individuals, whoever they were. 

I made a beeline for the washroom. I took a free stall and removed my soaking wet clothing. Once I was relieved, I just stood in place with my eyes closed for several minutes. It might have been five minutes before I finally began to re-assemble myself. I went to the bar to make my order.
“Can I make an order for the patio?” I asked. 

“Oh, hon, the patio’s closed. It’s raining outside”. she replied. 

You don’t say? I supposed I earned that. Honestly this is just an issue I have leaving my bike unattended. I accepted that I’d be eating inside so I sat at a table where I could see my bike parked. I ordered a cider and a bowl of chili. As I waited for the order to arrive, I tried to charge my phone again. Still nothing. The battery was at 10%. 

The waitress arrived with the cider. I took a long swig and sighed deeply. Then I called Kim. 

“Where are you?” she asked, after we greeted. 

“I’m in Stratford, at the second checkpoint” I said. 

“That’s amazing! What time do you think you’ll be back in London?” she asked. 

“I think I need to call it here. Can you come pick me up?”. I explained the issue I was having with my phone, and that I had no cuesheet to fall back on. Also, I really didn’t like the idea of having no means of contact in case of emergency. 

I used what was left of my battery to stop my trip recorder in RideWithGPS, which triggered an upload to the Strava social network, followed by a quick update to Facebook to report on my accomplishments of the day. 

I had one realization that dawned on me while I waited in the parking lot for my rescue ride. For all the challenges I had with technology this day my bike was absolutely perfect. Not once did it skip a shift, make an odd noise, or even an unwelcome grind. I reflected on how much of a mental load it can be for a day like today if you’re not completely confident in your ride, and bike-related mechanicals were the furthest thing from my mind. Someone must take very good care of that thing. (You bet I do!)An hour later Kim arrived. She’d brought a dry change of clothes for me to change into. As we drove home and I related to her my highs and lows of the day I couldn’t help but think about the endurance it would have taken to spend another few hours pushing through the rain, especially as daylight started to recede. A dryer day would have seen completion of the route, I have no doubt, but I have no regrets about knowing when to admit that enough is enough. It’s critical to have a lifeline for events like this, and I was thankful for the rescue.

Live to ride another day, whenever that day may be. 

This ride took place on 8 June 2021.

I tend to like starting my rides very early. Even for a 200km route I will book a 5am start. The roads are quiet, the sun is coming up, and often, but not always, the winds are weaker.

For this ride I knew I was going to have to deal with rain, but I also knew that it would be rather hot (a high of around 30°C), so I didn’t bother bringing any rain gear. I counted on being wet and warm. This turned out to be true. It rained heavily from about 6am to 8am as I rode between Markham and Leaskdale. It was quite enjoyable and refreshing, though on the downside I spent the rest of the day in wet shoes and shorts.

The wind was projected to be moderate, but constant, coming from the NW. That meant I could only count on a tale wind from Zephyr to Lindsay (roughly 50km). Most of the rest of the ride would be with a crosswind or headwind. The wind must have been fairly weak because I don’t remember it being a particular help or hindrance at any time.

I brought a half loaf of bread so that I could avoid making stops for food. It was heavy pumpernickel. I sprinkled it with coarse salt. It was crunchy. I learned this culinary delight from my travels in Russia. It was a hot day; I needed the sodium. COVID-19 restrictions were still in effect; I also needed simplicity. Black bread with salt in Lindsay and then again in Blackstock. I can’t confirm that I gained any performance benefits from the salty pumpernickel. All I can say is that I never felt hungry.

I saw two snapping turtles, the first at Pefferlaw River and the second on River Road on the south shore of Lake Scugog. I saw an Osprey as I passed a place called Osprey Farms

The most memorable part of this ride was the struggle. I knew I could finish it, but I wasn’t sure how close I would get to the 13.5 hr cut-off. I am not really at my normal level of fitness. I did a fair amount of running in the winter, but then that stopped (basically because of depression) and I was sedentary for at least two months. I did a lot of reading, writing and drawing to cope, but physically I had become quite diminished. My legs were not very happy to be pushed into a 200km commitment. But I persevered and finished it in 11hours and 50minutes.