Day one of my cycle trip...
I wanted to get an early start.
I felt the stress of all the details of life, all the planning, all the things that needed doing, and was happy to be on my bike at 7:20 am, to leave the routine of everyday life behind me for a time.
It was far more cloudy than I had anticipated and I was glad for my arm warmers.
It took awhile to get into more of a sense of vacation mode, to detach from the life I was temporarily leaving behind.
I had a sweet tailwind, which greatly assisted my efforts, for which I was incredibly thankful for!
Followed the Lakeshore Waterfront trail (well, sections there of). I recognized much of the areas as I have cycled to Toronto a number of times already.
It was all smooth sailing for the most part (aside from the park areas where large groups of people gathered for weekend bbq's and get togethers and seemed oblivious that the path was also for bicycles and there were cyclists trying to get through.
Then I got to the Exhibition place area and it became an absolute madhouse. Apparently there's a festival called Caribana or something, so there were droves of exotic looking people. Way too much exposed skin and flashy skimpy costumes and music so loud I could literally feel it reverberating right through my entire body as I passed, which I'll admit is really not a nice feeling!
I was happy to get through the masses of people (a slow process mind you).
Then it started to rain, I mean, seriously, pour rain. I pulled out my handy rain jacket and continued on. That's about when I met cyclist Frank. An older guy who seemed utterly fascinated by what I was doing and wanted to pick my brain about cycling up the escarpment (seems like it was a goal of his... To me it seems so...normal. I don't even think twice about it).
We rode through the city centre together and he took me on a side trip to Tommy Thompson Park, which was neat, because it juts out even further than Toronto island and offers great views.
I felt pretty talked out (or should I say, topped up from hearing Frank talk) when we split and I was on my own again.
Couple of big hills, but nothing overwhelming really.
The waterfront trail weaved in and out of suburban areas. It got a little tiring, but staying on the busy (3 lane) road wasn't much better.
I wasn't too worried about making it to my hosts at a decent hour, which was nice.
I did however, and most unfortunately, have a bit of an incident, which humbled me.
I was trying to take a photo as I was cycling (which I do all the time), when my camera slipped out of my hand and fell, and I, to my horror, followed it down.
I skinned my left knee really badly in two places and scraped a hole in my waterproof panniers (which I did before on the other side... I can patch it...).
I'm going to be sore tomorrow!
The camera is fine, the bike is alright (a little twisted but nothing I can't right), but my pride took a blow, but in a way it was good because it helped me refocus.
Couldn't help but think of the proverb that speaks of people making foolish decisions then blaming God. I don't want to be like that.
Sometimes life hurts.
I was tied of weaving and dodging pedestrians by then so I went back to the road and made my way to Whitby.
150 Km's later I made it to the Boucher's home where I was welcomed, and felt better about life in general after having showered and eaten.
I was thrilled to find Kirsten was a fellow Kombucha (fermented tea) maker, a common thread beyond bike touring! And here I thought I wouldn't be drinking anymore of the "elixir of life" till I got home again!
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