So it's been a mixed week. The Rockies are well and truly behind me as I venture East into the wide expanse of the prairies in Alberta and Saskatchewan; a big positive in my life being that I can finally pronounce Saskatchewan correctly, instead of referring to it simply as 'that province between Alberta and Manitoba'.
I had a wonderful day off in Edmonton, catching up with old university friends, wandering the city, shoe shopping (one of my cycle shoes broke in my clumsy tumble last week, so I had to suffer the nightmare of shopping for a new pair...I know, what a travesty that was!) and enjoying the glorious weather that comes with Canadian springtime. Everything is finally turning a lush green, the river valley parks were positively blooming in the growing sunshine.
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| A breezy wander around Edmonton |
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| Shoe issues |
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| Beautiful evening on the outskirts of Edmonton |
I had a solid ride out of the city, heading southeast on highway 14 when the inevitable happened: I got rained on, good and proper, for the first time in the trip. It was the sort of rain that caused several drivers to pull over at the side of the highway to offer me a lift. I was very appreciative, but naturally declined; I could deal with a bit of rain, being a British cyclist very much used to these conditions!
The weather cleared eventually, allowing me to dry out in time to arrive at Viking relatively dry. I was looking for a campground when a small car pulled up beside me. Gerard and Dolly, went above and beyond the call of duty, giving me directions for the campground and a good place to eat, before then returning to the campground with small memorabilia from Alberta, and an offer of dinner on them! A wonderful evening was spent eating Chinese food and being introduced to all the locals who were curious about Gerard and Dolly's new friend.
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| Drying out after getting soaked! |
However, the next day I suffered a huge dip in confidence, as the wind continued to blow ferociously against me. Despite a stop at the Hitching Post cafe in Kinsella, where I was once again a talking point for everyone in the place, with some great words of encouragement, I called it a day at Wainwright, after my lowest day's mileage for the whole trip so far. I tried to be realistic about the situation: I was coming down with a cold and there was no point battling when I what I needed more than anything was sleep! It was fairly demoralising, and I won't deny that I was feeling disappointed with my apparent lack of resilience.
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| Finishing up at Wainwright |
I had a house stay organised at North Battleford the following night, and although it was a tall order, I was determined to reach it by the evening. The wind had dropped slightly, and I set off early with purpose. The road peaked and troughed like waves on the ocean, continuously undulating through the wide expansive fields home to cows and horses.
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| The rolling prairies |
Being a bank holiday, the road was my own, and the small towns I passed were dusty and deserted, everyone enjoying a peaceful Sunday. Pedalling through Cut Knife at 80 miles in, I finally found an open restaurant, and dived in gratefully to refill on water. I found a group of people enjoying a coffee and before I knew what was happening, I was among them, chatting away about my trip and finding out about the local area. Apparently the town is home to the world's largest tomahawk, and I wasn't allowed to leave until someone had taken me to see it. So off I hopped with a lady in her massive truck, and indeed, the tomahawk was quite something to behold.
I made it to North Battleford eventually, after a long tiring day in the saddle, and I was met by Tyler (a friend of a friend) and his family, who had all been enjoying the long weekend together. And what a great group of people! So welcoming to a complete stranger, and incredibly understanding of my basic needs for food (which there was in abundance!) and sleep, which was effortless in such a comfortable bed.
The bank holiday Monday dawned warm and sunny. With a belly full of porridge and toast, I left this marvellous family to hit the road, rejoining that old favourite, the Yellowhead Highway. And what a day to cycle! It just got warmer and warmer, the wind finally abating after days of being my constant cruel companion.
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| A chilly but bright start |
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| A beautiful moment in any cyclist's day: seeing a fresh stretch of tarmac reaching the hard shoulder |
And boy did it feel good! To pedal with such ease, to hold a decent pace with little conceivable effort, cycling became a joy rather than a chore as I raced through the miles. I took a lunch break after a mere three hours, and sat back to enjoy the glorious sunshine while I ate my lunch at a roadside service.
The last chunk of cycling down into Saskatoon flew by, and I found myself at my destination just after 4pm.
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| Over the Borden bridge |
As my cold hadn't been shaken, I decided it would make sense to take an early rest day in the city, rather than push on. My hosts Edward and Sara have gone above and beyond, feeding wonderful food, putting me in touch with more friends further along my route, and allowed me to stay in their lovely house to snooze and stretch and slurp tea (Sara has a marvellous collection of loose leafs!) as much as I like.
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| The Tardis meeting new teas |
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| Wandering through Saskatoon, the city of bridges |
As a result, my body and mind feel much rested, the cold is starting to shrink away, and I feel ready to roll onwards.
Every time I look at google maps, I'm amazed to see that little blue dot way out in the middle of that expanse of green. Technically I'm behind schedule. And I couldn't care less right now. I taken a big chunk out of this country already and I'm all set to take a crack at the next bit. Just spinning it out, one day at a time.
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