I cycled my way into Kitchener-Waterloo, making use of the amazing amount of cycle lanes in the city. My host for the night was Martin and his family. After taking a quick shower, Martin took me on a driving tour around Waterloo and the area. Unfortunately, I am effecting a rapid escape from Ontario, so I wasn't able to enjoy the sights (and breweries) of Kitchener-Waterloo.
After a great dinner with Martin and his parents, I drifted off in a wonderful soft bed. The next morning I enjoyed breakfast and coffee a bit too much and didn't get on the road until 9 am with a 135 km day ahead of me.
The next day I was bound for another host a bit west of Barrie. I had made the mistake of checking the weather before I left London, and it was predicted to rain all week. Luckily I dodged around all the rain and even got a hot, sunny day. On top of that, I even had a wind that followed me around all day. And this time it was a tailwind! In addition, I must have been slowly gaining elevation for the last few days, as I hit the halfway point and started going downhill.
Between the tailwind and the steady descent, I made it almost a full 5 km without turning my pedals. Since it was a longer day too, I was at full liberty to eat quite a bit and drink a fair amount of coffee. All in all, a good day.
Eventually made it to the host of the night, Brian. As is usual, Brian and his family greeted me with a shower, beers, and as much food as I can eat. The best.
While researching for the next day I realized that there was no camping or even Air BnB available in Bracebridge due to the long weekend. Luckily, Brian's dad gave me some advice on possible wild camping east of Bracebridge.
After a super comfy sleep on Brian's couch I had a light breakfast and coffee with Brian's dad and then got a nice early start for another 130 km day.
A quick spin took me into Barrie, where I apparently missed their big summer festival by a few hours. Shortly outside of Barrie I was forced onto a gravel rail trail by bridge construction. While the trail was alright, I dodged off it occasionally when convenient to spin the legs up to 30 km/hr on th asphalt. Eventually I made it to Orillia and headed up a side road to highway 11, stopping for a huge and surprisingly good blueberry bar.
Upon reaching Highway 11, I had been warned that it would be a scary ride from people and Google Earth. But the alternative was a 40 km detour way out in the middle of nowhere. I opted to brave the speeding long weekend Toronto traffic for 20 km to Gravenhurst.
What an experience. Most cars were doing 20 to 30 km/hr over the limit and passed me with less than 3 feet distance, often honking at me for having the audacity to ride a bike within a 3 hour drive of Toronto. After a few close calls, I made it to Gravenhurst and waited in line with the cityiots for donuts.
Since I had some days in the wilderness ahead, I grabbed some snack food and lunch stuff at the Loblaws and biked up to Muskoka Brewery in Bracebridge.
Had some pints while listening to live music on the patio. Beer was good, but I've been finding it in LCBOs for a month now, and knew what to expect.
I headed east, aiming for a pullout/canoe put in along a lake about 35 km away.
As I left Bracebridge, I began climbing uphill, into a headwind, in the 30 degree heat. Finally, some real bike touring. I guess I'm just accustomed to suffering a bit on the road and the last few days of tailwind felt unnatural.
Getting to the pullout, I was heartened to see other tents set up, but worried to discover that they all had permits. As far as I know, the area was crown land, and the next town was a further 30 km or so. So I decided to risk it and pitch my tent to see what happened.
What an intense night ensued. I crawled into the tent early to avoid scrutiny and had maybe 4 parties of canoeists launch their outfits only a few feet away.
Just as I was drifting off, a heron started crying out only meters off, quite eerie.
Then I was awakened in the pitch black night by peals of thunder and the constant flicker of lightning. It had looked very dry coming in, and the storm was as of yet unaccompanied by rain. I began to vividly picture my tent swathed and consumed by a lightning lit forest fire. I dug out my glasses, so I could spot potential wildfires early, and spent a sleepless hour watching the lightning flicker through the trees and listening to the thunder encroach closer on my campsite.
Finally, the rain came bucketing down. Usually a major upset for me, as it means my tent would be wet in the morning, but welcome for its ability to forestall a death by wildfire. Just as I was about to try for some sleep, I saw a bobbing light approach from the lake and heard a canoe scrape onto the nearby shoreline.
I soon gathered it was a latecome arrival from Toronto, ferrying his camping gear and possessions to his campsite (permit paid) across the lake in the pouring rain and pitch black night. Soon his very unhappy wife and kids were up for the lake crossing. Poor fellow.
The rest of the night passed blissfully asleep.
In the morning I packed up as quickly as possible in case a ranger or permit checker camr around. No such misfortune while I cooked my oatmeal and I was on the road at 8 am, after appreciating the misty morning over the lake.
A very relaxing morning ride through foggy hills and cloud-shrouded sun. I stopped for some baked goodies and later assessed my paunch status as noticeable. Oops, too many bakery stops I guess.
I made good time to Bancroft, as I had a strong tailwind and was powered by days of accumulated pastries and pizza.
Getting into Bancroft so early, I called ahead to a campground 35 km down the road. Despite being technically full for the long weekend, the owner told me he would find a place for me but warned me about hills. Having spent the last month wrestling with Ontario hills, I waved it off and headed out.
By this point, it was above 30 degrees in the shade and I was firmly entrenched in rolling hills. As I turned off the highway to make my final approach into the campground, I soon found myself struggling up a series of 12% gradients for 6 km. Wow, he was not kidding about the hills.
I eventually made it in and the awesome owner offered to drive me back to the highway in the morning. I waved off his attempts to discount my campsite and settled in for a shower, a beer, dinner and what appeared to be a dry, warm evening.
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