Good bye Ontario.
As anyone who has driven or biked across Ontario knows, it is way too big. There are short cuts to make this trip pass a little more quickly. For example, you could swing down into the USA and take the southern shore of Superior. It’s also recommended to skip Toronto and take a more direct route through Ottawa. However, we did not do either of these things. Taking the long way around, going across Manitoulin Island, to both Toronto and Ottawa, staying off the big roads whenever possible our trip through Ontario lasted 2,600 km—more than a quarter of our trip total.
Ontario truly was a tour in and of itself. It has the most variety both topographically and culturally. It has cities, beautiful countryside, hills, and Saskatchewan-like prairie. It’s good to be all the way through, but it’s also sad to leave it behind.
For the three of us, being in Ontario was a completely new experience. None of us had ever travelled by land further than Winnipeg, and it was like a whole new Canada was unveiled to us. We were enamoured by the beauty in the rolling climbs and docents of Northern Ontario. With stretches of well over 100 km of absolutely nothing but wilderness and open road, we learned to appreciate the vastness of the province. The stunning ocean-like horizon’s that fall upon the great lakes directed us Southeast and in less than a week we found ourselves moving from wide emptiness to Canada’s biggest suburban smear. Coming through Waterloo, Toronto, Kingston, and Ottawa we were showered in hospitality, and learned that the big city does not have to mean estrangement.
We are now entering Quebec, and a whole new Canada lies ahead for us to discover.
This is a fairly uncommon problem for any bike to have, and yet it was managed with ease. More hopeless then ever, we sat at the side of the highway debating what we could possibly do since the next city (Thunder Bay) was still a few days travel. Matt was the first to risk a hitching thumb at the highway and the very first vehicle to see us pulled over. And good thing the risk was taken, we met Claire, a local mechanic who went far out of his way to help me and my broken bike to town, to find a place to camp in the park, to check on us to make sure we were “doin’ alright”, and then to give me and my broken bike another ride the next morning to Fort Francis, where the possibility of the small local bike shops help lingered. After saying goodbye to our new friend Claire and his family, I headed to the bike shop. Now, it is important to understand that the chance of finding a new wheel for my bike anywhere was slim enough since my bike was built in the 70s (if this was in Regina I would have to wait a week to order in the part). Low and behold, Fort Francis is the only bike shop to this point that had the right sized wheel and thankfully was able to repair the bike good enough to ride on. Once again, we were ready for the open road. The following weeks ride to Thunder Bay would prove quite troublesome. In 5 days of riding, I somehow managed to pop 4 tubes (due to glass shards, nails, etc.) and rip one tire. The regular cyclist may have lost hope, given up, or let frustration overwhelm them, but not us, we pushed forward with each trial with our heads high and our pedals constant. We made it into Thunder Bay to meet our new friends Frank and Marcie. Cam’s cousin lived in Thunder Bay but was unsure of how to get a hold of him, we explained this to our new friends and upon hearing that the name of Cam’s cousin was Steve Klassan (works with bicycles for humanity) they jumped with excitement for this was their good friend. As fate would have it, Steve quickly came over to meet his long lost cousin after Marcie sent him a text. But enough about the comfortable and relaxing time off, after we each got our bikes tuned up at Petrie’s we headed out to conquer the North Shore of Lake Superior. Nearing the end of this trek, and as predictable as clockwork, I popped not one, but two spokes on my rear wheel with Sault Ste Marie within a day or two’s reach. We knew now what had to be done, if I was to keep biking, it would only be a matter of time before spokes would start popping off left and right. So we sat on the road, realizing that hitching was again the only way to go for me and my broken bike.
It took a couple hours, but the day did not end without redemption, a nice young couple picked me and my broken bike on the way to their campground, not without first stopping to see some waterfalls along the way of course. As I had been trying to hitchhike with my bike and gear for about 180 kms, their campground was at the 120 km mark and so dropped me on the highway once again. I only had to wait about 20 mins when a guy in a truck picked me up (after first passing me and turning around) on his way to work in the Soo. After some delightful conversation and discourse, he dropped me off at the bike shop where I could get fixed up and lodge for the night. Now as I sit on the ferry, approx. 350 kms past the Soo, I have two popped spokes and another 300 kms to travel before a bike shop is within reach. Continuing the trip with two replaced spokes and two spokes missing on the rear wheel, it is just a matter of time before all spokes are gone, hoping for the best, we travel southeast to Toronto. 
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