Ugh, rain. And lightening. And cold. We had already resolved to skip this next section for safety reasons, and now we had three more.
We move slowly, without precision, or purpose, not because of Parkinson’s but because we are cyclists on a non-riding day. Our minds and bodies are in conflict. Both showed up for duty, and were sent home without pay.
We spend an hour or more having coffee with the owners of the Silver Birch Camps. They have been through a lot – I mean a lot – and the fact that they are still here smiling with us today is a story of its own. Best if you hear it from them, next time you are in the Kenora area.
We go into town for food and shopping, and overeat pizza and ice tea until sufficiently bloated for the drive ahead to Dryden. Unwise, because plans change. While driving, and despite the rain, we notice that the shoulders are not as harrowing as described. A little broken, a little bumpy, but passable. They do narrow outrageously each time a passing lane is added, but still manageable, so we decided to jump out after all and do the remaining 60km. And wouldn’t you know it, at that very moment, the rain stopped for good.