toronto – Vague Direction

355 – 362: Toronto, ON – Ithaca, NY

The ticking clock meant I didn’t stick around too long in Toronto. The bike had issues leaving the city (someone should design a bike that doesn’t break). This time a split tyre near Hamilton. Tried to blag it and ride to Niagara Falls anyway. It didn’t work, at all. Should’ve known.

Do you know what happens when you ride with a split tyre and your inner tube sticks out? The split gets bigger. And bigger. And then it EXPLODES. It shocks you and anyone nearby. BANG.

So it exploded. But if you believe in fate, it then made an appearance. Glumly walking along the side of a quiet road on the outskirts of St Catherine with a post-explosion flat, the night drawing in, a car pulled up. Turned out to be a Niagara Falls local called Mike, an avid cyclist who spotted the tyre and offered a lift for the 10 miles to Niagara. So yeah, fate? He never drives home, this was an exception. On the rare times he does, he doesn’t take the route through St Catherine’s. And to top it off they’d taken the seats out of the car the night before, so by chance there was space for a broken bicycle.

During the ride to town Mike invited me over for food and to meet his wife Heather and his British mother, who in a weird ‘it’s kind of a small world’ moment, used to live in Workington, England. She lives with Mike and Heather and after 40+ years in Canada still has a strong accent.

They offered up their spare room for the night, and I woke up the next day to a bike with a new tyre, oiled chain, you name it. Totally unexpected. You guys are awesome. Pretty cool. We found out later that, coincidentally, it all happened on ‘International Random Act of Kindness Day’. Huh.

After checking out Niagara Falls (a weird cross between epic, amazing nature and Blackpool pleasure beach depending on the time you visit) and getting grilled at customs, I was on US turf once more. Big sigh of relief whilst ignoring the freezing hail. [thanks to Portage House Motel in Lewiston for a room, awesome place] Out of any markers / state lines etc, this was the biggest. It meant the Canada section was done, and there really wasn’t much left. Kind of weird to process.

Day one of riding back in the US was a shock. Upstate New York is incredibly colourful at the moment but the clocks went back the previous nights, and Canada to US means a switch from kilometres back to miles. That doesn’t sound like much, but it took some getting used to. An hour less light and distance mind games. You forget that riding 10 miles is harder and takes longer than riding 10 kilometres.

It’s been a few days of riding along through Rochester, sections of the Erie canal, and through NY wine country with another (different) tyre explosion. There’s still a bit of pedalling to go yet but it’s getting close. Approaching the end there’s some definite and unexpected internal havoc going on right now. A new article is taking shape around that so hopefully there’ll be something new to read pronto.

348 – 355: Sault St Marie to Toronto.

Spooky moments. There’ve been a few over the last few days. It snowed a lot leaving Sault St Marie, and several hours into the slowest ride ever it was obvious that rather than make minimal ground and camp in the open, it would be wise to seek shelter if any became obvious.

Being in farmland there weren’t many options, other than a single barn on a side road. It looked like it didn’t see much action so I resorted to the age old tactic of – ‘as long as you pack up early enough it’ll probably be fine’. Luckily it worked and the combine harvesters didn’t slip.

It snowed on and off for a couple of days, but other than that the ride was pretty much plain sailing (except for a bizarre night in the town of Espanola which is a story for a separate post coming soon). To make up some of the lost snow time, I opted for a train ride again to increase the chances of being able to cycle into NYC to finish up. It would suck after so long to finish by train or hitchhiking. As always seems to happen, it’s the time off the bike that provides most of the stories. Fittingly, being halloween and all, what happened next wouldn’t be out of place as an introduction to a horror movie.

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The train was scheduled to leave a small station on the outskirts of Sudbury at 1.30am, and looking at the map, there was a 24 hour Tim Hortons a few km away. Seemed like as good a place as any to wait until the early hours, so I left downtown Sudbury and began cycling to Tim’s. It was late, and at a traffic crossing I very briefly bumped into an older gentleman out for a walk. Then a few minutes later in the cue at TH, he was there too.

“Are you travelling somewhere?”, he said.

We chatted for a while and it turns out he’s a friendly chap called Bruce who’s been based in Sudbury his entire life, except for a 10 day hitchhiking trip he took around the Great Lakes as a 24 year old. Since then he’s been living with his wife and they’re content in the city, scratching any travel cravings with online photos and by chatting to people who are passing through town. He’d been working night shifts so this was his afternoon, and he generously offered to go get his van and then drive me to the station as it’s hard to find. We started walking to the his house to pick up the van and somehow the conversation turned to movies and axes.

“You know, I gave my daughters boyfriend a fright a few months ago. We watched a movie, and the main character is sent a message from God that he has to remove some evil souls from the Earth. One day he’s driving along a country lane and see’s a beam of light land on a barn. He goes in and it’s shining on an axe. The movie is about the guy’s task to kill various people.”

It’s 12.30am. We’ve just met and are walking back to Bruce’s house, where he’s going to pick up his van and drive me to a train station on the outskirts of town. He’s explaining the plot to a movie where a man is tasked to kill people with an axe. Anything suspicious going on here? Then came the kicker.

“Oh, by the way I’m not an axe murderer or anything. Although I could be. You’ve just met me. Or you could be a murderer. It’s hard to tell.”

Hmmm, where’s that bear spray? Should I just leg it? Had a moment of woah-this-is-a-bit-intense, which is laughable now because it turns out Bruce is a truly awesome dude, with a lovely wife called Brenda, crazy kindness, a real van, a knowledge of out of town train stations, and no axe in sight – you had me there for a second Bruce!

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The train showed up at 3am. On at Sudbury, quick snooze, off at Toronto. Magic. Quite convenient timing as far as trains go because it meant waking up and starting the day in the city, instead of arriving at night with no time to explore properly. And what a place. Incredible downtown architecture and amazing graffiti dotted around. Had a fun morning getting lost and then stumbled across a park where there was a bunch of people walking dogs and taking lunch breaks, and in the corner there was a guy doing insane tricks with a frisbee.

Jolan Canrinus is a freestyle frisbee expert, and in this Vague Direction People video we chat about how he ended up learning such a unique skill. It was frickin’ cool. (If you’re reading this in your email browser, click here to watch the video)