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Day 45. Baudette to International Falls. 63 miles. 1539 feet elevation. Weathwas somewhat annoying

You probably can’t tell, but this is Canada again. The route, just for today, took me back across the river into Ontario for the entire day until I dropped back across the border into International Falls, Minnesota. I suspect the border patrol is going to start wondering what I’m doing, criss crossing the border. Thankfully, I only told one lie at the border. Canada won’t allow you to take pepper sprays or bear sprays into the country. I paid about $80 Canadian for that spray. Since I bought it in Canada, I guess it’s not really a lie because I was just bringing it back to where I got it.

“It is in the ability to deceive oneself that the greatest talent is shown.” – Anatole France. 

With the scenery being pleasant but not particularly different, I thought I would change my subject today. Home, for me, is this picture. This is where I live for 6 to 10 hours a day. So, I thought I would show you around my house. I hope that isn’t too boring.

Thankfull,  I have a very cheerful riding companion to keep me company. He isn’t the best conversationalist, but I do appreciate his positive disposition. Near Gumby’s right hand is my phone clip – the gray rectangle with a black circle in the middle. I use my phone for navigation. If I lost it, I would likely be lost for days on end before finding my way to a city because often I don’t know where I am but only know that I’m supposed to make the next turn. To either side of the phone clip is what I call feed bags. That’s where I keep my go-to snacks and drinks as I try to eat 6,000 calories a day but only come close to that number when there’s A&W’s with frosty mugs and open tap. Then I guzzle about 5,000 calories worth of root beer.

On the bar between my legs, I keep a small tool kit for emergent repairs and flat tire fixes. It also contains a little gray rectangle with a green rectangle on top. This is my Zoleo. While my children made me bring it allegedly so they could communicate with me via satellite if cell service wasn’t available, I know the real reason is so that they can find the body sooner rather than later so as not to delay distribution of my money. It sends out a location notice every 4 hours. It also has an SOS button. As I pedaled through grizzly country, I kept wondering if I would ever be able to push that button while or shortly after being attacked by a grizzly. Thankfully, that question didn’t get answered.

On either side of the front wheel, I have these very nice panniers. On one side, I keep tools to repair the bicycle. On the other side, I have drugs and a first aid kit to repair the rider. There’s spare space at the top of each I use for food each day. It’s especially nice because I can reach down while riding and open them. Oftentimes, I’ll leave a bag of chips in the open pannier and eat them as I’m riding along. Yes, A&W Root beer, along with potato chips, this ride is all about health food.

Behind me on either side of the back wheel are the large panniers. In one, I keep all my camping gear. Yes, I have camping gear, and I could use it, although I definitely prefer motels. After a 60 to 100 Mi day, an old guy like me needs a soft bed and a shower, or the next day might not happen. In the other pannier I keep my large wardrobe containing four sets of underwear, four pair of socks, one t-shirt or long sleeve shirt depending on which I’m wearing, one pair of long pants as I’m usually wearing the short pants, swim shorts, and a sweater. Fashion choices are in short supply and fashion statements are not my forte.

The front handlebar bag contains my rain jacket and puffy vest. I also keep a ball cap and a wool cap in there. On either side, I have sunscreens and lights, which I hope to never use as I prefer riding in the day.

Perhaps most importantly, it is my Brooks B-17 saddle. This particular one has now cradled my butt for about 10,000 mi. There is no cushion in it. It is a thick piece of leather stretched across a metal frame. After a few hundred miles, your butt shapes the saddle, and it becomes comfortable. Or, at least, that is what we proponents proclaim. Although, I will admit, after a hundred miles, I don’t think anything’s comfortable.

Tomorrow, I’m off into the wilderness of northern Minnesota and Paul Bunyan country. Hopefully, I will have some tall tales to share that are more interesting than my home tour.