Mr. Friendly

Day 61. Sault Ste Marie to Ironbridge. 76 miles. 3763 TTD. 2950 ft elevation. The weather was warm and the wind was not very helpful.

Is it my new bright yellow shirt? Is it just friendly Canadians? Or is it possible that I’m changing just a little bit? The picture above is of Ron Stone. He is 87 years old. Weather permitting, he rides his bike from his home, which he built some 47 years ago on the shore of Lake Huron, to a gas station three miles away each morning. He gets a cup of coffee and then sits outside, visiting with people as they fill up and buy snacks. Then he rides home and repeats the exercise each evening for a total of 12 miles a day. So far this year, he’s already ridden a thousand miles.

When I pulled up to the gas station, Ron asked me where I was headed. There was a chair sitting next to him, so I hopped off my bike and sat down to visit with him. He had a wealth of information about the roads and routes that I should take. We then rode the three miles back to his house together. It was a slow pace, but pleasant to have company. Ron’s been a plumber, he owned his own airplane, and he’s traveled fairly extensively. It was a fun three miles.

Not long after leaving Ron, these two gentlemen, in the picture above, pulled up behind me. I jokingly told them they couldn’t draft me. Then we started chatting. One of them asked about my daily distances. It’s always more fun to tell people in Canada those distances because I give them in kilometers, which makes it sound much further. They live in Sault Ste. Marie. They were on a day trip to a nearby island for lunch. We talked about the roads and conditions as well as my route. One of them had crossed the U.S. on his bike. I’ll let you decide who the title of this episode is about.

After about 117, I lost track or just got tired of counting the hills. The area is beautiful farmland with rolling hills. Some of the barns and silos are massive. As I was pedaling the dirt roads between these farms, I noticed what appeared to be bicycle tracks. I’d seen other bikers, but only on the pavement. These tracks appeared to be two people riding perfectly parallel to each other — an impossibility on bikes. Then, I noticed large piles of crap between the tracks. I realized it was either the tracks of some very sick bicyclist or not bike tire tracks at all.

Initially, I assumed that these were all Amish. However, upon reading about the area, I learned there’s also a Mennonite population. Apparently, some of the Orthodox Mennonites also use horses and buggies. Over several miles, I saw multiple wagons and buggies. Everybody was extremely friendly, and it was fun to see the horse-drawn vehicles. It was also somewhat shocking to realize that many of the very large farms were Amish farms with all the work being done by hand and horse. By the way, one of my favorite authors, Malcolm Gladwell, grew up in a Mennonite community in Ontario. I will actually be riding near his childhood home in a few days. Maybe I’ll stop in and say hi to his family.

Pedaling across Canada, I have become convinced that the way Canadians are retaliating against Trump’s ridiculous comments about Canada is by keeping all the water north of the border. BC has multiple lakes that are more than a hundred miles long. Alberta has huge rivers. Saskatchewan and Manitoba have so much standing water that they export mosquitoes to the rest of the world. Ontario appears to have lakes everywhere with a large turtle population. At some point, we’ll probably be buying water from Canada rather than making it the 51st state.