Unrulie

9 full days

Yesterday I rode by a sign that advertised an optimist club, and my first thought was, “I bet that club fucking sucks”

I am in the most beautiful giant punk house in montréal. Beautiful human and animal friends. My bedroom is filled with puppets that aren’t creepy at all staring at me in the middle of the night. Bread and puppet theater haunts me.

Thanks for everyone who gave me support, optimism, and general good energy. I had a lot of fun.

aujourd’hui peut manger une bite

This final day has been the hardest.

I slept on a campground bathroom floor. It was clean, sorta.

I started biking at 6.
I was starving earlier and the only store around had an issue with my debit card. Then i almost fell for the first time, and i told myself, ‘uh oh this is when everything starts to go wrong.’ So I hit a bump at the bottom of a steep hill and my iPod flew into a swamp. I began crying very hard and cutting all the brush down with my knife. I never found it.

I got lost. 6 out of 7 people I’ve spoken French to today have offered to speak English. The trains are all broke so I can’t take the easy way out even though I want to, so badly. I’ve lost hours.

But I can’t. So I’ll keep on keeping on.

Cornwall, Ontario.

Day 8 has been awesome.

This morning I ran into a young québécois girl named Sophie. From the back she looks like an ordinary cyclist. I pedaled up to her and when I saw she was on a unicycle, I just started laughing. She’s got all her stuff attached on there and a map in her lap. Incredible. I love her already.

I’ve crossed into French-speaking country. I swam a couple times in the Saint Lawrence. Perfect weather, spirits up. Listened to a bunch of Kanye. I bike danced a ton today. Feeling rad. 89km down, not done yet.

The sun, breaking bad graffiti, and a very helpful sign

20140724-091115-33075615.jpg

20140724-091117-33077367.jpg

20140724-091116-33076660.jpg

Canadian Chinese food motherfucker

I paid for a hotel room. For morale.

But I made myself bike really far to earn it. Rooms are expensive everywhere and there aren’t any hostels.

So I had to leave again to pick up food for dinner.
This story i intended to relate and have just begun to tell is actually too tragically depressing. I can’t even do it.
Nevermind.

The crazy coming on

When it started to rain I rode through it and then gave up and hid in someone’s open carport who wasn’t home.

The route was mostly flat but I had to push so so so hard to get here today. I realized I really didn’t sleep well last night and that thing that sniffed and screamed at my head under my tarp was probably a fox.

Despite what I wrote earlier this morning about feeling pretty good or whatever, I’m losing steam….maybe I’m just tired and hangry though.

I’m throwing food down my throat like a pelican in Brockville, Ontario. Also I’m happy crying because I just found out my friends are pregnant. So I’m in this busy diner, covered in rain and sweat and dirty clothes and bike grease; I’m crying, swallowing food nearly whole, and typing this right now. The people at the next table watching me with concern. I’m pretending not to notice.

If I see anyone touching my bike I will seriously protect it like a mother bear and kick them in face. I saw someone trying to go into my motel room from down the lot, I chucked my drink to the ground and ran to them like I was going to cut them. They just mistakenly had the wrong room.

See? Crazy. I’m losing it.

238 more to go.

The purple door.

A few days ago there was a red door hanging from a tree branch. I rode past it but have regretted not walking through it ever since.

Today, there was a purple door all on it’s own in the middle of a old farm /garden place.

I passed it, and then turned around. I tried to open the door but it was locked. I tried the other side of the door, and it was locked both ways. My bike and I walked around. On the other side was a sign for metaphysical books and such. I looked in the old farm building and it was empty except for a big Persian rug on the concrete floor and some candle holders. I went to the house. I knocked and the door immediately opened so fast it startled me. I went in. I played with the some pendulums. And I picked a tarot card. It was a card that said “ride the wave” meaning I’m on the right path, keep surfing. Okay.

Then it started to rain.

Hot sauce

I carry a bunch of hot sauce packets cuz if you go into most places and ask for hot sauce for your food they look at you funny and say no. I think a couple packets exploded in my backpack though and I’m afraid to survey the damage.

If one more sexist idiot asks me if I’m trying to find myself….ugh. The answer is no, I know and have known exactly who I am for a long time now. Do girls have to be having some sort of existential crisis to go out and experience the world? I guess I can’t be sure, but I’m 90% sure that if I were a dude or part of a couple in the same position, I wouldn’t get that question.

I’m at the socialist pig in Gananoque. This place kinda rules. There’s art everywhere and great coffee. And cute pig figurines all over.

290km to go. Julie told me to chant “Bad. Ass. Mother. Fucker.” With every pedal when times get tough. I’ve been doing something similar but I like that and will probably use it. Really, when times are hard, I just stop. Breathe. Stretch. Drink something. It’s been fine. I’m not in pain. Bike ain’t broke. So times have been actually relatively un-tough. There’s been a few times when I had to sing myself my own song I called, ” life can’t be all that bad when you’re on a bike.”

Day 6 was yesterday. I slept in, got a late start, and decided I was gonna try biking after dark. I drank a energy shot around 7pm. I am so desensitized toward caffeine and I’ve learned to sleep on all kinds of uppers but I ended up deciding to crash at 9 and it was dumb. I considered getting up and just biking more but my body was exhausted even though my mind was awake. There I was, wrapped in my green tarp taco, face covered, watching suburbia on my iPod……and my spidery sense alarm went off. I turned the movie off. There was a mammalian creature between the size of a cat and a dog sniffing around me. Touching my bike. I couldn’t see cuz I was all wrapped up and paralyzed. I still have no idea what the thing was. It was circling me, huffing all my mosquito repellent fumes. Then it made the most terrifying noise ive ever heard. It sounded like the evil cackling laugh of a cartoon villain. Then it made the sound again. Totally paralyzed. It continued to make the noise, but it got more and more distant and even thought I knew the thing had gone somewhere else-ish I still didn’t move except to grab my light in one hand and my knife in the other. I fell asleep like that.

The Mosquitos drove me fucking insane. I used a whole can of Off last night, but I wasn’t cold at all so there’s that.

20140723-073109-27069090.jpg

20140723-073109-27069665.jpg

20140723-073108-27068735.jpg

20140723-073109-27069379.jpg

Rather be a drunk biker than a designated driver

I met a sweet couple from Virginia cuz I talk to everyone. Their names are Krista and Bob. So now I’m staying in a guest suite in Wellington on Prince Edward Peninsula. It’s pretty nice here, I gotta say.
But there’s a fancy scale in the bathroom and I weighed myself. I weigh the exact same I did a week and 600km ago. This happened in Appalachia too. Ugh.

Yesterday was hot as dickens and there were so many long stretches without trees or any shade. I tried to navigate through a wheat field to find the lake on the other side at some point and just got attacked by bugs and whipped with dried wheat stalks. The earth had a giant crevice in it behind the field and I had to abort the mission, but I kept going and found another beach up the road. It’s the nice part about taking this route on the waterfront trail.

As always, I listen to survivor by Destinys child a lot.

I heard there’s this young Brazilian kid with a giant head bandage on a longboard doing this trail just ahead of me. He skipped the World Cup, and flew to Toronto so he could travel to Montreal on a longboard! I cannot wait to run into him.

I was photographed by Roc Morin for the World Dream Atlas, but I haven’t sent in a dream to accompany it. I’m trying so hard to remember and write down my dreams, but I sleep so hard, that dreaming life is a far distant world from waking life. But it’s coming slowly. I remember a few more bits and pieces every morning.
I’m going to sleep in today.

No injuries or back tire blowouts yet. 400 more km to go.

I changed routes last minute and it was the right choice.
I’m going to stick to the Waterfront.

At some point today 4 young bucks dashed out in front of me through a field and monarch butterflies are all over and there was another part where, like, a million zillion bunnies were everywhere all around the trail. I’ve made 78km before 2pm but have been taking a long 2 hour break since. Swimming and eating and drinking fine Canadian organic beer. As long as I do 100km a day I’m stoked. If I do 120, I’m crushing it. Today might be a big enough day that I’ll do even more than that, but I’m not stressin, or pushing too hard…just cruising.

Still haven’t had poutine…I’m saving it for the right moment.

20140721-152507-55507908.jpg