Horoscope: explore new people, places, and activities. Keep your emotions in check and look at your options. A trip will lead to new prospects and plans for the future. Don’t be afraid to take an unusual path. Speak up and move forward.

I’m hauling probably about 250 pounds on two wheels and I honestly do not know how to change that back tire when it inevitably pops. (It’s not my easy 1″ single speed.)
I’m stoked I ate lunch at the pita pit ($7.50) when I did cuz there has not been shit but corn fields, cow farts, and speeding pick ups kicking dirt in my face since. I spent the majority of my afternoon on motherfucking dirt and gravel roads. My flask is half empty and everytime I’ve just about had it with the dirt road and cursing them (out loud) all to hell, it changes to pavement and maybe god is with me. I’m sitting in a cemetery now and the first headstone I read is an obelisk packed with Weirs (my BC family I’ve spent the past week with).

Mary, wife or ThoS Weir has “gone to dwell with saints above and rest in god’s eternal love.” She died Aug 16, 1879 at 80 yrs. Mary, wife of Henry Weir, died May 5 1885 56 yrs + 6 mos. Henry, her husband, died in 1904 at 75 yrs and he is “gone but not forgotten.” Across from me lies Beulah F Hussey. I’ve never met a Beulah F Hussey before and I wonder if we would have been friends. Would she want to come on the bike trip with me, maybe.
I don’t really know but I think I’ve only gone 55 km in 7 hours. I’m not really sure when I started but I guess 11:30 and it’s 6 now. God damn motherfucking dirt concession roads be damned. If it was later than 6 I’d set up camp right here in this graveyard but I have to push a little further.

Grandma and grandpa, auntie Anne, Jerry, and mama all gave me a little money for the trip and I have to remember to thank them big time. I had no Canadian cash when it started and I’ve used it to buy the initial bike tune up and now protein bars and energy shots….And coffee…in this Starbucks that I’m in. I’ll get them montréal shirts or something from the city too.

I must remember that no matter how hard or long this gets that I have time, I have money, and the whole point is to pedal. I’m pedaling for myself. So there’s no sense in taking shortcuts unless I’m hurt. Just keep pedaling. Do It right. Do my best. I’ll remember it forever, so do it right. I wanted this. I want this.

There’s a big or a bird or something that sounds exactly like the sound of a bike chain when it’s not pedaled.

Also, Alice Weir, wife or JW Utter died Feb 8 1925 at 59 yrs “AT BEST”

Also, I should note that I have already begun to talk and sing to myself.

Also I figured out that if I raise my seat higher, my knees don’t hurt as much…idiot.

Quitting time : 8:30

I have the choice of hiding in the flora where a million man-eating bugs are, or lying in the open where anyone could see me in plain view.

I found a place to sleep in a manicured field…of an unidentified plant. I watched Point Break but my iPod died right when Keanu tells Patrick Swayze, “Via con dios” and so I missed the very end. Holy crap it was cold. It was so cold I briefly considered sleeping with my sunglasses because maybe they would help insulate my eyeballs. I was wearing all my clothes plus a bright yellow poncho and had that aluminum emergency blanket so I wasn’t doing a good job of being discreet. I was a bright yellow PAC man ball wrapped in aluminum foil like I was attempting to signal somebody for help and 3 seconds from lighting the emergency flares. But I rolled myself into a dark green tarp burrito and fell asleep.

There were noises. Creature noises. I woke up a few times and thought about how to fight a bear, or a dog, or much worse, a possum. What if someone’s dog attacked me and I had to kill it (I sleep knife in hand) and then wtf I just killed someones dog. Or what if I somehow did heroically fight and slice the throat of a bear? Do I take pictures for proof or is that dumb? wtf I Just killed a bear thats screwed up I don’t want a bear to die because I had to go on some stupid bike trip and sleep in some shitty field of some plant nobody even cares about. There’s probably not even bears around. Right? (This next morning, when I woke up, there was a giant pile of feces right near where I was sleeping on the bike trail that only a very very large creature could have made and I just really hope it was a horse)

Woke up day 2 at 5:30. My fucking brakes are rubbing. They didn’t rub yesterday. Why are they rubbing. Why.

Whatever. I’m feelin good.