So why am I doing this again? Because it's time to do oneathese; it's time physically because I'm a wreck; it's time emotionally because I've been all plan-plan-plan for fucking ever; it's time spiritually because I need to prove that my 30s can actually build off my 20s rather than disowning them...

Thinking it'll take some trying to extend this to a 12-day trip. I'm not above trying.

Fri. June 28

I woke up at 5...couldn't sleep; so I read all of 'Krapp's Last Tape' - witty and wise! - played a lot of that destroy-everything video game, and forgot to write a goodbye note...

Left Ottawa at 10 am today, hugging Bennett & Zoe goodbye behind Indymedia (which was as mellow as the rest of the demo - which was a relief for a change.)

I didn't even know I was looking for Almonte, but the big stone mill and big stone everything else meant: ice cream time. Next scenic enclave I see is host to my FOURTH joint today (time: 4:53 pm). Lots left.

Eyes salty & sticky, odd patches of arm & calf burnt all to hell. Bike works great, load is insane. As ever...

We are in the "rolling hills" scenario - lots of hard uphill pedlin', balanced if not equaled by majestic descents. The Almonte info guy dispensed great wisdom in the form of a map with all the side roads listed; as soon as I could I got off the 'highway' and scooted around the unpaved diagonals, largely carless hick utopii.

Around 8 decided to make an early dive; found a laneway and charged in; to my shock this led into a virtual pit, a low-set flat area obscured from road view. The clearing of trees had barely begun, making a nice little alcove for cooking and...sleeping? So I thought - but then I heard footfalls and grunts from the foliage; then I swear I saw a bull staring at me through the branches. Maybe it was the sudden impact of joint #5, but I got out pronto. Maybe I forgot stuff.

Oh yeah, food: lotsa ryvita & tahini, two fruit rollups, good cauliflower powder soup (it's like cream of chicken!), some nuts. I repeat: FIVE joints. Biking is righting my body chemistry!

Sat. June 29

Woke up too early - 5 am! - thanks to general paranoia, mosquito paranoia, my fucked-up back, and something evil that was running around and going "Chat! Chat! Chat!" in the undergrowth nearby. Packed it in to Lanark, which was just a tad down the road...Ate a lot and read a bit ('The Leopard'), down by the bridge over the creek....

My bike is proving up to the task. BUT - I wish I knew how to correct this fucking auto-derailleur. It's being bossy during switch-ups, and it's grinding in second.

Sunday, June 30

There was some weird shit going on last night where the leaves were constantly dripping water on my tent even though it was not raining. Moist in these parts? That explain the mosquitos? Happy Canada Day.

I'm camped right next to the highway at York River, presumably the big blue squiggle on the map not far from...Bancroft! I'm invisible from the road, but some car just pulled in and out, so now I get to be paranoid more.

And let us not forget angsty - about what is waiting for me when I get back, about what isn't waiting, about Stuff In General. I miss Siue...

Monday, July 1

True to calculation, I was maybe 45 minutes out of Bancroft. Locking my bike up and wobbling around (spindly biker leggies!) I thought: am I missing something? Is this ugly commercial strip really 'downtown?' Am I reduced to eating at fucking Best Western?

Yup. As all these little mosquito bites started more and more to resemble the beginning stages of poison ive (ah, such memories), I dealt with the waitress, who was young and earnestly nice...and I suspected she was getting bugged by two successive customers at the window table - first the predictable full-service geezers who wished they were the bourgeoisie, then a guy with a Ralph Klein chin and a cute toddler who seemed to be mocking her with every word...when I left she said 'it was nice meeting you.' We did not exchange one word that wasn't related to my order. Little girl, gotta get away, get the hell out of Bancroft!

TWO Eels Creek swimming holes on Hwy 28, which it hugs most of the way down. Babbling brook time - the swims were short but - as the temp rounds the bend toward 35 C, the probably peak of a piss-hot week - they were positively orgasmic! As one guy said to me at the second stop - which was developed, with toileds! - unlike the first which was just a dirt driveway - "Best stop in the world"...my syntax is deteriorating, help!

My legs will be happy to give out if asked, and this crazy burning pain in my left shoulder...

The "NEW OWNERS" at the variety store just got back from 4 years in Inuvik. Girl asked if the owner had been to Toronto yet, and she said no a dozen ways. Outside, the girl said, "I love Toronto." Go girl! Out, out, out!

I AM AHEAD OF SCHEDULE BY LIKE A WEEK.

Tues. July 2

Some really weird dreams; in one I tried to suck off Swamp Dogg; it was a drag, but I stopped because I realized we were on the streets in Chinatown, surrounded by riot cops! One chased us up and down an escalator before chastising me for pissing in the street. While we were debating she turned into a Chinese restaurateur with a paper bag; our conversation was interrupted by the upper-floor screams of a 12-year-old prostitute, causing everyone to burst into tears.

Later, I'm in a boxcar and in the army, and when I enter my berth it's a restaurant with a place for me at the table. Sarah V is there, she says she went to a 'veggie' Thai place that used ground-up fish ankles (!) A guy comes in to access his apartment, and no one can remember his name, which leads to nonsense baby talk.  Matias shows up outside the window with a sling; he says he told his commanding officer, "I have human rights!" and be beat him up and he landed in this tree and didn't recover for months.

The poison ivy is still not spreading, though the wounds look pretty ripe. Maybe I'll get a break, Lord...The hills were more severe but not that bad; the WIND fucking however was right in my face wherever I turned. If it were in another direction - like uh my BACK - it would have been a relief, cos it's another 35 C humidex-warning smog-warning mother fucker, and today I'm feeling it.

Once I "passed" Burleigh Falls, which does not exist, I stopped on a rock to recharge, and a "Community Christian Newspaper" van pulled over and I thought oh fuck...but instead it was a very cool woman with implacable (Scandinavian?) accent who apparently left her husband to bike to Manitoulin Island with a 100-pound trailer. But she had been staying behind the church in Burleigh Falls - so I guess it does exist! - and now she says she might stay! Anyway she gave me strawberry yogurt, whoo!

Night riding is great, cool and fun, but not optimal for enjoying the scenery and basically ill-advised on a dirt trail - with encroaching branches yet. For some reason I COULD NOT get to sleep - and when I woke up the bugs were asleep! Balanced somewhat by condensation dripping on me and pooling in the end of the tent.

The bike to Lindsay was swampy and beyootiful. Got directions from a guy at the Kwik-Mart whom I venture hates tourists and was trying to fuck with my head. At Parks & Rec I got a briefing (and map) on a rail trail...then, at the library, I got a refreshing dip in my email...and then the disastrous news that Bruiser, our cat, is dead.

Lindsay is so fucking beautiful I could almost live there...the most overbearing preponderance of commemorative plaques I have ever seen. There's one every five feet, about WWII, architecture, some sister city in Japan...

I was astonished how quickly I made it to Hwy-7-to-Markham. Stopped for water at an awful gas station with minimal pride-of-toilet and a very obnoxious deadwood attendant...I couldn't quite believe how far out of Toronto I still was - still small towns (under the smothering blanket of Pickering), still just endless highway. Still hilly too...then on down Markham Rd. Ah! Weston! Finch! Sheppard! Plus, by this time, pitch darkness...my arm felt like it would fall off...I was freaked out by all the people (lots of purty girls), the cars, the impossible continuity between town and country, the crazy rigours of my physical endurance on this relatively short bike odyssey.

Then I got home - and didn't buy pot for almost 24 hours! The end.