Wrung out in Washabuck

Always on the lookout for new bicycling vistas we eyed the almost-an-island Washabuck Peninsula and its circa-55-kilometre perimeter road. Too bad we picked the hottest day of the year. People looked aghast as we pedaled by. The long climb from Lower Washabuck to the Gillis Point overlook sucked most of our remaining starch. A kind lady provided life-saving water while pointing out that her outside thermometer showed 40-plus degrees. The crew bailed out at the highland village near Iona. I carried on alone toward Little Narrows to retrieve the truck, arms ablaze in the broiling sun, but was soon overtaken by two Ontario Samaritans delivering Jan on the same mission. Just for the hell of it I carried on. Jan got there first – by a long shot. Our friends Mary, Mike and Mark, two months into their C2C cross-Canada bike trip easily manage a hundred klicks a day, sometimes 160. I decided I wasn’t worth a thimble of Mary’s spit.

The heatwave continues. We installed the infrastructure to the swimmin’ hole and made good use of it in the afternoon inferno. The hammock became a priority too and the cooling birches among which it swings are a great comfort. The sleeping porch provides a little cool at night, but not necessarily perfect quiet. A herd of raccoons foraged unsurreptitiously under the porch corner. The beam of my flashlight reflected six pairs of eyes. Coyotes serenade shortly after nightfall. Meanwhile, the rabbits – more correctly the varying hares – are ever more brazen. They munch on the produce of Jan’s garden and now completely ignore her empty threats of violence. She can forgive the inroads on her celery but the violations against her basil are altogether too much. I propose a whiff of grapeshot; Jan is kind: she insists a length of chicken mesh will do.

--Alan