Kenora, Ontario

 

I’d been in Canada six days before I finally had a meal at Tim Horton’s, so much of a Canadian institution that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the ultra-inquisitive customs official at the border, who granted me permission to enter the country, had told me one of the prerequisites for entry was to promise to have a meal at Horton’s. I hadn’t had much of an opportunity, as there’d only been one in three hundred miles from Thunder Bay until I came upon a second in Kenora.

I was continually reminded that I was in the land of Tim Horton though, as for one hundred miles leading in to Kenora and before the first in Dryden, eight-five miles from Kenora, I came upon a discarded bright red Tim Horton paper cup every mile or two along the road.  Yes, Canadians litter, though that has been about the extent of it.  Canadians are litigious too, as three different law firms have been advertising their services on billboards. They were a sorry reminder of the world I thought I was free of in this remote area.

The Tim Horton’s in Kenora asserted its Canadian roots with hockey sticks as door handles.  It’s menu was a combination of Subway, MacDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donuts.  I went with the season and settled on a pumpkin muffin.  It had WiFi and several electrical outlets, but no self-serve ice and drink machine, almost enough to make me go down the street to the MacDonald’s.

I actually set my alarm for the first time on this trip to make sure I reached Kenora well before dark so I could get an adequate photo of its Carnegie and continue a good distance down the road.  With my head shrouded in the tent to stay warm, the morning light doesn’t wake me, and I’ve slept as late as 8:30.  I wanted to be up by seven. Kenora was sixty miles away. Turned out I didn’t need that early start, as for the first time in a while I had no head wind to contend with, just a slight breeze from the north, so I made great time arriving before three.  

With the early start I had my first eighty mile day in over a week, though I didn’t get full credit for it on Strava, as with it just twenty-five degrees when I set out, my iPad wasn’t functioning, and it recorded just seventy-six of my eighty-five miles.  It was the second time it happened this week, keeping me from registering five hundred miles for the week, as I had the previous two weeks of these travels.

Kenora’s  Carnegie had a Main Street address, as many of them do, and had the classic temple architecture with a pair of pillars and “Public Library” over the entry.  It stood out as the most noble building in this town of fifteen thousand.  It had an addition of matching brick to its rear with a patio overlooking the large lake the town is nestled upon. 

Kenora winds up my western foray through Ontario.  Now it’s one hundred miles south to the next and final Canadian Carnegie of these travels in Fort Frances, just across the border from Minnesota and International Falls. I’d like to think it will be warmer, but I’d have to go much further south for it to make much of a difference.  

It may be close to freezing when I make camp, but my body heat quickly warms the tent by ten degrees or more, though not while I’m sleeping.  I have yet to need my candle for extra warmth.  I ward off the cold wrapped in my sleeping bags and what I’ve been wearing all day as I eat and read.  

If the sun isn’t blocked by clouds, the temperature has approached fifty degrees by mid-afternoon.  But as the sun nears the horizon, the temperature plunges fast.  I’ve been spared having to adjust my helmet in the morning, as lately I’ve been wearing my wool cap all day.  Previously when the day warmed enough I could shed the wool cap necessitating a tightening of the cinch on the helmet, then have to loosen it in the morning to accommodate the wool cap.  

As I ride, the cold is more than skin deep, as not a bead of sweat pops forth on long steep climbs, as happens ordinarily from the extra exertion.  I don’t even need to slightly unzip my jacket.  That extra exertion only serves to store some much needed warmth that will quickly dissipate on the descent.  The descent may generate an extra wind, but they are still a pleasure. The cold adds an extra challenge to the cycling,  but it hardly diminishes the pleasure.  It’s as glorious as ever to be experiencing the beautiful countryside from the seat of the bicycle.