Crazy on two wheels

So the past few days (from Gull Lake to Regina) my Pops and I have been cycling with a couple of crazies we met on the road. Now, I don't use the term 'crazy' in a negative way. Let's face the facts here: anyone attempting to cross the country on their bicycle is obviously a little wacko. I have no trouble admitting that I should probably be admitted, likely because I'm my father's daughter and anyone who's met my father knows that he's not exactly normal either. He had me putting together circuit boards before I knew how to walk, and sparring with him in the backyard while the other kids in my neighborhood learned how to horseback. Plus, my Grandma Hackinen (may she rest in peace) was kind of...hmmm, how to say this?...not your average grandmother. She was 69 when she pedaled into Halifax on her 10 speed, thereby proving her awesomeness, and also her insanity. Where am I going with all this? Oh yes. I am also crazy, I probably inherited this condition from my ancestors, and I'm learning to cope with the constant desire to do outrageous things by, well, simply doing them.

But compared to some of the cyclists I have met, I hardly even rate on the crazyness scale of 1 to 10. For instance, we met FredRTW (Round The World) in front of an Esso station on the way out of Moose Jaw. He rolled up in his rickity old bike, packing more gear than all of us combined. "I started zeees journey 10 yearz ago" he told us in a thick French accent, "When zee Bush administration took ahold of zee United States". His bike lacked water bottle cages or front panniers, instead he carried his posessions and pop bottles filled with water from a dozen or so plastic bags dangling from his front handle bars. And then we met some spindly, weathered guy riding without a helmet, his head and face brown as a peanut, who claimed to have cycled from Toronto to central Sask. in 17 days. I think this could only be possible if the fellow hadn't slept in 17 days, which, by the look of him, might be possible. Completely wired with eyes bulging he shouted "What's wrong? Haven't you seen a guy on a pedal bike before?" before he pedaled off. We just stared, mouths open, recognizing that this is what insanity looked like when you stared it in the face.

So we met Tim and Kevin, who met each other while trying to cross the flooded Saskatchewan border, at the campground in Gull Lake. Tim is completely outrageous, in the most awesome way possible. I honestly can't believe some of the things that come out of his mouth, and find myself hurling back my head with laughter at least a dozen times a day. Kevin seemed pretty normal when we first met him; good looking guy in spandex (wait, does that actually sound normal? On second thought maybe not) who happens to be a real live rocket scientist (Dad was pretty keen to find this out) who is biking across the country to raise money and awareness for Huntington's disease. Except that once we got on the road with him we realized that he's a machine! I truely think this man may be composed of cyborg superhuman DNA, since the fact that he was cycling 25km/hr into a roaring headwind with an upset stomach had no visible effect on him.

So the four of us slightly zany individuals hit the road the next morning bright and early, all split up but intending to meet up about 140km down the road at the little town of Chaplin where we knew there was a campground. Dad and I arrived a little late, because we were in Swift Current hanging out at the bike shop for the duration of the afternoon. My bike needed a little TLC, a few new parts, and some purple handle bar grips (well the grips weren't really necessary, but they go nicely with the rest of my ridiculous ensemble). Dan from Big Sky Cycles was our savour! He welcomed us into the shop, gave us heaps of useful advice, and took care of my annoying disk brake problem. Turns out, salt water can be corrosive to bike parts. Who knew? I suppose camping on the beach all down the Pacific Coast wasn't the best thing for the longevity of my bike. But it turns out, all she needed (besides a piece or two that had fallen off somewhere along the line) was a little lube. While my bike was up on the rack, my Dad and I spoke with a half dozen individuals (including the fire chief) who wandered in and out of the bike shop, as casually as if it was their own home. I loved it :) Gotta say a big thanks to Dan for all his help, encouragement, and for just letting us get a glimpse into the life of a bike shop in the middle of the Prairies.

So as the sun sank lower in the sky, we approached the village of Chaplin. A couple of carved out pieces of wood reading campground directed us to the vacant field facing the gigantic salt mining operation.
"What? Christmas in Saskatchewan? Oh wait, that's not snow. Just salt."
We saw Kevin and Tim seated at the picnic table of glory from down the path. Spaghetti with hamburger already on the go, and half a case of beer finished, we were stoked to join them. We plunked our tents down in the middle of the field and sat around telling stories of our cross-country adventures to date and watching mesmerized as a truck drove up and down the enormous pile of salt. And then, we started to see the lightning. And hear the thunder. And it was everywhere; we were surrounded. Deciding quickly that pitching our tents in the middle of a field in the flattest province in the country was probably a poor idea, we relocated them to a slightly more treed location at the edge of the pitch.

We retreated into our individual tents when the rain started to pour. Every few moments flashes of lightning lit up the inside of our tent, exposing the mess of clothing, trail mix, and wet sleeping bags that surrounded us.Dad spilled his drink and decided to mop it up with his only pair of pants. We spent the rest of the night cackling about our misfortune and trying not to touch the edges of the tent, which were slopping wet from the effect of the wind and rain hitting our fly simultaneously. Eventually the novelty of it all wore off and my heavy eyes shut for the night.

The next morning the sky was beautiful. It was hard to imagine the chaos that ensued the night before. Apparently I'm doomed to face bizarre weather conditions for the rest of my trip. It was hailing in Regina yesterday, and thunderstorms are in the forecast for the rest of the week.