Satisfaction

"I think that every Canadian should cross the country at least once; first of all, to appreciate it's vastness. Secondly, to comprehend it's diversity"

-Bob Gardiner, Fox Valley (Saskatchewan)

I made it! October 4th marked the day I reached Cape Spear and ended my bicycle journey through Canada. I've been on the road for a total of 130 days; a time span which exceeds the period of employment for my last six jobs, and all previous relationships with gentlemen. Ha! So, with a commitment to my journey that doesn't necessarily reflect all other arenas of my life, I rode my steel stallion through the gorgeous autumn afternoon, halting only when I reached the limits of the continent.

Cape Spear, about 15 km from Newfoundland's capital city of St John's, is the most eastern point in North America, geographically closer to Ireland than the province of Saskatchewan. My journey has taken me though thunderstorms and hurricanes, floods and excruciating heatwaves. I've been tried and tested, and both my bicycle and my soul have proved their worth, holding steadfast to the spirit of adventure. When I rounded the final corner in the road, my ultimate destination appearing before me like the sudden end of a giant roll of carpet, I burst into tears. Even thinking about it now, I still can't find the words to convey the welling and exploding of emotion inside my heart, and I find my eyes become watery. The cape, illuminated splendidly by the late afternoon sun, was more beautiful than I could have fathomed. I rode down the final kilometer of windy road, absorbing the sound of the wild Atlantic waves crashing up against the high rocky shores, my target set on the sight of a lighthouse perched proudly upon a tip of rock jutting out into the sea.

It was strange to be alone in such a monumental part of my journey. I sat down at a wooden bench with a view, made up a peanut butter and jam sandwich with the last of my thick sliced bread, and drank my thermos of coffee that I had picked up at Tim Hortons over an hour ago. Of course, I'm never alone very long, and I found myself chatting away excitedly with some gentlemen who were in town for a week long course.

Looking at my bike, I couldn't help but be proud of my two wheeled friend; over 10,000 km on this journey and only five flats! Oh the places we've been, the people we've seen, the friends we've made, and the days that will fade into foggy memory. When I look back and think about how I rolled out my front door with my father on that sunny Monday in the end of May, on route to Port Renfrew to dip my foot into the Pacific, it all seems so far away. When people asked where we were going, I would turn my head and jubilantly holler, "Newfoundlaaaaaaaand!" and they would shake their heads, muttering, "you're going the wrong way...". The following day, when I dropped my friend (and by friend I mean bicycle) off at a bike shop on Water Street, to be shipped back to Vancity, I certainly felt uneasy about being without my wheels. Separation anxiety, maybe?

For me, traveling is always a transformative experience. I thrive when I'm on the road; hours of the day slipping away as I pedal forward on the smooth pavement, surrounded by an ever changing landscape of incomprehensible beauty and my only concerns revolving around immediate survival. Food, water, shelter, swimming (which doubles as showering), and companionship are my only real needs. I think when I'm focused solely on living and the pursuit of pleasure, without the overwhelming burden of society's technical mumbo jumbo to weigh me down, I'm more me. I feel that each day I go without watching TV, using the internet, setting my alarm clock or using a microwave, I become a bit more real and a little more human. I've found I've been able to gain a better understanding of who I am and what I truly desire in life. I suppose the new challenge that I'll face is to bring the self-awareness and enthusiasm that I've found and nurtured on the open road into my everyday life, wherever I am at.

I'm not going to say that I despise the conveniences of our modern world entirely, but I know that I'm happier and healthier without them at my fingertips. I'm going to miss pulling over on the side of the road to pee in the bushes, stopping in roadside diners with greasy breakfasts and coffee refills as far as the eye can see. I'm going to miss the nightly entertainment of the sun set, and the waking glow of the early morning light on my tent. Most of all, I'm going to miss rising each morning with a giddy feeling bubbling up in my stomach and the knowledge that I have no idea what it going to happen throughout the course of the day.

So what have I learned over the past few months? That hopes and dreams can be achieved through daily perseverance. That each day brings new surprises. That the unknown possibilities of the world will simultaneously amaze and terrify me for as long as I continue to roam. I've learned that Canada is an awesome country; a place of outstanding natural beauty, overwhelming geographic diversity, pulsating urban communities, and open-hearted people. I realize that family, friends, and food are more valuable than gold. I've come to see my body as my most prized possession, and vow never again to take for granted such a beautiful and fantastic thing. Without it, this adventure wouldn't be possible.