The overnight antics of my furry friends gave me a bad night and I found that I managed to sleep in quite late in the morning. I was pleased to see that the sun was out and it was drying off my tent, but as I listened to the radio I was told that there was more rain forecast. Ho hum. If it was anything like last night I would be in real trouble.

After packing up I hit the road without having eaten; the animals last night had hopefully enjoyed what I had planned on having for breakfast. I wasn’t overly concerned as Canada, like the USA, is well endowed with eateries, although healthy ones tend to be few and far between.

I cycled out of the park and stopped at the main gate to ask directions. The woman was absolutely no help and couldn’t even orientate herself with regard to the road in front of the park. It is an enigma to me why I have had such a lack of success in getting lucid directions from women. Yes, it is sexist, but there must be some reason for it. Nine times out of ten they are not able to help me, whereas with men it is about three out of ten. This was proved shortly after leaving the campground when I stopped and asked a man walking a dog—actually a poor excuse for a dog as I’ve seen larger rats in Asia than this mutt—who gave me very specific instructions. ‘Go straight ahead about 5 km and you will see a Wal*Mart. Turn left and follow that road. It will take you where you want to go’. And he was right. What was impressive was that he had never been that way himself, always travelling on Highway 401 which is off limits to cyclists.

The road was called Dundas street which was auspicious as I was heading towards the town of Dundas. Later, I saw a sign that it was Highway 2 which was the exact one I wanted to be on. The road was resplendent with shopping malls, restaurants and petrol stations. I stopped at a Tim Horton’s Donut shop for a breakfast of a vegetarian sandwich and an orange juice. The woman put on three huge scoops of cream cheese so I had her remove 2.5 of them; she layered on the mayonnaise so I had her remove 2/3 of it. As it was I found it too rich for my simple tastes, but imagine if I hadn’t had her cut back on things?

Highway 2 was a multi-lane highway with lots of traffic, particularly trucks. To compound things there was not much of a shoulder, it consisting mainly of about 150 mm of pavement to the right of a painted white line. There was a packed gravel shoulder beyond that, but it was not suitable for cycling. This is one area where the Americans have it hands down over the Canadians (at leas in Ontario); I’d say over 75% of the distances I travelled in the USA were on roads with shoulders suitable for cyclists.

The countryside was very similar to what I had been travelling through yesterday. Lots of flat land with farms. In Thamesford there was a diversion around the main street which was undergoing a full reconstruction. I pitied the businesses as this must really have impacted on their commercial viability. The town was on the Thames river and there was an old mill next to the river where I presume the ford once was. From there it was more of the same flat countryside until I approached Woodstock where the road got more winding.

This is not the Woodstock of the concert fame, but is the county seat for Oxford County. It was a delightful town with some amazing old buildings. They used a red sandstone which is also common in Toronto and lends itself to grandeur and dignity. The building below is the local court house. The town still looks to be quite prosperous and there was a lot of commercial activity, always a good sign! There was a massive library and I used the toilet as well as recharging my water bottles. There was an art gallery next to it and some other interesting places to visit, but I didn’t have time to avail myself of them.

I continued east through more rolling countryside. The photo below is an example of what the terrain was like. Not the most exciting I must admit, but better than Nebraska!

At Paris the road descended sharply to the river valley. There were lots of lovely Victorian era houses in the town. I had been there before to visit Roadware, a company which manufactures road measurement equipment, and mulled over paying them a visit, but I decided not to bother. Since I was getting close to my final destination I phoned Milena and got some (good!) directions to her place. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was hungry so I stopped outside of Paris by the side of the road and had something to eat. I knew that I would be well fed when I got to Milena’s, but I needed some fuel to continue on.

When I got to Milena’s area I cycled past the road as I had misunderstood the spelling of the name. I stopped and read a plaque by the side of the road which told how Dundas street was built by the Queen’s Rangers through virgin forest to connect London with Dundas. It was quite an achievement given that it was all done by hand through what was probably very dense forest. At least the land was flat. I called Milena and found my way back up the road. She met me on the next street and we went home together.

It was delightful to see her again. We had last seen each other in May in N.Z. under difficult circumstances and she was looking much better. She told me how she had gone to Europe with her brother and then home to Yugoslavia where she went to his country home and just relaxed and read, totally cut off from the world. That is the sort of rejuvenation which is second only to doing the same thing but exercising.