On Saturday, June 27th, 2020, after 105 days of Covid-isolation alone in my tiny, single-souled apartment in Toronto, I took off on my old Raleigh bicycle, packing nothing but some bike tools, camping gear, and a change of clothes. In search of some personal sanity amidst a global pandemic, I headed for Vancouver, by myself, nearly five thousand kilometers away. The day after I left, however, my mother died. My relationship with my mother had been complicated. Her sudden death was completely unexpected and left me with many unsaid words, unanswered questions, and unfinished business. Mom, how do I write our final chapter and find peace for us without your help or input? I hadn't a clue. However, with her ashes in tow (mom riding VIP up front on the handlebars), somehow I was - we were - going to have to figure it out. And this is how my solo journey from Toronto to Vancouver became a bicycle ride for two. But could I, at the age of forty-five, after not having been on a bike for four years, just get up and ride thousands of kilometres across the country and then up the skyscraping mountain range of the Canadian Rockies? Especially after only three training rides to prepare? There was only one way to find out. Ready, Mom? Let’s go...
On a hot and humid July day in 2016, I set out from my home in the heart of Toronto on a three-hundred dollar bicycle, alone, forty-one years old, with next-to-no camping or long-distance cycling experience. My destination: more than two thousand kilometers away, the Cabot Trail. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. All I knew was I was scared as hell. Single, no children, and perhaps feeling a little lost, I was unsure of so many things about my life. However, this bike ride I was entirely sure about. It was the only thing that felt right; so perhaps the journey would give me the reason? But would my girlish gumption be enough to see me through camping alone in the deep, dark woods, riding across thousands of kilometers, and climbing the many mountains of the Cabot Trail? Would going it alone and placing my faith in my fellow humans prove well-founded? Every moment was like a wild and wonderful wager. I knew in my heart that women are strong and that people are good. And this summer, I basically bet my life on it.
A fourth-generation member of a Quebec City family of artists and architects, Charles Baillargé was encouraged by his family in both artistic and intellectual pursuits. He was proficient not only as an architect but also as a surveyor, engineer, mathematician, and inventor, publishing over 250 books and pamphlets on his many interests.
On Saturday, June 27th, 2020, after 105 days of Covid-isolation alone in my tiny, single-souled apartment in Toronto, I took off on my old Raleigh bicycle, packing nothing but some bike tools, camping gear, and a change of clothes. In search of some personal sanity amidst a global pandemic, I headed for Vancouver, by myself, nearly five thousand kilometers away. The day after I left, however, my mother died. My relationship with my mother had been complicated. Her sudden death was completely unexpected and left me with many unsaid words, unanswered questions, and unfinished business. Mom, how do I write our final chapter and find peace for us without your help or input? I hadn't a clue. However, with her ashes in tow (mom riding VIP up front on the handlebars), somehow I was - we were - going to have to figure it out. And this is how my solo journey from Toronto to Vancouver became a bicycle ride for two. But could I, at the age of forty-five, after not having been on a bike for four years, just get up and ride thousands of kilometres across the country and then up the skyscraping mountain range of the Canadian Rockies? Especially after only three training rides to prepare? There was only one way to find out. Ready, Mom? Let’s go...
On a hot and humid July day in 2016, I set out from my home in the heart of Toronto on a three-hundred dollar bicycle, alone, forty-one years old, with next-to-no camping or long-distance cycling experience. My destination: more than two thousand kilometers away, the Cabot Trail. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. All I knew was I was scared as hell. Single, no children, and perhaps feeling a little lost, I was unsure of so many things about my life. However, this bike ride I was entirely sure about. It was the only thing that felt right; so perhaps the journey would give me the reason? But would my girlish gumption be enough to see me through camping alone in the deep, dark woods, riding across thousands of kilometers, and climbing the many mountains of the Cabot Trail? Would going it alone and placing my faith in my fellow humans prove well-founded? Every moment was like a wild and wonderful wager. I knew in my heart that women are strong and that people are good. And this summer, I basically bet my life on it.
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