The Lake Ontario Lap
by Larry Strung

First, I would like to suggest that this route be named "Lake Ontario Lap" just so that it can have the acronym "LOL". Those that participate in chat lists will know what that means - Laugh Out Loud.

There were times during the ride when I did LOL, such was the comraderie amongst the riders even through the stifling heat. Lori, Jaye, Phil and myself all managed to stay together and ride as a group for the full ride. We were joined from time to time by Oliver who at other times couldn't stand our slow pace. Even then our sense of humor as a group was maintained. We witnessed Oliver peel out of a fruit stand a kilometer or so up the road in front of us, and for the next several hours were able to monitor his progress by the discarded banana peels left intentionally along the route for us to find.

I think that we coped with the event quite well, adequate pacing, adequate rest breaks when needed, adequate amounts of sleep (off the bikes for 5 hours both nights!). Now after another 6 hours of sleep I feel surprisingly good. Certainly with a warm glow of satisfaction, although that may just be the sun burn.

The route itself while easier than the TOT, is certainly NOT flat. Phil will fill you in on the actual amount of climbing via his computer thingy. Another small disappointment is not actually being able to see the lake as much as we had hoped, but this perhaps is more a reflection on the amount of private ownership of the waterfront property than anything else.

Jaye does deserve special mention, as she performed flawlessly on this her first event longer than 400km. Lori always rides very well, and is a pleasure to ride with. Phil performed much as he has in the past year, which is well above his previous level.

A REALLY special mention must go to Peter & Peggy. Unfortunately Peter retired 1/2 way through the first day with foot pain. For the balance of the event, they met us at each control and ensured that we had adequate food and fluids when stores were closed, as well as giving a terrifically well appreciated moral boost. It was a kind and unselfish gesture that will be remembered by this rider at least for a very long time.

With this sort of accompaniment, the event was much less about hardship and much more about a shared goal - thanks to the rest of the riders for letting this bag of bones tag along!

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My First 1,000K Brevet
by Jaye Haworth

Well, I did it! I don't know how, at this point,but somehow I managed to ride 1,011 K right around Lake Ontario. I'm a little tired right now, and I have the most painful butt I've ever experienced in my entire life - but I am very, very happy!

Lori, Larry, Phil and I made a good group. Oliver would ride with us now and then, and it was always a pleasure to have his company.

We didn't get our first glimpse of the lake until the 90 k point! At the 30 k point, Lori's removable rack (an older version of my quick release from MEC) broke, and she had to carry her bag on her back (luckily it had conversion straps). We stopped at a Canadian Tire store so she was able to get a seat bag, and then redistribute her stuff. Peter took some, as his very stylish bag was mostly empty. Fortunately for Lori, when we got into Bloomfield (in beautiful Prince Edward County), we found a great bike shop (Larry knows the owner) which actually had a rack like mine, for her, so she was finally able to get her backpack off her back. Poor Lori - it's a good thing she's such a strong and amazing woman.

It was sad for our group to lose Peter in Picton. I hope his foot trouble can be sorted out so he can continue doing these big ones. Martin was with us until just before Coburg (I think?), but then that was the last I saw of him. Chris started out with us, but continued on his own, when we stopped at the Canadian Tire.

It was hot - we stopped for water and other cold fuids quite frequently over the course of the weekend. I'm very glad I took my electrolyte replacement tablets (I can't stomach eload or Gatorade). By-the-way, the border guards at both points, just waved us through - we had no trouble at all. Doh! I could've then taken my alfalfa and kelp tablets too, but I had run out of room. I took way too much stuff.

Day one got us into Kingston at 12:15. Most cruel joke: the Welcome to Kingston sign! We were so happy to see it, knowing how tight our time was getting to make that 12:40 ferry. But after passing it, we had to continue riding through the dark, kilometre after kilometre, up and down the hills, around the curves, for maybe another 8 or 10 K (?) until we actually did come into Kingston! Curses to amalgamation!

We then had to pick up something for dinner, as nothing was expected to be open for us on Wolfe Island so late, and then get through the city, to catch that ferry! It was wild - on the edge of town we picked up food at Wendy's drive through window, and raced through the city traffic (very heavy as it was a holiday weekend) just like Toronto bike couriers, weaving in and out of the cars - it was rather scary - I thought for sure one of us was going to get hit. We made it onto the ferry with 3 minutes to spare! Whew! We could then relax, breathe, and eat. The chicken breast and baked potato from Wendys' tasted great! Luckily the spilled cheese sauce didn't completely disintegrate the bags, leaving our dinner on Division Street!

After 3 hours of sleep we had a nice easy 11 k spin to the next ferry dock, and then we all ate a huge breakfast at Cape Vincent, stateside, which we really needed, judging by the amount of food tucked away. It made for a late start though, as we weren't on our way again until 9:30.

Heat. Headwinds. And hills. Lots of hills. The countryside we went through early in the day was rather uninspiring, but the afternoon scenery was much nicer. Oliver and I were discussing the notable absence of World Cup Soccer flags on all the passing vehicles. Maybe it just doesn't interest the Americans in that area?

Thunderstorms were supposed to hit late afternoon, but thankfully didn't. We saw deer - very sweet, and so small, and lots of turtles and rabbits. A lot of beautiful houses - all decorated for July 4th - like something out of Martha Stewart, or the film Meet Me in St. Louis. Many beautiful old barns (stone foundations), and lots of gardens with gorgeous roses in full bloom. Some gardens still had daffodils and irises in bloom.

We got into Rochester around 9:00 I believe, and stopped for a proper dinner - good thing we did. Poor Oliver, who had left us mid-day (he rode his fixed gear!) got into Rochester about an hour ahead of us, didn't stop for dinner, and was very sorry! The final stretch for us to get to our motel, was 35 k along a limited access freeway - I've never seen anything like this - which was a divided highway with 2 to 3 lanes in each direction, and access ramps which really freaked us all out for the first 5 k or so. It looked and felt (especially in the dark) like the 401 here, and we kept expecting a roaring, speeding pile of cars to come up behind us! Once we got used to this though, it was pretty cool as we had a tailwind finally, (or maybe the wind had completely died down - I can't quite remember) and were making most excellent time.

But then it went on forever. I imagine, if there is a purgatory, that's what it would be like. The four of us, grimly and silently riding, riding, riding, forever riding, through the dark, watching every exit sign coming up in the hopes that this one is finally ours, seeing it isn't, and then riding out of the lit up intersection into the dark again ... I don't know how Oliver managed this part all alone. I was very glad to have my companions.

We had to stop at one point, as Larry was feeling a bit dizzy. The heat had been pretty intense all day. I was able at this point to have a look behind us, and I saw a most beautiful moon, and the stars were clear and bright, and it was so quiet and lovely. We could hear bullfrogs, and I imagine, if it were daylight, we could probably have seen the lake. And then on we went again ... and I ran over a possum (opossum?). At one point, I was in the back of our little group, we're flying along in tight formation, and suddenly they all shout and swerve, and I run right over the poor thing. It all happened so fast - I saw a millisecond flash of some poor little animal frozen in terror on the road, and then felt a bump as if I'd run over something huge, and that was that. I'm amazed I didn't crash. I feel very badly about that. I really couldn't help it. Lori and I are convinced though, it just got a flesh wound. Please, don't anyone disillusion me on this one!

We got into our motel around 2:30 I think, and got 4 hours of sleep. I was first seriously worried about my chances for finishing the brevet while we were riding in search of breakfast on our final and third day. It was very difficult to find a position of comfort on the saddle. I began to ride a lot, standing.

One of the loveliest towns we rode through on day 3 was Williamstown - very old, and very genteel looking. Youngstown, just across from the Canadian Niagara-on-the-Lake was also lovely. It was quite heartening to see the Canadian Fort George across the water. Phil wondered about the plaque - did they really capture Fort George, or is that a bit of revisionist history? Je ne sais pas. But no time to stop, except for water and ice cream bars (did I mention it was very hot?). And of course, toilet necessities. I'd love to go back and stay in one of the gorgeous B+Bs and cycle around at a more leisurely pace someday. So many interesting antique shops, and houses and gardens to look at.

Our directions for navigating the customs bridge were wrong (or we completely misread them - not sure about this one) - and we ended up on an enclosed freeway, taking us away from the bridge to Canada. Luckily for us, Oliver had only been ahead of us by about a half hour, so when we saw him riding back on the other side, we were able to climb over the median, and find our way back to where we could all access the bridge. It was very stressful - and very hot - all that concrete and all those fast, impatient cars and trucks.

Once we cleared Port Dalhousie, and hit wine country, our much anticipated tailwinds never materialized. Well, not entirely true - I think we had maybe 5 to 10 k with a tailwind (correct me mes amis, if I'm wrong here). My final 200 k, was the most painful and challenging 200 I've ever ridden. My legs and energy were great - but the saddle sores were sheer agony. At the final 90 k point, I used some cortisone cream which Larry had "borrowed" from Peter earlier, and that did help for a bit, but then wore off for the final 30 k or so. More riding up and out of the saddle. Thank goodness for spin classes! On our final run into the city, we had to ride right past my street! I was very tempted, to just finish there! I truly felt as if I were sitting on razor blades.

It was so very, very good, to get to Queen's Park at 3:24 (69.5 hours) this morning, and get off the bike for the final time. Peter met us at the finish, with Larry's van, and they drove Lori and I home. They are lovely people. Much appreciated.

I would like to thank my wonderful travelling companions - and especially Peggy and Peter for their generosity and selfless giving. Everytime we came upon them, out there in foreign territory, it truly gladdened my heart, and encouraged me to continue making the effort to finish. They are fabulous people who each deserve a 1,000 k medal themselves. Well, anyway, I'm very glad I did it, and I am looking forward to more (just not too soon!!!). It's like childbirth right? Eventually you forget the pain ...

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Friendships and a Challenging Ride
by Lori Matthews

I would like to thank all who rode for their patience with my numerous bicycle difficulties (rack & sidekick bar). For all cyclists riding in Prince Edward County, the bike shop is great and well worth a visit, if for just fresh, cold, filtered water. They saved my ride. I have learned to travel lighter, for me.

Peter & Peggy's support was tremendous. The cold water, ice & baby wipes were greatly appreciated. I must say that this is my first long distance ride that I didn't experience the agony of de butt.

Larry's planning for sleep and rest breaks were great. I had more sleep on this ride than PBP and I'm feeling good today, even thinking of a short easy ride tonight.

The ride from Oswega into Rochester (spoken like Jack Benny) was beautiful. Lovely homes and small towns with glimpses of the lake and a beautiful sunset. Like Jaye, I relish the heat and was glad to not experience rain or cold evenings. The ride from Youngstown through to Port Dalhousie was very pretty, although very hot. The climb from Port Dalhousie to to Stoney Creek was beautiful and it would have been nice to have had the promised tailwind. We stopped for a M & M breakon this lovely little country road (Jaye brings the best junk on rides, great breaks from sports bars) and the view was spectacular. As we rode towards Ancaster was stopped for water at a biker bar in Tapelytown (one of my old racing areas) and were offered beer by the local patrons who couldn't understand why we didn't have a motor on our bikes.

The ride into Ancaster was pretty uneventful. Peter met us at the control and we set off into the night. I was on familar territory, so the ride from Ancaster into Toronto was exciting, as I could count down the kilometers. The descent onto Baseline was rather cruel in the dark. I had ridden the route in the opposite direction on Tuesday and noted that sand in the turn and we all made it through without incident. As we cycled passed Rathburn and Golden Orchard Dr. in Mississauga I waved hello to my dog, shower and pillow. I thought it was going to be harder to go past than it was. Ah, the excitement of the finish (memories of Guyancort).

As we made our way into Toronto, Peter was en route taking our picture. He would speed off ahead off us to another corner to take more pictures. I felt like I was in the Tour, although riding at 25 km/hr, a wee bit slower than the Tour riders. It was nice to arrive at Queens Park and finish.

I would like to thank Peter and Larry for driving me back to Mississauga as I was not looking forward to retracing the route home.

All in all it was a great route and weekend of challenging riding. Although it was not TOT, MBM or PBP, it was a great route with the added challenge of the ferry schedule.

Remember a ride is not always judged by the distance and elevation of the climbs, but by the friendships bonded during challenging times, wonderful views and memories shared. Thanks to all who made this a wonderful weekend, Larry, Jaye, Oliver, Peter, Peggy, Phil, Chris & Martin.

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The Girdle: Full Report
by Oliver Moore

It's very hard to compare rides, since one's experience (enjoyment?) is based on static and changing factors. The actual terrain will likely not be different from one weekend to the next, one year to the next. Weather conditions, though, can range widely, as can psychological factors as small as the disappearance of an ice-cream shop that once made a given ride all the more pleasant.

Attempting to compare the incomparable, I would say that (assuming roughly similar weather) Toronto-Ottawa-Toronto is tougher than Paris-Brest, which is probably a bit tougher than the Lake Ontario Girdle. Terrain and weather alone cannot define a ride, though, since other factors are almost as important. For example, the level of official support in France was outstanding (and Peter and Peggy, despite their heroic efforts, simply could not match the work of hundreds of volunteers running non-stop for four days), and the side-of-the-road encouragement pulled me through many a rough moment.

But in the case of this past weekend, weather trumps all other considerations, and I have little hesitation in saying that it was the toughest ride I've done. The 80-kilometre stretch from St. Catherines to Ancaster was my own private Rwanda, a one-man Bataan death march which brought my spirits just about as low as they've ever been on the bike. Riding atop the escarpment - south and west, south and west, all the while into a hot SW wind - eating great gulps of smog and humidity, feeling absurd that I'd done only 120K out of a 300K day ... and that it was already 4 in the afternoon. A low point indeed.

I ate gargantuantly in Ancaster, the first solid food I'd had since breakfast (except for four bananas, a Snickers bar, a Clif bar and an ice-cream cone), and felt much better after that. I called my girlfriend to say I'd be home in four hours and set out into the dying light. As it turned out, I was only 30 minutes off in that estimate, most of which I spent eating potato chips in Mississauga and puzzling over some of the instructions towards the end of the route. My speed picked up dramatically when my fevered brain decided that someone was shooting at me, but dropped off again when I remembered that normal people don't mark Dominion Day by riding around Lake Ontario, they celebrate it by setting off fireworks

Actually inside and sitting on a padded couch not long after 1 o'clock, I was very pleased to have participated in the ride, very happy to be finished it, and very unhappy that I had to get up at 6a.m. for work.

High points:

just missing the ferry in Kingston and being forced to loll over a long meal and half-litre of red wine while waiting for the next one

steak and eggs for breakfast in Cape Vincent, after a gentle spin and a pleasant ferry ride

buying a large ice-cream cone not long after Woolcott (2nd day) and realising that a large ice-cream cone comes with four scoops

the group of squealing children in Wilson (3rd day) who agreed to hose me down

the conspicuous lack of invasive scrutiny at either border crossings

getting six hours sleep each night

managing to get home without finding out who won the World Cup final, and having made sure a friend was taping it for me

being part of a good group of bicyclers who saw the absurdity of such a ride and obviously revelled in it

Less high points:

losing my way repeatedly in the first 80 kilometres

a near door-prizing in tight traffic approaching Cobourne

the hill out of Fair Haven (just after the half-way point) which would have been right at home on the escarpment. My vision hazed, dimmed and then darkened as my eyes fluttered shut for what felt like a very long moment before I finally managed to pry them open

a large swimming pool in Sterling (2nd day) which I couldn't jump into, but which the owner was most inconsiderately not using himself

the border crossing at Queenston - riding on the closed highway (sign = 'Pedestrians, bicycles, horses prohibited'), jumping the median twice and becoming ever-more frustrated with taking close to an hour to cover what was officially only 5.6 kilometres

roughly 200 kilometres of headwind on the third day

sand on the road during one of the last stretches of dark road before Mississauga (we might want to bring future riders in on Lakeshore)

Over all, The Girdle is a marvellous addition to the club's repertoire and I would like to thank my road companions, our valiant helpers Peter and Peggy and most of all those (Ken? Alan? Phil? etc?) who spent the time putting this monster together

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