For all of my playful hubris avoiding the monster storm yesterday, it’s siblings spawned overnight and had their way with me the next day. Unlike the singular-clearly defined storm the day before, these storms were embedded inside gray sheets of gloomy overcast. I had to laugh because the downpour was so intense and unrelenting that I bailed after 230 km. I rolled into Cold Lake, Alberta and quickly found another motel as early as 2:30 pm. My sheepish decision turned out to be the right one because after 9 hours of downpour even the locals were calling it unusually heavy rain for the region. Or to quote a local,’awful lousy, eh?’.
A drowned rat, I walked into the motel lobby and enjoyed a 45 minute conversations with a delightful young woman minding the front desk. A french teacher originally from Montreal she had just returned from an extended tour of Europe including much of Russia and Poland. This was her first day at the motel and was a little behind the curve. She would return to teaching come September. A self professed enthusiast of conversation she encouraged the discussion of many things. Cold Lake, European history, which American city she would prefer to settle in. Engaged to be married to a Russian born U.S. Airforce pilot the U.S. was in her future. Of course I saw him looking like a Bond villain with a revolver. Anyway, lucky man, she was very charming.
(Alas I can’t seem to help seeking the company of women. Is that so wrong?)
Afterwards I settled in and enjoyed the longer stay. I also got caught up on needed sleep.
One side effect of all this riding is my nerve damaged leg is not getting enough exercise. The sitting squats and ankle rolls I do while riding to avoid (76 deep vein thrombosis in the big parade) are not furthering my recovery. At at the end of the day when I finally start walking the unnerving feeling (no pun intended) is quite pronounced. A sort of wobbly feeling as I move.
I will have to overcome the fatigue and have more of a post ride exercise ritual. Then I can relax. Perhaps the mornings too.
Also while I’m kvetching I need to eat better. The last four days have had too much shit road food. Hard to avoid when the only option is the diner at the PetroCan.
Deep fried everything or iceberg lettuce, your choice…
Well, I will be in Regina in a few days and I know that city understand healthy eating so that should help.
Today my path takes me south. I tried to keep heading east but I hit road construction and with all that rain it was too muddy for me to continue. So south I go. The west winds are very strong. 40km/h gusting 60 km/h. With a southern tack the wind is hitting me broadside. It is so strong that I have had to hang my butt cheek and lean my shoulder off the upwind side of the bike just to keep from being blown into oncoming traffic. My neck muscles are sore as I write this at the Tim Hortons in Kindersley, Saskatchewan. I don’t mind. I think of it as good practice for the infamous Route 40 in southern Argentina, which I plan to tackle late next year.