It is 6pm. The weather is uncharacteristically warm and humid. As I ride away and begin my saga, I instantly know that this is not going to work; I'm way overdressed and overheating within minutes. A quick stop to open all vents, peel down to just t-shirt under jacket, zipper partly open, and off I go. Much better!

As I gain distance from Montreal, I slowly attain a feeling of flow, but very little and very slowly. Somehow, it doesn't feel like I'm off to an exciting trip of discovery. This is strange because I normally trust my sense of intuition.
Hmmm. . . So I remind myself to be patient and not force things.

Riding past Ottawa, I go through light drizzle/rain. This will go on and off all night and is not much of a nuisance. The head wind however, is very strong. Gusting between 30-50mph, it is a westerly wind and I'm fighting it full on. Very dirty, eddy-driven air. It's noisy, turbulent and is creating a lot of lift as it tugs and batters my helmet. I have an effective Double Bubble windscreen, but with my tank bag in place it's difficult to completely hide from the flow. It feels and sounds like I'm riding at over 100mph.

When I left Montreal the temperature was a balmy/sticky 27C (80F). Now two and half-hours later, it has cooled significantly to about 7C (44F). I stop by a small town and ride up to an upscale Inn, the only open establishment around amidst these wide-open dark fields. It is highly illuminated and looks oddly out of place in this rural setting.

I need to use the rest rooms, re-adjust my clothing for the increasing cold, and eat some calories. I'm standing by my bike at the lobby entrance while munching on an energy bar and sipping water. I casually turn around and see a well-dressed couple in their sixties slowly exit.

There is something odd about them. Their steps seem laboured. At first I think the lady may not be in good physical health or be suffering from some disability. But as they slowly and with great difficulty walk past me, I realize that they are both sloshed out of their skulls.

She is leaning on him and he is leaning on her. Each step is an uncertain undertaking, moving slightly forward and slightly sideways and then an attempted correction. I incredulously watch them slowly make their shaky, fog-shrouded way towards their car. I'm standing there, water bottle in hand with my jaw dropped. I've stopped munching my energy bar.

I'm thinking that these people are someone's parents, and probably someone's grandparents. They could kill themselves right now or worse, kill someone else. And I'm a witness to it! Then I see others come out also lightly inebriated (the tail end of some party going on, it seems) and decide that this must be the law of the land here and that I should not concern myself. Still . . .

Bruno
Montreal, Canada