Hello. Day 40. Port Huron to London, Ont. 83.2 miles. 1,365 feet of climbing. Temp on arrival: 74.
Today was a real slog. Double-digit winds straight at us or from 11:00. It might have been a pretty ride, but I had my eyes glued to the road or the wheel in front of me.
But it was fun at the beginning. The “authorities” closed the east-bound Blue Water Bridge for us, and a Michigan DOT truck escorted us across. Then we breezed through Immigration.
Here we are lined up at 6:30 ready to ride to the bridge.
Spotted this tractor in the country. Ontario is elevating farming to a new level.
My dad was born 30 miles from here, in Stratford, home of the renowned Shakespeare Festival. My mother was also Canadian—born in Montreal, as was I.
For many summers, we would visit our grandmother and our parents would take us to see plays. And we would canoe and picnic on the Avon River.
After 18 years in the US, our parents returned to Canada and settled in London. Dad was the Dean of Education at the University of Western Ontario, and Dave got his Bachelor’s in music there.
I was already in college when they moved to London, so it never really felt like “home” to me. (My growing-up years were in Middletown, CT).
Dave and I wanted to see their house (shown at top of this post), so we Uber’d from our hotel, knocked on the door and got lucky. A young-ish couple and their teen-age sons were home, and after we explained our raison d’etre for being there, they graciously showed us around.
So much has changed it was hardly recognizable.
I thought I might feel some pangs of nostalgia, but frankly, it was so different, that mostly what I felt was curious, and then I was done. Closed the book.
Another Q and A:
Inquiring minds want to know: how’s your butt?
This might be TMI, but I’ve developed a callous on one side. It doesn’t hurt.
So, all things considered, my butt and my saddle are on reasonably good terms.
Sorry, no ride video today.
Tomorrow, 69 miles to Brantford, with the same winds in the forecast…