DAY ONE - TORONTO TO PORT HOPE - 112 kms.

July 23rd, 2006

Today we left!! Obviously I made it, as I'm writing this down. Still in shock. Where to begin? Well, I was up (I think) at around five o'clock this morning, as I was just too jittery to sleep. I showered, got cleaned up, ate as much as I dared (including three Pepto Bismol tablets, I wasn't risking a mutineering stomach this morning!) and got the last bit of stuff done. Powdered the tubes for the tires, coloured the maps and looked quietly out of my window at Wellesley St., trying not to think of what I was about to do.

I got to Cawthra Park early, people were there, I signed in, and tried to eat a bit of a muffin. Nothing doing. Then I realized as I was putting my bike up against the fence, ( so I could walk around) that I had forgotten my bike gloves. Shit. Did I need them? I've never used them before. But you know how sore the palms of your hands can get, and this will be a long haul. Better go get them. So I bounded off on my bike, back for home, left the bike in the lobby, ran upstairs, grabbed them, ran back, jumped on my bike and raced back. All in fifteen minutes. So much for a quiet start to the day. My adrenaline was now officially set on HIGH. Good thing too, as I just got back when Mom and Wayne came walking up to me, all excited and full of hugs. I was expecting her of course, but what a thrill. I'm so glad she's there to see this. I wish Dad and Todd could have made it, but I know they're there in spirit and will be following my every move for the next six days. Mom is more than enough. She was positively GLOWING. I haven't seen her that psyched about anything in years! I think she was more excited than I was. She was practically bouncing! And looked gorgeous of course. How anybody can look that good at this hour of the day is beyond me. I'll bet she didn't sleep a wink from excitement, and was up like a shot at five, raring to go. Unlike me, up at five and shaking with nerves. Maybe I should send her instead. And Wayne, poor guy, what a good sport, up at an ungodly hour to drive in with Mom to see me off. What a mensch. So sweet.

Lots of excitement in the air. All of those jerseys, and the aura in the air, its like a fever, laughing, yelling, an indescribable joyous kind of rush. It left me breathless, and I posed for pictures, looking positively goofy I'm sure. Mom was beaming. And then Victor and James and Scotty showed up, completely surprising me, and then Ron came and Anita! Such dear, good friends. All of them joking about being up at such an ungodly hour. Victor even ran back home to fetch his camera since Mom forgot hers. The hullabaloo was endless, and then finally they called us all in front of the AIDS Memorial to get us underway. A couple of speeches, group photographs, (I got in front, God knows HOW I managed that!) and then Lucinda and Walter spoke, and Lucinda made a lovely speech about why we were there, invoking the memory of those we've lost, and making it all so dear, funny and intensely moving. And just as she (and we) bowed our heads for a moment of silence, I looked up, just in time to see a large Monarch butterfly fly right over her head and through the balloon rainbow. A good omen.

(What was more amazing was that for the next two days, eighteen Monarch butterflies flew right across my bike path as I was riding. And who says we don't have angels looking out for us? You just have to know where to look...)

We finally lined up, two by two, and I was beside a very nice guy named Steve, and we biked down Church St., to people cheering, and Ron and Victor took my picture, and then onto Gerrard and then down Yonge St. As we got to Yonge and King, Mom and Wayne pulled up beside us and waved. I watched as they drove off to breakfast, grateful they were there, but wistful that they were leaving. I wanted suddenly for them to see all of this as I saw it.

Then for me, the ride began in earnest. This was it!!!

It was a beautiful, sunny day and it was hilly, and it was fun. I rode part of the way with a guy named Jason who had these fantastic banners he spent months making that he attached to his bike. It must have been terribly heavy, but he did it anyway. The one he had the first day was a beautiful white one, trimmed in feathers, with a giant AIDS ribbon in the middle of it. Everyone was so psyched and happy. I couldn't stop grinning. You could argue that it was the exhaust, but I don't think so. In what seemed like no time at all, our first break came up in a lovely little park in a suburb, and there I was munching sundried tomato tuna out of a can. I didn't think I'd like it, but then I remembered Auntie Mame's quote about "Pure Protean", and so I ate it all up. I only stopped for about ten minutes or so, enough time to rehydrate, and then I got back on the bike. The ride wasn't too hard, it was long, and there were quite a few hills, but always the breaks, and surprises along the way made up for it. Like the family in Pickering who stopped by the side of the highway, and handed us popsicles, and so many people cheering us on, en route. Fabulous incentives to keep pedalling, as if we weren't psyched enough already. Plus the marvellous roadie crews who kept ahead of us with cheers and drinks and directions if we needed them. What encouragement. Finally got to lunch, and ate with Deb and Jodi and had a lovely time under a tree gabbing. Lunch was fabulous, salads, sandwiches, cold drinks! Heaven. God knows, I don't eat this well at home. Stayed for almost an hour. Finally the three of us left, and not long after, we noticed storm clouds on the horizon. "Oh well," I thought, "I've avoided rain thus far, I guess I'll be paying for it now." But nothing too bad hit us. Just a mild spraying, really. I've had worse soakings from water guns.

We were about to enter a bike path near Darlington, when Jodi got stung with something. Fortunately, the roadie crew was nearby, so they took a look at it. Deb and I stopped, and then thought to keep going, figuring Jodi would catch up if it wasn't serious, and would get driven on ahead if it was. Sure enough, trouper that she is, she caught up, and we kept on going. At one point, we thought we were lost, (just as it started to rain again) but a nice guy pulled over and told us he had sent another lot on ahead, and that we were on the right path. Our last break, by the lake in still more rain, but not too bad, and we we got dried off as the sun came out and we were on our way again. The last 20 or so kms were very hilly, and some of the roads were very narrow. For some reason I thought of Ireland or Scotland, and remembered Jodi telling me about the narrow roads there. Very beautiful countryside here though, and after awhile I took off my laughable raincoat as it was really just a drycleaning baggie masquerading as a raincoat, and it was sweltering to boot. I didn't care if it rained again, but I'd rather be wet than shrinkwrapped. At any rate, up some more hills, and over a few dales, and then down a kind of desolate country road, only to see a bunch of people on either side of the road cheering us on, saying "Only a bit farther!" What a treat! And sure enough, they were right! I turned the corner (and walked my bike in, it was very sandy, evidently Aidan had wiped out riding in) and there I was at the Haskell's farm. A lovely couple who had volunteered the use of their fields for us to stay in that first night. Its people like that whom you don't hear about (like the ones cheering on the roadsides) who really help make this sort of thing possible. At any rate, it was a beautiful place, and I managed to get my tent up and changed before I caught the bus to the Y for a shower, and then I got back just in time to eat. Three whole chicken breasts and salad at a clip. I was starving. I went around to find James, and hung out with him and several of his friends and teased him about his tent, ("WHAT'S THIS? No chrome and patent leather? What goes on?") Poor James. He'll never invite me to anything ever again. Jodi and David much fun as always, and finally I went back to my tent, bundled myself into my sleeping bag, and was asleep by around ten. It got dark early. I woke up in the middle of the night, momentarily confused and cold, and wondering where the hell I was. Then I heard the coyotes cry and I remembered. Felt much better. A sight more comforting than police and ambulance sirens at three in the morning. Still and all, as beautiful as it was, I couldn't help but think that I never did care much for noisy neighbours. Lupine or otherwise. They weren't scary at all, but I DID have to sleep. Oddly enough, if you listen, (and how can you not?) you notice that amidst the kind of mournful beauty of it, that they really are talking, and one song is different from the next. And you can distinguish between the dogs answering and the other coyotes. Two different languages. Thrilling. They have different rhythms in them. Butterfly angels, and now coyote lullabyes. We really ARE being watched over aren't we? But I'm not complaining. Good omens on the first day. Hidden spirits to keep an eye on us.