The following is a selection from journals written by past participants of the Tour du Canada.
J.Y. Tour du Canada 2003 – "Day 5 - Spences Bridge - Merritt
Day 5 was a 80 km ride from Spences Bridge to Merritt and the scenery was just beautiful. The rain stopped at about 0930 - just as we finished packing the truck and hit the road. We traveled along the Nicola Valley with lots of climbs. Just outside Merritt two children had set up a lemonade/Gatorade/fruit juice stand. We stopped and had an interesting chat with everyone. This is an annual event for the family and it was a real treat. We then had to pick up the tempo a bit because the sky was turning black. We got to the camping spot just in time for a cloudburst. It rained again - not a problem because everything was wet anyways. As I sit and type this the rain has stopped, it is cloudy and windy. Tomorrow will be a rest day. I need to do a washing as well as spend a bit of time cleaning and lubricating the bicycle. Monday we are off to Kamloops. Today also marked the birthday of Michael Wagner (he is 6ft 7inches and probably 230 lbs) a German student. He is turning 20. I have sweaters much older than that. Today on the ride we caught up to him and he rode with us for a while - in all innocence he asked if we liked to ride that slow. We were in the hills and rolling along on the flats in the mid to high 20s. We mentioned there was a bit of an age difference and in fact 28 kph was not really that slow to us. He said he understood but I am not sure - talk about a generation gap - well in this case a couple or three generations. "
L. M. Tour du Canada 2001 Day 0 - June 27 - Orientation Day.
"I wake up at 5:15am to the sound of rain drops hitting the window. I think to myself, "I'm really going to miss this bed". Cycling in the rain is tolerable but camping in the rain will take some adjustment. However, that's what I'm here for. This trip is all about endurance and the ability to cope with bad weather, tough hills and constant physical exertion for 66 days in a row. Despite all that, or perhaps because of all that, it can be a lot of fun. With a good attitude and a decent bike, any reasonably fit person can do this from start to finish.
The orientation session offers very detailed information about the daily grind. Breakfast is always served between 7 and 8, so if you want anything to eat before heading out (and I can't imagine why you wouldn't) you have to stick around until at least 7. I plan to get an early start most days. That will be easy to do this week especially as I am still on Atlantic time.
The truck is quite spacious and easily accommodates the camping gear and luggage of 25 people. We are each given two small baskets for personal items like clothes, a shower kit and a mess kit. Lunch is then served from the truck. It's a make-your-own-sandwich setup, but with no meat. Peanut butter is something we'll end up eating just about every day. It's filling, it's cheap and it's packed with protein.
Orientation wraps up at 4:15pm so five of us crowd into a cab and go downtown to get some last minute items at Mountain Equipment Co-op. I finally complete my bicycle maintenance kit by buying a spoke wrench.
Dinner is simple yet nutritious - a hefty portion of spaghetti. It will fuel us for that all-important first ride tomorrow. As for tonight, this is my last night in a real bed. But who knows, maybe my camp mattress will do the job. After all, if I'm really tired, and I mean really tired, I could probably sleep anywhere. "
T. S - Tour du Canada 2002
"There were several different riding styles on the trip, fast, touring, slow and all over the place. Initially I started out riding at about a touring pace, just cruising along getting the feel of the bike and the surrounds. After a couple of weeks I had moved up to a fast pace, and it stayed that way for a week or so. I was hammering the days and not really seeing much, so in Quetico National Park, I went for a quiet walk on my own, watched a beautiful sunset, with just enough breeze to keep the mozzies at bay, and I took a look at what I was doing and what others were doing and realised that I was taking this riding a little too seriously, the touring side had almost disappeared for me. So at the half way point, just outside Thunder Bay I returned to my touring pace, I stopped and smelt the roses a little more often. The riding up till now had been fun and I had accomplished a lot over the past thirty-one days, but I wanted to experience the ride more. "
G. G - Tour du Canada 2000 Day 15 Drumheller to Youngstown 140.4 kms. Avs. 24.6 km/h
"It was another damp morning as we packed up the tents in Drumheller and headed East. Headwinds and heat were the order for the day.
It was mostly rolling hills with fields and fields of Canola. Towns and water stops were now few and very far between. A little more planning has to be done.
Water is life out here and you really need to be prepared. I carry two large water bottles and an extra 1 litre container in my rack pack. This is sufficient for most purposes, as long as I remember to keep them filled whenever I can. Water quality can vary a lot from town to town or house to house. Always check with someone where you are getting your water from to make sure it is safe to drink. Not all of it is. Most of the group carry Camelbak water containers on their back for easy access. Myself, I prefer not to have anything on my back.
We rolled into Youngstown with almost no water left in our bottles. Now, if you are looking for Youngstown on a map, look hard. It's not a big town, but a small town with a big heart. We stayed at the Curling Club in town. Well, I should say some people stayed in the Curling Club. It was a real scorcher by the end of the day and a lot of people preferred to be indoors camped out on in the cool area where the ice normally is. Myself, I preferred being outdoors. For showers, the town opened up the public school for us to use the facilities there. The people in the town put on a potluck dinner for us that night. What a great bunch!
Do you want to hear about my saddle sores now? I'm bringing this up, because it is important. Let's just say that a lot of people got them, and not many wanted to talk about them. When you are riding a long time in the saddle without getting up or out of it, you can develop saddle sores. I think I have ridden about 100,000 kms in my life and this is the first time I have ever had saddle sores. I won't go into details, but Bag Balm seemed to help a lot of people out of the discomfort. "
K. A. - Tour du Canada 2000 Day 23: July 21 Minnedosa to Portage La Prairie 86 miles (139 km)
"Two wonderful days in a row. Pretty soon I'll start expecting it.
Herb, Jeff, Catherine and I woke up early to make breakfast. Our designated fare is oatmeal, also referred to as porridge, so we made a potfull (Is that a word? My spell-checker doesn't like it). In addition we went a little wild and cooked up some hash brown potatoes and scrambled eggs. To give an idea of the quantity of food we consume, here's what it took to make breakfast. To make the oatmeal, we boiled 2 gallons of water and used as much oatmeal as you'd find in a big Quaker Oats canister. We peeled, chopped, boiled, and browned 10 pounds of potatoes. We scrambled 6 dozen eggs. There was some oatmeal left over because we're getting a little tired of it, but everything else disappeared.
Jeff and I rode sweep for the day. Herb headed out solo for the first time because Catherine needed to take a few days off. We were so slow getting out of camp that the truck left the parking lot before we did. It was a beautiful, warm morning. The road was flat and straight and we had a slight tailwind What more could we ask?
About an hour into the ride we came to the town of Neepawa, Manitoba, the hometown of author Margaret Laurence. One of her better known titles is The Stone Angel. (Dad, are you familiar with any of her works?) We took a slight detour to visit her house which has been turned into a museum. It does a nice job of chronicling her life and the period in which she wrote. We also visited the cemetery up the road to see the real stone angel that inspired the title of the book. Now I'll have to go read it.
Did I mention that the road was straight? There were hardly any bends in the road today. Our toughest decision was whether to take the route that went down a dirt road for about 9 miles (15 km) or take the alternate route that put us on the Trans Canada Highway with no shoulder. We took the TCH because we had reports from the group ahead that the dirt was deep. Jeff and I did the final few kilometers ("clicks" or "klicks" in Canadian) and rolled into camp around 4:30 p.m. Not a bad day in all. We spent 7 1/2 hours on the road, with only 5 hours of actual riding time. Some of the missing time was spent in Neepawa, some at food stops, and about 30 minutes was a nap on the side of the road. One woman stopped to ask if we were okay.
After dinner a few of us went into town to see a movie. It was Friday night after all. (I have no concept of what day of the week it is. The differentiating factor is whether it's a day or a rest day.) We ended the evening by going to my very first Tim Hortons. It's the Canadian version of Dunkin Donuts. Jeff told the woman at the counter that this was my first time in a Timmy's. She looked at me like I was from Mars. He laid it on thicker by referring to the newspaper article that appeared that day about our ride. I paid for a donut and she gave me a free cup of coffee. (Thanks Jody, I hope your boss doesn't read this). Both the coffee and the chocolate glazed donut were very good."
A. M. - Tour du Canada 2000 Day 55: Riviere-Ouelle to Trois-Pistoles, QC August 22, 2000
To achieve all that's possible, we must attempt the impossible.– unknown"Today is a short ride that starts and ends under sunny skies. The morning dawns clear and cool at about 14C and I head off alone about 15 minutes after Jules. Immediately out of camp, I stop alongside the river to take some pictures of the upthrust slabs of rock jutting out of the shore, and running parallel to the river for quite some distance. These rocks are evidence of the faulting that occurred along the escarpments that form the banks of this rift valley through which the St. Lawrence flows.
Onto Route 132, I spin through St-Denis and catch up with Karl who's just stopped to take some roadside pictures. We cycle on together at a leisurely pace as the road winds across the very flat floor of this river valley. This is very pretty countryside -- we often have sweeping vistas from small rises that show us the river, the high escarpment and backing hills on the north shore across the river, and the escarpment to our right that forms the eastern ridge of this valley.
Through St-Denis and Kamouraska we spin, through land used for dairy farming and grains -- fields of wheat, barley and oats spread out on both sides. We stop so that Jules can take a picture of one of the many roadside shrines, and his back tire flats as he gets back on. The moral of this story? Don't stop to take pictures of crosses – there's no insurance value there! Once the flat's repaired, we're back on the road and joined by Karl who comes speeding up from behind.
Entering Notre-Dame du Portage, we take a little detour, following the TDC map, and see that it avoids us having climb a very large hill. It also gives us a very scenic winding route along the riverbank, past small houses with an abundance of flower beds, glorious in the full morning sun, and past many bed'n'breakfast places and small auberges. On the north side of town we come to a large statue of a pioneer carrying a canoe in portage fashion. This is a memorial and marker of the "Portage du Temiscouata", an Indian portage route from the St. Lawrence to Acadia that was adopted by the military in 1783. I'll have to check the map. The portage route must climb quite steeply up the escarpment ridge here and link up with a river on the top that flows eastward into New Brunswick.
After passing through Riviere du Loup, Karl decides to press on ahead, while Jules and I continue a steady and leisurely pace, spinning through St-Arsenne, Isle-Vert and finally into Trois-Pistole. Most of this part of the route is on side roads off Route 132. Autoroute 20 ended in Riviere du Loup, and now there's heavy traffic on Route 132, and long stretches with little or no shoulder. It isn't fun on the short stretches where we do have to use the highway.
Entering Trois-Pistoles, we descend a long, fast hill to cross the river, and then turn off the highway onto local roads and the Littoral Basque bike path. At one point we climb a hill that allows us a scenic outlook over the St. Lawrence and the confluence of Riviere Trois-Pistoles – another chance for pictures. Near the end of the bike path we descend a big hill in gravel, and my back tire flats. I guess that's fair – Jules and I each flat once today, and we've each got only three in over 6,000 km. Can't complain at that!
In Trois Pistoles, we stop at a roadside cafe for lunch, and are joined by Dave just as we're finishing. After visiting a dairy bar for ice-cream, we spin the remaining five kilometres to our campsite for the night. We're in early enough to get our tents set up and get showered and organized before starting our cook crew duties for the evening.
The campsite is on the shore of the St. Lawrence. The opposite shore is about 20 km away to the northwest, yet we can clearly see that the shoreline is very high and rugged there. The tide is out right now and about 100m of tidal flats are exposed. As we're making dinner, the tide comes flooding in, rising at a rate of about 1 cm every 20 seconds. By the time we're finished dinner the tide is in -- the tidal range appears to be close to a metre. While this estuary is still called the St. Lawrence, and we're still a few hundred kilometers from it's mouth, this is really more ocean-like than river-like. It's a very beautiful setting.
Tomorrow may be a tough day. We've got 193 km to go, following the river for a while and then turning inland to climb over the escarpment and up onto the spine of the Gaspe. Our destination is Causapscal, about halfway across the base of the Gaspe. Then the next day we descend into New Brunswick. We're cycling across Canada! We've come 6,200 km from Vancouver and have about 1,100 km and four provinces left to go. What a life! "
J. A. Tour du Canada 2001 Jour 66 24 août 2001 Murray Beach, NB - Charlottetown, IPE Kilométrage prévu 73 km. Kilométrage réalisé 81,77 km. Température entre 18 oC et 19 oC (en oubliant le facteur vent).
"Gros vent de face, averses de pluie, très froid. Nous sommes parties à 7 h 45. Il pleuvait. Nous n'avions que 12 km à faire pour nous rendre au Pont de la Confédération pour traverser à l'Île-du-Prince-Edouard. Sue, Michael, Megan et François attendaient déjà le véhicule qui doit transporter les cyclistes et leurs vélos, car il est interdit de circuler à vélo sur le pont. Lorsque le véhicule est arrivé, nous avons installé les six vélos, incluant le tandem, sur la remorque. Pendant ce temps, Megan, François et Sue dansaient le cancan. Le chauffeur nous a ensuite annoncé qu'il n'y avait que six places dans la camionnette. Nous étions sept. Sue et Terry se sont portées volontaires pour faire du pouce. Elles n'ont pas attendu longtemps, car la deuxième voiture s'est arrêtée pour les embarquer. Elles sont arrivées en même temps que nous à l'Île-du-Prince-Edouard.
Nous nous sommes ensuite mises en route. Le vent soufflait de partout, mais la plupart du temps il était de face. Nous nous sommes arrêtées à Crapaud (kilomètre 27) pour prendre un café et nous réchauffer pendant qu'il pleuvait.
Le vent poussait très fort, c'était difficile. Après avoir parcouru 55 km, soit à « Wheatley River », juste avant de grimper une bonne côte, deux gros chiens « Rottweiler » se sont mis à ma poursuite. J'étais sur mon élan, car je venais de descendre une côte, mais j'ai dû accélérer quand même. J'avais tellement peur. J'ai crié « Non » et tranquillement ils m'ont laissée. À ma grande surprise, ils ne s'en sont pas pris à Terry et Diane qui étaient derrière moi. Plusieurs cyclistes ont vu ces chiens, mais ces derniers ne les ont pas poursuivis.
Nous sommes revenues au camping à 16 h 30. Nous étions sur le bord de la mer, à 25 km de Charlottetown, et il faisait très froid. Nous avons décidé de prendre un taxi et d'aller coucher à Charlottetown. Megan était avec nous.
Le soir, nous sommes allées veiller au « Peak's Quay ». Nous y avons rencontré Jill, Joël, Vivian et Ian. J'ai été étonnée par la grandeur de la piste de danse. Elle occupait une bonne partie de la superficie de la discothèque. De plus, j'ai remarqué que les gens ne fumaient pas, ce qui rendait la place plus confortable même si nous étions entassés. Nous (les sept cyclistes) avons dansé jusqu'à la fermeture à 2 h du matin. "
D. P. - Tour du Canada 1996 THE MARITIMES– The Mother of All Hills
"A very quiet but hilly back road led us to Campbellton, New Brunswick. Here we stopped for lunch, eating our usual PB sandwiches, then getting back into the saddle for the afternoon ride. During lunch the weather changed for the better, the sun came out and the temperature climbed into the low 20's. Again today, though, the headwind continued. We noted a subtle difference in the appearance of homes, shops, etc. in New Brunswick. We also discovered that while French was still the language of choice everyone easily switched into nearly faultless English to converse with us.
Entering the town of Dalhousie a detour interrupted our route, directing us down a slight hill to the Bay of Chaleur's shore. After riding for a few blocks along the water's edge we turned inland. Confronting us was a WALL. This was a total and unexpected surprise! The road appeared to go straight up, and for much too great a distance. This was, without doubt, the steepest long-hill I had ever looked at from the saddle of a bicycle. Turning to James I said "I'm gone," and picked up my pace to attack this thing. Mentally assessing the hill, I knew I would need to stand for much of it. I guessed the visible crest to be 700 metres away; the hill must have been at least a 15% grade. I wasn't long in deciding that it wouldn't be worth the extra effort to remain seated for even the first bit of the climb. Seeing a semi-trailer forced to come to a full stop midway up the hill and shift into its lowest gear before continuing to crawl upwards didn't boost my confidence any.
With a game plan in my head I shifted to my second-lowest gear on the middle chainring, a 38 x 23 combination, as the road went vertical. When standing on the pedals in this gear I had always been able to climb anything—optimistically I started out to do it again. Initially I was climbing OK, rocking back and forth, keeping up a good rhythm and fair enough speed. But it was a long way. The top was still away up there and my legs were letting me know they had limits. Of course I was huffing, puffing and panting like an old steam engine but I was truly confident of my fitness. There was still room to slow the pace if I became desperately out of breath. However, this was taking longer than anticipated and by now my quads were on fire. Something had to change or Don wasn't going to climb this sucker.
Knowing I had one lower gear (38 x 26) I could shift to and still avoid using Granny-gears I mentally rehearsed how to make the shift. Only one chance would be possible. If I messed it up I would immediately slow to a stop, be totally unable to keep pedalling or change gears, and with my feet clipped into the pedals I'd fall over. Accepting this as a very likely possibility I went over the sequence in my head: sit down, push the shift lever on the down-tube one click down while at the same time easing power to the pedals. Allow the chain to move over. Then, when the chain has locked in, stand-up and recover speed and power. OK… Go! Sit. Shift. Stand-up and pedal.
Yea! I made it and I'm still moving at a fair speed. Now just pedal to the top. By now I was about ¾ of the way up. There was enough strength in my legs to climb this percentage of grade, I knew, but I was definitely tiring and my thighs were screaming at me to quit. The thought of quitting and just walking the remainder even crossed my mind. But then "no Granny-gears "and "ride every inch of the way " burned into my mind, and I kept grinding upward. On steep grades, accompanying every downward leg-stroke occurs a strong, opposing upward pull by the same-side arm, adding significant power to the stroke. For the first time that I can ever remember now even my arms were starting to tire. Then the crest was only 50 feet away. I knew I could do it. Grunt, grunt. Pant, pant. Over the top, and Yahoo!—I was up!
"
M. L. - Tour du Canada 1997 DAY 66 (LAST DAY) Saturday 30 August. Argentia to St. John's, Newfoundland Distance: 140 km Duration: 12:15 ( 8:15 @ 16.7 km/hr + 4:00 breaks ) Climb: 856 m / Drop: 704 m
"We awoke to the ominous sounds of wind and rain. Having been without significant precipitation since late June, the locals welcomed this ocean storm. In truth, neither had the traveling band of TDC cyclists: only 3 half-days of rain and virtually none at night during 65 days on the road. It seemed that fate was now making us pay dearly for our prior good fortune. Fierce easterly headwinds would be blowing heavy rain into our faces all day long. Around 7:00, we sombrely began cycling into the most adverse weather conditions of the entire trip.
According to Environment Canada, the winds reached speeds of 67 km/hr today. I didn't know this statistic at the time of course, but I knew that I had never experienced headwinds even half as strong as these, and never so laden with rain. I reasoned that if after 2 months of outdoor cycling I wasn't ready for these conditions, I never would be. For nearly a hour, "fast" Mark, Greg and myself fought our way through 12 brutal kilometres to the first restaurant we saw. (The colloquial use of the term "brutal" is a distinct Canadianism, unknown to either the American or New Zealander among us.) We peeled off our outer layers and took stock of the situation. I ordered the heartiest breakfast on the menu (steak, eggs, toast, pancakes, etc.) and tried to psyche myself up for 120+ more grueling kilometres.
A little while later, Sam joined us, and then Thomas, Nicola and Rob. I had never seen Thomas so vocal. He was one of the strongest cyclists among us, but he argued persuasively that riding in these conditions was pure craziness. He had contacted a local courier who offered to take a small group of us along with our bikes to St. John's for $100. Thomas said that it boiled down to a question of common sense vs. pride. I could see his point. Sam and Nicola were considering it, and I was wavering, but I had never been so motivated. After all, it was the last day, and I had managed to cycle every inch of the way from Vancouver to this point.
I opened the front door and looked outside. Shrubs were waving wildly in the wind, pine trees were bent over diagonally, rain was pouring down in sheets, nearly on the horizontal. But it wasn't cold, traffic was light and the shoulders were good. I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. As I mounted my bicycle outside the restaurant, the proprietor warned that the winds would become stronger upon reaching the top of the long hill just ahead. And indeed they did. Every pedal stroke was hard work; the hills were the least of it. I remember looking at my speedometer while pedaling hard down a hill: 11 km/hr. Of course, downhills were the exception and big chunks of the day were spent at speeds as low as 7 km/hr.
At 40 km out, I developed a cramp in my right foot. No sooner had I stopped on the side of the highway to work it out than a helpful guy in a pickup truck offered me and my bike a lift. I declined, and in explaining my story to him, I reinforced my own determination to persevere. At 45 km, I hit the junction to Hwy. #1, the Trans-Canada. There I met up with Rick, Mandy, Braden and Nicola in a gas station restaurant. What a soggy, dazed bunch we were! They stopped for lunch, but with my belly still full of breakfast, I headed out into the blizzard after wolfing down a peanut butter sandwich. As soon as I stepped outside, I began shivering. The only way to stay warm was to hop on my bike and keep going. I pressed on, wind-whipped and wet. My face hurt from the sting of a thousand raindrop pricks. I was in the soup, as they say, and eventually I began to adapt to the harshness of my hostile environment. Apart from the hard work and physical discomfort, it felt good to be conquering such extreme elements. At around the 70 km point, the rain began to fade, and for a while, the wind did so as well.
The rest of the day's ride was no picnic – there were lots of hills and the headwinds returned with a vengeance, but the rain never regained the force of its earlier assault. I took a break in the town of Hollyrood, wringing out my socks in a convenience store washroom. At one point I felt like a character caught in a Hitchcock movie: everywhere around me were ordinary people carrying on with the details of their lives, oblivious to the drama of my situation.
As instructed on our map, we stopped at a Tim Horton's restaurant on the outskirts of St. John's. The initial plan was to congregate there and then head down to the waterfront as a group to dip our front wheels into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Following that, we were to ride victoriously up to the lighthouse at the top of Signal Hill, Canada's most easterly point. But there was to be no triumphant "Ride of the Valkyries" climax to the Tour du Canada this year. Drenched, exhausted and way behind schedule, everyone wanted to get to the hotel as soon as possible. So we skipped the dip, and made our way up the steep slopes of Signal Hill in small groups, taking pictures of each other on the foggy summit. In the end, 17 of us had completed the day's full distance on our own power.
Signal Hill is an historic spot, and I'm not just referring to our modest achievement of crossing the country on bicycles. The inventor Marconi conducted the first trans-Atlantic radio broadcast from this point in the early 1900s. The Battery Hotel lay near the base of the Hill. When I arrived there at 7:00, people had already begun dismantling and boxing their bikes for air travel. Mine would make the trip back to Toronto inside the truck, so I was spared this chore. I cleared out my belongings from the back of the truck, carrying them to my assigned room. I then jumped under a hot shower – I had been looking forward to it all day.
It was an uncharacteristically subdued group that gathered in the nondescript banquet cavern in the basement of the hotel shortly after 9:00 p.m. We seated ourselves around 3 circular tables for the occasion of our last meal all together. We congratulated each other, wished each other well, took lots of pictures, and raised our champagne glasses in heartfelt toasts. Matthew was presented with an engraved rosewood canoe paddle, a token of our thanks for his selfless assistance in troubleshooting and fixing our mechanical problems throughout the trip. Thomas presented a surrealistic drawing of a cyclist (incorporating some component of each rider) to the retirees among us. Jeff, our driver, was honoured by all for his unique combination of professionalism and laid-back style. We all recognized that his low-key approach to the challenges of the trip helped make for the best of all possible journeys. There was plenty of laughter as people stood up to recall their favourite "Jeff moment". We were loosening up a bit, and soon it was time for the final group photograph. David generously distributed Jeff's cigarettes for us to pose with, perfectly capturing the spirit of the moment. I finished the Tour du Canada feeling tired, moved and very satisfied."
published January 21, 2004
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