FUR TRADING IN THE HOUSE OF SPOONZ

Today I rode down to the humble dwelling of Mr. Wally Spoonz. We dignified his rare and beautiful  Motobecane with new whitewalls and a dead fox.















DOUBLE OR DIE?

A few months ago I put the idea in the heads of a few friends to do a double century (200 miles or 322 kilometers) in a day. I plotted a possible map just to see how far it actually would take us. Starting in downtown Winnipeg and looping around in a counter-clockwise direction through Whiteshell Provincial Park, then through Beausejour and back to Winnipeg fit the 200 mile criteria.



















I didn't feel absolutely serious about it until (to my surprise) a couple people actually jumped on board. Planning was kinda sparse, but it all came together in the last week as things often do. A few people dropped out due to other commitments, and after all, 200 miles in a day is quite a sphincter slenderizing proposition (say that ten times fast).

My plan was to build a bike especially for this endeavor, but Jamie Repa gave me a call with an offer I couldn't refuse: borrow and ride his fancy carbon bike. I dropped by Jamie's place a couple days before DOUBLE OR DIE, and he had it all ready for me. Now Jamie is a very trusting dude, and given my history of successfully double-biking (riding one bike while holding the stem of the other bike beside you and pulling it along), it seemed logical and safe for me ride my bike while double-biking his bike home. Well, about five blocks from home, a vehicle nearly side-swiped me and I had a slight twitch of the handlebar which caused the handlebars of the two bikes to tangle. Needless to say, I went down, but the crash was somewhat miraculous (for me anyways), because somehow I ejected completely from my bike, and landed on the non-drive side of Jamie's bike, gracefully coming to a stop about 10 feet later. As most cyclists know, crashing with the drive-side down is somewhat more expensive than crashing on the non-drive side, so I was immediately concerned that I had broken off some expensive bits. The bike faired surprisingly well with a scraped up rear derailleur, ripped leather saddle, broken carbon handlebar and a few other cosmetic scrapes and bruises. My bike: completely fine! I fixed everything the day before the ride. Sincere apologies James, eeesh!

So it came down to myself, Stéphane, and Stephen Flatracula to do the doubly deathly deed, with Da Frenchie and Vince keeping us fueled and safe with support vehicles.





Jean in control.
Karla drank Jack Daniels till 5:00 am and rode down to see us off.
We were feeling really good for most of the morning, while watching the sun rise through a crevasse in the clouds. The clouds hung over us all day and we didn't have to endure the sun directly, as it would have sucked away our water as fast as we consumed it.



The theme of the day!


Monster Flatracula leading out as usual.                                                                                                            


Our rescue pup Kaela.

Also the theme of the day!








Entering the Whiteshell Provincial Park.                                                                                                           














A black bear cub hiding in the shrubs.                                                                                                                




Exiting Whiteshell Provinicial Park, that's me in blue after a shot of Jack.                                                    



"It's this big..."                                                                                                   

It was really hazy in and around the Whiteshell, and we breathed in the smoke like champs.                 





























                                                                                                   

From this point on it was near impossible to keep up any consistent speed or cadence, although Flatracula was still hammering like he had a pound of bacon waiting for him at the next pit-stop. Also, Stéphane had been having knee problems since the Whiteshell, and my right achilles tendon had begun to ache and was getting progressively worse with every pedal stroke. The padded shorts that Katie picked up for me saved my ass, literally!

The locals in Beausejour gocked at us like Scotty had just beamed us down. I guess the fact that Stéphane and Flatracula were wearing tight shorts and I was ambling about like a cripple didn't help. Walking up the stairs to order my burger and fries at the local icecream bar was a chore. The locals also tried to impress us with their u-turn skills as we saw the same couple of cars roll up and down the street about a dozen times.

Once the sun set, my physical ability had almost completely diminished and only my mental stubbornness allowed me to keep turning over the pedals. It was about 12°C, but it felt a lot colder when coupled with our pain and exhaustion. 



Our time in the saddle! Add a few hours to account for our many stops.                                                     

So, DOUBLE OR DIE you ask? I say DOUBLE! Thank-you Stéphane for your pace and strength despite your knees exploding, and Flatracula you are a veritable monster. We could not have possibly done this without the guidance and support of Jean Da Frenchie (despite his two hours of sleep), and Vince who kept an eye on us and made sure we were safe. Thanks boys.


The vast majority of the photos were taken by Da Frenchie. Thanks dude!

VOLKSWAGEN & CUCUMBER

I spent the last few days at a beautifully secluded beach in northwestern Ontario that can only be reached with a 4 x 4, or a determined Volkswagen Jetta driver. Jonny managed to escape drowning this year, Chubbs got down with a swarm of hornets, DHO's car ate some rocks, or maybe vice versa, and Katie mastered the art of the PeeZee. Myself, it would seem that I got cold urticaria from the cool water and breeze, and baked my epidermis. Lindsay and Dana worked over a cucumber.



Photo: Belinda