Humberstone

I thought a drag show in Toronto's "Crews & Tangos", would set me up for some Sat night giggles, but with 3 hen parties in it by 8pm...I decided against it in favour of "Woody's & Sailors". It seems Toronto's alternative scene hasn't been immune to the global pain of Covid and like most cities has had to adapt for survival.
Woody's was a big place, multiple bars, and a mixed 'family' atmosphere of twinks, otters, bears and drag queens. Fun night; not much dancing though (sorry Effia!), but I'd decided returning to my WS host worst for wear seemed a bit rude.

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After a couple of great nights in what would be my last big city for over a thousand miles, I packed up and, (against my inner compass), headed east - I couldn't come all this way and miss Niagara Falls.

Blocking out the bus-loads of tourists, the casinos, the Irish bars and the endless ker-ching of enterprises clinging to her coattails, Niagara was thunderously awesome; I took the obligatory photos, doffed my helmet to her, and peddled on.

Days passed in a whirlwind of WS hosts as I zoomed first through Hamilton, stopping to swim in Lake Ontario and soak up the sun beneath the huge electricity pylons that stride unfittingly down the beach. I waved across the river at the Americans in Buffalo prior to spinning on to Fort Eiri and Port Colbourne before finally heading westbound, up to Brantford, Elmira and Kincardine.

Full steam ahead.

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Stopped in Cambridge for lunch and started building my usual ham and cheese wraps on a park bench by the river when an old guy circled me twice pretending not to look directly over. Without invitation he sat himself down and, in the tone of a disapproving parent weary at their son's exploits, said *Where you going now then?". There followed an odd exchange of words... more of an interview than a conversation. I'm becoming happy to talk to anyone these days, but this was a little creepy.

For anyone who's never toured on a bike, I should explain the unbelievable parallel universe that opens up when you arrive on, or are by, a bike stacked with panniers, water bottles, fuel containers and navigation equipment. Through your bike you become some sort of social magnet; people flock to you, eager to find out how this curious-looking nomad escaped the everyday to find themself on some kind of mysterious quest, and they can't resist but ask.

This guy was different. It felt like, were I to accept an open-topped drink from him I might wake up in a pit in his basement being told "it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again". Lunchtime was over. I packed up and bid farewell to him and his perfectly painted toenails.

As I cycled out of town, I was overtaken by a packed yellow school bus and a child yelled out the window to me "Your Mom!"

Cambridge ... characterfulRead more