I woke to a flood of memories. David and Wendy’s home on Howe Island has been a gathering place for Will and I for almost two decades, and I was entranced in its familiar warm ambiance. As if being pulled by a siren song, I quietly stepped outside to witness the sun blink away sleepiness over the St. Lawrence River. Loon calls echoed on the gentle morning currents as the skies slowly awakened.

It’s hard not to get swept up in moments like this, being transported forward and back between memories of past visits and the moment unfolding before me. I’ve been here before, a journey with an entourage of friends to watch my husband perform music on this very spot. There was an echoing thread connecting those two worlds.

As I stood there, spellbound by the past and present, I became overwhelmed with gratitude that David and Wendy, the alchemists behind all this wonder, continue to open their doors for us. Though this trip was something different than the decades past. It exposed a different part of me, one they had not yet experienced. Yet somehow they always answer the call with an unabridged “Yes! Come by! We would love to see you.” So down the road we go to experience Home on Howe, if even for a moment.

I came back indoors to a bustling kitchen. Care Bear was making oatmeal and the Maple Oreos had materialized from JaMay’s triangle bag. “I baked you some cookies!” she exclaimed excitedly. David rolled his eyes, but quickly changed his tune when he tasted them. They are actually very good. We gifted him with the remainder of our Maple Oreo stash and went outside to load up our bikes. It was a bittersweet so-long to our gracious hosts. Off to adventure another day.

It wasn’t long until we were at the west end of Howe Island, waiting for the ferry. That’s when JaMay learned you only pay to get on the island, not off. It’s a two for one ticket. “You mean I didn’t have to chat up the ferry driver? Damn it! I thought I swindled us a deal!”

We used the time to create a bikepacking playlist. Anne was quick to jump into action, naming all her favourite 90’s bangers. Everything from Ice Cube to TLC made the list. There was a lot less Phil Collins today.

A quick 38 km later and we were stopped in Ormsbee for our first resupply. It was a clear, sunny day and spirits were high as we had just lived through a pretty busy stretch of pavement that was really stressing me out. It might have been the busiest road we encountered the entire trip. As a distinctly off-road rider, I am overtly uncomfortable on pavement. I find the endless peddling exhausting for starters (I much prefer the punchy climbs and cruise-y descents that mountain biking favours), but my discomfort is made exponentially worse with traffic. Ironically, I was the one that curated this route, but there aren’t a lot of options for gravel between Perth and Gananoque. However, Anne and JaMay are completely at home on the pavement, so they took the lead while I tucked in behind, praying that we weren’t made headlines by an ill-timed distracted driver. But now we were out of danger and the caffeine high from the Starbucks cold brew I just drained was beginning to kick in. I was on top of the world, feeling like I just cheated death. The only thing missing from the day so far was an exorbitant amount of Phil Collins, so I pulled up my favourite Phil Collins “In the Air Tonight” drum fill video to share with the group.

We rolled onto a long 25 km stretch of stunning, remote, minimally maintained rail trail, which caught us by surprise. It was far from the meticulously maintained, fast rolling rail trails of the Outaouais region. This felt more like someone plowed a path through a swamp. Generally my stance on riding bikes is ‘the grittier the better,’ and I was right at home in this backcountry haven. It helped that I was on a newly built bike made exactly for this type of riding. My fun-meter was cranked up to euphoric as I soared through the backcountry trails, scenery reminiscent of my many hours backcountry canoeing through tiny streams.

Bikepacking/ Canoe Camping

While I was upfront entertaining myself spotting various fora and fauna, my roadie companions were quietly suffering in the back. Care Bear was busy Caring, trying to distract JaMay with chit chat about the most random things. We stopped for a moment to watch some turtles and I was suddenly grounded when I turned back to see that the last 25km had splintered Anne’s mental composure. We needed fuel, and with good timing too as Brown’s General Store and Marina was right around the corner.

We crossed Rideau Lock #37 at Chaffee’s Lock Road where two Park’s Canada employees were manually cranking open the locks for two very, very nice boats. “That boat is close to a million dollars,” I told the girls, instantly feeling better about my little bike hobby.

Though it was fun to watch the boats make their way through the locks, we all decided that was definitely not the pastime for us, and made our way to the nearest gas station for lunch. I was last to file into the cash with an arm full of snacks. “You girls sure all like the same things,” the observant but friendly small town cashier commented. “There’s a bit of a formula to it,” I replied. “If you deviate too far the consequences are pretty drastic.” I decided to spare the poor guy more details.

Luckily the Coke did its job and moods were once again high as we left town on one final section of rail trial, then it was all highway leading into Westport. Our pavement specialists were up front doing their thing. It was all going fine, until it wasn’t. Turns out my fear of the road isn’t entirely unjustified. Just to remind us that not all humans are awesome, an obnoxiously loud truck rolled by dangerously close while gassing us with his illegally modified exhaust pipe, dumping a 200-foot line of black pollution onto the planet and into our lungs. It was a clear threat. A show of dominance with no chance for retribution as the jacked up half ton and its douchy driver sped off down the highway. I was physically shaking as we pulled into the Westport grocery store. The combination of a high traffic area, low energy, and threatening drivers was too much for my poor nervous system, and I was on the verge of either breaking down in tears or physically attacking someone. I would take the risk of breaking my leg alone in the woods any day over sharing the road with these assholes. I turned to my coven. “Why would someone do that? Four women, riding bikes, single file, all with flashing rear lights. We were on the shoulder, not affecting traffic at all. Not only were we obeying all traffic rules, we are four women. On bicycles. He was in a huge truck. Who gets off punching down that far?” I was so rattled. The reality check Anne and JaMay delivered was chilling. “A lot of guys.” JaMay stated. Anne agreed, “he’s probably the type of man who’s also shitty to his mom, his wife, or his daughter.” The truth in that realization was a weight almost too much to bear. We had to deal with this guy for a moment, but some other woman has to deal with him for a lifetime. I needed some food before I broke into what Will refers to as my ‘Burn it all down’ rant. We don’t deserve this planet. Defeated, I slunk into the grocery store. Time to go find some cheese. A hungry Care Bear joined me in the store, which is a sure bet to pick up my mood. You may recall, a hungry Care Bear is an agreeable Care Bear.

Me: “Do you want some cheese?”

Care Bear: “Definitely!”

Me: “How about some nuts?”

Care Bear: “Yeah, I would love some nuts.”

Me:” Want to split a sandwich?”

Care Bear “For sure, I’d do that.”

Me: “How about a Coke?”

Care Bear “Yes definitely we need Coke.”

Me: “Do you need more juice.”

Care Bear “Yup I could use some juice.”

Me: “How about these maple candies?”

It went on like this for quite some time before we left, arms happily filled with more snacks than we could possibly consume at this little stop. But I needed the distraction as this was truly my lowest point, which caught me off guard as I wasn't expecting this trip to be so physically taxing. It was flat, paved, and we had a decent sized crew to share the load. Reflecting back on the trip with Coach L’Espy, he shed some light on the data. “The thing about road riding is you never really stop pedalling, and that adds up.” He referred to the data to reiterate his point. “Of the 6 hours you spent riding, only one hour was spent coasting, the rest is cumulative load, that’s quite a bit, and even though you weren’t climbing, you are going to feel it.” Well that made sense. Somehow I never anticipate these things.

Outside the store, JaMay and Anne were laughing about a photo Anne covertly took while in the store. “Check out this guy’s shopping list!”

With full bellies, lifted spirits, and a renewed outlook on life, we were back on the pavement to climb out of Westport. The climb mounted to some lovely, quiet cottage roads. With the beautiful Canadian Shield landscape unfolding around us, we settled into a fast rolling speed, arriving at a private cottage road with several ‘enter at your own risk’ warnings. We were still licking our wounds from the last private road experience, so we stopped and deliberated on whether we should proceed or turn around, finally concluding that yes, we would ride this road (it helped that we had just descended a huge hill and had no interest in climbing back up). Luckily this was the right decision. The road was stunning, speckled with cute cottages, pretty lake views, and exactly zero ferocious mammals or angry authorities.

We emerged onto Elm Grove Road for one last treat. A tail wind picked up and pushed us along fresh pavement while we sailed the final 20 km into Perth. It was a bitter sweet finish to our tiny adventure, invoking a tsunami of feelings, equal parts joy and grief. As much as it feels good to get off the bike at the end of a long ride, it marks the end of our time together. Cycling has become our gathering point, our common ground. We share in the adventure, the suffering, and the glory. The end of a trip is the symbolic fracturing of our foursome. We commemorated the moment with one final group hug so no woman was left behind.

To my coven: In the words of the Canadian Icon Gord Downie- “I’ll see you down the road somewhere.”