This is how(e) we island: Bikepacking Summer 2026 part 1/2
It was the night before our girls’ training weekend. Care Bear was sleeping over and we were cuddled up on my couch watching YouTube to wind down before bed. I tend to favour comedy at this hour, and since it was both my house and my ritual, the algorithm fatefully directed us towards two of my favourites, Conan O’Brian and his side-kick, Sona Movsesian. Sona, always on top of pop-culture, got side tracked by a meme she'd recently become obsessed with to the tune of Montelle Jordan’s 1995 hit single “This Is How We Do It.” Being children of the 90’s ourselves, Care Bear and I went searching for the meme and immediately burst out laughing. The next day we showed it to Anne and J’Amy. The only person who laughed harder than Sona was Anne.
Thus became the theme of our 2026 bikepacking adventure to Howe Island. This is How(e) we Island, Baby!
Our journey starts one rainy morning in Perth.
It was pouring as we exited our vehicles for a wet, good morning hug. Our reunion after the extended and highly regrettable absence was overdue. Despite the biblical amounts of rain, we were excited. There was limitless chatter in our little group chat during the build up to this trip, but not a single mention was made about the wet forecast. I marked the celebration with a box of Canadian Maple Oreo cookies (Anne being responsible for my new addiction to these tiny delights). Everyone partook in an Oreo or two and I put the leftovers in the car for the drive home. “Oh no, definitely not! Those are coming with.” Care Bear declared, and started repackaging the cookies into a ziplock. “Here J’Amy, stash them in your triangle bag, I’m sure there’s room.” Ahh yes, the infamous triangle bag is back, where all good things ride along for the adventure! We all agreed a quick shot of caffeine was in order, so we left the parking lot and immediately detoured to Coutt’s. Anne placed the order. “I’ll get four shots of espresso.” The barista looked a bit jarred. “In four cups.” “Ha!” I thought, “that would be one way to contend with the rain. Outrun it!”
Maybe we should have had those four shots of espresso each, because the rain was relentless, bucketing down from above and kicking up from our tires below, leaving us thoroughly drenched in, under, and through every piece of clothing. It was still pouring by the time we reached our first stop at the local grocery store in Elgin. We sought refuge in a shopping cart return shelter as locals stopped by to dutifully return their carts and made small talk.
“Where ya’ll headed?”
“Gan.” I replied.
“Gaaaaaan” was the consistent answer, dragging out the ‘a’ in a sort of ‘ahhh, yes I see’ moment. “And where did ya’ll come from?” was the predictable retort.
“Perth.”
“Peeeeerth.” You could see the wheels turning, like they were trying to figure out if that was a remarkable distance or not. “Little wet out there. Good thing yous got ‘dem lights so the cars can see ya’ll.”
“Yes of course! Safety first!” I smiled and waved as they toddled along. I had this conversation three times in the ten minutes we stood there. I love small towns :)
Finding a bathroom that would accommodate dripping wet bodies was easier than expected. Anne tried the post office but the two nice gentlemen standing outside a breakfast spot smoking told her the post office was closed, though they helpfully volunteered the restaurant’s facilities. Stoodley’s Kitchen and Beverage didn’t even look at us sideways as we waddled through the main dining area in our bike kits dripping like leaky evestroughs. They gave us a warm smile and well wishes for safe travels as we left. Thanks Stoodley’s!
The rain started to let up as we made it to Rideau Canal lock #38 in Davis for our first Rideau Canal lock crossing! This is when we learned J’Amy is quite scared of heights. Care Bear registered the distress and started Caring. “Do you want me to take your bike across for you? Hold your hand? I could carry you across…” J’Amy politely declined.
The crossing led us into an enchanted forest, where locals created a sort of art exhibit with installations along the path. A hand-crafted bench labeled Biker’s Rest spoke to us. Time for a photo stop.
The riding was good, our spirits high, and the rain had finally let up when I heard a familiar beat drop…
A new wonder had emerged from J’Amy’s triangle bag. It was her son’s mini speaker now conveniently playing our theme song. Cheers erupted. Heads started bobbing. I threw my hands in the air, and waved them like I just don’t care. :)
The requests started pouring in and DJ J’Amy kept us entertained for the next few hours spinning tunes. This meant her spending a significant amount of time digging her phone out of her top tube bag. If she left the algorithm run too long it always seemed to revert back to Phil Collins. So she kept one hand on her top tube, working the iPhone turntable. It also meant her staying up front and pulling the entire way so the music from Oliver’s tiny speaker could be heard all the way at the back of our peloton.
We turned down a gravel road onto what would be this route’s mystery section. I mapped out the route this year and went hunting for as much off road as possible; it’s hard to find in this area of the globe. There are a lot of nice secondary highways, but not a lot of gravel roads that lead anywhere. I took a chance on this one. It was a gravel road that connected nicely enroute, but it wasn’t heat-mapped - a route planning feature that gives you an idea as to how often cyclists use a particular road. This one had zero heat-map, meaning not a single cyclist had ridden it. But I decided to channel some of Care Bear’s optimism. Worth a try, I thought. It’s not far to turn around if it doesn’t work out. The road turned out to be really nice, lined with lush greenery and wild lilies. We met one car coming our direction. She slowed and yelled something out her window at Anne and I. “Did you hear what she said?” I asked, “I thought I heard something about the road ending?” We turned to check with Care Bear and J’Amy. “What did she say to you guys?”
“I thought she said something about dogs?” J’Amy replied. “But I couldn’t really hear over the music.”
“Well if we both heard different things we all must have all heard wrong,” I thought. Somehow Anne agreed with this logic. “Let’s just keep going and see what happens.”
Now, before you judge, this isn’t as stupid an idea as it sounds. We were on our gravel bikes and we are accustomed to the drivable terrain ending but us being able to continue along on some form of off-road trail, so we wouldn’t think it unusual that a driver would interpret a dead end differently than us on bikes. Thus we proceeded.
Not far after, Anne and I spotted a sign nailed to a fence post: Cattle dogs on property. Do not enter unescorted. I glance towards Anne who was looking a bit concerned. "Maybe we should ride closer together for this part,” I suggest helpfully. We slowed to let Care Bear and J’Amy cluster up. It wasn’t 10 seconds later we yell DOGS! TURN AROUND!! TURN AROUND!!! Two snarling angry Great Pyrenees dogs were rocketing towards us. The four of us executed a 180 degree maneuver and began a full-on time trial sprint in the opposite direction. I chanced a look back, not only were the dogs still giving chase, they were quickly gaining on us. I could hear Anne and J’Amy yelling at the dogs to back off. Eventually we crossed their property line and the dogs retreated, but not before registering power output levels in the Personal Record territory. We stopped a bit further up the road to collect ourselves. J’Amy rummaged through her top tube bag. “Who Let The Dog’s Out” came blaring through Oliver’s mini speaker. We laughed. “I guess that’s why this road wasn’t heat mapped?” I suggested sheepishly. I was never good at thinking things all the way through…
Regrouped, and now on a different parallel course, we arrived in Batersea for a re-stock at their general store. J’Amy came clean about one tiny trip detail. “I was so excited about packing the mini speaker that I left my wallet in the car in Perth.” Care Bear entered Care Mode. “No problem, I’ll spot you whatever you need!” thus making J’Amy simultaneously the only actual mother of the group and the only one on a child’s allowance. Anne and I went in for supplies while Care Bear and J’Amy sorted out the details. We emerged with juice (our bikepacking liquid fuel of choice), and a bag of chips to share. We watched the bikes while Care Bear and J’Amy took their turn in the store to shop for supplies. Care Bear tried the door. “It’s locked.”
“What do you mean it’s locked? We just came out 5 seconds ago. We even chatted with the cashier about our trip!”
“Maybe he went on break?”
“5 second ago? Couldn’t he wait until we were all done? We’re trying give him money here.”
“Maybe he went to the bathroom?” Care Bear suggested.
“Maybe he doesn’t like our energy.” I quipped. “He decided two of us was enough.” We gave him the benefit of the doubt and waited a few minutes, though Care Bear could no longer hold it, and ran across the street to relieve herself behind some trash bins. Eventually the door did open again and Care Bear was permitted to purchase snacks for her and J’Amy. “I’m going to see if he will let me use his bathroom,” I announced after we had all spent money in his store. “May I use your washroom?’ I asked in my most polite prairie-girl tone.
“Noooooo,” he replied and looked away. Ok then. I looked down at myself. Fair enough. I guess I’ll also go behind the trash bins. I left the store and started walking across the street. Care Bear yelled after me “remember, every poo-poo is a pee-pee but not every pee-pee is a poo-poo.” Laughter erupted behind me. Just as I reached the dumpster a human emerged from the motorhome parked adjacent to the bins. ‘I wonder if this person is about to tell me to I can’t use their dumpster.’ I thought. This damn town. Fine. I’ll hold it then. Let’s just get out of here.
The rain picked up as as we rode through Sunbury. J’Amy, also our resident meteorologist, informed us that thunderstorms were reported in the area so we kept an eye on the sky. J’Amy and Care Bear were entertaining themselves with one of their random conversations, discussing brands with the word “Sun” in the title. This far into the ride, our collective cognitive function was quickly dwindling. I overheard pieces of the conversation.
“You are thinking of Sun Chips. Those are the little, cheesy, wavy ones.”
“Sunquist. It’s juices and fruit leather.”
“Did that include those little red boxes of raisins?”
“I think that was Sun-Maid”
“Should we stop and wait for these cars to pass?”
“Yes, better to be safe than Sun-Splat.” I had to smile at that one. The familiarity of losing our minds after long hours in the saddle was reminiscent to our days on The Log Driver’s Waltz route. Those four days changed the course of our lives and will forever hold a special place in my heart.
The rain began letting up and we were enjoying a quiet country road when I spotted something in the field. “Is that a pony?” I asked. The girls started squealing excitedly as only girls around ponies can do. It happily trotted towards the fence in greeting.
“Why does it look so much like Tina Turner?” J’Amy asked. We all laughed.
“Is it a girl? Anne suggested. I bent down to have a look at her under carriage.
“Nope,” I replied, “It’s a boy.” Well then, Tina simply won’t do.
Meet Tino Turner.
Again the rain picked up, just enough to keep us wet for our final stretch to the last re-supply in Gananoque. Though our destination on Howe Island was only 10km further than Gan, Howe is a quaint little community free of any commercial establishments, and we were in desperate need of afternoon snacks. I suggested we also stop at Pita Pit for lunch. Anne was confused. Pita Pit? Now? Won’t it get soggy? It took a few minutes walking around the grocery store, several glances at her watch and a conversation with Care Bear before she realized it was only noon and I meant lunch today, not tomorrow. She had temporarily stepped into the familiar bikepacking multiverse. We weren’t used to finishing our days at noon. :)
I decided the evening required one final touch before we took the ferry to Howe Island, some fancy dessert chocolate. We had already left the grocery store and were now traipsing around Gan, so Care Bear and I ducked into a nearby gas station for provisions. “What’s the fanciest chocolate in here?” I asked Care Bear, looking at a sad supply of not really chocolate bars.
“Maybe Toblerone? That’s kind of fancy, they sell it at duty free.”
“Sounds perfect, maybe the Turtles too. People put those out at Christmas. They must also be fancy.” We added the fancy chocolate to our mountain of snacks. With bellies full of Pita Pit and overflowing bags of snacks, we mounted our bikes for one final push to Howe.
It was a beautiful finish to an incredible day. We crossed our final set of locks in Gananoque to catch a glimpse of two swans swimming in the river below and a blue heron perched on the shores. Then it was all pavement and fast rolling hills to the small 3-car ferry at the east end of Howe Island. We rolled right up to the front, skipping the long car line, and squeezing onto the ferry right as it was ready to depart. Our excitement was palpable as the ferry made it’s short trip across the water. J’Amy was busy chatting with the friendly ferry driver, hoping to talk him into a free crossing back to the main land tomorrow, which he happily granted. :)
We disembarked to the shores of Howe Island with an enthusiastic scream of excitement. “This is How(e) We Island!” Anne exclaimed, snapping a photo for the record.
The weather gods were decidedly less enthusiastic about our arrival and delivered one final insult in the form of strong head winds, making us work for every last inch of ground until we finally rolled up to the driveway of our destination. David and Wendy are good friends of mine and happily agreed to host us for the night. David was outside, ready to greet us. In the past two decades, Will and I have made many trips to David and Wendy’s place on Howe Island, caravanning an entourage of family and friends along the way. Somehow they still welcome us with open arms. It was good to be back.
David had all kinds of questions about our bikes. I explained a little about what makes them unique, and expensive, in a depressing coming-to moment on just how much disposable income we’ve poured into this sport.
With the bikes clean, and the end of ride chores complete, it was time to cleanse our souls in the St. Lawrence River. It took J’Amy a bit of coaxing to take the two-foot leap of faith off the dock, but the water was cool and refreshing.“How far do you think we swam? I need to add this to my Strava totals for the day.” J’Amy joked. We climbed out of the river to Anne giving us her best George Washington impression. Never a dull moment :)
Our little Howe Island Norwegian Spa experience was complete with the four of us squeezing into David and Wendy’s little 2-seater hot tub. We watched clouds and boats go by, and laughed about the day, taking advantage of the close proximity to get a little more acquainted. This was only the eighth day we have all hung out together.
The hunger was mounting as Anne and I shared the hammock, waiting for our turn to shower. “What’s your favourite shape of pasta?” I asked her, shamelessly fantasizing about dinner. She delivered an itemized list, ranking everything from lumaconi to rotini, fusilli near the top, and angel hair spaghetti at the bottom. We needed carbs.
David and Wendy, ever the gracious hosts, handed us our preferred selection of beers, and we headed to the dock with our mountain of snacks, including a fun assortment of flavoured Crispers crackers.
David very quickly got a feel for our little collective’s light humour and leaned in. Poor Care Bear took the brunt of it, her usual veil of blind human trust leaving her vulnerable to a kidder like David. She’s wonderfully gullible, and David was quick to capitalize. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen David laugh that hard. He even coined up with a new nickname for J’Amy, pronouncing our rendition with the Forest Gump intonation of Jen-Nay. We almost died. JaMay has stuck ever since.
“Who’s the gun in the group?” David asked. We all point to JaMay who stayed humbly quiet. No arguments there. She’s also the meteorologist, DJ, horticulturist, comedian, and head chef. I point to Anne. “She’s the team lead, and the project manager. Care Bear’s the nurse, and the Care Bear, also the most the level-headed one in an emergency (I personally benefited from her calm, focused problem solving capabilities during a bad bike crash in 2024). I guess that leaves me, the documentarian. As it turns out, deviating from this division of labour seems to be a bad idea. I planned one day and we were chased by ravenous dogs.
We were eventually rained off the dock and headed indoors. David and Wendy had graciously offered to cook us dinner but I declined on behalf of the group. “You don’t want to cook for a bunch of athletes,” I warned them, “we’re too tuned into our bodies. In just this little crew we are vegan, no tomatoes, and no night shades. It’s a lot.” Instead, we brought an assortment of freeze-dried Pad Thai (Anne is determined to test all the brands). Wendy, who is an exceptional cook, was horrified. David was mostly confused as we started the kettle, not quite sure how we could call these little packages of hardened remnants, food. “What are you doing?” He asked.
“It’s called cooking,” JaMay rebuked playfully. He was not so sure. We borrowed Wendy’s oven mitts to mush our bags of Pad Thai. I’m sure those oven mitts have never been so insulted.
We sat and enjoyed dinner with David and Wendy, letting them try our high-calorie backcountry meals. They remained skeptical, but everything tastes better when you’re hungry. We devoured the contents, sharing stories and laughing. I brought out our chocolate stash for dessert. “This is the fanciest gas station chocolate money can buy. You’re welcome.” Wendy, again, looked horrified.
We went to our separate rooms for an early bedtime, texting each other jokes and photos from the day before we fell asleep. I could hear the girls giggling from the other room. We were worse than pre-teens, giggling way past bedtime, fighting the necessity of sleep. But eventually we surrendered to fatigue for a very comfortable slumber amongst the company of old friends and new ones, both of which feel like coming home to family at the end of a long day for a warm smile and a welcoming hug.
The biggest of Thank You’s David and Wendy. I missed you something fierce.
Special thanks to Chris for helping with the theme song, and to my patient copy editors Will and Caroline. These’s blogs would hardly be readable without you.
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