With bruised butts, it was a shorter ride today.
Fields are now home to more oil wells just plonked willy nilly across paddocks. Like a one armed bandit just going up and down extruding the gold of black, always a jackpot; Seagulls rose up in the thermals, they are landlocked which was interesting; crickets were in song on grass road verges; and the smell of cow pads reminded us of green pastures back home. Gophers are the funniest things, squealing to warn others up the road that we are approaching and then the scurry to underground burrows.
From the mirage appeared another cyclist going in the opposite direction. Simultaneously we pulled up and the man crossed the median grass. It was a shake of the hands as we introduced each other and then conversed in a cyclist’s language – where are you from?; where did you start?; where will you finish?; how far are you going today?
Known as ‘Paul’ and originally from Holland, he has resided in Canada for nearly thirty years. Paul started in Ontario and was cycling to Calgary. He had started this day from Brooks and was only going from Bassano, our distance in reverse. Paul also hauled a trailer and was fascinated with ours only having one wheel. He was thinking of changing his dynamic as it slowed him down, especially going up hills so was keen to check ours out. He was inspired.
Paul has cycled three different routes across Canada and very much like our friend Geoffrey Robinson, pulls off to the side of the road to sleep where ever his body can find a patch of ground to fit his skeletal frame. And at the age of 69, his words of wisdom to what we will be encountering was welcome with respect.
How could we not be inspired by Paul.
As long as the passion is there and the body still holds, we have lots of summers ahead of us to keep going.
Bruised butts, pffft!