Bike Trip 2011- Day 12- Kingston to Bob's Lake, Ontario 50 mile route
So it's taken a few months to finish this little trip report up, but here it goes....
So we left the Kingston Marriott slowly, possibly reluctantly, and ventured north. The route was mostly highway, hilly, and hot. And there were a good number of roadkill tiny frogs in the am. We caught up to a young Canadian who was on his first day of touring and in retrospect I wish we would have told him to turn around- he was headed to Quebec, and the most obvious route was the one that we were on, but the Waterfront Trail that we had taken to Kingston continued onto Quebec. Though most likely more mileage, much less elevation. Once again it was in the 90s and he really didn't have water either.
My extended family had been coming to this cabin just north of Westport for about the last 15 years, though I hadn't been in about six, and it was interesting to see how much the town had grown (relatively). I caught the city wifi signal from a dock:
We rolled into a gazebo over a spring, next to a former icecream shop, ate the last of our rashions and did some extreme napping.
View from the gazebo:
The town now had a small visitors center, so upon awakening we washed up, stopped at the grocery and continued north.
Now, I knew that there was a large hill right out of Westport, but did not anticipate many rolling hills after. I had read a bit about the geology of the region regarding the slope of the hills- in the direction that we were traveling, we should have had longer, steadier inclines and steep decents. This little factoid reconfirmed my belief that geologists are stoners and we trudged through steep ascents & decents, though it felt like many more ascents. Contrary to what many people and roadies think, you really can't gain enough speed on the decents to negate effort on the climbs.
(1)We are on touring bikes, but mainly:
(2) We are in the middle of nowhere, so if we were to skid out on gravel, a random stone thrown into our spokes, or if one of us hit a mailtruck at fullspeed, the other person now has to travel a far distance for help.
Also, I am not a great navigator. We didn't really have a detailed map of the area and my memory wasn't serving me all that well, so I had to stop a bunch to makesure we hadn't gone too far. This picture was taken bombing down a hill, during which something flew out of my bag:
(doesn't really look like a hill, but it is)
The conversation went like this:
JG: Pete, you lost something back there
Me: Yeah, the map flew out when I was changing lenses
JG: (With a look of are you kidding me, there's no way we are going back up that hill) what, so we don't know where we're going?!
Me: Well, I have some notes (a small crumbled little piece of paper) and the map didn't have enough detail anyways.
His fear that we were climbing hills to a lake on the moon via my poor navigation skills were enhanced when we had to go through the cow gates. But I knew that we were close then!
Sandy, gravelly roads with large, smooth rock formations sticking out in places:
We made it!
Within 5 min of arrival, my dad caught a fishie!
So the camp is owned by the Rochester Owls club- my dad, his buddies and their kids had been coming for about 15 years. The group was small this year, but we had a blast. The lake that it's on- Bob's Lake is absolutely gorgeous. I never really knew why I had yellow lenses in my swimming goggles, but it totally made sense there. The water was crystal clear, and I could see all the fishies swimming around me.
We had visions of exploring the lake, running, swimming, kayaking, etc., but in reality, we were over moving. We just ate, drank, bellyached from said libations, fished a small amount, read and napped.
The Vanilla was no longer an untouchable specimen of a bicycle:
And whoah, I TURNED 30!
The group this year, sans my cousin Greg, his son Shawn and his buddy: