One of the funnier things I learned from living in Owen Sound Ontario was that, is that, the shape of southern Ontario resembles an elephant. Just as South America resembles a pork chop, or Norway, a spoon, here at home we have a wonderful creature; its trunk raised and curled, like maybe it's feeding on something across the border. If it is indeed feeding, then Owen Sound would be key to completing the intestinal journey. This trip starts about where the lower edge of the underpants would start, in Meaford. Maybe that's why I've heard it nicknamed "Mudflap"...

What if I were to trace that very elephant, by following as closely as possible to the water's edge?

And that became the theme, the name, the whole point of this trip. Ride the Elephant.

So off I go, all over-loaded and heavy, on a bike which had to be a last minute replacement for the intended vehicle -- my beloved Cinelli...

R.I.P. Cinelli Corsa, Modelo "B", #0051, Circa 1968 - 2019... (cracked head tube, noticed on April 29, one day before leaving))

Chapter 1: Breakfast in Tobermory

So I transferred all racks and gear, pedals, saddle, etc to my trusted workhorse the de Kerf, which has disc brakes and is super solid. Luckily, there are many bikes. This one is a bit heavy, but it will do fine on this, it's sixth major mission.

I had been bragging to friends that my bike and I, combined, were 111 years old. Now, I guess we are a dewy, youthful 75-ish. But enough about the bike(s). This story will try to stay away from the technical, and focus on what really matters.

The night before my trip, I was thrilled and honoured to be an after dinner speaker for the Meaford Rotary Club. I was to speak about being an artist, a cyclist, environmentalist, etc and how these trips are all about "harvesting imagery". They served me a wonderful catered dinner, and contributed $50.00 to a charity of my choice. I've never been an after dinner speaker before. already the trip is delivering on thrill content.

My first three accommodations were all arranged. After that, it would be a series of campsites spotted along the route, plus some key friend locations along the way that would host me or at least let me camp in their yard. On Day 1, I ventured up to Balaclava, and dropped in on my friend Joel, who crafts the cider for Coffin Ridge. I got to talking with Eric, the bartender, while I waited for Joel to have a break, and I learned that he'd grown up in Stayner, but had since moved to Grey County. I told him about my journey, and mentioned that I'd be turning inland east of Toronto, going up through Pontypool... "Pontypool!" says Eric. "My relatives are in that movie!"...he was referring to, of course, the critically acclaimed Canadian indie film, Pontypool, which is a zombie movie without any zombies, almost. Famous, quirky film. Eric had studied film and television in Toronto. So I mentioned of course, the film from the 80's called "South of Wawa", which was filmed and set in Stayner, with two female leads, who are devising a way to get to the big city and see the Dan Hill concert. Eric didn't know the film. Such a Millennial. But he wrote it down, and I'm hoping he's seen it by now.

Joel arrives. He's looking tired (hard work, making cider). He pours me a refill of the exquisite small batch black currant and juniper cider which he made from a local guy's black currant harvest. It's magenta, and is crisp, flavourful and I don't know how to critique booze but it was the most delicious cider I've ever tasted. We catch up. I purchase a growler of the pink stuff for my hosts that evening.

I would stay at three successive, off-grid accommodations for the start of my trip, each one more simple and humble than the previous, the last one being a picnic table. My first day, though, included a visit to the grave of Tom Thomson, in the cemetery of the old Leith church. Then on to my friends Martin and Melody at their straw bale farmhouse where we feasted on food raised under their care. The next day was rainy, but I went off bravely, all the way up to Big Bay, where my dear friend Fiona had invited me to her shared tiny cabin right on the water. She made a fire in the little woodstove, which pretty much saved my life, or at least averted hypothermia, as the ride up from Owen Sound was all bluster, rain, and cold. I was served fantastic chowder. Everything tastes so good on a bike trip. As it got dark, she left, and I had the beauty and privacy of a magical place to spend my second night. Aside from a visit by a paper wasp, it was a beautiful place to be.

The third night, I had an invitation to Neyaashiinigmiing, but missed my connection, so I camped in the park. That was a cold night. But I managed to get out of the sleeping bag and make coffee, and got on to the plan of getting up to Cabot Head. I'd wanted to stay at the lighthouse there. Last time, I met Sandra Howe, the Poet, who was looking after it, but now, signs said "Cabot Head Lighthouse closed for 2019..." I was concerned about being caught camping where I shouldn't, so I approached as close as I could, got to the base of the big rock, close enough I figured, and found a perfect little gap in the trees to climb into and set up the hammock, just a few metres from the water, concealed in an apron of cedars and birches which line the rough gravel road. If you haven't been to Cabot Head, it's simply one of the remotest, unspoiled beautiful places anywhere, and after the cottages of Dyers Bay, you have the shoreline all to yourself. This was the splendid night of camping that i needed to boost confidence. I started my first watercolour. It will take a while...

Then, from Cabot Head, to the Big Tub lighthouse in Tobermory, where, reaching the tip of the tail of the Elephant, I slept under the stars, just unrolling my mat and lying right beside my bike which leaned against a tree. Feeling so wild, I figured this was a highlight. The night was clear and calm. In the morning, oatmeal crisp, coffee, and warming up in the rising sun, while the sleeping bag dried out from condensation. Into the village of Tobermory, and I found a bright friendly restaurant open, for second breakfast. Eggs, tomatoes, potatoes, and toast. Today would be the big ride; so far I'd been hopping short distances, 40 - 60 km, getting stronger and working my way into longer distances, but on this day I was headed for Clarke's Corners, Stoke's Bay, Pike Bay, Howdenvale, Red Bay, and finally Oliphant. Restaurant owners and staff are always so friendly to us cyclists. Full and inspired, I headed south.

Sometimes, I have a sort of vision of something. Generally my packing was pretty good on the bike, but my stove and cooking kit were in a re-usable grocery store cloth bag, tied in a bow, and I thought I really needed a more substantial bag to contain this important piece of my gear. Friends suggested options, but I had the unmistakable sense that I would find the perfect thing somehow along the way. Well, five kilometres out of the Tub, and there it is! A bright red spot on the shoulder of the road up ahead...looks like somebody's red tag for hauling lumber, but I slow down, and to my delight, it's a MEC waterproof, lightweight drawstring bag, a little bit soiled from the gravel, but in perfect condition and it is just the thing! So I make the roadside adjustment and carry on, so happy in my affirmation that this thing was indeed there for me. Not the first time I've found good things on the side of the road.

Well, the weather conspired to make this, Day 6 of my journey, all the more perfect. I'd texted my good friend James that morning by the lighthouse, asking if I could camp at his cabin in Oliphant. This has been a favourite spot on previous bike trips. James is so generous and he understands. He may join me on the road at some point this month, or next, for a stretch. I hope so. Anyway, now he tells me where the keys are, and I get to stay inside the gorgeous little old log cabin. A previous watercolour hangs, framed in the living room. It's funny when you see stuff you did ten years ago and it seems better than what you're doing now. Tired from what was probably close to a hundred klicks that day, I sleep 13 hours.

Let's try and wrap this up, shall we? I haven't really had too much human interaction, and this is what I look for on my trips. So around late lunch time, I stop in for a large salad and coffee halfway to Southampton, in a place that's open. As I'm settling in to my (great) salad, two women walk in. They are a bit older than me, and they're having a catch-up.

One of the women says "So, I bumped into Ross the other day while I was grocery shopping, and he says to me, he says 'you know, whenever you'd like to come back to the office, you're welcome to return...' and I says to him, 'Ross, the only way I'll go back, is if She's gone. And I mean gone....then, I'd consider it' " Her friend made affirmative sounds, like she knew this story from the ground level. "But she'd have to be gone. And then, I'd consider it."

Outside, more rain had started. That's okay, I was full, again, and only had about 15 km to go, where I'd have a safe warm dry sister and brother-in-law to stay with. Today is my first official rest day. I have come to the library to type out this first installment. What a luxury, compared to the hand held phone and single finger typing in the hammock, with my headlamp. Leaving in April is a bit daunting. But you miss some of the bugs, much of the crowds, and, as the owner/ manager of the Pike Bay General Store remarked, "You're the first distance cyclist we've seen this year"... I answered that it had been my goal. to be the first crazy cyclist out there this Spring.

Next stop, Kincardine. And down to parts of Ontario I've never seen, Sarnia, Lake St. Clair, Point Pelee...

Thanks for reading. More adventures to follow.

D. Robinson
Southampton