Chapter 28: Five Days on a Bus

 Chapter 28: Five Days on a Bus

This photo is from a previous bike trip I made in 1977, from Connecticut to Colorado, which also involved taking a bus to get home. As you can see, I used my spare time to write back then too.

September 13, Saturday  0 bike miles, ~875 bus miles, to Dawson Creek

 Berserk morning. It turned out that Dan Moore, who had given me Denise's number when we met on the Dempster, was back in town, so after Denise fed me a big breakfast, we went to see him. He came with us downtown, and we looked around for a Whitehorse T-shirt. We couldn't find one, so I just bought food for the bus ride, packed, and we went to the bus station. I learned that there was no way the bike would arrive with me if I shipped it by bus, and it was going to cost $30 anyway, so I called CP air, and found out I could ship it by air freight for the same price, and it would get there in two or three days. Denise and I zipped over to CP Air while Dan stood in line to buy my bus ticket - only $95 for an "Anywhere Fare" instead of the $185 I had been told! Yahoo!

The bike and box together weighed 50 pounds: more than I expected, but it still only cost $35 to ship. Not bad! We got back to the bus just in time - the driver was antsy to get going.  I hated to leave in such a rush, but I obviously couldn't put it off till Tuesday. Denise said she would mail me a T-shirt. I thanked her profusely, gave her a big hug, and scurried onboard.

 Of course, I didn't take any photos of the bus ride, but since I spent much of that time thinking back over the trip, I'll take this opportunity to revisit some images that I couldn't fit into previous chapters. 

Taking the bus to Ottawa and biking the rest of the way home is not as contrived as I feared it might feel. Greyhound doesn't operate across the border, so I'm not sure that I even have a choice. It will mean riding about 365 miles in three days. I'm worried about my knee, otherwise I'm confident I could make it. This trip is disturbingly more and more like a Wilderness School course - final expedition, marathon... Oof!

The bus ride is already fading into a haze of cat naps, coffee stops, and uncomfortable hours looking out the window wishing for an unobstructed view of the beautiful fall foliage, or a breath of fresh air that didn't feel like I was eating stale cigarette butts. My emotions have been almost as lifeless as my body, stagnating in my little section of the box. Seeing leaves on the ground seems to stir feelings in me, though - memories wash over me in waves: times in the Adirondacks, times with Laura - all the feelings that autumn brings. I'm sad to not be riding the rest of the Al-Can through the fall colors, but at the same time, I don't regret my decision; I just wish I could do both. 

I haven't had any trouble sleeping on the bus. In fact, I probably would have been hard-pressed to stay awake if I had wanted to. I fell asleep several times while reading my journal. (Doesn't say much for my journal, does it?) And I slept all night to Dawson Creek which brings me to...

September 14, Sunday  ~650 bus miles, to somewhere in Saskatchewan

I must have slept through a lot of today, too, because I sure don't remember much. Dreary gray skies and rain, and a roaring gale from the northwest that would have been an amazing tailwind if I were on my bike, but I'm sure if I were on my bike, it would have swung around to come out of the southeast!

The 4-hour layover in Edmonton provided a little respite from being on the bus. I used the time to write, and also helped a guy pack his piles of belongings into boxes. He was a tall Black man, which by itself was enough to make him an object of curiosity in the almost entirely Caucasian populace of Alberta. Added to that, he was clearly of limited means, and perhaps had some impairment that made life more challenging. His attire foreclosed any chance at dignity; a threadbare shirt, two pairs of pants, both quite dirty, with a sneaker on one foot and a moccasin on the other. He was struggling with the packing, and it bothered me that people were just laughing at him. I thought, "Well, if they want to laugh, they'll just have to laugh at both of us." and I helped him tie up the boxes. He's headed to Hay River, in the Northwest Territories, for the winter. I expect he's in for some very hard times - I'm not sure that he understands how long and cold and dark the winter will be, that far north.

The bus from Edmonton was crowded. I sat with a middle-aged gent who works at a cement-making plant in Winnipeg. He's amiable, and we talked easily, whenever we weren't sleeping.

Wildflowers on the Dempster, July 22nd

 September 15 Monday  ~680 bus miles, to somewhere near the Manitoba/Ontario border 

 Another day fades into bus-blur. My body feels like it's filling up with poison and dead cells and worn-out fluids. I feel weak, and my arms and legs feel heavy. More rain, more stifling on a too-hot bus, more inconsiderate people disregarding the rule prohibiting smoking in the first 7 rows, so there is not even that inadequate reprieve from the smell. More outlandishly priced greasy-dive bus stop diners, where I refuse to buy anything more than a bit of milk to go with the granola I brought; more restless, uncomfortable, unsatisfying sleep on the crowded bus; more hours and hours of thinking about my arrival in Goshen, and all the people there who make it what it is to me.

I'm starting to try to mentally prepare for the 350-plus mile marathon from Ottawa to Connecticut that will truly be the end of this 5-1/2 month journey, with no way to put off whatever feelings will come with that ending.

Sunrise in the Badlands, May 24th

 September 16, Tuesday  ~750 bus miles, to Wawa, Ontario

 The ride from Winnipeg to Thunder Bay wasn't too bad, perhaps partly because I had two seats to myself. It also seemed that I was somehow getting used to it. Anyway, I slept much of the way, and spent the rest of the time doing some fairly productive thinking, about my trip and what I will do next.

My original bus schedule called for a layover in Sudbury tonight, but I learned that the Sudbury bus station closes from 1:00 AM to 8:00, so rather than spend seven nighttime hours stranded outside in downtown Sudbury, I decided to spend 10 daytime hours in Thunder Bay, hoping to be able to visit with Cathy and Bill Boyce, the folks I had met on my way through in April. One big drawback to this is that it means I will get into Ottawa at 7:15 Wednesday night instead of 4:00, so I don't expect I'll be able to get my bike from CP Air until Thursday morning. Every little bit of time will count, especially if my knee continues to bother me - I got a bad, sharp pain just walking around the Winnipeg depot last night. 

Sadly, there was no answer at the Boyces' until 5:00 this afternoon, so by the time they got down to the station I was almost on the bus. We just talked for a few minutes, and then I had to leave. Nice to see them though.

My calves and ankles are tremendously swollen from sitting still so much and never sleeping horizontally. It looks and feels gross. I don't dare take off my shoes because my feet would also swell, and I wouldn't be able to get my shoes back on. 

Lake Superior, April 30th

 

September 17, Wednesday  ~650 bus miles, 15 bike miles (8122)

 Slept a lot. Seemed like I slept almost all the way from Thunder Bay to Sault Saint Marie, and most of the way to Sudbury. The bus was very crowded, and I was sitting with a little old lady. She let me use her pillow, which made sleeping a lot more comfortable.

The final bus to Ottawa was an express, so I got there at 6:15 instead of 7:15. I immediately called CP Air, and learned that they were open till 10:30, so I had plenty of time. I inquired at a newsstand as to how I could get to the airport most cheaply, and the clerk told me which buses to take. The last bus brought me almost to the door of the CP Air building. My bike was there, and the CP folks were very helpful, let me assemble it right there, and let me use their bathroom. They told me the best route out of the city to the south, and I started riding at 9:00. 

I rode about 15 miles, which put me near Manotick. I could have kept going - I wasn't tired, but it was a bit nerve-wracking riding at night, without lights and without even anything reflective on the bike, so when a couple of young guys called out a greeting to me from a gas station, I quickly swung over and started grilling them about possible places to stay - bridges, abandoned buildings, etc. After a few unappealing suggestions, they thought of their boss's barn, which was right down the road. They were headed there anyway, so they met me there. The farmer was a little reluctant, but he eventually said I could sleep in the hayloft. The marathon starts in earnest tomorrow.