A Man Called Tom

Chippawa – Ingersoll, Ontario, Canada

The headline today was the beautiful weather. 75 and sunny. But that wasn’t the highlight. The big thing was the wind. Square at our back. 

Wonderful.

That push allowed us to cover lots of ground – even with a late start and a mechanical along the way. 

We started late because the dew last night was crazy. The tarp over the tent was soaked through this morning – as if there had been a pouring rain. Took a while to dry things out . . .

And then in the middle of the day my derailleur cable broke. Not a huge fix – but still takes a while to take the panniers off, get the tools out, re-string the cable, adjust the gearing, put everything away, and get moving again.

The goal: Casey’s Camping. A cool 73 miles from the Chippawa Conservation Area, where we started this morning. 

The plan was to pick up some vegetables at a stand along the way, maybe find a grocery store for some brats, and then barbecue once we arrived. 

Vegetable stand – check.

Grocery store – check.

Casey’s Camping – not so fast . . .

We found the place alright. But when we arrived we were informed that Casey’s does not allow camping. The manager explained that they have a lot of long-term RVs, and they all have their own plumbing, so they ditched their shower and bathroom facilities. 

“They won’t let us have tents without showers . . .” the manager explained. 

Nearest campground? About eight miles away. 

Not happening . . .

But we have a lot of food . . . Two brats, four Italian sausage, six buns, a bunch of little peppers, a zucchini, a tomato, a big bag of mushrooms, an onion, and two pieces of corn on the cob. 

We figure we’ll see if we can find a park with a grill, make dinner, and then track down a hotel. 

Centennial Park is just four miles down the road – in the town of Ingersoll. We find the park. There’s a pavilion and lots of picnic tables. But no grill – not even a fire pit . . .

As we’re looking a man with a ZZ Top beard and a little black poodle approaches. 

“Where are you coming from?”

He starts to inspect the bikes and the stickers, explaining that he used to do some riding himself. 

I tell him that we’re looking for a place to cook our dinner. 

The ZZ Top guy introduces himself – Tom – and tells me that we could cook at his house. He has a gas grill, and if we don’t find anything else we can use it. 

“My place is just right through there (pointing at a break in the bushes around the park), then left. It’s a white house . . .”

We agree that we’ll look around a bit more for a grill – and maybe see if the convenience store has one of those disposable grills – but if we can’t find anything else we’ll cook at Tom’s house. 

Sure enough, no grills anywhere. 

So we head to Tom’s place. We cycle through the bushes and find a white house, and, indeed, there is an old grill in the back yard. But it’s a propane grill and there is no propane. Worse, on closer inspection it’s clear that this grill hasn’t seen any action in years. Rusted out. Missing pieces. And surrounded by junk everywhere . . .

Maybe this isn’t Tom’s place, after all . . . (Good that the real owners haven’t come out with a shotgun as we rummaged through their property).

Fortunately, just then we see another man walking a poodle – this one white. 

“Umm, we’re looking for a guy named Tom. He has a black poodle.”

”Oh, yes, he lives right down the street. See that blue car. That’s his house . . .”

We head over there. There’s no sign of Tom, but things look much more well-kept, and there’s a grill in the corner. There’s no propane, but this grill has a direct gas line from the house. 

We unpack our stuff, and start preparing for dinner.

But then I give the grill a try. No dice. I even find the gas shut off on the wall – but nothing I do is working.

Sadly, we decide to just give up, head to the hotel, and eat at Pizza Hut. Not ideal. All this wasted food . . . We pack up again and start to bike away. 

Just then we see Tom and his dog walking up the street.

”I tried the grill, but I couldn’t get it to work,” I tell him.

”Oh, that’s because it’s shut off from inside the house,” Tom explains. 

Within a few minutes the grill is going, the corn is cooking, brats are on and the world is looking up again. 

Tom introduced us to his chickens and his dog, Teddy. Tom told us about the big ATV accident that he was involved in a few years ago. He “died twice.” Sounds like it was terrible. Even Diana was impressed with the big scar down his chest. 

I guess that’s the story of a good man. And that’s the story of our day. It’s good to live in a world with people like Tom.

Shifting gears, our ride itself was good for sure. How could it not be with the tailwind and the beautiful weather? But we did ride through a big First Nations Reserve (the Canadian equivalent of a Native American Reservation). The Six Nations of the Grand River includes various Iroquois tribes, including the Cayuga – which is a little confusing because we thought the Cayuga were centered around Cayuga Lake – where Cornell is located. 

Like all reservations that we’ve ever seen, things seemed pretty tough in the area. We must have passed 50 cannabis and tobacco dispensaries – most of them just a dilapidated mobile home with a sign saying something like:

”Buy Your Smokes Here and You’ll Live Longer”

What?!?

Tomorrow we head on toward Michigan. We’re planning to cross from Sarnia to Port Huron, but as with most elements of our journey, there is a complication or two . . . Apparently the bridge over the St. Clair River is a big highway and, although there is a sidewalk, bikes and pedestrians are not allowed on the bridge. From what we understand there is a toll booth before the bridge and some of the toll booth workers might let us bike over – but, if not, there might be some kind of transport. And, if that won’t work, I guess some people have just hitched a ride. 

In other words – we’ll have to figure it out . . . 

Oh well. Tomorrow’s problem. 

And that’s the news from the land of Tim Horton’s – eh?