After a busy week, I finally began my trip close to one in the afternoon. I slept a scant 3 1/2 hours last night and when I went out for breakfast with my friends (Shaun, John and Matias) I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay awake long enough to bike anywhere. But, finally, almost reluctantly, I left the house. I'd been daydreaming about this trip for nearly two years, but suddenly I was filled with doubts. Would my ankle and knees be okay? Would I be forced to quit, or worse, give up early? I was petrified that, after having talked about it for so long and said so many farewells that I'd be back in a matter of days instead of weeks. Still, I wonder. But my trip, for better and for worse, has begun.

A happy, confident (yeah, right) Eric is about to embark on his trip.

As I was stopped at a light a van changed lanes and pulled up beside me. It was man and his family, and the black driver leaned over with a huge grin on his face. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Newfoundland!" I responded. He asked where I was from and told him Ottawa—"I'm just leaving!" He told me that he'd biked to Montreal three times, and to watch out for tractor trailers—the draft sucks you right in. His obvious enthusiasm for my trip and his smile was infectious.

Posing with my grandparents, Lucien et Raymonde, at their Mechanicsville home.

Willhaven, the road I was following, was described on my direction sheet as having a short section of hard pack. Apparently, when wet, this translates to mud. As I rode, my shoes and bike were turning gray. I finally came to a 'T' in the road, and my directions made no mention of it. Perplexed, I decided to head North to the river, since Rockland is on it. I came to a big hill dropping down to the valley and I could see Highway 17 in distance by the river. After debating with myself for a while, I sped down to the highway. There were a lot of cars and not much of a shoulder. I didn't want to bike on it, but there was no way I was climbing back up that hill. I hoped Rockland wasn't far, but I was... not lost, but... confused. Fortunately, after a short distance a road branched off from the highway and I grabbed that. Suddenly I got the feeling that I was in familiar territory. I followed my hunch and led myself to the road that J.P. and Bev live on. I had found the right street by getting lost! Brilliant. Only I couldn't remember the address. I had it on my computer... but I couldn't figure out how to look it up without getting it wet in the rain coming down. As I struggled with my bags a van coming up the road honked. It was them.

I had a most pleasurable visit with the two of them. They have a very frisky 9-month-old Golden Retreiver and a beautiful view of the river from their deck. They cooked up a fabulous meal of garlic shrimp, steak, baked potato, salad, bread, wine... I was in Heaven. We talked a lot and later J.P. took me to the pharmacy where I bought a knee brace (to go with the one for my ankle) and then showed me the way I'd be taking out of Rockland tomorrow. Hopefully the knee will be better because right now it hurts. I can still feel tension in my achilles tendon, but at least there's no pain. (I even wonder if the brace had been the cause of the pain. Hmmm.) My bike gears also sound like they need some tweaking.

When I was biking along the Parkway in Ottawa I swerved to avoid a 'dead' bird by the curb. Then it moved, obviously injured. Somewhat surprised, I wondered what I could do. Put it out of its misery? I wasn't sure if I could do that. Help it? Save it? It seemed so impractical. So I just kept riding. Doing nothing felt like a huge cop out. Sometimes I find it all too easy to take the easy way out by doing nothing.

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