Out of the saddle and on to a boat.

Smug on a boat.
Casually elegant.

At last, I can see clearly on clear days! No more choosing between being able to see fine details while being blinded by the sun, or protecting my substandard vision from the sun’s glare.

I upgraded my sunglasses with prescription lenses and a gold mirror finish (to match my medal). Up until now, I wasn’t recklessly dodging blurry objects on my bicycle as I am only slightly far-sighted. My new lenses allow me to see just how concerning an upcoming pothole is; I also don’t have to get too close to read a street sign before I figure out I’ve gotten lost. In retrospect, this could have even prevented the crash I had last month as I would have probably noticed how soft the gravel was getting before my front wheel had the chance to sink in it.

Now to take the focus off my eyes, here’s Yann rolling past a historical Montréal landmark:

7 short of a dozen.
Two wheels, five roses.

Why is it historical? It’s just a flour factory.

Not to Montréalaises: they put this logo on postcards, framed canvases, pillow covers, t-shirts, tote bags, and themselves. I’ve even seen two people with this logo tattooed on them, which is two people too many.

At least the Vancouver equivalent of “Farine Five Roses” is more succinct: the letter “W”. When I was a very young suburbanite, my opa pointed to the “W” and told me that the building was his; after all, his name was Willy. I accepted this to be true and shared my newfound knowledge with my fellow mini-suburbanites who quickly knew it to be hogwash before they knew what the word “hogwash” meant.

Montréalaises’ fondness for the Farine Five Roses sign would somewhat explain the public’s penchant for kitschy front lawn display. When you’re used to being welcomed into your city by a neon sign owned by a flour factory, welcoming guests to your home via a driveway guarded by two sailfish seems reasonable.

After passing the beloved flour factory, Yann and I continued southwest on Route Verte #1 until we reached Lachine where we turned south onto Route Verte #5. This took us through Montréal’s rich neighbourhood which Yann explained to me was where all the Anglophones lurked. If I had money, I guess I’d have felt “right at home”.

But, we didn’t want to pass through the area twice, much less through the Old Port on a Friday night; thus, we continued riding to Hudson.

Yann on a boat.
Yann making sure nobody steals our bikes.

I clipped my shoe into Yann’s ass for stability while ferrying over the Ottawa River to Oka.

This was the moment of truth for our new Garmin Edge 1030 GPS device: was it smart enough to recognize that we were going over water where there was no bridge?

Nope. We remained moving at a pace of 13km/h even though we were off our bikes.

Keeping my location secure.
Censored by my bitmoji for privacy reasons.

Instead, we relied on my CatEye Strada Wireless cyclocomputer to give us our distance total of 130km, making it our tenth 100+km ride of the year.

Since July 29th, the current leader of The Transcontinental Race, James Hayden, has covered a distance of 2510km.

transcontinental
I’m exhausted just looking at this map.

Give me until the end of 2018 to beat his one-week total, please.

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