My first long Saskatchewan bicycle tour happened when I signed up for the 1986 Great Saskatchewan Heritage Bicycle Tour. I had heard about this annual event, organized by the Wascana Freewheelers, for the previous three years, but I never got up the nerve to join these cyclists who obviously were so much more "athletic" and "adventurous" than I was. They were riding all over the province like they knew what they were doing, while I was sneaking out of my apartment for rides along Regina's Devonian Pathway and, occasionally, on some of the grid roads around the city, venturing out for an hour or two at a time.Yet, every spring, I'd hear reports of these travellers and their adventures through the province, while I grew more and more bored with riding the same trail over and over again. By 1986 I had finally decided to join the tour. It took some doing. I wondered how this group would take to a newcomer. I wondered if I'd be accepted, or if would find myself riding alone on the road and sitting alone in camp. I worried that these experienced cyclists would leave me in their dust, abandonning me to fend for myself as I struggled to keep up.
I had been riding a bike all my life, but this tour would be different. Of course I rode everywhere while I was growing up. There was a time when kids rode bikes, you know. I had ridden long trips as a teenager, smitten by my bicycle's ability to take me on incredible journeys and introduce me to new people. But I had also just experienced a long hiatus from cycling, having lived in Vancouver during a time when cyclists faced unmitigated discrimination and animosity. Cyclists were all but forbidden from riding to the university campus. Occasionally, newspapers would publish reports of fistfights between cyclists and motorists. Who could ride in that kind of atmosphere? I gave up cycling for nearly a decade. One of the first things I did upon reaching Saskatchewan was buy a new bike and begin riding again. It was a wonderful feeling, but it wasn't at all like riding in the mountains.But I had made up my mind and was determined to go through with the tour. I went to the participant meetings, where we learned about the route and what we need to do to prepare for the trip. I packed nearly two weeks in advance, checking and double checking my gear each night to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important. My employer had approved a day's vacation.
Early on that Friday morning preceding the Victoria Day weekend, I packed my bike and gear into my car, and drove out to the Moose Jaw Western Development Museum. The temperature was just around freezing and a fierce northwest wind was blowing a late-season snow horizontally. Yet, we departed on schedule, headed for Assiniboia. I gritted my teeth, pulled the zipper on my jacket tight up around my neck, pulled on my warmest cross-country ski gloves and pushed off into the wind.
The snow had stopped, but it was still cloudy, when we reached the Sukanen Ship Museum. It felt good to go indoors for a spell. Back on the road, I looked up from the pavement as another snow squall hit us, near Ardill, to see a line of cyclists ahead of me, all tilted fully 45-degrees so they could maintain a straight line into that unrelenting wind. We stopped for a snack at the Mossbank turnoff, and at that point the tour magically changed.While we munched our snacks, the wind blew the clouds away, then shifted around to the north. The sun finally came out, feeling warm and welcoming. The wind pushed us swiftly toward Assiniboia. We pedalled at amazing speeds on a highway almost completely devoid of traffic. With the wind at our backs and the sun casting a golden light on the spring prairie, we quickly made up for lost time earlier in the day. For the rest of the trip, each day was warmer, reaching 35 degrees Celsius on more than one occasion.
As much as I'll never forget that first day of my first Saskatchewan tour - or the sight of all those cyclists hunched over their handlebars, tilted 45 degrees into the wind near Ardill
- what I'll always remember about that trip is the friends I made. Each evening, we'd sit in camp, sharing stories, talking of places we'd visited, discussing the museums and people we encountered. It was an eclectic group, teachers, bankers, doctors, civil servants, business people, all brought together by the common bond of their bicycles and a love for adventure. Most amazing of all, the friends I made on that trip are still my friends today. Some of those cyclists, those who still live in the province, will be with us on GASP 2009.Do you remember your first bicycle tour? What was it like, your first solo adventure, club trip or GASP tour? Post your comments to tell us about your first tour.
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