Day 118 (9/11): Thamesville to Pt. Stanley,Ontario

Mileage: 56.1; 3,715 total

Overcast all day, with occasional light rain. The ride was fairly uneventful except for a stop for some excellent pie. Along the route, two different people, in different towns, had told me that I should stop at a restaurant called the Greenhouse and Restaurant (was it in Eagle? or Burwells Corner? I forget.) I stopped there, naturally; after narrowing my choices down to cherry, blueberry, or strawberry/rhubarb I was having trouble making a final decision, and so the waitress very wisely suggested that she give me a small piece of each. They were each fantastic, the best pie that I have had on this trip. I also bought I piece of cherry pie to take with me, because I knew I would be camping and that the cherry pie would be a super dessert.

I pulled into a campground as I entered Pt. Stanley. The owner said there would not be any charge, given that I was traveling by bicycle. The campground was very small, with about 15 recreational vehicles, most of which seemed pretty old and which appeared to be parked there permanently. As soon as I arrived Steve stopped over to say talk as I set up my tent and cooked my dinner, bringing with him gifts, for me, of two cold bottles of beer plus a bottle of a vodka-laced chocolate milkshake (quite good, actually!). It was fairly obvious that Steve had some addiction problems, but he was very nice, as well as bright and a good conversationalist. About 50 years old, he apparently has been traveling around Canada for years, finding restaurant work here and there. He told me that he was going to be living at the campsite over the winter. He was keenly interested in rock music (used to play the harmonica, he said, 20 years or so ago in some group that had Cowboys in its name and which he was surprised I hadn't heard of) and in art: he was flabbergasted and very excited by the fact that I was familiar with the book "Drawing on the Right Side of Your Brain," and said I was only the second person he had ever met who had read it. He told me he would by up by 5 in the morning, and that I should stop by his trailer when I was leaving so that he could bicycle into town with me for breakfast. I did stop as I left at about 8 am; his bicycle was there, but there were no signs of anyone awake, and he didn't answer when I rapped gently on his door. As I left, I noticed a bumper sticker on his trailer: "Rehab is for Quitters."