Discovering Ontario and More: Biking & Camping in One Pair of Pants Page 7

[Yes, the title has changed. I learned a lot of lessons on the road and one was - squeeze as much as possible into a title and saddlebag.]

After I parked my bike and took a few pictures of my surroundings at Sandbanks Provincial Park, I unloaded necessary supplies and gear, set up the pup tent, blew up the air mattress, rolled out my sleeping bag, unpacked a bit of food from a saddle bag, poured water into the kettle and scrounged around the immediate area for free kindling.

A short time later I walked to the camp store to call Pat on the pay phone.


“Everything going well?” she asked.

“Very well. What happened on Coronation Street tonight?” I asked.

She explained a few details:

Shawn yelled at Janet, Tracey went to jail, Karen discovered she was pregnant but didn’t know who the father was, Ken marked some English papers and Roy raised the price of his two egg sandwich.

“How much?” I asked.

She wasn’t sure. Roy’s accent made the words hard to make out.

We exchanged important details about our day.

“I saw a snapping turtle and then a guy who looked just like one,” I said.

Pat was happy I was having a good time and hadn’t been hit by a bus.

We eventually wished each other well, I said I’d call tomorrow evening and hung up the phone.

As I checked out the tinned goods in the camp store I wondered what would heat up nicely on the Kelly Kettle and at the same time go well with two organic eggs.


Trust me, it was a tough decision.

Would it be Puritan Irish stew with its preformed chunks of meat or Chef Boyardee ravioli filled with mystery meat?

Irish stew? Ravioli? Irish stew? Ravioli?

I realized it wouldn’t take much more than two eggs and toast to fill me up, so I settled on a small can of ravioli priced at $1.39.

After paying the cashier I walked back to my camp site by way of the beach, took a few more pictures of happy families and children fishing under a bridge, picked up a few more twigs and branches and thought, $1.39 for this little can? It had better be good.


Sure, the ads say that ‘when you serve Chef Boyardee to your family, you give them more than great taste – you give them a wholesome, nutritious meal as well’, but I’m not easily swayed by claims made about meals in a can.

I returned to my campsite and cooked a satisfying evening meal as the sun set and my immediate surroundings, in the middle of a thick wall of brush and many trees, fell into darkness.

I knew sleep would come quick and easy as soon as I slipped into my sleeping bag.

For a minute or two my mind replayed the gentle curves and hills on highway 10 north of Welcome while the sound of duelling banjos in the wind mixed with that from nearby campers who sat around an open fire, mumbled to one another and swatted mosquitoes.

Someone pedalled by on a squeaky bicycle but before they reached their campsite and smacked an unsuspecting sibling with a flip-flop or towel I was out like a light.

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