Big fog surrounds me out of Imlay City, as we head east on M-21 on poor road surface and visibility 50'. This must be an alt truck route as well, cuz every few minutes a big one emerges out of the mist in front and roars by or surprises me from behind. But the fog soon dissolves and the shoulder widens and we pass thru farmlands of Capac, Emmett and Wadhams (So who is in charge of naming all these towns, the same crafty fellow who does paint colors or Crayola crayons?)
I catch up with Fred, riding his onespeed, homemade bicycle, en route to a church meeting, just outside Pt. Huron. In the plastic milkcrate attached to his handlebars is the too-cute 6 week old pup, Angel of my Dreams, who is contentedly munching his leash with puppy pinteeth. Angel is all black: half Black Lab and half Jack Russell terrier, and would be the angel of anyone's dreams. Despite the warnings of the nice policelady from North Branch about Pt. Huron, and Fred's statement that it is "a little Detroit", I agree to run the convenient and scenic bike path into town to pick up the Blue Water bridge into Ontario, and tho rundown and depressing, the tire gods did not strike me down with flats and I was soon on the ramp under the sign "Bridge to Canada".
As on the Mackinac Bridge on the upper peninsula, I am not permitted to cycle or walk the 2 mile Blue Water Bridge over to Sarnia, Ontario. The VIP pickup truck is summoned and we enter Canada the easy way, and even bypass the 40 car lineup at immigration via some special wormhole. The nice Canadian immigrationlady was more interested in cooing over Brindil than looking at docs and I happily turn my back on the chaos and frustration that is a post-9/11 border crossing and look for a $ exchange and Ontario map. The nice Michigan Bridge Authority lady who drove me over mentioned that in her 21 years of working the bridge, Brindil and I were the FIRST dog with biker pair that she had met. The nice Canadian moneychangerwoman tipped our new currency with a can of milkbonz and the two nice ladies working the Tourist Info Center wanted to see my dog and rig, which I assumed meant Brindil and my bicycle, tho one never knows in a different country...
Wow, it was true! All my predictions about Canada were correct. Sarnia was immaculate and properly ordered, with helpful persons and courteous traffic. I have a free, detailed roadmap in hand, $100 CAD jingling in my pocket, a province full of (nice) doglovers in front of me, and in a few minutes, a cup of tasty java in the system... Too good!
We cycle eastward on Rte. 22 thru corn and soybean fields and past farms just aready for postcards. A slight jog over to lesser travelled Rte. 39. I cross paths with Bess, a solo cyclist doing a cross-Canada journey, and the first woman I have met. She started in St. Johns, New Brunswick and was heading for Nelson, BC. and she was one of the most upbeat travellers I have ever met. Safe travels to you, Bess! More flat miles through Watford, Kerwood and finally to Strathroy's one Motor Inn after a fun, yet diverse, 83 miles. A NICE first day in Canada.
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