I woke up about 3:00 am in Moosomin, Saskatchewan. A day earlier, my son’s girlfriend asked him if I’d make it for his birthday dinner. He told her it was unlikely as I was still in Ontario. That stretch of my adventure was a bit of a feather in my cap. Although it had only been 816 kilometers, this was the first time I could boast biking through three Canadian provinces in one day; Ignace Ontario to Moosomin Saskatchewan. Now that only 1,111 km laid ahead between me and my boy, nothing would keep me from that birthday hug.

I set out at 6:34 in the morning. I wasn’t worried about riding in the dark, and I wasn’t stressed abut the heavy rain. Been there, done that. By the time I had Jules packed, the rain had stopped anyway. Actually I had pretty solid luck with the rain always just far enough away that I could see it, but not feel it. After a stop for breakfast in Regina and a bunch of loopty-do’s in Saskatoon, I was on the home stretch by about noon that day.

I need to stop for a bit of a sideline here so my Saskatchewan experience makes sense.

When I was on the east coast, I really wanted to put a message in a bottle and toss it into the north Atlantic. The message I’d planned was going to be more like an ‘unloading’ than an actual message to some unknown recipient. I have a lot of unresolved bullshit in my head, and I was ready to let it go. I guess I figured the symbolism of releasing a that baggage and letting it get swallowed up in the vastness of the sea would mean it was no longer be my burden to bear. I imagined towering waves crashing down on that bottle full of stuff and carrying it to sea. I imagined my stuff being so minuscule in the deep that it couldn’t possibly be big enough to consume me and that I would never have to carry it ever again.

That didn’t happen.

After Saskatoon I stopped in Biggar, Saskatchewan. I saw a billboard about Sandra Schmirler (a curler), so I figured I’d go have a look. I wheeled around this pretty little town, but I didn’t see anything about Sandra. Eventually I realized that although the sport of curling is a big deal to both my mom and Brian, I don’t know a thing about it so I quit looking. I unpacked what I had left for food from my trunk and had a leisurely lunch while I taking my legs and back for a walk. After fueling up, I set out again with less than 500 km to go. I was 50% of the way home on this massively long ride day!

Once I was back on the highway from Biggar, something very strange washed over me. All the grief, all the stress, all the heartache, all the ugly, black, ‘ick’ I’d hoped to toss into the ocean washed over me in big waves of ugly-face sobbing. I didn’t stop it, either. Whatever was coming out of me needed to come out. A divorce. Heartache. Betrayal. Disbelief. Broken relationships with loved ones. Longing. Mourning that hadn’t properly run its course. Emptiness. Sick family members. Anxiety. Bullying. Fear. Abuse. All that shit came out in Biggar, Saskatchewan.

And that’s where I left it.

Once the tears and sobbing subsided, I realized how much lighter I felt. I don’t know why it came out in Biggar. Perhaps it was the wide open prairie, the empty highway, and the vast, blue sky. Or maybe it was the fact that I still sometimes pretend my helmet is the Cone of Silence. I don’t know what changed inside me when I wheeled through Biggar to open the taps that way. Whatever the reason, I didn’t care. I was on the other side of it.

About 5 hours later I wrapped my arms around my little boy who now towers over me. I soaked up all the love I felt in his strong, young man arms, and I felt blessed. The love I felt from my son in that hug poured into the spaces inside my soul that were freed in Biggar.

My journey was complete.