Eric Mann

Day 13: Nanatik (NB) to Saint John, (NB)

 On this day we awoke beside the town’s hockey arena and overlooking the Saint John River. The sky was clear and bright sun promised to warm the chilly morning air.

Before we embarked on our ride, one of our riders Vicki DunLeavy led the dedication by telling us how she became involved in the ride. Vicki’s father was abusive to her as a young child, leaving her with both physical and emotional scars. During the same period, Vicki was diagnosed with a form of cancer, and began intensive inpatient treatments in hospital. While there, she became friends with other kids with cancer in her room and on the same floor. Several of her new friends passed away while she was there, a painful reminder of how low the survival rate was for children diagnosed with cancer thirty years ago. But on reflection, Vicki felt that her time in hospital was also a blessing because of the kind and gentle help she received there – in stark contrast to her experience at home. She survived cancer, and also regained her faith in the goodness of people.

We began our ride against strong winds, swept up the coast from hurricane Igor. Our route followed and sometimes crossed over the river, providing expansive views as we sped across windswept bridges, often leaning into the crosswind to maintain balance on the bike. Despite the chilly air, an hour into the ride we were all warmed up from the effort, climbing New Brunswick’s notorious hills.

On this day I was beginning to feel the effects of a flu bug that has been slowly infecting about half of our team. By the time we reached our first break stop, I was exhausted, and felt a fever coming on. I decided reluctantly to climb into the RV for a short nap, and then rejoined the group at lunch. In the afternoon we all got a big kick out of an unplanned stop at an elementary school in a small town called Tracy, where almost one hundred kids were lined up on the sidewalk cheering our arrival. We stopped and chatted, and they got a big kick out of lifting my bike and playing with the odometer. Their enthusiasm was infectious and I felt much better as we continued on to Saint John.  

Day 12: Levis (Quebec City) to Riviere-du-Loup

On this day we layered up for a cold start as we left this bedroom community east of Quebec City, heading along the river towards Riviere du Loup. By 9am we’d left the city behind, surrounded now by rolling hills and farmfields on our right side, and the river and the laurentian mountains on our left side. All day we enjoyed spectacular scenery, especially as we entered a small Quebec town called Saint John Port Joli for lunch.

We ate in a waterfront park, where we met another cross-canada adventurist, a middle aged doctor raising money and awareness for research and treatment of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) by cycling solo from Victoria to Saint Johns NL. We met him on day 51 of his journey.

After lunch I wandered down to the water to do some stretching and gather my thoughts. Standing on a low dock, I could see where low tide revealed grassy marshlands and pools amongst the rocks. The clouds sat quietly overhead, the water was still and I could see clearly across to the Laurentians on the other side. Beautiful.

That afternoon we traveled along valley roads between mountain ranges, eventually cycling along the south shore of the Saint Lawrence as it widened towards the ocean. It was a long day, covering almost 190 km, but I felt strong on the bike, and enjoyed a sprint with a couple of the other riders in the last hour leading into town. That night we enjoyed a wonderful restaurant pasta dinner paid for by the owner of the local sears store, and then a restful RV shuttle to a small town in New Brunswick for our next day’s ride.

Day 11: Ottawa to Montreal (La Salle)

Today we awoke at 5:30am, with an early start to ensure we arrived on time to a large community event in Montreal later that day. It was chilly leaving Ottawa, but we soon warmed up as the sun rose in the sky, and we enjoyed a beautiful trip along the river, with farmers fields and nice homesteads along the way. We stopped for lunch along the river, munching on bbq chicken sandwiches, grilled vegetables and baked potatoes. One of the best lunches I’ve had so far.

Before we reached our destination, we enjoyed a fantastic waterfront journey through Dorval, and Lachine, suburbs of Montreal connected by a beautiful network of parks and trails on the St. Lawrence. We stopped along the way to pick up a volunteer group of riders from one of the Sears distribution centres. They were an enthusiastic bunch, with their own jerseys, snacks and at least 20 strong in number. Together we cycled the final 20 kilometers to the Sears store in La Salle, where we were greeted by a large crowd.

The LaSalle community event was very well done. I was impressed by each of the speakers, which included the heads of the ‘Enfant Soleil’ oncology program, and a young teenager who told us about her own brain cancer treatment, and successful remission. Since her treatment, she has decided to pursue a career in oncology research, and has won an award for the highest graduating average at her high school, and scholarships to the university of her choice. After she finished speaking, the crowd gave her a standing ovation.

Riding in Memory of Jason Bourque

Each day when I start the day’s ride, I pin one of two photos to my jersey. The first is a photo of my Aunt Jamie Simmons, who passed away from cancer earlier this year. As I’ve written in a previous blog entry, I’ve dedicated my ride to her memory.

The second photo is of Jason Bourque, a young man who also passed away from cancer earlier this year. Jason was a dear friend of Mike Ovens, one of my closest and oldest friends, and I’m honoured to carry Jason’s photo with me across the country, and to share with you some of his own writing. Before his death, Jason wrote his own eulogy. Here it is:

Very few people sit down and write their own eulogy.  What can I say?  I have always felt I had a unique perspective on certain things.  Writing my own eulogy is a gift only I can give myself. 

And truly, who better to write about my life than me?  Who else can convey the legacy that I lived day in and day out for so many years?  I’m the perfect candidate.  And you are all the perfect audience.  Thank you so much for coming.  I’m sure that I feel your presence and it means the world to me…and my family and friends…that you came to show your respect and to comfort each other at such an uncomfortable time.  No one enjoys this process, but by coming together to support each other, you have all made it a little easier for the friends and family that sit here today.  It is truly touching to see you all support one another.  Some comforts in life simply can’t be experienced on your own.  Bless you for your presence.

There are so many words in me that I want to get out.  I want to tell you all so much about my life.  I want to share all the great times and invoke memories in your subconscious that haven’t surfaced in years.  I would love the opportunity to sit each of you down and tell you just how much you meant to me and let you know you affected my life.  Wouldn’t that be a great gift?  Alas, there aren’t enough hours in a day to get through it all.  So instead, I’ll tell you what I think all of you really need to hear.  I’ll tell you how happy I was.

I was born on a farm to a simple family.  I had nothing less than a perfect childhood.  I climbed trees and made hay forts and breathed fresh air deep into my lungs. I would come home each day to people who truly loved me more than I can comprehend.  I would ride the bus to school and spend time with friends who I’m sure are sitting in this audience right now.  They were the best of friends and they remained so all my life.  How could that not make me happy? 

When I was 15, my parents let me spread my wings and take on a whole new life out of their reach and into the “big city.”  I continued to grow and develop in ways I smile at when I think of them.  I met some people who changed my life.  I took on some responsibilities that would shape how I lived the rest of my day.  I started to see traits of those around me in my personality.  My comfort zone expanded and I was the better for it.  Indeed, those were happy times. 

I moved on in life to an even bigger city—Toronto.  She was one of the loves of my life.  My 20s were filled with new adventures…e-mails about those adventures…and happy memories that live on. 

I am 30 years of age as I write this.  I am unaware of what lies ahead of me.  I’m sure there are many more happy times ahead, and of course, some bad times as well.  I have no doubt that I will embrace them both.  I think one of the true gifts I had in life was the realization that the bad times should be experienced just as fully as the good.  If you can learn to master the art of embracing the bad, life isn’t as much of a roller coaster as you might expect.  I struggled through some hard and awkward times in life, as we all do.  Sometimes it wasn’t apparent to embrace the moment…but I must admit, on those occurances when I did, it actually became enjoyable.  This is one of my “secrets to a happy life” that I’d like to leave you with. 

The only other thing I really wanted to say was “thanks.”  You have all been such a support in my life.  There are some really key times that you have all been there for me—sometimes I bet you didn’t even realize what influence you had, but you did mean something to me.  Please don’t forget that. 

My final requests are that you take care of each other and strive to find happiness in your own lives. 

Day 10: Woodstock to Toronto

I’ve been looking forward to this day from the start of the ride. Seeing my family and friends in Toronto come out to lend their support has lifted my spirits and given me strength to help see me through the rest of the ride.

We started the day in Woodstock, with the other two national rider teams, and a large group of ‘ride along’ cyclists. The day began with a series of speeches, and more importantly, a personal story told by a mother of two, about her young daughter’s treatment of brain cancer. Standing on a platform with her two daughters at her side, she told the crowd about the successful removal of the tumour attached to her daughter’s brain stem, and now the secondary challenges her daughter faces, related to stunted growth, reduced brain and memory function, and other issues she will face for the rest of her life. She told the crowd about how someone had asked her ‘if it was worth it’. Of course it was, she had responded. It’s worth it to see her daughter smile, to hug her, and tuck her into bed each night. To watch her grow and develop. Just to continue to have her in their family’s lives.

We left Woodstock in a large convoy, with a police escort, and bound for Brantford, Burlington, Oakville, and finally, Sherway Gardens in Etobicoke, near downtown Toronto. It was a busy day, and I had a chance to catch up with a bunch of other national riders as we made our way along the route.

At our stop in Burlington, a very special national rider was handed the microphone to tell his story. Josh Nelson is 16 years old, and has battled three types of cancer (I believe) over the course of his young life. A secondary challenge of Josh’s treatment is limited mobility, and so he has covered a portion of the national ride by cycling on a tandem bike with a strong rider. He told the crowd about the friends he made in hospital, all facing similar treatments to his own. Some have survived, and others he has lost. He dedicated his ride to each of them, and read their names aloud, stopping more than once to regain his composure. He thanked the gathering of riders for their support of this cause, without which he felt that he would not be here today. At the end of his speech, the crowd gave him a standing ovation, with barely a dry eye amongst us. Josh is truly a courageous young man.

After Burlington, and Oakville, our group of riders had grown to almost 200 strong. Approaching Toronto, as we entered the parking lot of the shopping area, I scanned the crowd of well-wishers, and waved excitedly to my parents, and friends. It was great to see them all gathered together, and to share this experience with them.

More speeches followed. Among the speakers was Dean Rogers, the CEO of Sears. Dean rode with us that day, and also participated in the ride in previous years. It’s really his passion that brought Sears on board. But as he explained to the crowd, the reason has nothing to do with marketing benefits for the company. Instead, their sponsorship is a way to bring Sears employees together, in support of a foundation that is making a very real and tangible difference in the lives of children living with and beyond cancer. Perhaps this sounds like just another soundbyte, but after meeting so many Sears volunteers over the last week, (usually serving me breakfast they’ve prepared at 3 or 4 in the morning), I know they feel proud to be contributing to this worthy effort.

Once the event came to a close, we were rushed into the RV again to begin our journey to Ottawa, where we would begin our next day’s ride.

Day 9: Sarnia to Woodstock

After departing the ferry in Tobermory, we shuttled to Sarnia, where we slept overnight. The morning of Day 9, we were awakened by a warm sun (a much needed change from the frigid northern Ontario mornings), light mist, and a faint glimmer of a rainbow that brightened as the sun rose in the sky. You could feel the mood lift along with it. I tucked into a great breakfast, and got to know some of the local cyclists who were arriving to join us for our “ride along” trip to London that day. Soon the volunteers turned on the music, and Cath tapped my shoulder to point out a second rainbow coming into view behind the first. Yup, today things were looking up.

That morning, our team captain Jason was joined by his two young sons, Jesse (6 I believe) and Jett (10 I believe), and Jason told the large gathering about his youngest son’s battle against cancer, and its affect on their whole family. Thankfully Jesse is now in remission, and on this day both kids seemed to enjoy themselves at the centre of attention, getting high fives and big hugs from folks they’d met just that morning.

Our ride was warm, and flat, and I enjoyed some more friendly chats with some of the local cyclists who joined us that day. As we approached London, I was glad to join Cath at the front of the pack, as we entered her home town, where a gathering of her friends and family were anxiously awaiting our arrival. It was a pleasure meeting Cath’s parents, and to hear Cath address the crowd, giving thanks to her parents, school and others who supported her training and fundraising efforts over the last year. Cath also spoke about her cousin Jenny who lost her young life to cancer many years ago. Cath turned to show the crowd a picture of Jenny pinned to her jersey, one she has carried across the country.

We ended the day in Woodstock, where Cath and I were excited to be joined by a group of our friends Donna, Fabio, Kai and Tim who generously dropped in on us for a surprise visit before their triathlon the following day. Although Cath was suffering from a bad throat infection, we were all able to enjoy a great big dinner together, talk about our experience on the ride, and generally laugh and goof off. It was a great chance to step back into my normal life, and also to reflect and convey to them how the ride has been going so far for myself.

I’ve enjoyed the ride so far. I feel lucky to see the country this way, with great weather, winds at my back, and spectacular scenery. Physically, this is definitely the hardest challenge I’ve ever done, and in large part this is because of the lack of sleep that accompanies each day. Luckily, our team knows how to laugh away the issues and concerns that accompany any big group event like this, allowing everyone to remain focused on the brighter, more meaningful aspects of the ride. For me personally, this has helped keep my spirits high, as the long days continue to take their toll. On this night, Cath and I took advantage of the hotel where our truck was parked, and booked a suite where we could enjoy a good night’s sleep. It was heavenly!   

Day 8: Spanish to Manitoulin Island

This was a challenging day, in part because we arrived late the night before, and needed to wake earlier than usual (5am) in order to catch the chi cheemaun ferry later that day. We were also greeted early that morning by the sound of heavy rain on our bunk truck roof, and coughing from some of our team members who were not well. Unfortunately Cath was among them, and quite rightly decided to rest and seek out medicine from the pharmacy for our team to share. Given the circumstances, we decided to shuttle to the first rest stop, then begin our shortened cycle route to the ferry. I put on all my rain gear, and as we started out on the bikes in the heavy rain, I was relieved to find that I was staying pretty warm and dry. We swept along the rolling hills and down to a low causeway leading across the broken sections of Manitoulin Island. A visiting rider Dale pointed out to me where the hard shield shifted to soft limestone, as we dropped into the low lands once covered by a vast prehistoric lake. The smooth wide rock forms rising out of marshes reminded me of several group of seven paintings.

By the time we reached the lunch stop, we were all soaked through and shivering. The volunteers handed us bowls of chili and blankets, and most of us elected to change clothes and shuttle the rest to the ferry. Six of our team decided to brave a second round of the cold rain, and when they arrived at the ferry docks we promptly threw their clothes in a dryer while we all sat down to a wonderful turkey dinner prepared by a husband and wife team restauranteurs. I’d been looking forward to the ferry ride all week, remembering my first trip on the boat with my parents over twenty years ago, as part of a short hiking vacation in Tobermory. As a young kid, I’d been fascinated by how the bow of the ship opened up to “eat’ the cars and trucks. This time, I enjoyed watching the scenery pass by, happy to sit quietly on a comfortable chair and rest. It was also nice to reconnect with some of the other teams, as we all converged on the ferry, in preparation for our collective trip to Toronto two days from now.

Day 7: Marathon - Wawa

This morning our volunteer crew worked some miracles to prepare an amazing breakfast of bacon, eggs, porridge, fruits and breads for us, setup beside a quiet lake at a provincial park in Marathon. Like the day before, we prepared for a chilly morning ride by putting on extra layers of cycling clothing, and luckily the sunny sky was bright and clear, which helped warm us soon enough.

Before we left, a friend and teammate Deb Maybury dedicated our ride to a close friend of hers who lost her life to cancer several years ago. She was a special part of Deb’s life, and although not a young child, brought Deb closer to the cause. This reminded me of my Aunt Jamie Simmons, who lost her own battle with cancer earlier this year.

After the dedication, Deb also brought the group closer together by reminding everyone of our potential to work together as a team, supporting each other by riding with someone who is struggling to reach the top of a hill, or falling behind against a strong wind. Her words spoke directly to my challenging experience the previous day, working hard to keep pace with a breakaway segment of our group. Today, during the morning ride, I led our team against a strong headwind, and then realized at our break that my strength was consumed, and spent the next 30km in the support van popping vitamins, hydrating, and eating more fruits and carbs. At lunch I rejoined the group and felt my normal strength return. I sense that today our team has turned a corner, working more closely together to manage a collective pace that will see everyone through the next eight days.

As I type this, we have left our cycling destination of Wawa (a very nice small town of 3400 people where we ate a homemade dinner) and will prepare for a late night arrival and early start tomorrow, to ensure we reach the Chi-Chi-Maun ferry from Manitoulin Island to Tobermory at 3pm. I’m looking forward to this 3 hour ferry ride, not only for the scenery, (and rest) but also because we’ll rejoin the other two teams, and I’m anxious to reconnect with new friends I’ve made there.   

Day 4: Regina to Winnipeg

Day four began with an early call to breakfast provided by the staff of the Sears Distribution Centre, where we were camped for the night. Before heading out, we gathered together with the local volunteers to dedicate the day’s ride to an employee’s young daughter, recently diagnosed with a form of leukemia. Each day begins this way, as a reminder of the cause, and a way to better understand the personal challenges facing each rider, and ultimately to bring the team together in a supportive way. I really loved our ride this day. We traveled through the prairies with bright sun and the wind at our backs, speeding over light rolling hills and long stretches of flat roads, with a clear view across the horizon, dotted by a few grain elevators and light clouds overhead. We enjoyed the peaceful ride, which followed quiet roads without trucks, so our peleton of moving cycles provided the only sound. Occasionally we’d pass a herd of cows, caribou, or horses, sending them off into a run. Sometimes a fox would dart out of our way. We visited three small towns during our ride, each very similar in structure, with a grain elevator beside the railroad tracks and the main road, intersected by a few shops and a cross street leading to the town park and residential streets.. Our first stop was Odessa, so small and quiet that it appeared abandoned. We learned later that most folks here, and most other places in Saskatchewan were glued to their tv sets, as is the custom here, to watch the Roughriders do battle. We stopped for lunch in MontMartre, a town of about 500 people, with a small Sears outlet and a friendly group of volunteers who provided a nice BBQ. The Mayor and his wife, a young and friendly couple, told me about how the town is known as “Paris of the Prairies’ and how the Mayor’s brother decided to celebrate this by constructing a small scale replica of the Eiffel Tower at the centre of town. It looked great and we took photos in front. Next we traveled to Kipling, a slightly larger town that garnered attention a few years ago when the story of Kyle MacDonald’s paper clip sequence of trades led someone to offer a part in a film in exchange for a home in this town. Media swarmed the town to capture the trade, a film was shot on location there, and a larger than life paper clip was constructed in the town centre. Again, we felt obliged to get a photo. We finished the day in a small town called Wawota, enjoying a home cooked dinner provided by more volunteers, and then drove to Winnipeg, the start point for our next day’s ride.

Day 6: Quetico Park to Thunder Bay

After a long drive the night before, we awoke to find ourselves in Quetico Provincial Park, a large and pristine wilderness area southeast of Kenora and Drydon. This far north, dawn was a chilly zero degrees, and so we put on most of our clothes to stay warm for the start of the ride, until our efforts on the bike warmed us up. Today one of our riders, Harry Fediuk made a dedication to his young son Braedon, who has battled cancer, and has been free of the disease for five years.

I loved our ride this day. We traveled along smooth new roads with very little traffic to distract from the beautiful mixed coniferous/deciduous woodlots (starting to show their fall colours), deep dark lakes, and dramatic expanses of the Canadian shield, exposed and blasted away to make room for the road. We faced a light headwind for most of the day, and also needed to ride quickly to reach a scheduled community event on time in Thunder Bay. So this was a physically challenging ride, taking most of us out of our ‘anaerobic’ zone, into an ‘aerobic’ zone, where lactic acid builds up more quickly in your muscles, making exertion more difficult. But it was worth it to arrive in Thunder Bay in time for a fun ride through the mall on our bikes, and to hear our teammate Harry and his two sons talk about their family’s experience with Braedon’s cancer. Theirs is a supportive family, brought closer together by the challenge, and their love for each other was really nice to see.

By chance, we also met another cross country traveler at the mall. Cole Choken, a 24 year old young man of native Canadian descent arrived with his Mum and sister, near the end of his return trek home to Winnipeg. Running about a marathon a day, Cole had raised $5000 for cancer research, and met hundreds of supporters along his travels from Albequerque New Mexico home to Winnipeg. An impressive young man.

After leaving the city, we made a short stop at the Terry Fox Memorial, which overlooks the bay and the spectacular and unique ‘sleeping giant’ land forms across the bay. I loved the design of this inspiring setting. As you approach along a tree lined path, a large copper statue of Terry is framed against the horizon, with the bay and sleeping giant in the background. The memorial highlights the details of his journey from Saint John’s NFLD to this location, as well as the many awards and commendations that were bestowed upon him along the way. It also discusses how Terry never quite understood why he deserved so much praise. To me, his selfless efforts are astounding, inspiring, and a constant reminder of how best to live. Cole would likely agree. He showed me his small trailer where he sleeps each night along his own marathon of hope. Dozens of pictures of Terry were plastered on the walls.