I took the bike way west today, ending up in a place called Oka. I don't think there was another English-speaking person for 15 km in any direction, but that didn't seem to matter. I found an incredible bike path network that took me to the national park in Oka, the same place where I learned to cross-country ski as a kid. I even cycled on some of the same trails where I had gone skiing. I don't think they've changed any of the signs since then: they're still that hideous yellow-on-brown that's impossible to see unless you stick your face right up to the sign.
I think this ride will be my last one on this trip, since we're heading home in a couple of days. Still, I'm glad I brought the beast with me, because it gave me a chance to see pieces of the world I would have otherwise missed. Who knows, they may yet show up in some future writing of mine. Don't bet against it.
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