Riding for Di
My plane just left the tarmac in Ottawa. I’m feeling much more than just the usual flight jitter. There’s no turning back now. I’ll land in Victoria in just a few hours, where I’ll unbox and assemble my bike, and ride to Mile 0–the starting point of my 7,192 km solo biking adventure.
A few doubts keep echoing again and again through my head, along with some well-meaning comments from friends as they learned about my plan, like:
“You realize you’re 70 years old, ‘humph’!”
“You haven’t thought this through! Solo?!”
And after my original departure had to be delayed:
“I hope you’ve abandoned the idea of cycling across Canada. I was afraid you’d lost your marbles.”
Perhaps they’re not entirely wrong.
Besides my age, craziness, and relative inexperience with bike touring, I know I will be challenged in ways I can’t fully imagine. There will be horrific weather events, promising to be made worse by this year’s Super El Nino (tornados, torrential rain, oppressive heat and drought, not to mention the smoke and dangers of the already out-of-control wildfires) and the physical challenges of peddling a bike through the Rockies and the endless miles of Northern Ontario.
Then there are the challenges I can’t predict: mechanical failures, finding enough food and water, sleeping well, keeping clean, and solving a hundred small problems that no amount of planning can eliminate.
My bike is boxed and waiting to be flown to Victoria BC where it will carry me for the next 7,000+ kms…I’m praying the airline doesn’t crush it the way my son’s bike was destroyed by an airline two month ago!
And, as I have been reminded of so often, there is health itself.
None of us can ever take it for granted.
As I sit on this flight, my thoughts are with my oldest sister, Dianne, who recently died from ovarian cancer, and my brother, Charlie, who lost his battle to cancer a year before.
When I told Dianne about this ride, I said she would be with me in my thoughts until I reached St. John’s. She talked about her intent to come see me when I went through Ontario or even better, at my journey’s end.
That was our plan. The journey’s end should have happened already.
Cancer had other ideas.
Around May 1st, as my original May 15th plan start-date approached, Dianne’s condition suddenly worsened. She believed she still had months to enjoy life with her friends and family, but instead she was given only days. On May 20, surrounded by those she loved, she chose Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) to end what had become unbearable suffering.
Even during those final weeks, she never stopped encouraging me.
She told me, again and again, that she knew I could do this.
Those conversations have stayed with me.
There will undoubtedly be days on this ride when I question why I ever thought cycling across the vastness of this country was a good idea. There will be headwinds, mountains, exhaustion, breakdowns, loneliness, and moments when quitting will seem like the sensible choice.
When those days come, I’ll remember Dianne.
This ride has become far more than a cycling adventure.
It is a promise.
It is a tribute.
And it is my way of honouring two remarkable people whose lives ended too soon.
So despite the doubts—my own and everyone else’s—I am quietly determined to reach the finish line.
Every kilometre is for Di.
My sister, Dianne, passed away on May 20th 2026, succumbing to Ovarian Cancer. It’s often referred to as the Silent Killer because, as in my sister’s case, the symptoms can easily be mistaken for other conditions, leading to delays in detection and treatment until it is too late. Please donate to help in research to end this dreadful disease, by clicking here.
A few words about this remarkable person can be found here.
Lots of emotions while waiting for takeoff but on the whole it’s thumbs up—bring on the giants!
