Day 33
Looking back at fifty, Day 33 feels like the exhale after a long, deep breath. We rolled into Winnipeg, the very place our journey had effectively started on the train weeks earlier, but we arrived as entirely different people. The morning was a comedy of errors—trying to cook blueberry pancakes on a windy picnic table at a gas station in Portage la Prairie. Matthew’s stove kept flickering out, and he was attempting to fry pancakes on an aluminum pot lid. It was messy, slightly burnt, and absolutely perfect.
The ride into the city was a "victory lap" on perfectly flat terrain, punctuated by the surreal sight of biplanes spraying for mosquitoes right alongside us. I remember the fruit stand near the city where we collectively lost our minds and spent forty dollars on fresh cherries, peaches, and plums. We sat in the grass, feasting like kings on fruit and croissants. Meeting the couple riding across the country to raise awareness for MS was a humbling reminder of the many reasons people take to the road.
Reaching downtown Winnipeg and seeing the train station felt immense—nearly 2,000 kilometres of Victoria-to-Manitoba grit. We’d survived the mountains, the Coquihalla, the "Sickness," and the vastness of the Prairies. Ending the day with a movie and ice cream with our expanded group of fellow travelers, I felt a profound sense of achievement. We were warned to mind our "P's and Q's" at our motel because of the biker bar downstairs, but after two thousand kilometres, a few "other" bikers didn't seem nearly as intimidating as a headwind in Saskatchewan.