Today was a beautiful day and I was treated to a beautiful bicycle ride along the northern shores of Lake Erie. The roads were all mine, the views of the lake were lovely and the the small ports along the shores were delightful. A good day indeed.
Unusually in this linear adventure I had the time and opportunity to deviate slightly from my west to east straight line, allowing me to spend most of the day hugging the not straight Lake Erie shoreline, which was much the best place to be on a gorgeous day like this. It also kept me well away from everyone else, pretty much, providing gently undulating, traffic free cycling most of the day.
I began by making a southerly beeline from my overnight stop near the railway town of Saint Thomas, with its viaduct mural and elevated park up on top. The first hour was busy enough, until I reached the lakeshore at the pretty beach and harbour town of Port Stanley. This proved a great place to take brunch looking out across the light blue water.
An hour to the west along low sandstone cliffs, much smaller Port Bruce was a good spot to grab what appeared to be the local delicacy, Lake Erie Yellow Perch in a bun, and that set me up nicely for some invigorating cycling for a couple of hours towards Port Burwell, which had a long pier and a lot of seagulls, despite this not being the sea, or remotely salty. A few fishing boats came and went; but each of these small harbours offered refugee to many modest boats a little inland along narrow, pretty inlets half a mile or more inland. There was nothing terribly ostentatious about any of this; in fact it was mostly quite understated, and all the better for it.
By the time I reached Port Rowan, overlooking the bay formed by the long finger of the Long Point peninsula, today a wildlife area, most things were closed for the day. I bought some chocolate and a drink and enjoyed the view without the need to sit down, and then felt able to make it to one more quiet harbour, Port Ryerse, which was the smallest of the day (and that is saying something), perhaps also with the best sheltered, sandy beach, lined with trees.
It was all very pretty. But it was also getting late, and the sun was close to disappearing bŷ the time I reached the town of Simcoe, 7 miles inland. Here, I found my rather disappointing Airbnb and, more rewardingly, a micro brewery in which to spend a pleasant evening. I was able to conclude that Canada has also joined in with the beer revolution sweeping this continent, and for that we can all be thankful. This may be a metric country; but beer is served in pints: American ones, which at 16 fluid ounces are only 80% of a British pint, and more expensive as well. But beggars can’t be choosers.
