Today was a rare treat: a full day with no driving at all. We eased into the morning with breakfast, espresso, and the constant soundtrack of chickadees in the woods. One particularly determined little bird sang the exact same plaintive tune from sunrise to sunset. Clearly his romantic prospects were not improving, but he remained admirably committed.
Eventually we roused ourselves enough to unpack the bikes and roll into Wasagaming. The town is wonderfully quaint—like an upscale British seaside village, only without the “kiss me quick” hats. We’d spotted the giant moss moose the night before on our way to pizza, so naturally he became our first stop.
A waitress had told us to follow the lakeside trail to a spot called Deep Cove, about 3–4 km away. So off we went. The trail hugged the water at lake level, a smooth gravel ribbon with gorgeous views the whole way. Deep Cove itself was a perfect little bay: sandy beach, small dock, quiet water. We sat for ages with our feet dangling in the lake, chatting with a group of twenty‑somethings about our trip. We promised ourselves we’d come back later with swimsuits.
Back in town, we discovered a fantastic bakery and loaded up on sticky buns and assorted treats—fuel for the day, or at least justification for it. Lunch back at the trailer was excellent, and I’m fairly sure our blood sugar spiked into the stratosphere.
After a respectable break (and maybe a small snooze), we pulled on swim gear under our cycling clothes and headed back to Deep Cove. The ride was peaceful until about 100 yards from the beach, when Georgie’s back wheel suddenly locked up. A huge bulge had formed in the tire, and while we were debating what to do, the inner tube exploded with a deafening bang. Being so close to the water, we decided repairs could wait—the lake was calling.
We spent a couple of happy hours swimming, chatting, and—embracing our new Canadian heritage—jumping off the dock. The water started out feeling like pure glacier melt but eventually became pleasantly refreshing.
Getting home required a bit of improvisation: I rode back to fetch the truck while Georgie wheeled her wounded bike to the nearest road access. We made it back without much fuss and settled in for a quiet evening by the fire pit with a hot supper.
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