Calgary to Drumheller. DAY: 151.76km. ODO: 1,423km. AVS: 21.4km/h. MXS: 58.0km/h. ATM: 7:04.

Though I suspected that perhaps my Achilles could use a longer rest, it was feeling considerably better, if still somewhat tender, and I decided to depart. I had still been unsuccessful at connecting with my cousin Ann-Louise and her family, but I was getting restless and had had quite enough of Calgary (my apologies to my Calgarian readers, but I find little favour with your chosen home).

I abandoned all hope of finding a quiet route out of town and just headed out 16th, which is the Trans-Canada, eastbound, intending to head for the town of Beiseker to the northeast, which is en-route to Drumheller, home of a dinosaur museum that has been recommended to me by many that I have met along the way so far.

Near the town of Irricana, I spotted a couple of American Avocets, in mating plumage, feeding along the banks of a slough.

Upon arrival in Beiseker, I met a German couple (from Stuttgart) travelling by RV in the same direction as I, as well as a local Beisekerite by the name of John, who was quite chatty. I picked up some lunch and dinner materials at the grocery store before continuing on my way. By this time, the Achilles was bugging me quite a bit again, which started to get me a bit down, as it seemed a harbinger of the end of this adventure. I decided that I would undertake to arrive in Edmonton, where I could visit a doctor or physiotherapist (although I suspect that all they would tell me is to stay off of it for a while and “come back and see me if it worsens”, which seems to be the first phrase taught in medical schools. I also decided that I would try to ride lightly, and keep my distances short, so as not to overdo things.

By the end of the day, I arrived in Drumheller, 151km from Calgary, for a total of seven hours and four minutes of actual cycling time, much of which featured strong head- or cross-winds after Beiseker. So much for taking is easy. Once the body-brain gets into riding mode, it’s hard to stop, until the juice runs out.

Here’s the Red Deer River Valley:

Because it was close to town, and my juice had run out, I stayed at the River Grove RV Park. Yuck! Think of the Green Point Campground near Tofino. Barking dogs, crying babies, car alarms, and liquor-fueled debates on various aspects of professional sport. Welcome to the Hotel Proletariat (I know, I’m a snob…).

I would like to leave tomorrow for somewhere less vulgar, but since this is the first camping long weekend of the year, this might be as good as it gets.

I’m sure you’ve noticed in your own travels those roadside markers placed, presumably, by the loved ones of traffic victims. Usually a cross, frequently adorned with flowers or other knick-knacks, and sometimes with a photo of the deceased. Though it may seem to some to be in poor taste, I have decided to make it a side-hobby to document some of these along the way. Such as the lovely marker pictured below. However, let me point out that, should I meet my demise along the road, under absolutely no circumstances should a roadside marker of any variety be placed in my memory. And especially not one with a photo. If you wish to remember me, buy a bench at Beaver Lake in my name, or hold a wake. But no roadside markers!