It all began with the suggestion of the helpful librarian in Scotland who mentioned a bike path that ran to Port Dover. As this was described as unpaved, I was a little bit skeptical that my tires could handle it. However, she assured me that the trail was really well compacted and frequently used so I decided to try it as well as some of the other bike trails in a map of Ontario bike paths.

The path to Port Dover ran along an old railway line and was a wonderful, gentle incline towards Lake Erie. It was indeed well compacted, and a pleasure to ride on.

The next day however, saw me attempting to ride along the Welland canal trail. Again, this began relatively well, but it soon became apparent that, for an outsider, there were insufficient signposts. Thus, almost every intersection saw the trail disappear, only to reappear, 200m, 500m or even a kilometer of uncertainty further along the road.

Blindly, I continued to follow the signs (when I saw them), and ended up on a trail which appeared to run between the old and new canals. Just as I was beginning to get a little nervous about getting off the island again, the trail was signposted. Not 'Welland canal trail' any longer, but 'Welland island trail'. As you can imagine, that did not fill me with confidence. Soon after, I came across a cyclist going in the other direction and asked whether it was possible to get off the island if you kept going. She replied that it was, giving me directions on crossing a rail-track and some large stones.

Emboldened, I continued.

Thus, I came to a railway line which bridged the canal in both directions, with gravel on either side of the narrow track. However, remembering the directions, I heaved my bike over the railway lines (there was no crossing) and continued down a path which grew narrower and muddier with every turn. Dodging the overhanging trees, I was determined not to have to turn back around. It was only when I came to a dead end of scattered boulders (at the bottom of a short 45 degree incline) that I became sure that I must have misunderstood the directions and should have used the unguarded rail bridge. These boulders were piled too high and awkwardly to possibly be the 'stones' mentioned in the directions.

Sighing, I turned back around, and, after slipping down the incline with my bike twice, conceded that I needed to take my panniers off to get back up again. The puddles too seemed more treacherous on the way back, dunking my feet in sloshy, gritty mud. Luckily I soon reached the railway bridge again and, heaving my bike back over the tracks, walked it alongside the tracks to emerge, triumphant, back on the 'proper' Welland canal trail.