Mindfulness Through Bike Touring
Bike touring is my ideal way to practice mindfulness and relieve stress. Moving slowly across the landscape deepens my appreciation for the land and reconnects me with nature. With my focus absorbed in keeping the bike moving, staying properly fed and hydrated, navigating, and adapting to the weather, there’s no room for life’s mundane worries. This forced immersion in the present is incredibly cathartic. I prefer to tour completely in the moment—no music, no podcasts—just the soothing sound of tires on the road, the wind in my face, and the pure experience of being in nature. My latest trip followed one of my favorite routes, a five-day journey around the BT700, an annual tradition that I eagerly anticipate.
What is the BT 700?
The BT700 is a picturesque bikepacking route that offers cyclists an immersive tour through the heart of Southwestern Ontario. After a few updates, the full route now stretches to around 800 km, but can easily be shortened to approximately 600 km (or even less) for those seeking a more manageable adventure. This route is a visual feast, guiding riders through farmland, along the serene Lake Huron shoreline, through the rugged beauty of Mono Provincial Park, and along scenic rail trails that showcase the region’s natural charm. Whether you’re a seasoned bikepacker or new to the sport, the BT700 offers a diverse and captivating journey.
The route can be found at www.bt700.ca.
Farmland and Rail Trail
Starting out on a bikepacking trip always comes with a touch of trepidation for me. Doubts about my preparation often creep in. Did I pack everything I need? Am I fit enough for this? What if that old injury flares up again?
Fortunately, once I start rolling, all those worries fade away, replaced by the pure joy of riding my bike. My first day was ideal for settling into the rhythm of the journey—gravel roads winding through farmland and shaded rail trails. The kilometers ticked by, and the only traffic I encountered were the occasional horse-drawn carriages used by local farmers. After a few hours, I stumbled upon a cooler on the side of the trail stocked with water and pop for sale—customers simply drop their money into an honesty box. This is one of my favorite things about riding popular trails; supplies and treats are easy to find. I replenished my water here and savored a nice cold root beer.
My next stop was the town of Mildmay, which I reached in the early afternoon. This town is a must-visit for me because Rotary Park features a fantastic roadside dining area serving up great burgers and onion rings. Most importantly, there’s a public artesian well where I can fill all my bottles with ice-cold water and soak my scarf to cool off. I spent an hour here cooling down and chatting with friendly locals who rely on this free public well as their main source of drinking water.
The day ended at some mountain bike trails with a port-a-potty and shelter at the trailhead. This was the perfect spot to cook dinner at one of the picnic tables. I could also unroll my air mattress and sleeping bag on the floor of the shelter, avoiding the hassle of setting up or tearing down a tent. As I drifted off to sleep, the distant sounds of coyotes moving to their nightly haunts provided a natural lullaby.
Lake Huron Shoreline
The first morning on a bikepacking trip is usually my favorite. Waking up to a beautiful sunrise, without the cumulative fatigue of multiple days of riding, I can simply savor my morning oatmeal and coffee. This morning was no different. The weather was perfect as I watched the sunrise, preparing for the day ahead.
This leg of the journey would take me northwest to the shores of Lake Huron, starting with a tour of MacGregor Point Provincial Park. The park is stunning, with thick forests and sandy beaches. Trails wind every which way through the park, making navigation a bit tricky. After some time, I found my way to the main beach, where I soaked in the scenery—people enjoying the beach, boats sailing on the horizon, and dune grass swaying in the wind—while I enjoyed sweet potato fries on the boardwalk.
After leaving the park, I headed to the town of Southampton, where I encountered one of the few busy roads of the trip as I crossed the Saugeen River and began making my way north toward the Bruce Peninsula. My next destination was Wiarton, famous for Wiarton Willie, the groundhog known for his media-covered Groundhog Day predictions. In Wiarton, I set up camp at a local campground and took a much-needed soak in the lake to cool off from another hot day.
Oppressive Heat, Relentless Climbs
Day 3 of my BT700 journey proved to be the most challenging. While the ride southeast off the Bruce Peninsula started easily enough, the steep hills that followed, combined with little to no wind, high heat, and intense humidity, quickly turned it into a real test of endurance. I was especially grateful for two things that day: the stunning sunrise I witnessed while preparing breakfast and the camp chair I had brought along. The chair became invaluable, allowing me to sit and relax in the shade while munching on peanut butter tortillas. Every bit of shade felt like an oasis in the desert, and I made sure to fully take advantage of each one to avoid heat stress.
From morning until nearly dinner time, I struggled along steep, dusty roads until I finally reached Meaford. From there, it was an easy rip down the rail trail to the town of Thornbury, where I rewarded myself for surviving the day with a pint of plant-based cookies and cream ice cream from a spot called PomPoms. The last leg of the day involved tackling a brutal climb out of Thornbury, followed by a series of smaller but nearly equally challenging climbs, until I finally made it to my camp. This park, which adjoined the Bruce Trail, featured a sheltered picnic area and a toilet—a welcome sight after such a tough day.
The Dreaded Mechanical
I didn’t sleep well at all at this camp. The coyotes couldn’t seem to decide whether they were coming or going, and their constant yipping and howling kept waking me as they passed through the forest, just 100 meters away. To make matters worse, there was an extremely loud party nearby that prevented me from falling asleep. I was certain the party was just across the road, but when I departed camp in the morning, I discovered the closest house was actually several hundred meters away.
Grumpy from my lack of sleep, I wasn’t thrilled to find that the night had been so humid that my cycling kit seemed to have gotten even wetter, despite hanging on a clothesline all night. I tossed the damp kit into my laundry bag, put on fresh gear, and started my day. It would prove to be a long one.
Another series of long and challenging climbs brought me to the town of Kimberley. This is where a rider’s resolve is truly tested. You’re in the heart of the BT700, where the most significant elevation gains await. Conquering these climbs rewards you with some of the best scenery on the ride, including an old castle. However, if you don’t have the legs or time for the extra distance, there’s an option here to cut out most of the climbs and 100 km of the loop by turning onto the “BT700 Lite.”
As I refilled my bottles and contemplated the ride ahead, I realized that the decision would be made for me. Somewhere during the previous day, on a rough patch of road, I had broken a spoke. Not wanting to risk further damage to my wheel, I opted to take the BT700 Lite and head to Orangeville, where there was a bike shop that could help.
The ride to Orangeville was worse than anything the BT700 could have thrown at me. The rail trail was slow, exposed, and humid, with the hot, still air feeling almost suffocating. Around lunchtime, I took refuge in the only shade I could find—behind a trail-side portable toilet—and had a quick meal. From there, the trail only became chunkier, slower, and hotter. To make matters worse, the trail was closed near Orangeville, forcing me onto extremely dangerous highways with next to no shoulder. I opted to walk my bike the rest of the way into town.
Thankfully, the bike shop was open and able to fix my spoke without much trouble. Now I had to decide the best way to get back onto my route. I chose to head south, as it appeared to be the least busy route out of the city, traffic-wise.
As I neared the town of Hillsburgh, my phone kept warning me of significant rain in the next few hours. I decided to check out a park just outside of town, which had a sheltered picnic area, bathrooms, and a canteen that was open for a slow-pitch game that was going on. I enjoyed some onion rings and cold pop while I waited for the crowd to clear out so I could go to sleep.
Back to St Jacob's
There’s something funny that happens when I bikepack. I can be completely drained, barely able to move my bike, but as soon as I get within 100 kilometers of finishing, it’s like a switch flips. Suddenly, I feel as good as I did on day one, and the distance just seems to fly by. This was one of those days. I woke up, had my breakfast, and set off on the final leg of my journey. The rail trail was smooth and slightly downhill, the weather was cool, and there was a slight tailwind. I only stopped once to take in the view from the Belwood Lake Conservation Area on the Grand River.
Before long, I had less than 20 kilometers to go when a local rider and friend came out to meet me so we could ride to the finish line together. I track my rides using a Spot tracker so my partner and anyone interested can follow my progress. My friend had been following along, hoping to meet me further out, but I was going too fast.
We arrived in St. Jacobs around lunchtime. The key to finishing this loop is to pace yourself so that the wood-fired pizza place is still open when you arrive. There’s nothing better than a cold beverage and freshly cooked pizza after five days of riding.
Every time I do the BT700, my appreciation for Ontario deepens, and I learn a bit more about myself. On this trip, I honed my skills in navigating Ontario’s side roads and improved my ability to combine information from Ride with GPS and Google Maps to make route-based decisions, ensuring I get where I need to go safely and efficiently. I’m already looking forward to another trip around this iconic route.
What's Next
Fall is a fantastic time for riding in Ontario. The weather is cool, the bugs are gone, and the leaves are turning vibrant colours. My next event is the 8 Hours of Hurtin’ in Haliburton, where I’ll get to ride pristine gravel for eight hours, soaking in the festival-like vibes at each aid station and the pit area. I’m also considering taking on the 400 km Locs and Bogs Route, which was recently published and showcases some truly stunning areas to ride in the fall. After October, I’ll be preparing for #Goodnight2024, a winter overnighter anyone can join to ring out the year, followed by the Wendigo Ultra, a 200 km fat bike race at the end of February.
