August 05, 2004

The following is a transcript of notes made on July 28, the 14th day of my bike ride:

Just as I grew tired of the rain (I’ve struggled against it for three days), the sky broke lose one last time drenching me completely and flushing me into Hamilton from the hills that surround the city.

I felt as though I was being sucked down to the bottom of some dirty orifice. The torrents of rain did nothing to cleanse the city; Hamilton’s streets and people remained mean and uninspiring. For hours I walked through Southern Ontario’s asshole marveling that city planners somehow failed to see or take advantage of the staggering landscape before them.

Hamilton made me nostalgic for small-town Ontario with its delicate aesthetics and manageable streets. Fuck, it even made me nostalgic for Sarnia.

Much like Sarnia, Hamilton is also an industrial monstrosity — it’s considered Canada’s Steel capital. But unlike Sarnia, Hamilton is a vicious labyrinth of streets, deadly and entirely devoid of beauty. To reach the waterfront park, I had to pass through an intricate network of busy streets nearly getting killed at every corner — and that was by following the official bike trail guide.

And from the park I could still hear the roar of the city and cars rushing on the nearby QEW late into the night. I need to get as far away from this place as possible to preserve my sanity.