August 10, 2004

The following is a transcript of notes made on July 30, the 16th day of my bike ride:

The morning brought skinny dipping in the pond near the cottage: the exuberant plunge in the cool, translucent water with a bar of soap in one hand was followed by glimpses of mountains and beauty.

The afternoon brought walks through Collingwood and the eating of watermelons on sidewalks while watching cops on horses and military bands dressed all in white.

The evening brought thunder and rain from the nearby mountains — after a storm fog descends from the escarpment in waves.

Collingwood is beauty and inspiration. It is also neurosis and fear, the corner of a police state. Here, someone is constantly watching your movements, trying to limit them. The sacred spaces (like the abandoned shipyard in the harbor) are barred off while downtown corners resound with classical music — playing Bach in public spaces discourages loitering and Collingwood is all about keeping young thugs in check. A giant camera uncomfortably similar to the eye of Sauron in Lord of the Rings overlooks Main Street from the clock tower in city hall.

Perhaps it’s best to spend evenings, mornings, afternoons away from evil electronic eyes, these endless manifestations of Collingwood’s neurosis.