The Onion: NCC Bans Bicycle Commuters from Ottawa Recreational Path

Ottawa June 17

A report in the spirit of the Onion

Today, in a dramatic shift in policy, the National Capital Commission (NCC) in Ottawa has decided to ban all bicycle commuters from the recreational paths in the National Capital Region.

"It was inevitable", according to an NCC spokesperson.

"We had to make safety and the recreational enjoyment of these paths our first priority. These paths are for the enjoyment for all Canadians, not for the exclusive use of National Capital residents."

"While we realize that there are benefits to cycling to work, our mandate is to serve the larger interests of Canadians. When visiting Ottawa, Canadians expect to see these paths free from hazards so they wander freely and unpredictably with their strollers, dogs, and free-range children. Besides, residents should be satisfied with the other benefits of living in the National Capital Region, such as having a job."

There are other reasons why the paths are being banned to bicycle commuters:

"We have to consider the Canada geese. Their numbers have proliferated and raise the possibility of injury (to the geese)." Apparently, the Canada geese situation is out of control, due to the choice of many geese to raise their goslings on the path.

"The spectre of a gosling being injured by a commuter could have a dramatic toll on Ottawa's image as a nature-friendly city. We simply can't tolerate the possibility of injury (to a gosling) and its effect on our reputation as a tourist destination."

When asked how the NCC plans to enforce the bicycle commuter ban, they described several measures they will be implementing:

First, at key points along the path, 3-metre high fences will be erected with holes large enough for geese to pass through but too small for bicycles. When asked about the possibility of small children passing through, we were informed that this is a parental responsibility. If an incident of this nature occurs, the appropriate authorities will be notified.

Second, an enforcement regime will be implemented. Officers will patrol the segments of the path (occupying a car idling in the bushes) and fine all cyclists on the paths travelling over the speed of 10km/h, wearing a helmet, or carrying a pannier or backpack weighing over 3kg. The fine will be $133 - the equivalent of a week's worth of gas commuting from Stittsville.

As for alternatives for the bicycle commuters, this advice was offered, " Get a car, it will be cheaper in the long run".

If you live downtown, "rent a Bixi, but don't go further than the Canadian War Museum."

If you are a hardcore commuter, "be comfortable with four lanes of traffic, mind the potholes, sideview mirrors, and drivers using their iPhones. Always remember it is the cyclist who loses big time."

A picture of the Farm

Goodbye Farm

Authors Note: This story was written in the fall of 1996, just before my parents sold the farm.

This is my last day on the farm. I can't believe it. So many things have changed in my life, but one thing was always constant - the farm. The foundation of my upbringing, the refuge from the big bad world, the weekend retreat - no longer. My parents, who are now too old to keep up with the work, sold the farm. Now, with less than two weeks to go, they will depart as well. After thirty-five years of sun, sweat, toil, mud, cows and snow, it's over. None of us six kids wanted to take over the farm. No choice but to sell. They're moving into town.

I returned for the final time on the Labour Day weekend. No longer part of the agrarian population, I now make my home amongst the high-tech industries in Ottawa. The previous week, I had been jetting to a different U.S. city each day, espousing the wonders of our product to Corporate America. Upon my return, I had managed to squeeze a side trip (the last) to my parent's farm. One day I'm stepping out in Manhattan, - the next I'm stepping into a freshly formed cowpie in the barnyard. What a contrast - from the scions of Wall Street to the cows of the barnyard.

The farm is no ordinary farm. Situated just north of the village of Leith and close to the shore of Georgian Bay, it has all of the elements of paradise. The farm, one-hundred and fifty acres in total, is bordered on three sides by dense bush. The fourth side, which faces to the south affords an unobstructed view all the way to Owen Sound. In the distance, amongst the shimmering tin barn rooftops, I can see the farmhouse where Tom Thomson grew up. The beauty of the landscape, which he began to appreciate here, and finally expressed in a form that became our national treasure, is the very same beauty I grew up with. I know exactly what he felt and what he wanted to express. I've seen his early works, paintings of the area, and he has captured the very same mood that I feel now. To the west, above the trees of the near shore and below the far shore, I can see a blue sliver of Owen Sound Bay. Further to the north, the sliver opens into greater Georgian Bay and, with distant clouds, fuses with the sky. Here, it's the top of the world. I can see the entire world, or what really matters to me. The world needs to be no larger than what I can see.

What is the best way to say goodbye? I've often heard that lingering goodbyes are the worst. I've also heard the best goodbyes are the quick ones that have a real sense of closure. When I was a kid. I remember the goodbyes to visiting relatives from Holland. Often during the summer, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, from the old country would come and stay with us on the farm. During the brief weeks, they would become part of my world - the farm, and I would grow to love them dearly. Then, in the front yard where I am standing now, the visit would abruptly come to a close. The final goodbyes were exchanged. They were always brief and packed with emotion that was most often not shown. Suitcases packed in the trunk, visitors in the back seat, and my parents in the front, the car would begin its journey down the long hilly laneway. Not wanting to finish the goodbye, I would race back into the house, up the stairs to the bathroom where the window would give me a better view of the laneway. I could see the car go down the big hill, disappear from view, briefly appear at the rise of the middle hill, disappear once more, re-appear again, and as it made its final climb, disappear into the bush. I would wave but I knew they couldn't see me. The waving and the glimpses from the better view made the good-bye less painful. It consoled me. Now, as I walk around the farm, I feel that I am doing the same. I am consoling myself, as I survey the farm, snatching final glimpses, extending my goodbye.

Not only will I have to say goodbye to the farm as a whole, but also the house and the barn. The house is an old fieldstone house, older than the country itself. It is actually several houses in one. Starting from the back, a decrepit shed complete with an out-moded outhouse, next, to an old mundane middle brick part, and finally, culminating in the front, stands proudly the beautiful solid fieldstone structure. Built by a Scottish settler who was given a grant from the Queen's Bush, and using the glacial errata cleared from the fields, this is a true Southern Ontario fieldstone house, gathered , hewed and built from the geography and its residents . The barn too, like the house, is several barns in one. Viewed from the sky, it has the shape of a gargantuan, squared 'C' punctuated by a silo. From the ground, the aged gray cedar barn boards give testament to their time bared to the elements.

My flight back to Ottawa leaves soon. I must say my final goodbye. Like the goodbyes to my relatives from Holland, it is brief, emotional and silent. Suitcase in the trunk, me in the back seat, and my parents in the front, we begin the journey down the laneway. I look out the back window to catch the last glimpse. I can see the barn and the entire farm rising up behind. The house and bathroom window disappear and re-appear as we dip between the hills. Maybe the farm is waving goodbye and I cannot see. Maybe it too feels the pain that I do. We're near the end of the laneway. We make the final ascent and enter into the bush. The farm disappears from view. The last glimpse is seared in my brain. There are tears in my eyes. Goodbye Farm.

Unicycling the Tom Thomson Trail 2011 Edition

I successfully completed my second tour of the Tom Thomson Trail by unicycle on April 15th, 2011.

Instead of a detailed blog entry, I have created a YouTube video that chronicles my adventures for this year. You can see the video here.

Here are a few photos from the trip.

Highlights of my Tom Thomson Unicycle Adventure

It's been almost two weeks since I completed my epic Tom Thomson Unicycle Trip. I had provided updates on my Facebook profile, but several friends expressed keen interest in a blog report. Others are speculating that with no blog report I never actually did complete the trip and was lost to perdition. This blog entry should put these rumours to rest and set the record straight on my achievement.

Now the adventure:

It started exactly as planned. I departed 8:00am sharp on Friday May 7th, 2010. In hindsight, I am glad that I pushed my date up one day because Saturday offered the absolute worst weather that the month of May could offer (wind warnings, hail, snow, rain, and freezing temperature).

But Friday morning weather was perfect, a little on the chilly side and no wind, hence, perfect for unicycling. In the above photo, I am posing in front of the Tom Thomson Trail Head Kiosk in Meaford. Here is the link to the official trail map and my Google Maps interpretation of the Tom Thomson Trail.

The trail commenced at the Meaford Harbour and the first two kilometers cut through the streets of Meaford proper. An easy start but what I didn't bargain for was the steep hill by the hospital on Nelson Street. A quick glance on my heart rate monitor showed 160 bpm. If this number kept climbing at least the hospital was close by. Fortunately, I completed the hill quickly; I was so focused on the road that I didn't notice my father behind me who snapped the photo below.

Soon, I was out of Meaford, onto County Road 12. It was about 8:30am when all of the yellow school buses started to roll by. I managed to catch a few excited glances out of the school bus windows. Two kids waiting on the road didn't quite know what to make of me, nor did an unleashed dog gather its sensibilities in time to chase me.

Progress on County Road 12 was superb and picturesque. The chip and tar pavement was fine for a good pace and the relative smoothness afforded me some sightseeing along this road. The grazing cows also did not know what to make of me and I had the rapt attention of my biggest (bovine) audience ever.

Soon the road turned into Sideroad 16 and tar and chip gave way to gravel road. It was still relatively easy riding. But soon the tide began to turn...

The first indication was the sign below.

The "No Winter Maintenance" did not worry me, it was the "NO EXIT" proclamation. The latter had the tone of "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here". My imagination started to fire up and I began the unicyclist's interpretation of Pilgrim's Progress ( There is a Slough of Despond but that is on another route in Grey County).

Shortly thereafter, I met a hill too step for me to climb. I had to walk the last 50m to the summit. Then another big hill beyond my ability; I had to walk the last 250m. I began to curse glacial formations (I was surmounting drumlins beyond my abilities).

I passed a lone pedestrian (are they called pedestrians in these parts?) going in the opposite direction. I offered an apologetic grunt in passing: "The hill got the better of me." The reply was a stare of disbelief. I kept on moving, and mounted my unicycle as soon as glacially possible.

The road (it was now gradually degrading to a trail) was fine for the next few kilometers. Then it started getting really rough and technical. On the map Sideroad 16 looks straight but that was the surveyor's dream for this road. This wishful straightfulness was rather a series of bends switchbacks which forced me to dismount and re-mount numerous times. Just over an hour into the trip, it was at this point that I started to realize the magnitude of effort this trail would require should this be the road condition from now on. I took solace in the fact that I still had 3G coverage should anything go seriously awry. Perhaps this was the road to perdition but surely a Facebook friend would rescue me, if the need arose...

I turned onto the Sydenham/St. Vincent Town Line. I consider this this is the Mason Dixon line between Meaford and Owen Sound. Since the amalgamation, Meaford's jurisdiction has reached far beyond this line into what I consider Owen Sound's sphere of influence (including my home village of Leith), but that too is another story to be told.

The Sydenham/St. Vincent Town Line (hah!) in all its glory is below:

As you can see, the Town Line has large mud puddles with attitude. I have learned that mud puddles can hold some pretty nasty surprises for unicyclists, so I chose to dismount and walk around the bigger puddles. On one occasion my unicycle did land smack in the middle of a puddle but I managed to avoid the same. At least there's no chain to clean. Once this nasty stretch was behind me, I crossed Highway 26 and continued northward. I was reunited with a smoother tar and chip surface but with over 2 hours into the ride my butt started to hurt. But it wasn't enough to stop so I experimented with several creative weight-shifting positions on the saddle (left-hand only, right-hand only, both hands, lean back as far as possible with no hands, etc.)

The Town Line started to butt up (no pun intended) against the Niagara Escarpment. I encountered another steep hill where I had to walk up the last few meters. Then the road followed round the Escarpment, and suddenly I was treated to a wonderful vista of the farms in the township along with the distant islands on Georgian Bay (Griffith, Hay and White Cloud Island). I would have taken a picture, but I was concentrating on shifting the weight on my butt.

The road then began to track along the most westerly boundary of the Meaford Tank Range (as I still call it). Because of its similarity to northern France, The Meaford Tank Range was expropriated in 1942 for training preparation for D-Day. When I was a kid, I considered the Tank Range boundary as the end of the world.

Along this stretch, I was constantly reminded I was beside a forbidden zone, limited to horses only ("hors limites" as the lower-half of the sign says). This is where I stopped for lunch, discovered I had 3G coverage no longer. I half-expected a military person on a horse to suddenly appear to question my presence and my peculiar mode of transport. I was getting delusional; lunch fixed that.

After lunch, I turned onto Sideroad 30 going westbound. Not a difficult road, but a long and gradual descent towards Owen Sound Bay. Regular cyclists welcome these descents, but that is not so for unicyclists. On a unicycle there is no such thing as coasting, and descents require a constant back-pressure on the pedals. Not a big issue for short descents, but over long distances it adds up to quite a strain on the knees and I really started to feel it after 6-7 kilometers of descent.

My next major stop was at my parent's property in the township.

My parents have a garden here where they grow beans and tomatoes, not marijuana, as numerous other secret plots in the township are wont to do. It was at this point, I regained 3G coverage and called my parents to let them know I was out of danger of perdition. I reported that I would be arriving at the Leith Church around 12:30pm (4.5 hours into my trip). My progress was exactly as planned, I was a bit ahead of schedule, so I did some leisurely unicycle sightseeing in the village of Leith (about 3 minutes worth). Aside from the Leith Church, the village main attraction is the Leith Bridge (below).

After sightseeing, I unicycled to the Leith Church and its cemetery. As for its personal significance, you may wish to read my previous blog entry.

It was at Leith Church that I had arranged for the Sun Times Newspaper photographer, James Masters to snap a few pictures (James is also a good friend of mine from high school). James was scheduled to arrive a 1:00pm so I had a few minutes to spare. My parents arrived and we toured the cemetery and paid our respects to former neighbour and my cousin (first cousin once removed), Findlay Bergstra who passed away in 2006.

Although Tom Thomson's grave site is here (just 50m away), Findlay's resting place has much more significance to me and paying respect to Findlay is the primary reason for visiting Leith Cemetery.

We commenced the photo shoot for the paper! I departed the cemetery and unicycled up the road and back on the Tom Thomson Trail. There James took some unicycle action shots. James is a damn good photographer! This is the photo that made it into the paper.

(Photo Credit: James Master, Owen Sound Sun Times)

And here is a photo of the actual newspaper run.

The caption and accompanying text is as follows:

ONE WHEEL'S PLENTY: Man unicycles Thomson Trail

Tim Bouma of Ottawa makes his way down a section of the Tom Thomson Trail on his unicycle near Leith Friday afternoon. Bouma was about three-quarters of the way through his solo unicycle trip from Meaford to Owen Sound. Bouma, an avid cyclist who grew up in Leith has been unicycling for about two years and says he enjoys the sport, especially riding trails. According to Bouma, the challenge is both physical and mental. Bouma who did the trip as a personal challenge, estimated the trip would take about seven hours.

JAMES MASTERS The Sun Times

Once the photo shoot was complete. I was home free. I had less than 10 kilometers to go, and I arrived in Owen Sound around 2:30, right on schedule. Alas, there was no marching band to meet me at the trail head kiosk, just a couple of fishermen launching a boat while staring at me in disbelief.

Here is a photo of my GPS, showing a few key statistics:

The stats:

Total distance: 45.4km - (the extra distance was due to Leith sightseeing and photo shoot activities).

Moving Average: 9.2 km/hr -

Moving Time: 4 hrs 56 mins - (this is the total time my butt was in contact with the unicycle seal)

My heart rate monitor also had some interesting statistics:

The vital stats:

Total Duration: 6hrs 11 mins

Maximum Heart Rate: 174 bpm

Average Heart Rate: 121bpm

Calories: 3338 Kcal (remember 3500 Kcal is equal to 1lb of fat)

To conclude:

After briefly celebrating my achievement with the disbelieving fishermen, I quickly scooted off to the the local bike store, Bikeface.com where I revelled briefly in my newfound celebrity status. I had to cut it short because the weather gave out and it started to rain mercilessly. I unicycled to my parents' place in the rain, looking forward to a hot shower and home-cooked meal. Thank goodness the weather held out, because it went to hell-in-a-handbasket the following day (which was my originally planned date)

So that's my adventure!! Thanks to everyone who took an interest in my trip. I did complete the journey as this blog entry attests and I did not fall into perdition as rumoured by some. Perhaps this adventure will go down in history as a monumental first with hopefully many more trips to come.

I am considering making this an annual event to be held on the May long weekend. My son Noah (age 10 and a unicycling fiend) is keen to do this trip. Who knows where this will go, but certainly not into perdition as I have proven.

Tim Bouma

May 20th, 2010

Unicycle Live! from the Tom Thomson Trail

My trip will be shortly underway. If I don't show up at the appointed time, here is the map to track me down. When I turn on my iPhone, it will report my location on the picture below. Check back here often to see where I'm at.

I will be posting pictures along the route at my Facebook account.

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com



Here is my route courtesy Google Maps

View Unicycle Routes in a larger map






Pictures as they become available will be posted here

PhotoScatter.com Uploads

Friday May 7th is the date!

I've decided to move my departure date for my Tom Thomson Unicycle Ride up one day to Friday May 7th, 2010. I'll be departing at 8:00am in the morning and if all goes well, I'll arrive in Owen Sound in the early afternoon.