A ride back in time to discover the legacy of the ancient
Incas and the Spanish conquistadores, set against the
backdrop of the magnificent peaks of the Andes. A journey
that starts from the famed vineyards following the strangely
shaped desert landscapes to finally climb to the dramatic mountain passes as you make your way
to the driest desert on earth.

www.samttours.com

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The spring is around the corner lest get the bikes ready for another great ride

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If you don’t love what you’re doing and you can’t give it your best, get out of it. Life is too short get on your bike when you can.

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Wishing you all best of the season
happy and safe rid
shasha

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I’ve mostly ridden in the tropics of Asia and the filthy-hot deserts of Australia, and did not fully comprehend or respect the unseemly magnification of coldness that mid-October riding in Ontario confers on the optimist.

Last Sunday, even though it was weirdly cold-seeming at first sniff in the early a.m., I resolved to do a 4-5 hour leaf tour in the northwest — Caledon, Escarpment, Albion Hills, maybe Elora Gorge — this time with wife bolted astern. She’d only ridden with me once before and loved it — the previous weekend when I took her to see Scarborough Bluffs via the beaches.

So I put on longjohns, jeans, longsleeved t-shirt, sweatshirt, sweater, a moderately-insulated leather jacket kindly given me by the administrator of this site, heavy socks, big leather gloves with the fluffy inserts, and a scarf. She wore tights under jeans and I don’t know what else — anyway I warned her to dress warmly, and to bring along her fancy new Nikon.

I was comfortable at first, having stayed on Allen Rd and off-highway to maintain speed and wife-freakage at a minimum. But it was taking close to forever to get anywhere non-ugly, so when I saw Hwy. 400 I slid on and locked in at a lawbiding 100kph.

Within three or so minutes, my knees felt like they’d been hit with frozen crowbars, areas of my hands — the bits not touching the heated grips — were past numb and into hypothermical and spazzy. This was not helped by my gloves, so thick the throttle and clutch had become more on/off switches than instruments permitting nuanced, controlled locomotion.

Honestly, the entire ride was not an experience defined by subtleties. By the time we arrived at some actual leaves, I was wondering about my undying enthusiasm to embrace anything with a decent likelihood of going all wrong. Lily couldn’t be heard over the ice wind, and last I’d recalled, 20-30 minutes prior, she’d declared herself cozy.

So when I stopped and said, ‘Let’s get some pictures of us out here in the woods on the bike!’ she replied with, ‘No fucking cameras. I want to go home, NOW! I have never been this cold, ever. I cannot feel my ass.”

Now a few years ago, I would’ve persuasively attempted to sweet-talk her into staying with it a little longer and adopting a toughened attitude. But three days of no food, sex or conversation seemed barely worth the effort I would need to summon to make my half-frozen mouth form the words, and then get a ‘no’ anyway, so I grunted ‘OK’ and pointed Naomi the bike back to Toronto.

Home in under an hour, she ran straight for the bed and balled up under the duvet, groaning. I joined her a few moments later, after I was able to straighten my knees enough to walk. Spooning for warmth, I placed a hand on her bare bottom, and the hand auto-recoiled in terror: That ass was as frigid as a boneless, skinless chicken breast straight out of the freezer. I rubbed, slapped, intensively spooned and cajoled it, but it remained nothing but ice-like a good 15 minutes.

‘You need a hot bath,’ I said, ‘and I will draw it for you.’ I made it medium-hot so she’d be able to take the temperature contrast. She stepped in and with great haste stepped out again, holding herself over the tub fearfully, like it was full of piranhas. I had to chill it back down to near outdoor temperature just to get her to dip a toe. Once in though, she adapted fast and after she’d got the water hot again, invited me to join her.

It was the first time we’ve done that in years.

Damn, I love my wife. And my bike.

Paul Fenn

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A one-day Toronto event dedicated to revealing, celebrating and commercializing the creative genius residing in the autistic/Asperger’s minds that live among us.

Just what is The Autists?

This is a project that is very dear to our great friend Paul Fenn. Please support this cause by becoming a sponsor or if you know a creative genius who should submit their work, please visit their web site.

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This weekend, the Lilyboys decided to do an Autumn run to the Muskokas, the Haliburton Highlands and then a return trip via the Kawarthas. Our objective was to break-in a new member of the gang (the Chairman), and visit an old friend who’s involved in a new health care concept in northern Ontario. The first leg of our journey took us to the newly formed GreeneStone Clinic in Muskoka-4kms north of Bala, the cranberry capital of Ontario.

GreeneStone is a unique resort based medical clinic offering personal and executive health care and is home to the, ehem - “comfortable colonoscopy”. GreeneStone provides a complete assessment of your current state of health and provides education and follow up for an optimal outcome. The resort is nestled in a hillside overlooking Lake Muskoka and Sunset Bay - providing both spectacular sunsets and glorious sunrises.

If you’re looking for a stress free healthcare alternative, in a casual and intimate resort setting, then GreeneStone is definitely the option. An investment in your health is your guarantee that you do everything you can to live a healthier, longer life for you and your loved ones. Amen and Lily Approved!

Although the Lilies did not partake in any anal assaults, we were delighted by an incredible meal served up by executive chef, Derek Walton at the resorts very own first class restaurant - Lodge. We’d like to thank Eileen and her husband Shawn for their gracious hospitality and promise to spread the word of their latest project.

The Lilyboys at GreenStone in the Muskokas

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