Day Twenty-Five: Hunkered down in English River. (Which it turns out is not really a town), just a stopping point for hunters to refuel and buy supplies. Luckily there was a hostel of sorts, and B spend the night there with a couple of other cyclists. There was no restaurant but he paid the owner to make him a sandwich.

Not ideal, but after a day of brutal winds and 3 hours of rain, he wasn't about to complain or camp out. And since it rained all night, it was soooo much better than the tent option. Besides motels the great wide north is also lacking in pasta or anything besides meat. A vegetarian would starve. It's all burgers or steak. He admits - not to hunting-but to foraging (eating wild strawberries growing near the hwy). Irresistible.
164 kms -9 hrs 1 minute-3,969 kms Total