On a hot and humid July day in 2016, I set out from my home in the heart of Toronto on a three-hundred dollar bicycle, alone, forty-one years old, with next-to-no camping or long-distance cycling experience. My destination: more than two thousand kilometers away, the Cabot Trail. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. All I knew was I was scared as hell. Single, no children, and perhaps feeling a little lost, I was unsure of so many things about my life. However, this bike ride I was entirely sure about. It was the only thing that felt right; so perhaps the journey would give me the reason? But would my girlish gumption be enough to see me through camping alone in the deep, dark woods, riding across thousands of kilometers, and climbing the many mountains of the Cabot Trail? Would going it alone and placing my faith in my fellow humans prove well-founded? Every moment was like a wild and wonderful wager. I knew in my heart that women are strong and that people are good. And this summer, I basically bet my life on it.