All it takes is $$$

Blyth, ON, is an idyllic, quaint little village about 85 km northwest of Waterloo, 100 km north of London, or 130 km southwest of Owen Sound, depending on which Ontario landmark makes the most sense to you. I would tell you that it's only 20 east of Goderich, but that's likely only a place you've heard of, and not somewhere you'd know. According to Wikipedia, "Blyth is a village in North Huron, Huron County, Ontario, Canada, at the intersection of Huron County Road 4 and Huron County Road 25. Blyth is also 24 km inland from Lake Huron. Despite its small size (pop ~ 1000), Blyth has a significant national presence. The village attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors annually to its world-renowned theatre, destination craft brewery and large municipal campground. As well, Blyth has several prominent employers creating job opportunities not found in many rural regions of Canada."

First settled in 1851, Blyth was not known by that moniker until the good ol' Canada Post's blunder in 1856 when it named the village after the British land surveyor Henry Blyth, for a reason I could not uncover, but it was "put on the map" by the establishment of a CPR stop on the line from Goderich to Guelph. Incorporated in 1877, Blyth is a rural Canadian success story. "The village has been recognized as a model for Canadian rural communities who incorporate arts and culture to diversify community economy to move beyond solely an agriculture-based model." or so says Wikipedia.

Why tell you all of this about a place prototypically rural?

It's that wee tidbit about the CPR rail line that led to my introduction to Blyth, when I recently visited this sleepy little hamlet at the behest of my friend Dave Byers, for a midday retirement lunch at the Cowbell Brewing Company, the classically styled but modernly outfitted microbrewery that is one of midwest Ontario's hidden little gems.

Dave and I are cyclists and that day was our discovery of the G2G ... the Guelph to Goderich Trail.

As cyclists, we choose to ride our bikes really, really far to justify eating delicious foods and drinking well crafted beers, and microbreweries are some of the finest places to do just that. According to Dave, a relative cornucopia of knowledge, Cowbell Brewery exists thanks to the business acumen of Grant Sparlings who founded Sparlings Propane back in 1951 and grew the value into a multi-million dollar venture. As Dave tells it, on his passing, old man Sparlings bequeathed what is believed to be 20 million to his grandchildren with the only stipulation being that they had to create a business in Blyth. Obviously blessed with vision, the result of that challenge is Cowbell Brewery, a microbrewery, a restaurant, a community partner, and a thriving business. I cannot do the building justice with photos, so simply didn't try. Even the photo-map above is a mishmash of a couple of poorly executed iPhone photos in an attempt to give you an idea of the treasures the building holds.

Since we had just hopped off the bikes after a 56 km ride from our starting locale of Millbank, a hamlet in the heart of Mennonite Country, we opted for an outdoor table on the side patio in hopes that the subtle zephyr would carry away the muskiness of our efforts, and keeping all things Covid in mind, it was the perfect choice. The fare of the day turned out to be a sharing of tacos and pizza, topped with a sample of Cowbell's finest efforts. The tacos came with beautifully seasoned shredded chicken, fresh toppings and a wonderful aioli, with my half standing absolutely no chance against the hunger the morning's ride had developed. The pizza was a simple pepperoni masterpiece on a handmade crust with a hint of a basil and oregano, lathered in a delicious marinara that perfectly complimented the generous sized chunks (not slices) of pepperoni. 

The only negative of the entire day came on the ride back when the forecasted rains made a fierce, albeit short, appearance tilting trees, drenching us to the skin, and making the trail ride an adventurous undertaking as visibility was cut to a few metres. As quickly as it arrived, it left, and the rest of the trek was as pleasant as you'd like.

The brilliance was capped by a return visit to Millbank's famous AnnaMae's Bakery for an encore of handmade apple fritters (round one was a couple of weeks ago on another ride with Dave) so sugary sweet, the risk of an instant cavity was profoundly real. I even became the dinner hero when I spied a freezer with turkey pot pie beside a shepherd's pie ... both made the trip back to Guelph ... landing me a loving hug and a peck on the cheek from my bestie. It was a small price to pay for stranding her in the condo for the day while I rode through some of Ontario's finest sights.

As my friend Kevin Simms, the guy who got me into cycling, once told me, "We ride so much so that our wives won't have to wipe our bums when we're 80!" Yes Kevin, cycling is about the tremendous health benefits, but it's also about the friendships made and enhanced through the shared efforts of a 112 km ride on a quiet Monday of retirement. 

Oh, and it's also about beers, sweets, and adventures.

Just sayin'!