North Bathurst hill earns its reputation in this 1922 view, where the road rises sharply and seems to stretch forever into the distance. Two cyclists pause on the climb, framed by a dusty verge and a long corridor of trees, while telephone poles and overhead wires trace the route uphill and pull the eye toward the horizon. The grade looks punishing, the kind that turns an everyday ride into a small test of will.
In the early 1900s, cycling in Toronto wasn’t only a sport; it was also a practical way to move through a city still balancing rural edges and growing neighbourhoods. The scene reads like a snapshot of that transition—open land, scattered homes, and an unpaved roadway that would have been rough under narrow tires. Even without dramatic action, the body language suggests effort, as if the riders are measuring their pace before committing to the next stretch.
For anyone interested in Toronto cycling history, this photo offers a vivid reminder that hills and infrastructure have always shaped the ride. The Bathurst Street corridor, with its steep northward grades, has long been part of local cycling lore, and the “daunting” climb here explains why. Look closely and you can almost feel the grit of the road, the heat of the day, and the determination required to keep pushing upward.