EACH morning, to get to work, most of the city climbs into sedans or minivans, a fair number sit on the bus, some bike, others who live close enough to do so walk — every trip moves along with the flow of traffic, and every commuter somewhat disappears into the thrum of urban movement.

Not Daniel Voth.

For one thing, he’s deceptively gangly, standing six-foot-three, often towering over the people he meets. And then, there’s that thing he’s sitting on to get to work every winter morning: a 36-inch high unicycle, decked out in neon green decals, in case you weren’t already staring. He wants you to stare. He dares you to smile. He loves your attention.

“I call myself Dan, but people can call me the Unicycle Guy,” he says. So we will.

The Unicycle Guy lives in an apartment on Garry Street, with his cat Jam Jams and five unicycles, a collection he’s been accruing for nearly three years. Every morning, around 8 a.m., he descends, wheel in the air, passing tenants who know him if not by name, then by his mode of transport.

He started riding a unicycle three years ago, when he saw a man riding one along the Assiniboine Park walking bridge. The Unicycle Guy, who was then strictly a Car Man, was intrigued. The next day, he called every bike shop in the city, and bought the cheapest ’cycle he could find.

His mother, Debbie-Lee Olfert, is no unicyclist herself — she says she can barely ride a bike. But she was not surprised to find out her son was picking up such a peculiar talent. “He is the most quirky person you’re going to meet,” she says.

“And as the mother of grown-ass men, you stop telling them what to do and hope they make choices that aren't illegal, immoral, or life-threatening,” she says. “I say have fun, be safe, be smart.”

At the time a Charleswood resident, the Unicycle Guy was determined to learn. He wouldn’t stop practising that first day until he could reach the bottom of the driveway without bailing, and soon enough, he could.

“The origin to my interest is that riding a unicycle has always seemed like an impossible task, and I always liked the idea of doing something often perceived as undoable,” he says before a commute one March morning. “I always describe this as the easiest thing to learn that looks the hardest to do.” 

The Unicycle Guy isn’t wrong: from a distance, and up close, it seems like every moment not spent falling is a miracle, but ultimately, the pursuit of one-wheeled balance is one grounded in patience and trust. When talking about the unicycle, the Unicycle Guy takes on a somewhat spiritual tone: if you will it, you can ride. 

Soon after he got down the driveway, he aimed higher, and further: he wanted to ride to work. So, last summer, he sold his rattly car, forwent his $100 per month parking expenses, and rode away. The commute was 20 minutes by car, and though Google Maps doesn’t have a unicycle option, it took about an hour from Point A to Point B, an office on Market Avenue. In the summer, the ride was smooth, if not slightly scary.