Jun 07 - Edmundston to Moncton via the scenic route

Try as I may I am unable to get going before 9:30am no matter what time I get up. Today was no different although I was up and wandering around in my usual fog by 6:30am. My creaky old bones craved food, lots of it, and I recalled seeing cereal dispensers in the motel’s dining area so off I went. The selection was adequate; I polished off the remainder of their mini-shredded wheat things and came back hard for a bowl of mystery cereal, something I vaguely remember my kids eating in the last century. Odd tasting stuff, sort of cardboard-like in texture with a cinnamon twang to it. Probably has a half-life of 50 years or so. They also had individually wrapped donuts available so I took one back to my room where it lay on the desk for half an hour. Then realizing the heartburn that would follow if I ate it I snuck it back into the communal box and slunk back to my room.
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Finally I was ready to load the bike around 9:00am and during one of the trips down the hallway I overheard what I first thought to be kids jumping on the bed out of control. Lots of loud thumping at a very high rate accompanied by a loud shrieking noise that was increasing in amplitude and timbre on a non-linear scale. OMG, the newlyweds were camped next door! Realizing what I was hearing I entertained the notion of loud applause with a few hearty “Bravo, Bravo’s” thrown in but my mama didn’t raise no fool which is why I’ve survived all these years. Eh? Damned entertaining though.
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Once on the road I promised myself I wouldn’t spend the entire day doing the freeway thing so I dropped off the slab whenever something of interest caught my eye. Today being Sunday meant there would likely be more leisurely travelers out there and a slower pace could be expected. The first place I opted for was way off the beaten path, a small town with its own little Notre Dame tucked away on a hilltop like so many villages in France. I wish I could tell you the name of the place but I didn’t record it nor did I snap a picture of the road sign leading into the village. I’d intended to do that at each place I visited so I’d know where I’d been but you really need to take the pictures and not just think about it. I spent the next hour or so meandering through little back roads, stopping again to visit a small cemetery – one of my strange interests – and then pausing to watch a huge pine log mill in action. Watching a chipper operation is nearly as exciting as old Soviet propaganda films on annual cabbage crop yields so I moved on.
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Finding the freeway again, I continued to head in a south – southeast direction of travel. Just as boredom began to set in I noted a small sign expounding the wonders of the “Longest Covered Bridge in the World” located in glorious Hartland, next exit please. I’m a sucker for things like that so off I went. It was easy to find and just as they said, it’s one long honking covered bridge. I parked by the entrance on the uphill side and watched to see how the traffic moved. There is evidently an unwritten set of rules as to who goes when and how many go. Generally you roll up to the entrance and stop, then wait until the oncoming group has cleared the bridge, and then in you go moving right along at a brisk pace. When the last vehicle in your group has cleared the bridge the next bunch goes. It’s all very well managed and not once did I see anyone having issues. I really liked the bridge, it’s the coolest thing I’ve seen since discovering the Jesus Wants Your Soul shoe tree on Vancouver Island last year.
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The next town up the road laid claim to possessing the “World’s Biggest Axe”. Strangely I was able to resist that one and continuing with my meandering I soon found myself in another small village where there were some really great older houses. The entire community was tidy and nearly all the little cottages were painted and trim. I’ve noticed the Canadians in this part of the country seem to be highly dedicated to keeping their lawns, no, make that their fields neatly manicured. Everywhere I went it seemed there was always someone on a riding mower going at it full speed ahead. I wish the folks back home were as motivated. Maybe it’s the rain.
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After one final photo I resigned myself to accruing some decent mileage and got back on the slab. I stopped for a late lunch at one of the many combination gas bar and restaurants where I had a super breakfast of eggs, baked beans, home fries & onions accompanied by a really terrible streak. Yes, I know I had breakfast once but that was hours ago and this counted as lunch, OK? Anyway it was supposed to be a breakfast steak but in truth was more suited for use as material for logging boots soles. Noting my obvious difficulty in sawing through the not-quite-dead bovine the manager lady stopped at my table to see how things were going. “I liked everything except the steak and it’s the worst one I’ve ever had in a restaurant.” I told her. “Why don’t you take it back to the kitchen and have a go at cutting it yourself and see if you agree?” She was a nice lady and since I’d complimented the rest of the meal she disappeared with the evidence. A couple of minutes later she was back with my check and apologized, saying she’d given me a discount on the meal. Fair enough, I paid up and headed out the exit.
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Outside there were a couple of guys eyeballing the bike and they seemed duly impressed that I was so far from home. Soon a few more people ambled over, mostly curious bikers and for awhile it turned into a great story swapping session about riding and retirement, yadda yadda. I finally got mounted up and rode off into the sunset….right….praying once again I wouldn’t fall on my ass getting out of the parking lot. But I didn’t and my destination town Moncton soon appeared on the horizon. Well sort of, you can’t actually see it until you’re there but you get the idea. Anyway I checked into the local Comfort Inn for the evening and as soon as I was unloaded I hit the nearby Burger King for dinner. Yum.
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So that’s it, another glorious day on the road to Nova Scotia has ended. Tomorrow is the day; I’m just a few clicks away from crossing over into the big NS and should be there early. One of the couples at the restaurant this afternoon told me that since I’d come so far I should continue on to Newfoundland, ride the ferry, meet the folks, hang out, etc. Hmm….there’s a thought, eh?
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I wonder if they sell tonic water in Newfoundland?

Jun 06 – Waddaya mean I’m in Maine?

Linda sent me an email last night mentioning it sounded like I was going through an area that wasn’t as interesting as the previous ones. True, but probably due to the fact I’ve been on the freeway for the past couple of days and there’s a reason why bikers sometimes refer to them as slabs.
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Today was very much the same as yesterday although the first 20 miles or so were nice as they were rural areas. Then it was back on the slab and for the rest of the day it was pretty boring. Some of the areas could just as easily have been the Willamette valley back home, only the license plates and language were different. Still, after a few hours of listening to people communicate in French it was hard to believe I was still in Canada and not France. Maybe I made a wrong turn somewhere?
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This morning I decided to wear lighter clothes so it was back into the leather jacket and Bohn armored undies. I figured if the weather went south I could stop somewhere and slip into big red. Good thinking, around 1:30pm the dark sky that had been following me for a couple of hours finally caught up and the first drops appeared on my visor. I rode through a couple of light showers thinking it might clear up but the sky really started to look black where I was headed so I pulled into a gas station’s side lot and did the deed. After that it was on again off again with the rain but I stayed snug inside big red. Then I crossed into New Brunswick and it was like drawing a line across the road, the light shower turned into a torrential downpour. I stopped at the official welcome to New Brunswick facility to take a couple of pics but it was so dark they didn’t turn out very well.
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I finally reached Edmundston, NB where I intended to spend the night if I could find a place. I queried the GPS for hotel/motel locations and rode to the address of the first one but it seems to have vanished. Then the second one was down a narrow street that T’d onto a smaller street that had a Canadian border building on the left and a grated steel bridge on the right. Not quite understanding what was going on – remember it was dark and raining like all go to hell – I chose the right turn and rode over the bridge. Guess what was on the other side? The US Customs entry into the good ol’ US of A. Pulling into the booth I had to laugh as I told the guy I’d no idea I was about to re-enter the US and that I was just looking for a motel. He chuckled like he’d heard that one more than once and then asked the usual questions about guns and liquor and drugs. After that he gave me directions to the two motels in town so I was off again. The people waiting patiently behind me in line probably thought he was really chewing me out with all the arm waving and finger pointing. I'm getting to like Customs guys, they're fun.
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Finding Martin’s Motel was made easier because of the GPS and I was there in just a few minutes. As I rode up there was a new metallic red Goldwing parked in front and its owner Bill Alexander was standing on the porch admiring the rain. He lives in Las Vegas where he works for Lowes as a commercial sales specialist and at present he’s on a month long ride doing the 4-corners thing which is a very long ride indeed. We hit it off right away and went to dinner at the local eatery where I had the adult version of Beanie Weenies, then I headed back to Martin’s and Bill went to gas his bike and get it ready for tomorrow’s ride.

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Martin's Motel is a killer deal compared to what I've been dealing with in Canada: $46 bucks including breakfast flakes, etc., and although it's an older place it's well maintained and has the same ammenities as the more expensive places. I wish I could find more just like this one.
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I’m not sure which way I’ll head tomorrow, back over the bridge into NB or maybe east through Maine and ultimately to Nova Scotia that way. I talked to a guy a day or so ago and he recommended the latter so maybe that’s what I’ll do. For right now I’ve got a pair of socks to wash out.
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You know what I really like about being back in the US? These people speak English and they know all about Tonic water. Yessirree…

Jun 05 – Granby, Quebec where they speak in tongues. Or maybe my hearing’s finally gone?

Canadians in general don’t seem to have developed a taste for Gin & Tonic. Gin they appear to like but Tonic remains a mystery and as a result, it isn’t to be found easily. Consequently I’ve had to resort to weird concoctions such as Gin & 7-Up, Gin & Mountain Dew, and tonight Gin & Perrier…with just a hint of lemon. Ugh. That’s like just a hint of Scoal. But I digress, here’s what happened today.
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On the way out of Mattawa I stopped for breakfast at the same place I ate dinner at last night. Without so much as looking at the menu I ordered the good old reliable bacon-eggs-potatoes-toast-coffee. All of this accomplished as I was standing at the table trying to shrug out of the top half of big red without looking like the village idiot. The waitress (screw saying “wait person”) was pretty cool, she led me with each word knowing full well what to ask and when to ask it. “Onions in the potatoes? Over easy? Coffee black? White toast?” I think waitresses read me like cops who see me stopped by the road. Bottom line, the breakfast just happened to be their daily special and I got off for a meager $4.95. Yes I tipped but that was extra.
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After breakfast I paused for a quick pic of the little town’s main drag and then it was road time again. The day passed quickly as most all of it was spent on major freeways getting me past Montreal and its environs. At one point I darn near ran out of gas and using the fuel finder feature of the GPS I discovered Garmin and their programmers have a strange sense of humor. Following the turn-by-turn instructions I found myself in a part of Montreal frequented by ladies of the early afternoon (hooks) and young bloods in their best street fighter garb. The hooks ignored me but the bloods looked at me hungrily in the same way they might a juicy piece of white chicken. Bless you Kawasaki for building such a fine machine, breaking down at that particular time would have been most unpleasant. Still keeping the faith in Garmin I chose the next place on their roster and it turned out to be good, it landed me at a Shell station where one of the attendants spoke English and I gassed up and hit the freeway system again.
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It’s odd how easy it is to ride a bike several hundred miles without much effort. When you’re a kid that is; us old geezers utilize a different system to tell us when it’s time to hang it up for the day. For instance my boney old knees usually let me know and today was no exception. Yesterday it was my butt but the inflatable Air Hawk seat pad seems to be holding air after I applied the patch last night. I love low tech repair kits.
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Other than for gas the only stop I made was for lunch at my favorite burger joint, Burger King. It was slightly interesting for two reasons, one, the people who live in this area seem to think they’re French and speak accordingly and I don’t, and two, I got to watch a naughty couple meet for what was obviously a clandestine union. Tsk tsk, what if your spouses find out?
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After that it was onward and eastward until I could do no more and I ended the day at the Granby Motel, located at the starting line of the unauthorized Granby street drag strip. But hey, I don’t care because my Asian landlady booked me into room 52, the farthest location in the entire motel and upstairs to boot. Since there are at least two other vehicles in the parking lot maybe she’s expecting company? Doesn’t matter, I’m happy with my new digs and if anyone wanders down the darkened hallway it their bad luck.

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Dinner? Why it's Manly Food again of course!

Jun 04 – Onward to Mattawa, Ontario, center of the known world

Last night I slept like I was comatose, must have been due to the quality of the motel or something. In any event I felt really refreshed this morning and after showering I headed to join the feeding frenzy at the motel’s dining area. No Grape Nuts Flakes for me today, today it was Sugar Frosted Flakes or just muffins and toast. I went with the flakes and the muffins. Then I spent the better part of an hour listening to an old Canadian geezer tell me everything that was wrong with those damn modern bikes, especially those Ninja things that go way too damn fast and you could get killed on one. I listened patiently and dropped the bomb letting him know that was my ride of choice. He swallowed most of his tongue and moved right into how unreliable modern electronics are on those damn BMW bikes. I queried him to see what he was actually referring to and he listed those damn electric vests and electric heated grips and how all of that would go wrong and leave a guy stranded, yadda yadda. I dropped bomb #2. Moving right along he gave up on modern bikes and told me the tale of how he’d inherited 3 bikes from a friend, 2 were original Indians and one was an old Harley 74. He gave them to his kids and they loved them, yadda yadda. I liked him.
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There were two other bikers staying in the motel and they parked next to the Ninja. I was glad it was covered up as their bikes were clean and pretty whereas the Ninja is a filthy beast and not fit to be seen next to pretty iron. I tried to make conversation with them but they weren’t too interested in swapping road stories with an old geezer so I let it go. Sometimes you meet friendly guys and sometimes they like to stay within their own boundaries. Riding alone sort of forces you to open up to strangers and you get to meet interesting people.
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Once I got moving I realized how late it was, nearly 10:30am by the time I got on the road. I let the GPS pick the route and instead of following the main highway it took me through some of the Indian reservation land. Spotting an interesting bit of graffiti on a railroad bridge I turned around and headed back for a photo shoot. Just about the time I got the kickstand down one of the Reservation Police guys pulled up and asked if everything was alright. I was clearly parked where I shouldn’t have been but being on two wheels sometimes gives me the notion I can get away with small infringements of the law. I told him I wanted to take a photo of the bridge and he seemed to like that. I said thanks for stopping and he took off. Nice guy. That’s the 2nd time that’s happened on this trip. I must look like I need help a lot. So where the hell was he when I dropped my bike yesterday?
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Not much happened after that, I continued my ride through little reservation towns and open farm lands until the road detoured me back onto the main highway, then things got pretty boring. I rode the rest of the morning sort of zombie-like until I realized the lunch bell had rang and I’d slept right through it. Lunch choices in that part of the world weren’t many and when I spotted one of the Dixie Lee chicken joints I bailed. They’re running head to head with the Colonel but they also offer other items such as perogies or whatever the heck they’re called. Those are the little dumpling thingies with potato stuffing and covered with onions & bacon & a side of sour cream. You may recall I tried them a couple of days back? The other guys really know how to make them and Dixie Lee should stick with chicken. End of story.
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With lunch out of the way I flew on down highway 17 again but after awhile I noticed I was having difficulty keeping the seating position I liked. I kept sliding around and my butt was beginning to feel a bit tired, like maybe the Anti-Monkey Butt powder wasn’t working or something. The more I got to thinking about it the more I suspected foul play and began to wonder if one of the biker boys at the motel had managed to stick a kick-me sign on my butt or something. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled into a view point of Lake Huron to have a look. Bad news, the Air Hawk inflatable seat cushion was flatter than yesterday’s tortilla. I hadn’t blown air into it since the day I’d received it, more than 20,000 miles ago so I figured maybe it was time for a refill. The inflation valve is just like the one on a bicycle tire and it seemed OK so I blew it up and took off. My efforts lasted for around 20 minutes and then it was flat again. It was time to shop for a tube repair kit.
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I also needed a new pair or reading glasses, some Scotch tape to repair the map with – it was really falling apart, and I wanted to buy some extra ear plugs, the squishy kind that fit kids’ ears. They’re made of a pliable silicone material and they’re perfect for wearing under a crash helmet. Rolling through Sturgeon Falls I spotted a brand new RexAll Drugstore and figured I’d hit the big one. Sure enough, they had Scotch tape and the ear plugs I wanted but their reading glasses were priced at $32.95! Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I buy those things at home for a buck at the Dollar Store. Grumbling at the clerk about it – I didn’t bother to take any – she acknowledged how pricey everything was in their store and suggested I keep an eye out for the Canadian version of the Dollar Store as her brother-in-law buys them all the time for that price. Nice lady.
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Next I headed to the local bike parts shop where I picked up a can of chain oil spray and got back on the road to Oz, aka Mattawa. Actually I hadn’t a clue where I was going to land for the day, just figured I’d ride until I was pooped and take the first place I could find. Riding into Mattawa I came upon a True Value Hardware store and popped in for a tube repair kit to use on the Air Hawk. While there I happened to ask if they sold reading glasses and out comes a box of cellophane wrapped specs in just my size. And for only a buck and a half. My kind of place.
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On the way into town I’d spotted the Two Rivers Motel so I back tracked and after checking things out decided it was my best bet unless I wanted to ride another 100 clicks. The lady who owns the place has this gigantic Malamute dog who must weigh at least 100 lbs and he seemed to like me. Like maybe I was one of his littermates or something. First he sniffed me over, then he bit me, then he wanted me to scratch his big fat butt, etc., etc. What a hound, and named Wiley Coyote to boot. I'm really glad I was wearing my black cotton long-sleeve shirt.
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The owner lady told me about a restaurant up the road that had great food so I shucked out of big red and the electric vest thingy and rode in for dinner. I can’t recall the last time I had a hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and 2 cups of brown gravy but tonight was the night for it. Damn it was good, and they included homemade coleslaw that was to die for. Sometimes you just get lucky.
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Back at the motel I banged on the owner’s door begging for ice – this place’s ice machine is evidently the icemaker in her kitchen reefer. With a cute little silver bucket of frozen goodies I ferreted myself away in my room where I experimented with the tube repair kit. The leak is right on one of the edges of material and if it holds air I’ll be amazed. One thing I can tell you for sure, I ain’t about to ride several thousand more miles without the Air Hawk. If it’s done in then I’m going on a mission to find another one or at least an equivalent for the rest of the trip. My skinny old butt just isn’t cut out for riding without one. Bet the Harley shops have something….

June 03 – Goodbye Wawa, Hello Sault Ste. Marie

As I was leaving Wawa this morning I realized I’d failed to take pics of the huge Canadian Geese statues scattered around town. Pausing at the nearest one I read the sign below it and learned the town was named after them using the local Indian word for the geese. So how do they really know that I wondered? I mean, come on now, if I were one of the local tribes people I’d have had a field day teaching the white guys Indian words. So what does Wawa really mean guys? This was a double score stop as there were also carvings of the Gitchee Goomee Man, just the thing to show your 2-year old grandkids, thereby ensuring the little nippers will experience nightmares in vivid colors.

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It was cold again but at least it was sunny so I bundled up with all the warm stuff I had and lit out towards my destination of Sault Ste. Marie. Just a few clicks down the road I stopped to have a look at the Old Woman Bay Provincial Park. It’s really a nice park, lots of picnic tables and a clean sandy beach. It’s also the place to freeze your tail off if you’re used to warmer climes. Like I am, for instance. While there I decided to try the remote timer on my camera so I could star in photos farther away than arm’s length. The net result demonstrates I need a bit more practice, the one I took looks like I’ve started happy hour at 9:00am. Maybe that’s how the locals keep warm?
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Back on the road again, I blasted by the turn off to Gargantua Road, noting as I did that it was gravel. Then it occurred to me that I had tons of experience riding the Ninja on gravel from my first trip to Alaska. What the heck I thought, it’s a nice day, might as well go back and have a go at it. The idea of a nice long ride up a crappy road somehow appealed to me so off I went. The road actually is crappy for the most part, long stretches of really big knobby rocks accompanied by loose pointy gravel. Occasional dirt & a little mud thrown in just to make it interesting.

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I was actually doing pretty good, stopping to take lots of pictures and in general having a pretty good time of it. Then I thought maybe I’d better get my camera out and hang it around my neck for that spur of the moment photo op that was bound to occur. With everything at the ready I started off again and sure enough, within just a few minutes out of the bushes just ahead of me pops this big fat bunny rabbit, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at me. Yes, I thought, here we go and reaching for the camera at precisely the same time the front tire encountered a pointy rock I off-loaded. Nap-time for El Nino; aka time for a lie-down.

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Dammit I hate it when that happens, especially if I’m umpteen miles up a gravel road with no one within screaming distance to pick the bike up for me. I must be getting used to this as I calmly removed the topside pannier and tank bag so as to lighten things up before attempting to upright her. While this was going on the damn rabbit, who had calmly been observing this fire drill from a few feet away approached within 3 feet of the bike, sniffed it over a bit and hip-pity hopped back into the bushes. As the task of up righting the miserable beast was mine I gripped whatever I could get hold of, gave my best primeval scream and yanked her up. Naturally I was on the side opposite the kickstand but I pretty well have that one figured out so I tippy-toed around her all the while doing my best balancing act. Once upright I surveyed things for damage and noted there were only a couple of new scratches in the same general area as the ones that occurred during the yellow jacket thing the other day. Poor old El Nino, she’s really starting to look like a tart.

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Packed up again, I headed on to the Gargantua place, wherever that would be. The sign had said it was something on the order of 12 -14 clicks each way and I was already half way in. The rest of the ride was uneventful albeit beautiful and I stopped often to take more photos. Arriving at the terminus of the road was almost anti-climatic; you reach a small turn around area with 2 kilometers to go before you arrive at the bay. Buggers I thought, I ain’t goin in there, I could get eaten by a bear. Or maybe Gypsies would steal my bike and I’d have to walk home. No way Jose and I turned it around and rode back to highway 17.

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About that time I remembered I hadn’t had any lunch yet and it was already past 1:00pm. The Oreos and milk I’d had for breakfast had long since been absorbed and converted into adrenalin and I was beginning to feel hunger pangs. What, you don’t eat Oreos & Milk for breakfast? Pity. I admit I had just a tad bit of trouble getting Big Red zippered up this morning so I may have to cut back on the milk. Anyway as I was sailing along at a sensible rate of speed, around 121 clicks, and keeping an eye out for upcoming food ops I spied this blackie standing on the inside of the guard rail preparing to launch himself across the road. Good thing he was keeping an eye on me as I sure as hell couldn’t have done much about slowing down if he’d sprang out in front of me. He must have been street smart though as he waited until I’d passed and then scooted across. Good bear, that’s the way to do it…

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Finally I arrived at a place that had been on billboards for miles in advance, the Canadian Carver. It’s a fabulous place with nearly everything a tourist could want, trinkets, teepees, stuffed wolves, carved widgets, gas pumps, groceries, a liquor store, but no damn restaurant! Since I was already there I figured I might as well do the tour so I did, and I managed to resist spending a single dime. Until I came to the liquor store that is, and it’s my personal belief that liquor qualifies as one of the basic food groups, maybe one of the plant things like yellow vegetables so I stocked up just to be on the safe side.

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After that it was more road time and I noted I wasn’t too far away from Sault Ste. Marie so I decided to wait until I hit the big city to eat. As I approached the outer edge of town I queried my magic GPS for motels and selected the Super 8 as the place to stop. Bingo, it was a great choice, nicest one I’ve stayed at so far and close to everything. Oddly they provide free hi-speed Internet access but it’s via cable, something I’d nearly forgotten about since most places use WIFI. The hook up was simple enough so that’s that, I’m finished fooling around at a decent hour today and will have time to watch the tube a little.
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What’s for dinner you wonder? Why Burger King of course, my favorite place in the known Universe. And maybe a little something else...for medicinal purposes.

Jun 02 - Wawa (No kidding!) Ontario where it’s cold as hell

The Super 8 Motel people are thinking, they provide an old worn out towel in the bathroom to be used for cleaning shoes, bikes, anything dirty. It beats seeing their good linens used for the same thing and at the same time provides another avenue for recycling. I’ve seen this done before but not often; last time was in BC last year. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing? Kudos to them anyway, I was able to clean most of the construction zone crud off the bike this morning. Naturally I ran through another construction zone this afternoon so it’s back to square one.
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When I looked out the window this morning I was greeted with the remnants of the rain storm that had passed through during the night. The sun was out but it was cold and the sky had lots of dark clouds on the horizon. The weatherman confirmed what he’d been predicting, rain and cold the further east you went. Not what I wanted to hear but hanging around Super 8 wasn’t on my long-term agenda so I packed it up and got ready to leave. About that time one of the other guests came over to chat it up and during the conversation he recommended taking 17, the Trans Canada instead of the backwater roads I’d planned on. His description of the two routes swung me over to his thinking as 17 runs alongside Lake Superior and the views are super. The back roads take you through flat boring country full of bugs and nothing to look at according to him so 17 it was.

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I stopped to gas up and reset the daily trip meter, then hooked up with 17 heading around Lake Superior. Just out of town I spotted the Terrance Fox memorial, one of the stops the motel guy had recommended seeing. Terry was a young man who lost one of his legs, recovered and ultimately ran all the way across Canada with his prosthetic leg. As an inspiration to people everywhere he raised millions of dollars for medical research causes. When he died he people of Canada erected the memorial overlooking Thunder Bay as a tribute to him. It was definitely worth the visit.
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Before leaving I thought I’d ask someone to take a picture of me with Thunder Bay in the background. A guy came by about then and I asked him if he’d take one for me and of course he said sure. Knowing how people sometimes react to strange cameras I opened the view screen and set things up so all he had to do was point and push the big fat button. You ever come across someone who’s unable to chew gum and remain upright at the same time? I assure you, he’s living in Thunder Bay. As I was posing the first thing I noticed was he had the lens aimed at my belly. That’s probably OK as the camera is very forgiving and I figured I could crop what I needed. Then I noticed he was having a really hard time with the view screen, lots of furrows popping out of his forehead so I told him to try using the view port, same as on older cameras. That helped but then I noticed his trigger finger turning white from the effort of pushing the shutter button. Nice. The problem was he was pushing down on the camera body between the shutter button and the on/off button. I showed him again which button to push and took up my posing position again. This time he frowned and said “It’s no good; I think the batteries are dead.” I looked and noted he’d pressed the tiny on/off button shutting the camera off. Taking it gently away from him I examined it and said “Dang it, you’re right they’re dead. Thanks anyway, I’ll just buy some new ones.” We did the mutual smile thing and each went our own way. I hoped he didn’t notice me taking more pictures on the way out of the park.
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Leaving the memorial I returned to my ride on 17 and after a few more miles noticed the sky was becoming ominous looking, black clouds were gathering in nasty looking formations and heading my way. I stopped for a quick photo of them and continued on towards the darkening horizon. Sure enough light droplets began to gather on my visor so I pulled over and put the rain cover on the tank bag. A steady downpour began as soon as I got back on the bike and within a few miles I was shivering with the cold. What a crappy day it was turning into I thought. I spotted one of the infrequent rest stops and decided to give myself a break for a few minutes and maybe take a couple more shots of Lake Superior. By the time I got parked and retrieved the camera the weather had socked in and visibility of the lake was down to nil. At least the Birch trees in the rest stop were pretty so I settled for another photo of the Ninja plus one of myself. I was cold and damp and not a happy camper.
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Returning to the miserable ride I continued on only now it was just stare ahead and move along as quickly as the circumstances allowed. About an hour passed without letup in the rain when I came across a lone restaurant way out in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those one-man operations and I was glad as hell to find it. He served me piping hot coffee right away and I ordered a bowl of his homemade cream of broccoli soup. It was great and I topped it off with a slice of lemon pie plus more hot coffee. I liked the guy, he was cordial and his place was clean and food was good. I probably should have taken a picture of him but the rain was starting up again so off I went.
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I continued along the highway, now heading south and decided to look for an early stop for the day. That’s exactly what I’d tried to do yesterday and ended up riding forever. Resolute in my thinking I wasn’t going to settle for that again today. My trip odometer was barely 200 miles but nearly all of it was in pelting cold rain and I was getting fed up with it, I wanted a warm room with a TV and an ice machine nearby. Like yesterday it wasn’t going to be easy, and when I’d ridden another 100+ miles I came to the town of Wawa. That’s right kiddies, Wawa. Figuring it had to be interesting I pulled off the highway into the little burg and sure enough, there were several motels. The Sportsman’s Motel won the choice as it has a restaurant next door and a Beer Store across the road. What more could a guy want?
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I checked in, unloaded the bike and immediately headed for The Beer Store. They’d just closed! Dammit anyway, missed it by ten minutes. Moving on to plan B, I scored milk, Oreos, and Schweppes Tonic water at the little grocery store down the road. After depositing my precious cargo in my room I hoofed it over to the Viking restaurant where I had one of their house special burgers, a veritable jaw breaker and tasty too. While waiting for it to arrive I entertained myself attempting to estimate the gross weight of the 14 ladies occupying a huge table across the room. Not an easy task but I finally arrived at 2500 lbs on the hoof, handbags and paraphernalia not included. I had to give it up as one of them had begun to stare at me and a cold fear gripped my heart, what if they were witches? What if they could read minds? They might come for me later…
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And that’s it, another day on the road; this one will be memorable as the coldest so far. However If I continue east it’s not likely to hold that distinction for long.

Jun 1 - Ontario's Lake of the Woods & The ride to Thunder Bay

Boy do my knees ever hurt, I rode just under 500 miles today and I can tell it. To begin with I left Steinbach right on schedule (following my usual Grape Nuts Flakes...) I had to retrace part of my route to get back on track heading east and that took me north where I hooked back up with the Trans Canada freeway. Once I’d gotten away from the area around Winnipeg I found myself alone on the road, sometimes for several miles. That struck me as odd since this was Canada’s main east-west arterial. Maybe business is slacking off?

I spent a considerable amount of time fantasizing about a movie I saw where the guy woke up and everyone on Earth is dead. He spends a lot of time running up and down the local freeways looking for other people, rummaging through stuff, looting, etc. Get the picture? That was me winding along on the Trans Cam all alone, last guy on the planet. Fun.

When I left this morning I decided to stow the leather jacket and switch back to the ‘stich aka Big Red. Yesterday afternoon had been fairly crisp and today looked even more so. It was a good decision but still I stopped within a few miles and added my neck warmer to the mix – the tubular thingy that keeps your guzzler from freezing up. That lasted for maybe another 10 miles and I stopped again, this time donning the electric vest which I turned up to the highest setting where it stayed the rest of the day. For the most part it was sunny to partly cloudy with little wind but still nippy as hell at speed. I have to tell you, the money I spent on electric heated stuff was well worth the price, and having the one-piece ‘stich to wrap it all up in makes it darn near perfect. Plus, as I confessed awhile back, it’s possible to sleep in the ‘stich. Just in case you left your sleeping bag home.

I stayed on the Trans Canada through Kenora which is the beginning of the route around the huge Lake on the Woods district. In Kenora I stopped for a photo op of the cabin on one of the islands which is posted above, very cool digs for someone of means. Turning south onto highway 71 took me through the Sioux Narrows area and ultimately to Fort Frances where I turned east onto highway 11. The ride down 71 was gorgeous and nearly every place is either owned by or named after one of the local Indian tribes. I didn’t see any of the huge casinos that we have in Oregon so maybe the Canadians don’t allow them?

Along the same route I spotted the Rushing River falls and pulled a U-turn to go back for a photo. There was a Provincial Camp Ground (Ta Da..!) so rather than parking on the narrow shoulder of the road I rode in and stopped at the entrance. The ranger gal was at the pay station and I asked if I could pull around as I just wanted to take a photo and not camp. “Nope. If you come into the park you have to pay $10.00.” she remarked. Make that smirked. I replied with “But..but..uh..but...”, then realizing I wasn’t going to win this one and no way was I going to fork over ten bucks I back peddled the bike over the speed bump and rode out against the one-way. She stood there smiling all the while. Nice lady. At the entrance to the highway I parked and took the photo which is all I wanted to do in the first place. Thinking back I’m glad she’s found a position that enables her to exercise her authority over the little people, if not for that her life would probably be empty. Yup.

Further on down the road I pulled over to shoot the photo of a beaver lodge and while I was fumbling with my camera bag one of the RCMP guys pulled up. “You doin’ OK” he asked. At least I think that’s what he said since I was wearing my ear plugs and could only see his lips moving. I pantomimed using a camera and pointed at the water. He got it, game me a thumbs up and drove off. At least I think it was a thumbs up. Maybe he arrested me for loitering and I was supposed to follow him?

The afternoon approached and as is my habit I began the search for a lunch stop. The places along the lakes all looked a bit upscale for a bug covered biker though, and being of a frugal nature I expected they would be on the expensive side so I continued my ride. Then as luck would have it I spotted a small café in the miniscule township of Emo named the Circle D Family Restaurant. It looked like a nice clean little place and although the door was closed I could see people inside, some of them eating so that was good enough for me. I parked right in front and it was easy to see I immediately became the source of entertainment for all of them. The watched me intently as I removed helmet, gloves, guzzler thingy, glasses, and then inside at a booth I shrugged partially out of Big Red, all of which was performed without dropping so much as a single item. No applause, just polite stares and hushed whispers. No folks, not Saint Nick, just the old guy from Bandon by the Sea… None of them rode bikes but at least one rode one of those scooter chairs you see in the AARP magazine and I think another one had a lethal looking cane.

The menu was great, lots of homemade items and all at very low prices. That’s under five bucks to me, probably not so for you guys? Anyway one of the items was called Poggerlies or something like that so I asked the waitress what it was. She started to explain and was immediately interrupted by an older gal who was probably her mom. Turns out it was a Ukrainian dish more properly known as Vareniki or at least that’s as close as I can recall. They’re small pastries filled with mashed potatoes, then deep fried and served with a topping of chopped fried bacon, onions, and a side of sour cream. Heavenly. To die for. Don’t forget where you left your fat clothes.

Waddling out of the café and preparing to mount up I noticed the same folks watching my show played in reverse. One of the ladies actually came to the door and watched. Maybe it was Big Red? These are the times you pray to God you won’t fall on your ass when you twiddle the bike out the gravel driveway.

After the heavy lunch I decided that retiring around 3:30pm would make sense so I began the search for a cheap motel. Not only were there no cheap motels, even the high end looking ones were closed or full up. Thus began the final ride segment for the day, I locked into the back of an SUV who was driving like a bat out of hell – 115k – and followed him all the way into Thunder Bay, a good 175 mile stretch that I didn’t want to take. It turned out OK though as I snagged a room in the Super 8 and tomorrow I’ll take it easier.

And what did I have for dinner you ask? As it happens I’m now on Eastern Daylight time and since it was right at 10:00pm and I didn’t want to go anywhere I settled for a sub sandwich and 6 donuts from the shop behind the motel. That’s right, SIX donuts, so what? I could just as easily have ordered twelve. Think about it.