Manitoulin Island

We have left the rolling hills and rugged coastline of Lake Superior.  We are now rolling along the flatter more open scenery of Lake Huron.  Both lakes are making a good imitation of the ocean and whenever I see them it gives me a little twinge of homesickness. 

As we drove from Sault Ste. Marie to Blind River I thought the roads were looking pretty good.  There was lots of visibility and some shoulders.  The truck drivers have always been very courteous and given me lots of room. The RV drivers have all been really ancient and don’t even see over the steering wheels. They work on the principle that you cannot hit what you cannot see.  I had not seen too many RV’s for the last few days so I was getting confident.  The next leg of the journey was from Blind River to Espanola.  It is about 100 k and the roads were looking good.

Bring it on!

Yesterday the weather was cool with a light breeze – perfect for riding.   Telen said she would drive on ahead and meet me someplace along the way for lunch.  What a perfect ride!  Everyone should have such a great support team.

I got a call after about an hour and a half from Telen saying that she was stopped at a town called Massey that was about halfway and would wait for me there.   She said it was about 15 k from where I was.   Perfect.  I was getting a bit hungry.   I rode for about 20 minutes or so and came to a sign that said, “Massey – 20 k”.  Telen does not have a great sense of distance.   When I arrived in Massey I realized that we were in fact 80% of the way to Espanola.  I had ridden 80 k without a break, so the lunch was wonderful and I realized I only had 20 more kilometers to go. 

The shoulders on the road were not as wide as I had anticipated and in fact in some cases they were only about 10 cm wide.  More like ankles than shoulders.  Remember I said that the truck drivers were courteous?  Well, the logging truck drivers are the exception that proves the rule. 

Just as I was leaving Massey a truck came so close to me that I dodged onto the unpaved shoulder.  I hit the gravel going about 35 kph.  In a car, that is parking speed.  On a bike that is highway speed.  My tires are about 23 cm wide with no tread and the gravel is loose gravel.  Toastmasters would not have been proud of me at that point.  My speech was rather forceful but the vocabulary was limited to one word spoken very loudly and repetitively.  It is not a word that I use a lot, but I think I may have used up my quota for my lifetime.

How I kept my balance I do not know.  Probably fear had something to do with it.  All I could see was sharp-edged gravel and all I could feel was how thin and fragile cycling clothes are.  My heart rate spiked at that point. 

I spent a fair amount of time trying to get my courage back.  Even while I was standing on the shoulder and a truck would go by I would flinch.  For the next 10 k or so every time I heard a truck approaching I would stop and get off the bike. 

After a while, though, I got back in the groove but my shoulders would end up around my ears at the sound of an approaching truck.  What a wuss!  Shortly after that I saw Telen in the distance on the side of the road.   It had started to rain and she thought I probably could use a ride and a drink.  What she did not realize was that the drink I needed was not water…  I don’t know how many times she has saved me on this trip but I think she may have secured her place in heaven.  Even God needs someone to pick up the garbage.

As a result of all this we decided to change our route.   Instead of following route 17 (in Ontario, they call route 1 seventeen –in keeping with not knowing which way is North) we decided to head south to Manitoulin Island – which is the largest freshwater island in the world.  What a pleasant surprise awaited us. Wide roads, wide shoulders and few, if any, trucks.   The landscape is totally different as well – flatter, softer and mellower.  It has a Salt-Spring Island kind of feel to it.  After we leave here we have a ferry-ride to the Bruce Peninsula. 

I am liking it!

 On the shores of Gichi-Gumi by the shining Big Sea Water

 

Sault Ste. Marie

The roads through the Canadian Shield are scary if you are on a bicycle.  I started out from Thunder Bay on a wide road with wide shoulders on a day that looked perfect for cycling.  The terrain was rolling hills; it was relatively cool with a light wind.  I thought to myself that this was finally the cycling I was looking for.   I was in the groove – feeling mellow, feeling strong, feeling great.  After about 30 k I saw a vehicle that looked suspiciously like ours coming towards me.   It was Telen, telling me that about 1 k up the road the shoulder disappeared.  Loose gravel from there on.  Sigh.  With the Semi’s taking up the road, the RV’s having no idea what they’re doing and no shoulder it was just too dangerous for me and Telen was having little heart-attacks at the thought of me riding there.  So, back in the car again.

We arrived in Nipigon.   It is a very nice little town based on a sawmill that shut down a few years ago.  Most people have moved out but a few die-hards have remained.   Everyone was very friendly and welcoming and we booked a room at the Beaver Hotel.   Seriously.   At the information desk they told us that there was a restaurant in town at the Sunny-side Cabins.   We walked there with a little trepidation but found a wonderful surprise.   It was a small café with an outdoor deck overlooking the Nipigon River, very friendly service and good food.   The waiter was a wealth of information on the area and directed us to a hiking trail where we went for a hike.

The next place we stayed was at Ney’s Provincial Park.   Ney’s used to be a prisoner of war site during the Second World War.  It is right on a beach of Lake Superior.  With the sandy beach, the crashing waves and the cool breeze coming off the water it was like being back in Victoria.   Looking at Lake Superior is like looking at the ocean minus the salt, whales, seals, etc. etc.  It made us a little homesick in spite of the striped uniforms, and the guards making us walk in formation.

After leaving Ney’s Provincial Park we arrived in Wawa.  Wawa is really the name of the town, not their feelings about living so far from anywhere.  I understand it means white goose in Ojibwa and they have a large number of sculptures of geese in the village.   Still, I carefully kept my backpack hanging strategically very low. 

That night we stayed at a very nice cabin that had all the amenities.   We were very glad to be inside that night.   We got hit with a storm like I have never seen.   The lightning flashes coming through the window were like the flickering of a defective florescent tube accompanied by a steady drum-roll.   And rain!  We think we get rain in Victoria – Hah!   Rain in Victoria is like two old ladies having a squabble – gray, dull and goes on forever.  Rain here is like two teenage boys having a fight – lots of energy, pyrotechnics, melodrama and then it is over.  The road in front of our cabin was like a river.  I am glad we were not camping!

On our way through Lake Superior Provincial Park we came across three small lakes called Dad, Mom and Baby lakes.   Very cute.   About ten k down the road we came across Orphan Lake.   We wondered what that little lake had done thousands of years ago that it got tossed out of the family.   It looked perfectly fine – except, perhaps, at little lonely.

Now we are in Sault Ste. Marie.  We booked a motel over the Internet.  Sometimes that has its drawbacks.  Apparently the motel is undergoing major renovations.  To get in we had to go through a tiny little side door that took us into the basement.  We were hard-pressed to find the reception area, which was a temporary desk and a very dusty looking receptionist.  The room was ok but we found wearing the hard-hats and steel toed boots at bit of a nuisance especially in the shower…   No need for a wake-up call, the hammering and drilling did the trick!

We are still in Northern Ontario, which I find strange.  We travelled out of southern Manitoba and into Northern Ontario.   I know that there is a lot of Ontario north of here and a whole lot of Canada north of here but somehow this is still Northern Ontario.  The US is just across the canal from here and you can see it if you want.  Yet we are still in Northern Ontario.  Someone needs to tell these Ontarians that they are not the centre of the Universe.  They call themselves Central Canada even though they are really east and they think that West is north.

No wonder Canada has an identity Crisis!