August 6, 2008 - Wednesday - Day 37
USA/MEXICO/CANADA
DOUBLE CROSS COUNTRY
& THE TRANSCANADA HIGHWAY
-- OR BUST - SUMMER 2008
Miles Today - 300 - Total Miles - 8681
- Ignace,Manitoba,Canada to Terrace Bay,Canada
(-staying at Red Dog Inn -)
(Ontario)
- It was SUPPOSED to be a nice easy day… It was to be a cushy ride along the northern rim of Lake Superior. But it turned into the most challenging day of the trip - and one that included the most terrifying moment. -
- In terms of excitement, challenges and danger, probably the best day yet. -
It was another good restful night's sleep. My run took me through the Ignace post office where I sent a few postcards. It was interesting being there. The price of stamps for postcards and letters is the same in Canada - about a buck!
I saw Albert's wife. I had hoped to see him, and was lucky enough to do so a bit later before I left.
Albert warned me about not going fast through Upsala, about fifty miles down the road, where he recommended a place I stop to eat. He said that one of the officers there, who watches the roads carefully, would “give his grandmother a speeding ticket!” Albert said, “Don't go more than 60!” I said, “'Sixty' to you and me have different meanings. He then verified he meant kilometers, also known as 'clicks.'
Man-o-man, I was so excited to be talking with Albert, I almost forgot my back bag. I was on the bike waving good-bye and was just about to drive off. I probably wouldn't have noticed for a few blocks when I leaned back. But before I left, Albert's wife came running out with it.
The day began in grand style - nice puffy clouds and warm enough to not have to use two jackets, and cool enough to be comfortable.
I wouldn't normally have stopped so early - it was around 11am - as I did in Upsala for a meal. But Albert of Ignace recommended that I stop there and visit with his friend, also named Albert. It turned out the guy wasn't there, but I did enjoy a huge bowl of superb real oatmeal and a butterscotch muffin. They had a wireless connection there for me, too, so that was also a bonus.
I passed a number of buildings that had the mysterious initials, “L.C.B.O.” on them. I never got to ask anyone about what they meant, but at one point in the day I googled it. “Liquor Control Board of Ontario.”
There are some odd public road signs here. One that struck me as peculiar was “LARGE VEHICLES NEED MORE ROOM.” Hmmmm… Duh!
It got very cold and grey heading into Thunder Bay. I missed a wonderful photograph through a little clearing of trees. It was of train tracks and forest leading off to the far horizon with half rainfall, half sunshine over a distant mountain.
As I approached the town, there was a full apron of darkness over Thunder Bay, so I just stayed on the highway and sailed right by. I did stop at the hillock where there is a memorial to that Terry Fox fellow. You'll recall back at Mile Zero there was a statue honoring him, too. He's the young boy who tried to hoof it across Canada in spite of his cancer on one good leg and on one prosthesis leg. This was as far as he got before the cancer got him. It was a moving tribute there on that high hill overlooking Lake Superior.
At one point this morning, I moved back home into the Eastern Time Zone. And it was good being back!
There wasn't much in between towns. Just trees and lakes, and the occasional farm and stream. And the towns were about 50 or 60 miles apart so that's a LOT of trees.
There were a number of dirt roads that seemed to lead to nowhere which radiated on occasion from the main road. I would peer down them as I zipped past, and they went over crests and around hills. Some disappeared in the tree thickets. And some went into the distance beyond seeing. Dirt roads. Where do they go?
At one gas stop just east of Thunder Bay at 2:40pm, I chatted with a nice young guy who was gassing up a four-wheeled sport vehicle. I asked him about the weather to the east, and he said he was just down that way and it was pouring. So I suited up.
There were quite a number of times in the last part of the day that I put on raingear, and then the sun would come out in a few miles. And so I'd take it off. Then the dark clouds reappeared and I'd don the yellow slicker and the gaiters, and put the cover back on the back bag. Then another turn of the road brought bright sunshine and high heat. It was frustrating.
Rolling along in one part of the afternoon I'd notice the black sky in front of me. And I'd go, “YEOW! that's black.” And there'd be a turn in the road, and I'd look up, and I'd yell louder, “YEOW!! that's even blacker!” And that went on for a few times until I couldn't look up any more because of the rain, and having to concentrate on the roadway.
Then I came to a long series of road construction projects. On the two lane road, that meant that flagmen were set up to halt the flow of travel on one side of the road, while the other side progressed. Then, the other side would be halted.
So there were a number of waiting periods - just sitting and waiting for the whole line of cars to move along through the other side of the two-lane highway. Sometimes it was for a half hour or more. Even though it was raining, some folks got out of their cars and had a smoke. I took pictures and just watched what was going on.
The roads went from semi-repaired to all dirt and gravel, to just dirt for awhile. It was very nervous riding for me picking my way along with the snaking line of cars at five-to-ten miles per hour over the garbled highway in the rain. Then it would be fine road, and then the process would begin all over again.
With a broad smile I shouted over to one of the guys standing with his orange warning flag in the rain in the mud, “Which one of you guys is going to come and clean my bike tonight?” He must have been thinking about being in his warm home in front of dinner instead of being out there in the cold downpour. Because I didn't see much of a smile from him. (Maybe he laughed when he thought about it later in the evening.)
I kept thinking, “How much worse can this GET?” And then, you know what? It got worse!!! MUCH worse! There came an uphill on wet gravel/sand/rock/dirt with the rain coming down, and with a zillion cars in front and in back of me - at one point I almost lost balance and the Nomad started to go over. I righted it, but not without feeling my left calf crunch against the back crash bar before the bike was righted. It was a terrifying moment - the scariest of the trip. The big 800-pound cruiser wasn't made for tip-toeing over little stones. Wet stones. In the rain. And I was pretty nervous as I felt the control go, and the instinct step in. But I barely got the bike righted and I'm sure that all those folks around me breathed the same sigh of relief that I did. It was about another score of yards or so before the road became solid again.
The calf felt pretty stiff and sore for about fifteen minutes before feeling better.
The roadway was in some state of repair for about twenty slow miles.
It was raining pretty good and steady at most times as I rounded the mountaintops, but there were some pretty darn good views of Lake Superior. I was frustrated that I couldn't take more photos.
Towards the end of the day, a single big patch of blue sky was tantalizingly in front of me almost all the way. But I just couldn't catch up with it. Meanwhile the rain kept pelting me in the face. Because of the rain on the windshield and on my helmet's shield, and on my sunglasses, eventually I had to rip off the sunglasses without taking my helmet off.
At one point, an 18-wheeler was bearing down on me. There was no way to let him pass on the downhills, and on the uphills and straight-aways, I was way ahead of him. But on the downhills I could feel that truck snorting at me like some bull in the ring. Finally there was a passing lane on a slight uphill and I let him go by with a friendly wave. Whew!
And the rain continued. Sometimes heavy, sometimes in just big drops and sometimes in a misty drizzle. And the big trucks coming at me were tracking with the water on the ground and one could see the huge shrouds of water droplets as they made their way down the highway. And then that splume of spray would sponge over me and pass by… There were never tsunamis of water like on other rides, but it was always pretty damp.
I was intent on hitting 300 miles and not stopping sooner. So I kept going. And right at the goal mark was Terrace Bay. The price was right in the first place I stopped (although I did walk next door and find that place was full up!)… After securing the room I went on a two-mile jaunt down to the lakeside. I figured Trish would like it if I also touched the shoreline in the north as well as the four corners!
I stopped at a Subway on the way back. As I was leaving an older guy was taking a picture of the cute young blond woman with the too heavy black-ringed eye make-up behind the counter. As we left the store together I asked the man why he was taking the picture. He said it was his granddaughter, and that he was in the area visiting. Seems his son, her father, had died a few years ago. The man said it should have been himself at 83 who should have died, not the son. I inquired as to if it was natural causes that caused the death. The man said his son had lost his job, and took to drink, and lost most everything. From the tone I assumed it was a suicide. The man teared up as he talked from the heart and said it was hard to move on…
I got back to the motel, pulled around to the side, and unloaded. Then I set about the huge job of cleaning the Nomad. It took about 45 minutes until it was gleaming again.
I like trying candy bars that are not available in the United States. So when there were a few available down at the office I said to the lady there, “Well, you talked me into it, I'll have one of those.” She laughed because she hadn't said anything about it, and then I said as I often do, “Well, just give you YOUR favorite one.” She smiled and handed me one, and said that I could just have it for free since, “You asked for my favorite one!”
Got a little hungry around 10pm or so, and I took one of my microwave popcorns down to the kitchen. The friendly young woman there who was cleaning up the remains of the salad bar said that sure, she would put it in the microwave for me. She did so, and the smell was great. Great, that is, until ----- she opened the door and billows of dark smoke and burned popcorn smell enveloped the area. She kept apologizing profusely, but I told her not to worry about it and that I'd get another bag. Which I did.
While we were standing there I asked her how much that delicious looking wedge of blueberry pie would be? She said with a smile that since she burned the popcorn I could just HAVE the pie. That made both of us happy - she got her act of contrition, and I got the pie. And it was delicious!
Back at the room I worked on getting the raw journal notes out of the tiny tape recorder, caught up on emails, enjoyed part of the Cardinal game on the net, and stayed up a little too late Skyping.
