Tressalon to Manitoulin Island, Ontario

Wawa is cold in the morning in early July. The increasingly urgent message from my bladder was the only thing that could make me consider leaving the warmth of the sleeping bag.

We didn’t realize how much we had been climbing on Saturday’s approach to Wawa. I got very cold, but leading was stubbornly caught up in the momentum of the ride and felt reluctant to stop and add a layer. The wind really started to bite and had to pull over 20k shy, no longer feeling able to safely ride. Grant was freezing too. Added my fave Blurr hoodie (thanks again Kaite) and soldiered on.

We had covered alot of road yesterday after a sleepless night. Fell asleep immediately, deeply and for the duration. Woke up a much nicer girl. Delighted to discover heated showers... now a much nicer and cleaner girl.

Several days ago had switched to my three quarter helmet with full face-shield being fed up with bug splatters on my glasses and face. Decided to try our my little Shuffle music player thinking the sound quality might be alright under the bigger helmet.

So this morning we set off east on Hwy 17, the Trans Canada under bright blue skies, the air clear, cold and biting. I’d learned my lesson and suited up in every piece of clothing I owned, happy and comfortable in my own private enviornment on the bike. My music system worked perfectly as we rode through the poplar and birch forest cutting through the pink granite rock faces that border the highways of northern Ontario.

In eastern Manitoba, we had heard about a recent wind storm that had brought down many trees. There’s lots of damage in these Ontario woods. Sadly, many birch uprooted and broken.

I rode along following Grant’s orange steady presence sharing my ride with Joni, the Dixie Chicks & Alanis. I thought to myself, this is as good as it gets.

I was raised in Southern Ontario and has a young woman, over forty years ago I hitch hiked this road more than once. I thought about those times as I rode today. Once with Valerie, an Amercian woman I met in Toronto. She was headed to a commune in California and invited me along. In those days, the highways were littered with other young people like us, holding bits of cardboard with West scribbled on them. We were cautious about rides and had no problems making it all the way to Vancouver. We had been picked up by a car of hippies who had some pot. They decided it wise to smoke it all before crossing the border.

When we got to the border crossing and rolled down the window, the guard asked us to leave the vehicle and report to the office. The car was thoroughly searched & the Americans were allowed to proceed.

My story about the commune and the fact I had only $35 to my name didn’t go over well with the guard. Had to phone my poor old mum and ask her to send my bus fare home. Sorry mum for what I put you through.

I stayed in touch with Valerie for several years. She became a mum as did I, but we lost touch. Where are you now Valerie?

Could not have possible imagined that 40 years later I’d be making the trip on a motorcycle.The vistas along Superior have been breath-taking. The rock shelves along the shore reflect the the sun with a tourqoise blue, the deeper water a slightly darker blue than the sky. Not much development along these norther Ontario shores, the odd log cabin. The shore in littered with small rock islands home to a tree or two. This is most definitely Group of Seven country. They did it well.

Grant suggested an easy day today. Maybe he wanted to avoid the return of bad-temepered Jill. Maybe he was tired too.

Actually, the riding has been easy. Great roads, much of it 4 lane and very little traffic. Sometimes we ride 100 k without seeing another vehicle. The corners are gentle and there is the distraction of the views.

After 2 days of rarely seeing another motorcycle, suddenly they are everywhere... from single lone wolves up to huge groups. The word is clearly out. These are great motorcycling roads. Bikes from all over Canada and the States.The woods changed and got taller on either side. The trees are ancient elms and maples. They have been here for a long time.

Teressalon Ontario, Town Campsite- I am writing this tonight by the fire at our campsite on the shore of Lake Huron. We leave early tomorrow for Manatoulin Island and the ferry to Tobermory.

Camped next to us are three middle-aged men from Boston. They have duplicate expensive bikes suitable for off roading if required loaded with gear and headed to Alaska. Could be lawyers or teachers perhaps with the summer off. They have set us 3 separate, identical tents and I can hear their quiet Bostonian chatter.

Time for bed.

Monday night on Manitoulin Island

Woke up to the sound of rain drumming on the roof of the tent. The Bostonians headed out, dressed like Michelan men. We followed their example, put on 47 layers & bravely set out. Stopped after an hour for a great cafe breakfast in Blind River. A funky little place with good blues music playing and a proprietor who helped us pour over the map.

It was a cold days ride. Everyone is talking about how unseasonably cold it is and how the rain is keeping the farmers out of the fields and the loggers out of the bush. Quite a contrast to what we heard in the prairies.

Followed Hw 17 to Espanola, then south onto Manitoulin Island. Jesuit priests came here in 1846. It is a very old settlement and there is little sign of new development. Very few people and many old abandoned farmsteads. Lots of rock, water and wind.

Did some laundry tonight as we were starting to smell abit. Spent an enjoyable hour chatting to Lesley, a local gentleman of 76 with a fine wit. He had some costume jewellery with him and gave me a pair of earrings for my mum. He said to tell her to wear them in good health.

Tomorrow we catch a ferry over to Tobermory and the beautiful Bruce peninsula. We're in a motel right across from the ferry as it's an early start. Dined tonight on fresh Lake perch caught close by.

Weather report for tomorrow calls for more of the same, but that's how it goes.

Just had a visit from another biker staying at the motel who drove a truck in Southern Ontario for 20 years so he shared lots of information on routes. We're thinking we'll cross into the States at Niagara, then back into Canada by ferry to see Old Quebec City.