Day 1 and I don’t know what came over me really…

Written on day 2…

I left Ottawa a little after 6 am, and wound up in Sault Ste. Marie at 8 pm. 800+ kilometers spread over 14 hours. 250 km more than planned. And most of it was a pleasure. Ottawa to Sudbury is really a “nothing to see here, move along” kind of drive, so no pics.

And, Sturgeon Falls can eat my-my what a big traffic mess you have. Sudbury too, for that matter. MTO can GTFO.

Sweating barrels at the road blocks was torture, and lost me something like two hours by then. My goal was Espanola, but talking to a grand-motherly school bus driver in Nairn Centre convinced me otherwise. Apparently Espanola’s damn bridge was down to one lane also.

So my goals shifted with each burg I passed through. For example, riding through a town smaller than I thought (Iron Bridge? Spanish? Bruce Mines?) and passed the only motels. At another (Blind River, I think), a local at the gas bar complained that theBeerStorewasrunningoutofbeerbecauseofahealthandsafetyissueaboutwiththeirloading dockandtheycantgetbeerunloadedfromthetrucksandwhatthehelliswrongwiththiscountrynowadays. Unquote.

But I wasn’t tired or hungry or thirsty enough to turn around. And rolling up the North Shore of Huron/Georgian Bay on a warm June afternoon was at times, everything a motorcyclist could want.

I had goals, but with no set itinerary (i.e. reservations) there was no need to speed or make up time lost. I rode the whole distance at just above (5-6 kph) the speed limit. I only passed the slowest of the slow, and waved by literally a score of vehicles (when I could see they safely had the room/time to pass).

When a ride comes together…

A quick statement on motovlogs, and motovloggers: everybody hates most of it, and them. That’s why you won’t see very much video on this blog. Plus I’m stuck in the Matrix. My Sena SMH5-FM (SMH5 = Smack My Head x 5 – FM = F**k Me) Bluetooth is out of control and my GoPro keeps turning on the music player on my phone when I hit record. The TomTom Rider GPS is the only thing that cooperates. Too bad about the maps.

I need an adult.

Anyway, wheels down in the Soo last night, decompress, shower, eat and sleep.

Also, you should know, after about 12 hours on the road everything on the side of the road looks like a deer: mail boxes, kids, garbage cans, deer, everything.

So today (#2 in a series of many days).

Some readers might be aware that in a previous life I was a sailor/mariner/matelot/seaman. For close to two decades in fact. I’ve traversed the myriad locks of the lower St. Lawrence Seaway from Montreal to Port Colborne literally dozens of times. I have never traversed, or even seen the Soo locks. And boy was I excited.

First major disappointment: the Soo locks of today, which all the massive Lakers use, is completely in the U.S. Just like Lake Michigan. I have my passport with me, but jeez, the idea of them finding a Kinder Egg on me that I missed. I couldn’t take the chance. Plus, laziness. Plus I don’t think my travel insurance covers petty bureaucrats with guns. sigh

Number two on my large list of two things to see in Sault Ste. Marie brings us back to the first pic of this entry. That’s a Fokker way up there, that “Friendship” is. It is housed at the:

I jest.

Having lived in Yellowknife, I understand the utility of the bushplane/seaplane/floatplane/ski-plane. They are everywhere up there. And I can only admire the men and women who lived like…Ms. Frizzle…taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy. They helped make this country. Plus, who can resist AIRPLANES! I’m such a kid.

About the motorcycle:

Short answer, so far so good.

For those unaware: 2015 Triumph Tiger ABS. Plainest of the plain Janes (“Whaddya mean no traction control?”). Now wearing a king’s ransom in add-ons.

I had the oil and filter changed, and a chain service done on Monday (13 June), before leaving on the 16th. Also, for those with nightmares of Winnebagos, I did not settle for this “bagus mountainous” as secret reddit admirer otezsotezs put it.

The poor thing is carrying a capacity load I think. But still, it seems very up to the task.

Miscellaneous

Okay you mooks, I gotta go and pack the beast for the morning, and must sign off. Weather forecast iffy, stand by for further transmissions. Out.

Day 2 (of riding) and I almost outfoxed my self today.

Saturday June 18, 0700hrs.

Brain: “That was such a great ride on Thursday, let’s do it again today!”

Me: That’s not likely to happen.

“What could go wrong? You’re feeling good champ!”

Where should I start?

“Okay okay, you forgot your ear plugs Thursday, put ’em in today, and you can listen to some tunes along the way!”

So, I did. Earplugs in, tunes on, take off. Great Scot, virtually everyone is out-driving me. This is insane. Highway 17 from the Soo to Wawa is the closest thing to mountain driving we have in Ontario. I continue for an hour, but I can’t concentrate. Stop several times.

Jeesus biscuits, my left collarbone of all things is killing me, and I’m freezing in this early morning. I left the liners out of my gear this morning because Thursday’s ride was so warm.

I’m riding due north towards Wawa, with a target destination of Marathon. I don’t think I’m going to make it if this pain keeps up. Did I do myself an injury somehow? I turn off the tunes. That instantly improves my concentration, but my collar bone is still on fire.

I finally made it to Wawa, where I picked up a bottle of ibuprofen and my breakfast, and began to warm up. Time to think…

Facts:

I was cold to the point of shivering at times. Thus, distracted due to bad planning on conditions and not addressing it right away.

I was distracted by the music, which disconnected me from both the bike and the traffic.

I was trying too hard to “keep up,” on unfamiliar terrain and not riding my own ride while facing those distractions.

One toasted western sandwich, two gel caps, and a half an hour to evaluate my choices and: NO COLLAR BONE PAIN. The whole complexion of the ride changed dramatically from that point.

Stress.

Stress that I created for myself, produced tangible, physical symptoms that messed me up. And the pain distracted me more.

I switched it up and put my liners in and took them out twice, later in the day. I left the music off and listened again to the bike, which gave me back confidence in my control.

Thus, I am proud to be writing this in Thunder Bay, aka Fort William and Port Arthur, aka the Lakehead. ~700 km in 11 hours from the Soo.

My penance for being an idiot earlier in the day? Clean & lube the chain. Did I tell you I hate chains?

All in all, TB was depressing and hard to look at. Just like I remembered it.

Day 3 of riding (Sunday June 19th)

The goal was Kenora, a paltry stones throw (500 km) from Thunder Bay. Easy peasy. The challenge was the weather.

I stopped just outside Ignace to put my rain suit on. Good thing. Pelted down for about 75 km, the the roads were drenched pretty much all the way to Vermilion Bay. Still, I had my liners in and rain suit on and was cozy enough. Really. Like a frikken cocoon.

Stopped for lunch and gas at the Subway/Esso station in Vermilion Bay. Stripping off the rain suit from the jacket sounded like tearing cloth. Sticky.

Lunch first. After eating, I stepped outside to see a huge rainstorm approaching and decided to hightail out in advance, instead of taking the time to rainsuit up again. In a rush to leave ahead of the storm, I forgot gas.

I unclenched my keister as I rolled into Kenora and saw that glorious Shell sign. Not really that close, but the fuel light was on for a good spell.

Kenora…#nostalgia-alert

Some say “You can’t go home again.” Others say “Never meet your heroes.”

I was 22-years old when I worked in Kenora. It was tiny. Not much more than a float plane base for hunters and anglers.

tbc

Tuesday June 21st, Portage la Prairie, MB 16:30hrs

Just in from Kenora, after a good half day in Winnipeg replacing my phone, touring around a bit, and then having lunch. Yes, I lost my phone and didn’t realize until Winnipeg. I left it at a snowplow turnaround where I stopped for a break. I know this because the trucker who found it just called me, but he’s on his way to Gimli. And I already have a new phone. However, I asked, and he’s going to send the SD card in it to my address in Ottawa.

And that is why there are no pics from the last few days. If I can learn quickly how to capture frames from my go pro footage, then I’ll have that going for me.

June 22, two hours in the saddle…

Well hahaha, look what I learned to do.

I’ll see what I can do about the lousy narrator next time, he’s irritating.

The rooster tails coming off the opposite traffic are quite impressive.

Gosh, have I become one of the hated motovloggers?

So instead of continuing, I learned rudimentary video editing in a Motel 6.

Thanks for looking at this. I promise I’ll try to get better at it.