Despite having had a pretty crummy sleep due to the super loud and horny frog, I was really pumped for the next leg of my trip. I setoff around 7 AM and headed towards Elliot Lake, about 25 kms away. Sometimes when you are riding – everything just feels right. The sun is shining, the road is empty, hilly, twisty, the air is crisp and cool, and the scenery is inspiring – filled with distant hills mirrored in crystal clear blue lakes. This aptly describes my ride into Elliot Lake that morning. I had a perma-grin on my face the entire way. Maybe I was just feeling “Towelie” high due to major sleep deprivation – but I felt great either way.

The last time I had been to Elliot Lake was about the same time I had last camped at Mississaugi Provincial Park. My family had also camped on a small ridge right along the main road just entering town from the north. I was eager to see how my memories of this trailer park compared to the view today. I also thought about JohnR. I briefly considered trying to contact him through the forum with my Blackberry while at Mississaugi Park. It would have been nice to meet up with a fellow forum member who knew so much about the CBR125R and to chat about his setup including his full Giannelli exhaust and Athena Big Bore Kit. However, after realizing I had no cell signal in the park, I gave up. As I was nearing Elliot Lake I also laughed to myself thinking that it would be incredibly Twilight Zone-ish if I were to somehow see him while riding through town. Elliot Lake has a population of about 14,000 residents and it takes about 2 minutes to traverse the downtown section. The likelihood that I would see him was well – unlikely. But it was amusing to imagine nonetheless. As I was holding onto that thought and entering town, I spotted a black CBR600RR in the distance. As the rider approached I stuck my hand out and offered a slow wave and in kind – they waved back. But as we were about to meet I suddenly realized that it was a CBR125R. My slow wave suddenly turned into an energetic thumbs-up sign as we passed each other. I glanced in my mirror to see whether they were about to turn around, but the rider turned onto an industrial road, so I continued into Elliot Lake. I was stunned. Could this have been JohnR from the forum?!?!? No. To accept this would have been just too bizarre. There must be more than one CBR125R in Elliot Lake. What would the chances be that I would pass by another forum member – within such a narrow time and place? I laughed to myself again wondering about this unlikely possibility – but checked my watch just the same so I’d have a time reference. It was 7:20 AM. I was still deep in contemplation when I passed by the trailer park on my left and forgot to scope it out. Doh.

Two days later I was on my dad’s computer in Guelph and decided to message JohnR and ask him if he had indeed been the rider I’d passed earlier. I felt surprisingly sheepish doing this because it felt kinda like meeting a Torontonian living in Thunder Bay and asking them if they happen to know “John from Toronto”. But I thought I’d give it a try anyway. Yep – it was him. His reply? “Yes it was me, I was on my way to work. I thought it might be you because of the gear and the windshield. If you changed your exhaust it would look like mine.” When he passed me he said it looked as though he was looking in a mirror. Really. What are the chances?

Elliot Lake is really a beautiful little place. I recall thinking to myself “I could live here”. I fueled up at the Esso, re-supplied my tankbag with another two Green Squall Powerades and then enjoyed a really nice morning ride towards Hwy 17 (Trans Canada) just 30 kms down Hwy 108. I wasn’t sure if my next stop in Espanola actually had a Subway – but come on – is there any place that doesn’t now have a Subway? They are more abundant around the great lakes than zebra mussels. I faced a pretty strong headwind for my short stint on the Trans Canada. I was tucked-in most of the way to maintain a speed of 100km/hr but the CBR kept pace even loaded up like a pack mule. How can you not love a motorcycle that you spend so much time hugging? Behaviour has a strong influence on attitudes. Not the other way around. When you spend so much time hugging the bike – hunkered down in a crouched position, with your entire body wrapped around it’s small curvy frame – how can you not feel some attachment to the little overachiever – to like it more? Like a border collie hauling a loaded dogsled – it might not be the top dog for the job – but I can always rely on it to give me its best, never faltering or failing to surprise me with its willingness – eagerness to do what I ask of it. And when the destination arrives – you love it even more for the herculean effort and the small amount of fuel (or small can of Alpo) it asks for in return.

My sister was recently talking with her husband about why anyone would ever want to ride such a small bike on such a grand journey. He was smitten by the adventurousness of the trip – but had a hard time wrapping his head around my motivation. It didn’t make it easier that his dad rides a large Honda Shadow. But my sister got it. She said that Mike was probably doing it for the same reason that Buster Keaton chose the little speeder to see and experience Canada in one of his last movies – The Railrodder. Wow. She reely hit her mark on that one. Her line even gave me chills right now typing it out. There are certainly much bigger choices when riding the rails. But would this movie have had the same impact if he had opted for a large locomotive? There is something enticing about a small bike doing something that it shouldn’t be able to do. Will it make it? Will you make it? Buster experiences these sorts of challenges on his trip. It really makes you want to root for the hero. And by moving more slowly it really allowed Buster to achieve his goal. To really see Canada.

Here is some information on the Railrodder.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Railrodder

Watch The Railrodder here:

http://www.nfb.ca/film/railrodder/

The ride from Espanola to Little Current on Manitoulin Island is very scenic. The topography around Willisville, ON changes dramatically, as the LaCloche Mountains of Killarney extend their reach through the area. I would have liked to have stopped and climbed up to where the old Willisville fire tower stood, but was a little pressed for time. Still, I am a little regretful that I never took any photos around Willisville. I then made my way over the swing bridge at Little Current and then headed south on Hwy 6 towards South Baymouth. I made my first stop at a lookout situated only about 15 kms south of Little Current.

Here is the view from the lookout.

And here is the historical plaque located at the lookout.

To my surprise, I ended up arriving in South Baymouth with a full two hours to spare. I quickly found out (as did a few others) that you don’t enter the large terminal building to pay for the crossing. You simply drive your bike right up along the lanes heading toward the dock and then pay at one of the booths. I paid through Interac and was told to proceed to the front of the line where the pavement was labelled with a large “motorcycles” stencil. I then remembered what Keith (A.K.A. KFSRQ) mentioned on the forum about motorcyclists being treated like royalty on the Chi-Cheemaun. I had brought along my ratcheting kayak tie down ropes too. Thanks for the tip Keith! These things were gold. I think I was the envy of everyone who had to tie their bikes to the ferry deck rings with the provided conventional-type ropes. It took me only a few seconds to attach and then secure my bike. The ferry staff instruct you to secure both sides of the bike up high (e.g., handlebar area) with each rope and then attach them to the deck rings on either side of the bike.

Here are my ratcheting tie down ropes.

http://www.orsracksdirect.com/thule-855.html

Here is the border collie humbly nestled beside the siberian husky. In behind to the far left is Burt Reynolds behind the wheel of his Pontiac Firebird getting ready to film a scene from Smokey and The Bandit 4 – Brews Control. His goal will be to haul 1 million cases of Labatt 50 from South Baymouth to Tobermory on the Chi-Cheemaun without being caught by the coastguard for illegally hauling old guy beer.

And here is what you see ahead of you when you park your bike.

Motorcycles have the privilege of being the first motorized vehicles to board the ferry as well as being the first to disembark, as Keith has mentioned. Once on the ferry it was nice to take a break and relax. I took a few photos from the deck. One of them surprised me. Most anyone from Thunder Bay would recognize the following photo as our beloved Nanabijou – The Sleeping Giant that lies across the bay from our harbour. But they would be wrong. This one was snoring between South Baymouth and Tobermory.

The profile of the sleeping giant from Thunder Bay? Nope.

What course would my adventure take once I reached the hallowed ground of Southern Ontario? Stay tuned to find out.

Click here for Part 6…

Share on Facebook

What can I say about the Chi-Cheemaun ferry experience? I enjoyed it so much that I took it again on my return trip. If you have never ridden a motorcycle on the Chi-Cheemaun you need to. Riders arrived from everywhere. It felt like a voyageur rendezvous at Old Fort William Historical Park. And all were friendly and interesting. It is rare that you find strangers that you connect with so readily. The feeling of camaraderie and kinship I experienced that afternoon was inspiring. One fellow from near Lake Placid, NY described his favourite ride ever – a tour of the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. I’ve been fascinated with highpoints for quite some time so I asked him if he had climbed some specific highpoints I knew of around Lake Placid. Of course he had. Should I have been surprised? Nope. These folks were clearly well-rounded in the adventure realm. It was a humbling experience. But their influence also made me want to keep riding -to learn and discover more – to continue touring with the WeeBR.

Two best friends – one of whom was riding a Suzuki DR650 out of Ottawa and the other a CBF1000 from Toronto were on their annual summer tour. They were friendly and fun to chat with. One of them has his own blog so I made a point of visiting it after my trip. His report and photos nicely capture the spirit of the ferry experience and the appeal of riding on Manitoulin Island. If you want a laugh – click on the link below to access his report and read his caption under my CBR125R photo about two-thirds of the way down the page!!

http://motorcycle-junkie.blogspot.co…anitoulin.html

Once off the ferry I expected to be part of a great big convoy rocking through the night – or at least down Hwy 6 in the midday sun. But I was alone once again. I guess the others were taking their time – exploring Tobermory’s treasures. I couldn’t fathom that. As I began riding, I soon noticed that someone had cranked the heat on again. Now, even the wind at my back felt warm. I was stopped for construction around Lion’s Head, ON when a young dude controlling traffic looked at me like I was wearing a black snowmobile suit. I guess, in a sense I was. “How can you wear all that gear in such hot weather – you must be cooking under there?” I replied – “Yes, I am. Could you please remove the BBQ thermometer from my ass, I think I’m done”. Well, at least that is what I wanted to say. Instead I reassured him that once I was moving again, I would be fine.

I actually enjoyed the straight roadway along Hwy 6 down through the Bruce Peninsula. I was making good time and hoped to reach Hanover, ON where I would be staying – by late afternoon. As I was coming into Hanover, I encountered what would be my nemesis on this part of the trip. Detour signs. The coup de gras this time was that the sign blocked the main road entering town – the main porthole to my destination. I’ve never seen so many detours. I think there were even detours of actual detours – meta-detours if you will – there were so freakin’ many. My Mapquest printouts were rendered useless. A GPS enabled smartphone would have been handy. Instead, I took out a piece of detailed paper from my tankbag called a map. I needed directions. As luck would have it, there was a Honda dealer across the street so this was a natural choice. But there were detour signs there too at every entrance. Actually – just joking on that one – but in my current state of frustration – and from my experience thus far – this is what I was expecting. The guy at the parts counter was really helpful. He gave me a Hanover map and provided useful directions and landmarks to ensure I reached my destination. He also gave me a small amount of brake fluid – gratis – as I noticed I was a little low. When I told him I was from Thunder Bay, ON he told me that he has always wanted to move to Dryden, ON. I said “Cool. Have you been there before?” and he said “No.”

I had another reason for visiting Hanover. My friend Peter and I grew up together in a small town called Onaping (pronounced AWNAH-ping) about 35 minutes northwest of Sudbury, ON. Peter and I rode dirtbikes together throughout our teens. I wanted to surprise him. I didn’t tell him ahead of time that I would be arriving all the way from Thunder Bay on an 125cc motorcycle. He didn’t even know I had a bike. He was pretty surprised to see me in all of my gear when I showed up at his front door. He was also relieved – he and his family had been trapped in their neighbourhood for 3 days because of detours – and they needed emergency food and water. I unloaded the bike and suggested he take it out for a spin. It had been a few years since he’d last ridden. He purchased a Kawasaki KLR250 to ride into work but sold it a few years ago. As a teen he owned a 1980 Honda XL185 and then later purchased a new 1990 Honda XL250. What would he think of the CBR125R? He suited up and took off like he had been riding it for years. About 20 minutes later he returned. He commented on how much fun he had on his short test-ride and was surprised by how well it handled. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t getting off the bike. The one thing that stood out the most for him was how smooth it was -everything felt very fluid and mechanically precise. Dual-sport bikes don’t feel this smooth. The fuel-economy was the piece de resistance. He wasn’t giving up the bike. I urged him to take another spi…….and he was gone again. I think he was already planning how he could fit the purchase into his budget when he returned, dragging a detour sign from my left rear signal light. He wanted one. I reassured him that he should be able to find a used one for a great price as everyone seemed to be selling theirs to pick up much bigger bikes. Would they forget how much fun their CBR125Rs had been?

Well I eventually arrived in Guelph the next day. I had actually made it from Thunder Bay to Guelph. I think my dad was relieved to see me too. I felt like kissing the CBR. But before the beer would flow – and it would eventually flow like Mississaugi Park tap water – I had an appointment to meet with GoFaster in Brampton to install my racing camshaft. I figured I could benefit from just a little extra power up top for my loaded up highway runs. My plan included keeping my 14T sprocket so I could cruise between 105-110km/hr sitting up, even with some headwind and up some hills. It was an interesting experience watching GoFaster work his magic – deftly and methodically dismantling the CBR. Once everything was done we fired it up and it sounded great – but it began to stall at idle. After some systematic tinkering yielded no clues – a quick throttle body idle adjustment had the CBR idling properly. Now here was the TSN turningpoint. Doesn’t Murphy’s law state “If anything can go wrong, it probably will” or something like that?

About that time it started to rain and thunder outside. I was hoping that GoFaster would take my bike out for a spin and compare how it felt to the other bikes he had outfitted with the same camshaft. But he declined – and I don’t blame him. It was late – and the rain was coming down pretty steadily. And he had no reason to believe there might be an issue with my bike. I took a brief test run down the street and back and found that it bogged down low which seemed unusual. But I expected some trade-off anyway for what I had hoped would be greater top-end pull. The next day I sent GoFaster an e-mail suggesting I bring the bike over again. However, he was away for the next few days so we weren’t able to meet up.

I was able to meet up with KillerKeith though. At the last minute I had posted a message asking if any of the S. Ontario riders could show me a cool riding area near Guelph. Keith was available and suggested we explore The Forks (of the Credit River). Keith, being the intrepid adventurer that he is – had never been there previously but both of us were eager to give it a try.

Here is Keith keeping us on-course. He said he was just checking the directions on his GPS equipped Blackberry but I think he was really looking for a Timmy Ho’s.

We finally made it to The Forks just outside of Erin, ON. Like much of the standout scenery on my trip – the area really changes dramatically here as the road winds down into a scenic valley along the Niagara Escarpment. This is no Tail of the Dragon – there really aren’t that many turns – but still – this place is a little gem for riders. A tastey morsel. I decided to film us taking one of the more extreme corners.

Here is Keith on his Ninja 650R.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpQtg_lrZaw

Here I am doing my best impression of a reluctant and tentative circus bear riding stiffly around a circle under the big top. I swear I was a human compass inscribing a perfect circle in this clip. Dork alert!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDSKQHPzLsA

And here is Keith on the CBR. He commented how nicely it corners compared to his 650R. It also engine brakes nicely downshifting into second as you can hear.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjWscD7f1Ac

Thanks again for taking me on that ride Keith. Hope you like the videos!

After having spent a few of days in Guelph, it was time to return home. I had a long trip ahead of me and more photos to take. I wanted to keep my promise and capture some scenic views I had missed the first time through. As it turns out, I would actually meet JohnR in person on the trip back too.

Click here for Part 7…

Share on Facebook

On my way back, I left with my dad to visit with one of my sisters in Penetanguishene, ON. For the most part, it was a relaxing ride. However, it also served to confirm that the bike clearly wasn’t running the way it should. Killerkeith noticed this too after his ride around the hairpin turns at The Forks.

While at my sister’s place, I asked GoFaster for some sage advice. His suggestion? Remove the baffle from my Arrow bolt-on exhaust. I wondered how much difference if any might come from removing the baffle. I had no circlip pliers but managed to wrestle if off anyway. When I fired it back up – the sound the bike produced made me feel like I had taken up residence in Big Daddy Don Garlits’ pit crew. I said my goodbyes and departed well aware that I was probably waking up the entire neighbourhood. I noticed a difference immediately. I chirped the rear tire going into second gear. As I rode on, it became evident that the low-end power was indeed back – but the top-end power was still glaringly absent. At least in this configuration the bike was more tractable around town. Gone was the conspicuous “Is my bike in 3rd gear?” bog I had been experiencing when starting from a stop.

Was my previous ferry experience a fluke? Was the sequel going to live up to the original? Was I about to see first hand what “regression to the mean” means? Nope. It was great again. I met a middle-aged couple from Toronto who had left the kids at home and their expressions showed even more excitement in anticipation of touring Manitoulin Island than the sheer exuberation I felt upon discovering a box labeled “Air-Jet Hockey” under my parent’s bed as a kid a few days before Christmas. He was a seasoned rider and had done some work as a motorcycle race crew mechanic. She had recently obtained her licence and on her first trip was having a Blast on her Buell. Her excitement and expression of wonderment was palpable and it was refreshing to see a rider so passionate and excited about the adventure that was unfolding before her. Do you remember your first trip? One of the ferry crew members walked by me as I was eating my sandwich under a tree. “I am willing to bet you are the owner of the BMW F800 GS in the lineup” he said. “Ah…..no. I’m the one on the CBR125 over there” I replied. I guess my rough windblown visage looked the part.

One woman was riding a 1973 Honda CB175 twin. When she mentioned being a little down on power compared to my “supersport” – the gig was up. I confided that my bike actually displaced 125cc’s. Before I could explain, she brightened and announced “Yes!!!! – for once I don’t have the smallest bike in the group!!!!”. She was cute so I let that go. When we began boarding she had some difficulty overcoming the forces of gravity and friction. I’m not sure of the protocol here, but I pulled up alongside to help her out as others were riding around her making sure they didn’t miss the boat on this one. Did I mention she was cute? Just as I pulled up and offered some assistance she found the magic and was off. This raised an interesting issue. Once everyone started their bikes (imagine the starting line of a stock-car race) you really couldn’t hear anything over the rumble. And the vibrations shaking the asphalt from several tons of idling iron easily masks your own bike’s tell-tale shakes so it’s hard to tell if it’s running. I revved the CBR – not to show the alpha males that this pup could bark too – but to simply confirm that I had engaged the starter long enough to actually start my bike.

Pretty bikes all in a row. Can you spot the CBR125?

The Chi-Cheemaun’s great white jaws are about to swallow us up.

Once off the ferry, I headed towards Little Current, ON with a plan to camp overnight at Fairbank Lake Provincial Park, a few hours away. My friend Peter who I had just visited in Hanover would also be camping there with his family. JohnR had also given me his number so we could arrange to meet the next day to look over the bike. I called him while resting at the lookout below near Little Current.

No this is not a Tanzanian savannah and that isn’t Kilimanjaro in the background. What looks like traces of snow on the hilltops are actually the quartzite topped signatures of the LaCloche range.

Fairbanks is a really nice park. But the potholes that liberally engulf the 22 kms of paved road leading into the park were daunting. Maybe it was partly due to relief that I had survived the roadway trenches, but I ended up having a great evening with Peter and his family reminiscing around the campfire. We discussed funny stories from the past. Many of our conversations turned back to our friend Curtis who used to ride with us on his Yamaha IT175. Curtis was the daredevil of the group. He would try almost anything once. Our very own Johnny Knoxville. Curtis was a good guy and a good friend – and we wondered what he was doing at this moment.

The next morning I rode with Peter down to the beach and then up to the gatehouse. I insisted on buying a couple of bags of wood for the remainder of his stay. A friendly staff member was helping with the transaction when Peter drew my attention to what appeared to be Curtis’s name on the park registry. The staff member quickly corrected us revealing that the name was in fact that of Curtis’s wife. She should know. She was Curtis’s daughter. Didn’t see that coming. We asked her to say “Hi” to her dad for us. We said our goodbyes and I promised Peter I would take it slow through the pockmarked road out from the park on my way toward Elliot Lake, ON.

The beach at Fairbank Lake Provincial Park.

I made it into Elliot Lake on time, but had to wind the poor bike out in 5th and sometimes 4th gear between 10,000 and 11,000 RPM just to maintain 100km/hr on the highway. Yet I couldn’t force myself to tuck in any closer to the bike without becoming part of the frame. John appeared shortly after I’d arrived and parked next to my bike. We shook hands and took a look at the bikes. I wanted him to take mine for a spin and give me some impressions. I think he was worried that the only impression he would make would be embedded in the pavement while trying to mount my CBR fully loaded with gear. I eventually steadied the bike and he muscled his way onto it by contorting his limbs in such a way that he had me convinced he’d invented a new form of yoga.

He remarked about how smooth the bike felt compared to his, but noticed that it was down on power. I’m sure if was difficult to make this comparison using his bike as a metric because his Athena powered version I was now riding felt like the Ninja 250R I had ridden in the Gear Up! course. It was an unusual ride compared to my CBR. His bike felt calm and poised, even when the speedo read 100km/hr. It was a strange sensation to twist the throttle and feel the torque push you like you had Lascelles Brown behind you. And John’s homemade handlebar risors made for an incredibly comfortable upright seating position. His bike did produce more vibration in the upper part of the rev range. Still, it was very agreeable to ride.

We ended up at John’s place where he kindly took my bike into his shed. John embodies the “KISS” principle and was quick to put it to work. But despite his best efforts, a simple solution seemed unlikely. He eventually replaced my Arrow bolt on with his stock exhaust as it would be quick and easy to do – yet unfortunately this didn’t yield any fruit either. He even checked the timing and resistor – as well as my valve clearances, just in case something went awry after my visit with GoFaster. I watched nervously when I wasn’t honing my skills removing and replacing the seat and lifting the gas tank. All in all he spent the entire afternoon and evening going over the bike checking it over in a careful step-by-step manner – to no avail. But disconfirmation is a powerful reasoning tool – so learning what was “unlikely to be the problem” provided some consolation. My heartfelt thanks again for all the time and effort you put into my bike John. My offer for you to stay here in Thunder Bay still stands if you should ever decide to saddle-up and trace your own route around the big lake they call Gitche Gumee.

Here we are after the surgery. One of us is incognito.

Before I would voice my thanks and say goodbye, I rode with John down to the beach on Elliot Lake. Who has a beautiful beach like this right in their backyard? I had another reason to see the beach. I remember as a kid swimming there and watching older kids jump from a large boulder situated in the middle of the lake. I’ve met several people from Elliot Lake since that time but nobody has been able to validate the existence of this rock. Was my memory that fragile? Well – read ‘em and weep – that damned rock was still there. Though to be fair – it really isn’t in the middle of the lake – but I bet it sure felt that way at my age back then.

The WeeBRs at the beach on Elliot Lake. The rock is out in the water between the two bikes.

My plan was to stay at Mississaugi Provincial Park again this night. After my close encounter with the testosterone laden frog the last time, I had hoped that with the passage of time his libido would have now been satiated. Judging from the power of his croak and his enviable stamina – I had my doubts. As it turned out – I didn’t have to worry. It started to rain heavily while approaching the park – riding alone and in the dark. I would be setting up in the rain. But the rain would yield a surprising benefit.

Click here for Part 8…

Share on Facebook

I pulled into Mississaugi Provincial Park at around 10:30 PM to find the office closed. I was still reeling from the Toad Induced REM Episode Disruptions from my last visit – yet I still found myself drawn to the same collection of walk-in sites – like the moth to the flame. At least this time I picked a different spot that offered more privacy. The rain was now coming down quite hard, but the small clearing that would be my home for the night included a leafy rooftop canopy that helped keep me relatively dry. I wasn’t keen on carrying my gear back and forth from my bike down the winding path to my spot however. So with the bike turned off, I pushed the feather-weight WeeBR down the trail right onto my site. Now I would have quick access to my gear, making setup easy and efficient. Here is just one instance where my LED headlamp was indispensable. Out of all the gear I own, this is the one item I use all the time. It takes up little room, provides hands-free functionality, and shines bright for what seems like an eternity on 3 AAA batteries. It can even be used as a tent nightlight (the inside of my Nemo Andi has a little mesh sleeve near the tent peak for this very purpose).

http://www.amazon.com/Petzl-E47-PBY-…1715588&sr=8-4

It was clear that I wouldn’t be building a fire this evening. But when the weather turns miserable a trusty weather and wind-proof lighter is a necessity. This is the one to bring if you need a reliable torch in all conditions. I never camp without it.

http://www.amazon.com/Windmill-Delta…1717620&sr=8-1

And while we’re at it – this is always a good investment. Mine stayed in my tankbag for comfort and easy access.

http://www.amazon.com/Victorinox-Swi…718743&sr=1-16

I was becoming more efficient at setting up my tent and sleeping ensemble too. Within 30 minutes my abode was ready. It had been a long day and I was eager to lose consciousness. There would be no distractions this night. The bush was silent, and the random rhythm of the rain tapping against the walls of my tent provided a soothing, mesmerizing sleep soundtrack until dawn. The pitter-patter of rain became the figure that buffered any sounds from the background outside. Falling rain was the only sound I’d hear through my entire slumber. Rarely have I slept so well than when warm and cozy in a dry tent listening to the sound of rain. Maybe it’s the contrast of knowing that you have escaped the peril – you don’t take for granted that only a thin layer of material separates your tiny, toasty piece of nirvana from nature’s inhospitable elements. What else could explain why sleeping to the sound of rain is so comforting? I am a good sleeper. But this was the best sleep I had had the entire trip. It turned out that I would need this sleep. Today would be another long day.

On the way out, I rode to the Park Office and paid for my stay and reveled at the thought of having had both my best and worst sleep of the trip at the same park. I was now on my way again along the remote and scenic Deer Trail Route.

http://www.northernontario.travel/mu…eral&Itemid=60

I wanted to honour the commitment I had made to capture more vistas from this part of my trip and hopefully re-capture the thrill of adventure I carried with me the last time I rode through here. These next two photos bring back these memories.

Here is what the hilly remote paved trail looked like just north of the Park.

A view along the Little White River.

This area is full of solitude. But I almost made an intimate connection with a black bear moping along the road while I was negotiating a blind corner near where the photo was taken below. I think the one saving grace was that my now baffle-less exhaust trumpeted a warning of my arrival which prompted the bruin to make haste – to run to the hills and run for his life. It was clear that I wasn’t going to be sneaking up on wildlife like a Prius in EV mode.

The road along the river.

I eventually made it back to Hwy 129. One advantage of re-tracing my route was the comfort in knowing beforehand where I would be stopping. I filled up again at the Aubrey Falls gas bar and then continued on my way. I had meant to take some photos of the Mississaugi River where the topography takes an interesting and meandering course at Aubrey Falls Provincial Park, and now I had my chance. There were countless cart paths leading from the highway toward the river. I uncovered a hidden gem that served as a great lunch stop. The photo below shows my view. I had no problem finding the beach.

A view further down.

Highway 129 was truly empty this time through. I had ridden 120 kms before I was finally passed by a lone car driving in the same direction. And I was taking my time enjoying the scenery. After the requisite re-fuel at Syd’s in Chapleau, I steered the bike north and then west, edging ever closer toward Lake Superior once again. I had been incredibly lucky weather-wise on this trip. Every day had been sunny. However, that would change once I made it into Wawa. The weather along the northshore of Lake Superior can be really unpredictable. My ride went from clear sunshine not 30 kms inland from the Big Lake, to fog and rain coming into Wawa.

This photo of Wawa Lake – resembling a T.V. dream sequence – was taken as I was about to enter Wawa along Hwy 101.

Once in Wawa I filled up the bike, and then found food and shelter at the local Subway (they had lost power but fortunately could still make a sub). Concerned about what lay ahead of me, I called my friend Paul from Thunder Bay to ask about weather conditions for the last 500 kms of my adventure. From what he could glean online, he felt certain the weather I was encountering in the land of the big goose was an anomaly and reassured me the skies would clear up by my next stop in White River, ON only 90 kms away. I knew the route well and reasoned that I could easily stay the night at any one of a variety of Provincial Parks along the way if needed. I put on all my raingear and prepared for the worst. The last time I had ridden in the rain had been during my Thunder Bay to Winnipeg excursion and the experience left me cold. But I felt I had learned from my mistakes and made sure to purchase waterproof boots and gloves to compliment my Gortex dry top and pants for my next trip. I felt like a warrior going into battle. I was confident I would prevail. I really thought it would be different this time.

Click here for the final chapter…

Share on Facebook