An angry lake; a cold rain; one day at a time

 

The morning was once again gray and dreary. A cold drizzle was falling when my traveling partner and I arose to greet the day – and the breakfast bar.

John was ready before I was. I was still packing gear on the bike while he was riding around the parking lot trying to avoid over-heating in his foul-weather riding gear.

We pulled away from the hotel in Sault Ste. Marie at precisely 0700. Within 20 minutes I became aware that I had made an error. I neglected to put on my waterproof boot-covers. It was not yet raining hard – but I knew I was going to be sorry. John was on point, and I hesitated to wave him to a stop, preferring not to be ‘that guy’ – the one who delays the journey / slows everyone down / etc, etc.

10 or 15 minutes later I had completely forgotten my plight. Something far more powerful had garnered my attention.

I don’t know about you, but all I have ever heard about Lake Superior is that it is cold and dangerous. We all know the story of the doomed SS Edmund Fitzgerald. On November 10, 1975 the harsh mistress that is lake Superior swallowed her and all 29 hands on board. No one survived.

Riding along her shores this morning, I could not help but imagine the terror that these men succumbed to.

She was an angry, angry lady this morning. Cold and steel-gray, a needling 30 km/h wind whipped white-caps across her surface and I could swear I felt her spray – though in truth it was merely the cold rain falling once again from leaden skies.

We rode along the coast, following highway 17 as it wound it’s way along Superiors shores and up into the hills of granite, basalt, quartzite and sandstone. Keeping a brisk pace, and trying to intuit the gusts before they pushed me to close to the shoulder for my comfort, I did not really take the time to absorb all that I was seeing. I could feel it though. The history. The legends. The spectre. Unseen forces clamouring with each-other  - as though one wanted 2 more victims, and another watched over us as we made our way along a route that has claimed far too many in the past.

I will take my time going through this area, and this place in time, when I make my return trip. There is much to see, and feel, and share in these Anishinabe lands.

Spirits live here.

 

It was approximately 228 kilometers outside of Sault Ste. Marie that I realized just how cold I was. Because of just how soaking wet my feet were. We had stopped at the Tim Horton’s in Wawa for coffee, and I decided to pull my boots off.

I was slightly disturbed when I realized that I could not feel my feet.

Should have taken the time to put those boot-covers on when I first realized that I had forgotten them.

I changed my socks. Peeled off my soaked long-underwear and put on dry boxers. Changed into dry pants. And then did something that I said I would never do, and put on my running shoes to continue the ride. I covered these with the aforementioned boot-covers, and though somewhat discouraged I put on a brave face, hopped back in the saddle – and off we went, back on the road and into the rain.

Another 196 kms down the road, in Marathon, we stopped for a bowl of steaming tomato soup and a coffee. I needed the full 45 minutes that we were stopped in Marathon just to warm up enough to carry on. And carry on we did.

The ride did not improve for me at all until we were halfway between Nipigon and Thunder Bay. The rain stopped and the skies cleared – or at least lightened a little. The temperature rose quite dramatically, and before long I was in a completely new and enjoyable headspace – I was once again enjoying the ride.

By the time we pulled into Thunder Bay I was all but completely dry. We had a tasty fish and chips dinner at the local Joeys Only, and then I went off to find an AA meeting. And I found exactly what I needed. A good little meeting in tucked away corner of a Thunder Bay suburb, where I once again felt like I was home. A couple of members, after hearing that I was form out of town and on an adventure, even offered me a place to stay. I thanked them for their hospitality, shared some of my road-stories so far, and was given the heads-up about a group of motorcycle riding AA members in Burnaby B.C. known as the ‘sober riders’.

You can be certain that I will be dropping in on their meeting when I get to Burnaby. As sure as I am that this was the reason I ended up at this meeting in Thunder Bay, tonight. Because that is exactly where I was meant to be.

 

Well, it was a long, 730+ kilometer day today – and the cold and rain have sapped my reserves. Goodnight travelers.