The last long-weekend ride of the season

The labor day weekend is upon us, and for those of us who eat, breath and sleep either riding or thinking about riding motorcycles, that means planning that one last, long adventure of the riding season.
Having decided to take Friday off as well, I was able to think a little bigger than some about just where this ride - this adventure - might take me. Mentioning the idea of planning an adventure at the Monday night meet and greet brought forth an added bonus - the piqued interest of another member.
brian2tall and I had ridden together several times in the past and have a similar personality, so the idea of making this a shared adventure all of a sudden became quite appealing. Brian and I came to no decision as to where we were going - not even whether we were heading east towards the townships or west towards Turkey Point - but that was secondary. We were going on a ride. A long ride. That was all that mattered at that point.
Two hours after leaving the meet and greet, after spending about an hour researching great motorcycle routes, I knew where we were going. And a few minutes later, so did Brian, as well as everyone else in my Facebook universe.
I had stumbled across a blog written 4 years earlier by a writer for a motorcycle magazine. In that blog the author vividly and enthusiastically described an adventure that he had been a part of, on a 750 ACE, no less. This adventure took him on a long run through Algoma county, and in recounting his adventure the author made mention of Ontario highway 129, which he referred to as "Ontario's Tail of the Dragon"
And that was all it took.
Those of you who ride are likely already aware of the legendary Tail of the Dragon at Deal's Gap. For those of you who do not ride, check out any of the hundreds of YouTube videos. Then you will understand why I had to come out to Thessalon, Ontario to ride the 129.
And if you have google-mapped Thessalon, those of you who do not ride are by now convinced that I am completely crazy.
You see, highway 129 is a full 700+ kilometers from Ottawa. 1400 kilometers, there and back. To check out a highway I had never heard of before based on a reference made by another rider. Whom I had never heard of before.
Brian was in. And as simple as that, the adventure began to take shape.
I have to give credit to Brian. He wanted to go for a good long ride. And it had to be one that could be completed in 4 days. Other than that, the details were up to me. So, figuring that Wawa is in the same vicinity (kind of), I decided that we would stretch this ride out to over 2000 kilometers. Ottawa to Thessalon to the 129 to Chapleau, to Wawa, to Sault Saint Marie, to Thessalon and back home. In 4 days.

We left Ottawa at approximately 0900. Fully aware that we were riding head-on into a huge storm system that was forecasted to dump over 50mm of rain in Wawa, carrying torrential rains all the way from Manitoba to North Bay.
"I get wet every time I shower" I had quipped to our 1st officer at Mondays meet and greet when he pointed out the extended forecast. 5 hours of riding in some really heavy rain later, I was eating my words and praying for sunshine.
My prayers were answered just before Blind River, and Brian and I stopped to strip off our rain gear, allowing the sun to warm the chill from our bones and the wet from our clothes. We spent the last hour of our riding day relishing the warmth, a renewed step in our dance, and finally entered Thessalon around 7:30pm. I snapped a few pics of a glorious sunset (sorry, I won't be able to post pics until I get home - I am blogging from my phone) and then enquired as to a recommendation on lodgings from a couple who were walking hand in hand enjoying the beauty of a late-summers eve. They directed Brian and I to carry on another 20 kilometers to Bruce Mines, Ontario. To the Bavarian Inn. And it is from a soft, comfortable, dry bed that I tip-tap-type this post. And it also from here that I now bid you...
Good night. It was a long day. It was a wet day. It was a day spent riding a motorcycle. Which means it was a great day. Tomorrow, we ride the 129.
Thanks for riding along friends,

Riding, rally, and time travel…

 

Friday morning was so much nicer than Thursday morning. I was up early enough to watch a glorious sunrise over Lake Erie, enjoyed a breakfast of French-toast and coffee at the Sunset restaurant, and leisurely made my way further west along the waterfront trail. The ride from Turkey Point to Long Point is beautiful. A quiet little two-lane full of twisties and small dips and rises, it is a few minutes of pure riding pleasure.

All along the lakeshore, the scenery is beautiful, and one could easily spend a day exploring some of the small towns along the way. Port Rowan, Clear Creek, Port Burwell, Port Royal, Port Stanley, on and on traveling through some of the most scenic and picturesque little towns you are likely to see anywhere.

The locals told me that the ride from Turkey Point to Sarnia is roughly 2 1/2 hours. Being very good at finding the longest distance between two points, it took me closer to six. And I loved each and every minute of the ride.

I finally pulled onto the 402 from Port Stanley and headed toward Sarnia, thinking that if I did not hit the big highway I would surely end up traveling the more scenic waterfront trail until sometime in November, and well, I had to be at work on Tuesday, so...

I headed up the 402 and pulled off when I saw the sign for Grand Bend. A few people had mentioned that this was one spot that I had to stop, the scenery being quite exceptional in the form of bikini wearing sun worshippers. So I decided to make the detour,....

A few minutes of riding up highway 21 brought me up behind another pack-laden rider. Naturally assuming that he too was headed for the CMC Rally, I fell into an easy-paced staggered position to his right and carried on.

When we passed the sign indicating that the town of Forest was a mere 24 kilometers away I realized that my being distracted by thoughts of sun-bronzed beach babes had actually caused me to get off the 402 precisely where I needed too. See, the rally that I am attending, while hosted by the 016 Sarnia chapter, is actually being held in Forest.

And then, synchronicity being what it is and all, I pulled up alongside my fellow traveller at a stoplight and was greeted by the broadly smiling face of ‘Pusher’ – a fellow member of the Ottawa 016 chapter – with whom I had just had dinner at a meet and greet 2 weeks prior.

We cruised into the sleepy little borough of Forest and found our way to the fairgrounds, where perhaps 40 or 50 members were already lounging around fully equipped travel trailers, motor homes, RV’s and a few tents. We registered, shared some traveling stories with new friends, and then took to taking care of our own lodgings for the night. Pusher headed off to Sarnia, and I went to a local pharmacy to introduce myself to Debbie.

See, the CMC is a family oriented riding group of approximately 5,000 members across our great country. And family is always there to help...

In this particular instance, a couple of members from the host-chapter, the 016 Sarnia, opted to open their home to anyone who needed a placed to rest travel-weary bones. And I, being no fool, opted to accept their gracious offer.

Debbie and Ewen were spectacular hosts, offering a warm bed for the night and a hot shower in the morning as well as entirely enjoyable camaraderie and conversation. Ewen rides a beautiful Triumph Bonneville, and we managed to get out for a short scoot together, if only from his house to the fairgrounds where the rally was held. I truly hope to be able to return the hospitality one day!

I went back to the rally for breakfast Saturday morning – mingled with a bunch of my fellow Ottawa 011 members and several new friends from other chapters – and then....yes, it was time to go. I had remained virtually stationary for long enough – and Manitoulin Island was only a few short hours away.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind tour through the Georgian Bay – Manitoulin Island area, and I cannot stress this enough: if you have not yet had the opportunity to ride Manitoulin Island and to sail the Chi Cheemaun ferry, find the time to do so. The ferry acts as a sort of time-travel machine, taking you back some 20 years, and allowing a glimpse of what life was like at a slower, less digitally-enhanced pace. Manitoulin Island is the living definition of ‘laid-back’, and visiting her by travelling her arteries on a motorcycle was an experience I shall fondly remember, and repeat as needed.

I spent Saturday night camping in my Hennessey Hammock at a small but extremely well appointed camp ground that is less than a 1000 metres from the ferry landing, staring up at the most brilliant carpet of stars I can remember seeing since I was on the Mediterranean Sea, oh so many years ago. A hot shower at the campground, and a delicious breakfast at a small diner directly across the street set me off on a great start to an amazing day of riding. I covered the island, seeing all of the recommended bays, inlets and overlooks, and then headed north towards Espanola at about 2:30 in the afternoon.

Hennessey hammock camping

The ride home was a sort of ‘remember when’ all of its own, as I had made the same run last year on my way back home from the Rockies. Espanola – Sudbury – North Bay – Deep River – Pembroke – Arnprior – Ottawa, all in a little less than 7 ½ hours.

Some pics from the rally can be found here.

And pics from the journey are found here.

My apologies for taking a week to get this post up – I was riding when I could have been writing...

As always – thank you for riding along...

Ridin', rain and the CMC National rally

I had grand plans of heading to the east coast later this summer. Specifically to ride the Cabot Trail - in both directions - but also to explore some more of our beautiful country and further enrich my life.

And then my dad died.

How are these two seemingly completely separate life events related, you find yourself wondering?

Well, I am about to tell you. When dad died in June I found myself pondering what I was going to do. Both to honor my father, as well as to survive the grieving process in a safe and sober fashion.

Sitting at breakfast with my friend James the morning after dad passed away, he posed the question. "So, what are you going to do now?"

The unspoken but weighted tag to that question being "to make it through this healthy and whole".

'I don't know' I replied. 'Several people have suggested that I take a ride in memory of dad'.

"Where would you go?" enquired my own personal Yoda.

'I really have no idea', I answered. And then, just as quick as that, I knew.

40 years ago, dad took my younger brother and myself on a camping trip to Turkey Point and Long Point, Ontario.

It remains my fondest father-son memory.

I looked at James over the rim of my coffee mug and said "yes I do. Turkey Point. I am going to ride to Turkey Point."

After 7 years of friendship James is used to my rather disjointed and random statements of fact and clarity, knowing that what makes perfect sense to me will soon be explained. It generally only requires having to wait a minute for me to slow the brain enough to sort it out.

I shared that camping trip of 40 years ago to a patiently listening friend, and realized as my eyes began to well with tears that there were still very strong emotions tied to a 6 year old little boy inside of me. And in that moment realized that I had just experienced the first of what I hope are many moments of my dad offering me a little 'nudge' from wherever he is stirring things up now.

Thanks dad.

I went on a 5 day tour to Sarnia, Turkey Point and Long Point to say goodbye. And serendipitously spent those days with dad. He was with me every moment, and made his presence known with a subtlety that he never possessed in life.

Another one of the gifts that I received while on that journey to honor my dad was the opening of my eyes to just how beautiful that region of Ontario is.

Which brings us back to the beginning. And the connection.

I have decided that, for the remainder of this year anyway, my vacation(s) will come in the form of long-weekends.

And And so, here I am, at 8:45 on Friday morning, drinking from a steaming mug of black coffee and looking out over the water in...

Yes, Turkey Point.

The motorcycle group that I ride with- the Canadian Motorcycle Cruisers, or CMC, are holding our annual National Rally in Sarnia over the August long weekend.

A mere 3 hours from Turkey Point.

It was obvious to me that the way to truly maximize the enjoyment that this event offers was to turn it into a wee bit of an adventure, so I made my long-weekend longer by taking to the road at 10:00am Thursday morning and heading to Turkey Point.

Did I mention 'adventure'?

The first 4 hours of my ride took place in the heaviest rain that I have ever ridden in. Falling in sheets made up of marble-sized raindrops, people were pulling over in their cars because the could not see. Through their windshields. Of their climate-controlled, and very dry, cars.

It took me a little more than 4 hours to cover 300 kilometers. My gloves were soaked through and could not have been wetter had I showered with them on. My right foot was a little damp. And I spent a lot more time on the slab (401) than I had intended. But the sun finally broke through. And my gloves dried out. And I arrived in Turkey Point. And smiled.

Thanks again dad. I love you man.

More from the road later...