Onward and upwards forever into new and more exciting worlds.
My great Canadian adventure ‘s end saw me holed up in Grand Portage, MN escaping God’s wrath and nature’s fury. This is becoming a common theme…
Great trucks rumble past, big old road trains hauling lumber and ore and little white fluffy things that blow all over the place. They buffet you with wind and cold. Massive welded tubular steel bumpers adorn their fronts, assuring their victory of machine versus moose in this great frontier. Moose are big creatures. Large and in charge. They weigh a lot.
I saw a dead one on the side of the road, crushed by one of the road trains, eyes open.
Lakes and trees and lakes and trees, truly a land of striking and monotonous beauty.
Lakes of every color, one after the other for miles and miles. Dark blue, light blue, brown, green, and the magnificent but rare lake consisting of a turquoise hue, no doubt due to the presence of copper in its bottom. There are literally enough lakes in Northern Ontario to drive you insane.
The road stretches for miles and your eyes glaze over. I fell asleep on the bike at around noon on the second day. A really short cat nap man, about a second. The road is straight so no matter.
Strange billboards tout resplendent feasts at upcoming restaurants. The pictures on them look just like Hungry Man tv dinners.
Ample opportunities for bush camping exist up here. Hundreds of dirt trails lead off into this godforsaken country. For what for, who knows. Take one, any one, please. Set up your pup-tent and you’re golden, but don’t forget your mosquito repellent. Tenting it on the summer solstice will yield a bright sky well into the night.
This is wilderness and it really is beautiful, but it’s pretty clear that God doesn’t want man up here. At least on a motorcycle. I pined for the states man, big time. Fucking Canada. Gas is almost $6 a gallon and people are still speaking French 20 miles away from Minnesota. And it’s cold and wet. Riding down from Hearst on Trans Canada Hwy 11 it just started raining and wouldn’t stop; hours and
hours of rain and cold. And all the time that chain stretches and stretches and I was praying that I would not have to source a chain somewhere in fucking Ontario. The road to the states passes through Thunder Bay. Across the bay lies a sleeping giant, a great guardian of the land which lies reposed and made of rock. It is truly a sight to behold so I hear, ah but if only I could see it! The storm was so great!
A return to the states yielded a small victoy. Still cold, still wet but with chain intact and back in America, holed up in Bordertown awaiting the storm’s passing . $40 will buy you a palace for the night in this great Northern Kingdom.