The Bruce Peninsula

P1030100I grew up hearing of the Bruce Peninsula. My dad sometimes worked at the Bruce Nuclear Generating Station, and I had friends who either had cottages up there or would spend family vacations on its shores. But it would take me 55 years before I got up there, oddly enough. Like the Torontonian who’s never been up the CN Tower, I took this tourist attraction for granted and felt I had to travel to other climes for a sandy beach and clear water.

My wife and I disembarked the ferry at Tobermory and headed down to Bruce Peninsula National Park. As usual, my guardian angel had saved me the final campsite when I went to reserve a few weeks earlier. (I’m terrible at planning, but things seem to work out.) We had a great site a short walk to the water, but I was miffed that we had to pay an extra $11.50 for the bike. This is consistent with the provincial parks we also stayed at. One person in a car and one person on a bike should not be charged more than the family of twelve that spilled out of an SUV across from us. $11.50 isn’t much, but over a ten-day vacation, it adds up. Parks Canada needs to look at their pricing and come up with something that is more equitable, at least if they want to attract motorcycle tourism. Non-electrical sites like ours cost $23.50 per night, plus the $11.50 for the “additional vehicle,” plus an online reservation fee (mandatory for such a popular campground). It adds up to around $50—a little steep in my opinion for a patch of ground on which to pitch your tent. I get it: supply and demand; they charge what they can. However, not everything has to fit within a free market system, and call me naive, but the experience of camping and enjoying nature should not be a source of revenue for government coffers, our parks promoted as the national treasures they are. They should be maintained with tax dollars and users charged a nominal fee. Okay, I’ll step down from my soap-box now.

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After we set up camp, we decided to head back into Tobermory because it looked pretty cool as we disembarked from the ferry. I had a hunch there’d be a microbrewery there and my gut rarely lets me down!

Tobermory Brewing

We sat on the terrace, as it’s called in Quebec, and I had a cherry porter, my wife, an amber lager. We struck up a conversation with a couple about our age at the next table. They lived the other side of the bay but had once lived in Montreal—that is, until the first referendum in 1980. Shortly thereafter, he was tasked with the job of moving the company to a place with “better conditions for investment,” as he diplomatically put it. It was interesting meeting people who had fled Quebec, so to speak, after the first referendum. I arrived in 1990 and heard of the exodus, but here were two people directly affected. I would have liked to ask them more about that experience, but hey, we were on vacation, and who wants to talk politics while on vacation, especially on a terrace overlooking a beautiful harbour while drinking exquisite beer on a hot summer day.

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When we got back to camp, there was only enough time to cook and eat dinner and then wander down to the water for the sunset (see photo above).

The next day, we hiked out to The Grotto, a spectacular swimming location with clear emerald water. It’s a little cold—okay, a lot cold!—but like at Bridal Veil Falls, we forced ourselves in and were happy we did; the experience was exhilarating and the highlight of this segment of our trip. One of the benefits of Georgian Bay is that, unlike Lake Ontario and, sadly, many of the other Great Lakes, it isn’t polluted from industry. The water is so clear and pure that you can see shipwrecks lying on the bottom—not at The Grotto, but at Tobermory, the “shipwreck capital of Canada.” After, we climbed the trail up to Indian Head for a good view of the bay and The Grotto. Note that due to its popularity, parking for The Grotto is now by reservation only in four-hour time slots. If you camp at the park, you can access it by foot and, at around noon, have the place pretty much to yourself as one group leaves before the next arrives. But frankly, we didn’t mind the others there. It’s not overcrowded and some young’ns encouraged us into the frigid water.

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When we returned to camp, we discovered that our electric cooler had flattened the car battery. (Note to self: you can’t leave it plugged in when the car is turned off.) I was surprised that that little fan and compressor could flatten it in a few hours, but they did. I saw some people just pulling out of their site and asked for a boost. They obliged, and then there was nothing else to do but drive for an ice cream to charge the battery.

The next day we headed around the southern tip of Georgian Bay, taking the scenic Highway 1 from Wiarton to Owen Sound, then Highway 26 through The Blue Mountains, Collingwood, and Wasaga Beach—iconic vacation spots dotting the southern shoreline. Then it was up the east coast, heading into Bobby Orr territory, Parry Sound, where we stopped for dinner. The vibe now was very different from Manitoulin Island. Muskoka is a shortish drive from Toronto, whereas Manitoulin is separated by the ferry crossing. Consequently, where Manitoulin is quiet, remote, and humble, Muskoka is popular, developed, and privileged. We were tired and hungry so found a Boston Pizza, which is a safe if boring option. There was cruise ship in port across the harbour, and as we waited for our table, a family dressed to the 9’s crossed the street and got into a car. Once seated inside, we were surrounded by large-screen TVs showing sports, and I couldn’t help remembering a little wistfully the deck and picnic tables at Lake Huron Fish & Chips. There are some very nice smaller towns in Muskoka like Orillia, Severn Bridge, and Gravenhurst, but sadly the region seems to have lost the charm I once knew and to which The Group of Seven were drawn.

We were happy to get to our campground, Sturgeon Bay Provincial Park, just north of Parry Sound. While checking in, we were shown a rattlesnake that had just been caught by a staff member. It was in a 10 gallon pale and not a happy camper, so to speak, its tail red and rattling. It was an ominous start to our stay that was borne out at 2:00 a.m. by a loud party happening at a nearby campsite—the usual youngish folks talking and laughing loudly (i.e. drunkenly), as if they were not surrounded by tents filled with people trying to sleep. Yeah, I could have asked them to keep it down, but when alcohol is involved, I tend to avoid confrontation. We’d had a similar experience at Sandbanks Provincial Park, another Ontario campground, earlier in the summer and had learned to bring the office phone number into the tent with us. Unfortunately, when we phoned, it went to voice mail.

The next morning we spoke to staff upon leaving. They said that the night warden does a final round at 1:00 a.m. before she leaves for the night. If anything happens after that, she would not be aware of it. Was it a coincidence that the party got loud at 2:00 a.m.? Probably not. Unfortunately, some people use the Muskoka parks as their weekend playground to party without any regard for others who might be there to enjoy nature. Ironically, the Ontario Parks newsletter you receive upon registering is filled with rules and regulations and fines—page after page, in table format—but those regulations are not worth the cheap newspaper they’re printed on if they are not enforced. The staff were apologetic, but ineffectual.

The Sandbanks experience earlier was so bad that we considered leaving and trying to find a hotel in the middle of the night. We later applied for a refund, a process that involves sending away a form to Ottawa, but we haven’t heard back yet, and I don’t expect now we will. I did not write any of this in my blog for Ontario Tourism, for obvious reasons, but Ontario Parks gets a one star rating from me. Their campgrounds are too popular, too expensive, and unregulated.

We hightailed it out of Ontario the next day. We had an invitation to stay at a cottage in Kipawa, Quebec, and it was just what we needed: two nights of cottage heaven before I headed north on a little solo ADV tour.

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Have you had a bad experience at a campground? Let me know positive or negative by leaving a comment. I’m always happy to hear from my readers!

Magical Manitoulin

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The bride wearing her veil

Last year was my first long bike tour and I got my yah-yahs out, riding and riding, all day, every day. I put over 5000 kms on the bike in 11 days. It was all about the riding and I loved every minute of it. But this year, at least for the first leg with wife and car, I slowed down and spent some time off the bike. It was a lesson learned. I’ve since heard on ARR about the importance of time off the bike. You can accidentally ride right past some amazing things if you don’t slow down, and at my age, my body can use the break. So I left the bike at camp and we explored Manitoulin Island in the air-conditioned car.

First stop was Bridal Veil Falls, a popular tourist location. There are change rooms and a very short hike to the falls. The water is cold but, as always, it’s fine once you’re in. As you can see, you can climb behind the falls and even swim under them. Swimming under is a little unnerving at first. The water pounds down from its drop of fifty feet like your malfunctioning Waterpik shower massage. But if you go quickly, before you know it you’re on the other side. I coaxed Marilyn through them and it was some good old-fashioned fun like being a kid again.

Then we hiked the trail that follows the river and came out at an outdoor market where we bought a few gifts from a local woodworker. But a guy can only spend so much time at a market. Soon my eye caught a hot-rod sitting in a garage and I wandered over. It was a 1930-something Willard and the guy had mounted a WWI German helmet on his air cleaner. (Sorry, no photo). I struck up a conversation with the owner, and then another guy came wandering over, and next thing we knew there was a bro-party in the garage while the ladies shopped in the market. Gender roles are not so fluid on Manitoulin.

I’m glad I went because you never know when you’re going to learn something important. Apparently this guy had burnt out one distributor and couldn’t figure out why, and the other guy said it was because he had the wrong spark plugs in. Don’t venture out of spec on spark plugs, I learnt. The bigger gap taxes the wires and electrical system that have to run higher current. I asked about the iridium plugs I put in Bigby and this dude said it probably wasn’t a good idea. So back to OEM it will be as soon as I’m home.

From there, we explored the island, checking out the other campgrounds, just for comparison. They seemed more children-friendly but we were definitely happy to be at Providence Bay. After lunch we went to Misery Bay, where you can hike along the shoreline. Now there’s a story about the name and apparently it was coined by someone scything grass in the heat when a boat pulled up and asked for the name of the bay. The poor fellow joked “Misery Bay” and it stuck.

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Misery Bay

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The distinctive alvar rock particular to Manitoulin

That night we made a final trip down to the beach to do some stargazing. There aren’t any major cities nearby, so the sky was brilliant. My wife said something akin to what Eve says to Adam in John Milton’s Paradise Lost when stargazing:

“But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom / This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?”

She didn’t say it quite like that, but the essence was the same: What’s the purpose of all this beauty, for who’s eyes? I didn’t make the mistake Adam made with an arrogant “Oh, never mind your pretty little head over that,” but agreed it does seem to be a waste if no one looks up. If you go to Manitoulin, bring a star chart; it’s the perfect place to find the constellations and learn your way around the northern sky. The sound of the waves on the beach is a bonus.

The next day we had to leave. We’d bought our ferry crossing in advance to be sure we got the one we wanted. So after a bacon & egg breakfast at the dock, we watched the Chi-Cheemaun Ferry pull in to port. 20180719_125907

I tied Bigby down in the hold as Marilyn parked the car, then we met on deck to say good-bye for now to magical Manitoulin Island.

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Bigby tied down in the hold

Next: we get a site at Bruce Peninsula National Park, go for a beer in Tobermory, then a hike and a swim at The Grotto.

Restoule to Providence Bay

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Heading west on the 522

You know those days when nothing goes well and you are out of sorts and feel the world is your enemy? Of course you do. We’ve all had them, thankfully not very often. When I had one of those days growing up, my dad used to advise me just to go to bed and “it would all be different in the morning.” That simple advice has proven true several times over the years, no less in the difference between Day 1 and Day 2 of our holiday.

We started the day with coffees at the beach, which is about as fine a way to start your day as I can imagine. (I managed to get the stove to work sufficiently to heat some water for the coffee.) So while I missed the sunset the night before, I caught the morning light in my collapsable lawn chair.

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Morning coffee and journaling at Restoule Prov. Park

When the camp was packed and we’d had a light breakfast, we headed back to the 534 where I bought some gas at the general store. I love general stores! and not just because they sell gas and my gas light was on. They seem to harken back to a simpler time with their hardwood floors, deli counters, rows of tools and hardware next to rows of food items, the postcard racks, ice-cream freezers, and the friendly service, all to local a.m. radio. But even at the general store you cannot avoid the seniors buying their Scratch & Lose cards, so paying for my gas took a little longer than I wanted.

Once back on the road, we headed east on the 534 to the 524 South which brought us to the 522. The 522 is a beautiful stretch of road and, not surprisingly, we passed a few bikers going the other way. It curves through wetlands and forested areas with impressive rock formations lining the road. The sky is huge!

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Big sky over the 522

Once we hit Highway 69, we headed north into Sudbury in search of a new stove. I’d looked up Ramakkos the night before and it had good reviews. It was conveniently located just off the Trans-Canada Highway so not out of our way. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but I took my existing stove in to show them, hoping they could somehow fix it. And to their credit, they actually did try. Their stove expert, Brad, took it apart and made sure the needle and lines were clear, which I suspect is the issue 95% of the time. Unfortunately, I was the 5% whose stove could not be fixed with a hearty blow. After some deliberation, I bought the MSR Dragonfly, the classic liquid fuel stove that Ewan and Charlie took from London to New York. Yeah, it sounds like a jet taking off, but so does the person snoring at your neighbouring campsite, so even Steven, I say. The valve system is much better made and more precise than the Optimus. The simmer capability of this stove is legendary, and Brad from Ramakkos says he actually does baking in the bush with it! At the time of this writing, I’ve been using it pretty steadily for the two weeks on the bike and another four-night canoe camp and it is amazing. Never again the hassles of the stove that have plagued my trips in the past.

I was tempted to look around Ramakkos a little longer—it was such an amazing store—but the budget was already busted with the new stove so it was back to the Trans-Canada Highway and west out of Sudbury. They were building a parallel highway, or expanding the existing, and for a long stretch it looked like a mining operation. No wonder since there is so much rock up there they have to dig through to build a freeway. That stretch of construction was the only blip in an otherwise perfect day. It was a dusty, slow drive until we hit McKerrow and headed south on Highway 6. Highway 6 has a perfect surface and large sweeping curves that cut through different types of rock, and as you descend, it’s like you’re riding down through the eons, travelling back into deep time when the earth’s surface was forming and glaciers covered much of it. I saw at the sides of the road shale, slate, and granite, and later on Manitoulin Island the unusual alvars, with its pock marks, as if someone had pressed their fingers into it while still forming. If you’re into rocks, the Canadian Shield is waiting for you.

I’d read about a lookout on Highway 6 just north of Little Current. I couldn’t find the lookout but we stopped on Birch Island at this small boat launch for a break and to take in the view.

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Rest stop at Birch Island

When you come onto Manitoulin Island from the north, it’s not apparent that you are coming onto an island. Yes, there are a few small bridges, and apparently the swing bridge at Little Current is the one that separates Manitoulin from the northern mainland. But there’s no Confederation Bridge or anything like that, and the next thing you know you’re on the island amid farmland and glowing canola fields.

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Canola fields on Manitoulin Island

The destination for today was Providence Bay Tent & Trailer Park, a privately owned campground that’s right across the street from Lake Huron. My wife had not had a good night’s sleep the night before with racoons sniffing around the tent so was already wary of another night of camping, but the proprietor said the waves would lull her to sleep and she was right! She gave us the best site in the park, right next to the water, close enough that later that night we crawled out of the tent and made our way down to the water for some star gazing.

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Campsite at Providence Bay Tent & Trailer Park

But first it was dinner, and my wife had found Lake Huron Fish & Chips during her research for the holiday. There are few things I like more than good quality fish & chips, and Lake Huron gets two thumbs up from me. There’s a sundeck to eat outside, and the young staff there have a pretty cool playlist going. When we are travelling, my wife and I try to do much of our own cooking to save money, but this place was so good we went back the next night and tried the other type of fish, a local whitefish.

Fully sated, there was nothing more to do in our perfect day except go for a stroll along the shoreline at dusk.

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Providence Bay, Lake Huron

There’s a long boardwalk that takes you into a community centre where you can buy ice cream or a souvenir. I saw a T-shirt there that read “I’m on island time.” There’s definitely a slower pace to life on Manitoulin Island; it’s the perfect antidote to the rat race. Earlier in the day, we had passed Twin Peaks B & B, and as we lay in the tent listening to the waves and recollecting the day, we joked about how this day was the parallel universe day to the evil previous one. (You’ll only get this joke if you’re familiar with the David Lynch series.) Yes, camping can sometimes be hard. It’s a lifestyle of extreme highs and lows, but I figure the lows are the price you have to pay for the highs, and in the end, as Manitoulin Island had so far proven, the highs far outweigh the lows.

Next up, a day on the island.