After a few days visiting family in Guelph, I start out on July 1, Canada Day.
After the stressful days of preparing the bike and packing, I was happy to have a few days to unwind with family before setting off. As the day of departure approached, so did the expected trepidation of leaving my comfort zone. The main thing that I was concerned about was finding accommodations as I headed across the country. In order to keep my schedule flexible, I don’t like making reservations, and I’d heard that campgrounds were full as people flock to the great outdoors post-lockdown. I had visions of struggling in the fading light to find a safe and affordable spot to stop each night.
There were other concerns too, but here’s the thing I’ve discovered from doing these trips: once I’m on the road, all anxiety and concern dissolve as I face each challenge in turn. A trip of almost 20,000 kilometres breaks down into a series of distinct tasks in the moment: “Okay, now I have to get to that road . . . now I have to find gas . . . now I have to solve this mechanical issue . . . now find a campground,” etc. You deal with one thing at a time, and it’s not actually all that stressful.
The immediate concern as I left Guelph was a bounce in my front wheel. I’d had the balancing double-checked by BMW before leaving Montreal and they said it was fine, but I could still feel vibration at 110-120 km/hr—annoyingly right in my cruising speed. I pulled into Two Wheel Motorsport off Highway 6 to see if they had any ideas.
“What tire pressure are you running?” someone there asked.
“About 31 psi,” I replied. The normal pressure on the front is 28.5 but I was fully loaded. He thought it was a little high and to drop it a pound or two. Unfortunately, that didn’t fix the problem which, I would find out much later in the trip, was actually a bent rim. [Note to self: don’t attempt any rocky hill climbs just before leaving on a major tour.]
I continued north on Highway 6 and started zig-zagging my way toward the 400. It was warm and sunny, the countryside north of Guelph is beautiful, and aside from the wheel issue, the bike was running great. It was sinking in that I was finally doing this—what I had been thinking of doing for years.
As I was passing along Highway 26, I spotted a MiG 17 mounted at the side of the road. I pulled a U-turn—the first of many on the tour—and turned into the Edenvale Aerodrome. There, I saw not only the Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-17 but a Canadair CT-114 Tutor used by the RCAF Snowbirds. It was July 1st, Canada Day, and the museum was closed, but little did I know that the only replica Avro Arrow is now housed at Edenvale. A return visit and tour is definitely in the near future.
Yes, I’m an aviation as well as motorcycle enthusiast. It seems I’m not alone in being passionate about both. I figure that’s because riding is about as close to flying as you can get without actually leaving the ground. When riding, you get the sensation of wind and speed and the pull of all three planes in each sweeping turn. In fact, I’m so crazy about flight that I’ve written a collection of poems about it, due to be published by DC Books next spring. Invisible Sea is a collection on the theme of flight, especially early human flight, with the title poem a long serial poem examining aerodynamics. Details on the launch and availability to follow.
After stretching my legs and having a snack, I pressed on, up the 400, through Sudbury, and over the top of Georgian Bay. Now I was in familiar territory from my Northern Ontario adventures. I would have loved to detour down the 6 from Espanola to Manitoulin Island, one of my favourite places to visit, but with 3,000 kilometres still to cover in 6 days, I had to keep heading west. (I was supposed to meet my wife in Calgary on the 7th, and I know better than to keep her waiting.)
As I was passing through Massey, about 30K west of Espanola, I spotted a sign for Chutes Provincial Park. It was about the right time of day to start looking for a campsite, and I was pleased with the distance I’d covered. I pulled in late afternoon, hoping they had a site. This was my first real test and what I had been most stressed about.
“I’m hoping you have a campsite for tonight,” I said to the young lady in the kiosk. “I don’t have a reservation.”
“We’re full,” she replied, and then, “Let me check with the Warden.”
In a minute he showed up, and it turned out there was a spot for me. This would not be the last time on the tour that I would literally get the last spot in the campground.
I set up camp, had a quick dinner, then went for a walk around the campground. I figured with a name like Chutes Prov. Park, there had to be some waterfalls somewhere. The park contains the Seven Sisters Rapids and a hiking trail that follows the river.
I followed the trail and it led me to a lookout at the base of the falls just as the sun was beginning to drop below the trees in the west.
That night I slept in my tent like a king, and in the morning, when I woke, I had that uncanny experience whereby for a moment or two you don’t know where you are and what you are doing. When the answers to those questions finally came to me, lying in my sleeping bag, I just smiled.