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Day 4
October 4th, 2001
St. Ignace, Michigan
Morning dawned cold, and cloudy. The parking lot was still wet from the night
before, and I scanned it for black ice as we loaded up.
How do these people do it? It is early October and already the winds of winter
are coming. I noticed this far north, at this time of year, the sun never
locates directly overhead. The sun does not fully clear the horizon here till
8am, and by 4pm it grows dark. What must it be like here in December or
January? But that is why I love doing what I do. Riding to places
not known, finding the things that make a place unique. Seeking out the
stuff most people either don't have the time to do, or the inclination.
Sunrise at the Driftwood Inn
photo Phil Derryberry
It is somewhat a mixed bag on this morning. Excited about entering Canada,
but saddened that brother Coop would leave us, riding west back to Wisconsin.
We take a few pics in the parking lot and part ways. We get a early start.
We have a 400+ mile day ahead, and we have no idea what to expect at the border.
I start the day with long wool socks, sweatshirt and sweatpants, and heavy
gloves. It will keep me warm. I still have the thinsulate vest to go
to, if needed. I just don't like to empty the arsenal starting out, then
if things get really cold, I have nothing else to go to.
We jump on I-75 and dash for the border. I take the point and soon give up
trying to keep the ST at the speed limit. The highway is empty.
I take in the scenery of the Upper Peninsula. I am surprised to see
farmland mixed in with tundra. The primary occupation out here appears to
be farming and logging.
Riding along at 80+ the ominous figure of southbound police cruiser
appears. I get on the brakes, and the cruiser flashes his light bar.
I am toast. I slow down and watch my mirror but he keeps going. I
don't believe it. I turn around in the saddle, and LOOK, because I don't
believe my mirrors. No cop. I got a pass, simple as that.
We approach the bridges, and follow the signs "Canada this
lane". We have heard horror stories of shakedowns at the border and
lengthy waits.
I follow Phil into the booth. I see the guard quizzing him and soon expect
Phil to dismount. Then I see him waved through. What the hell?
Now its my turn. A serious looking female guard begins to quiz me, but my
accent is getting to her, and she smiles when she asks-
"American citizen?"
"yesssssss"
"any firearms?"
"noooooooo"
"any liquor?"
"nooooooooooo"
"How long will you be in Canada?"
"baby, if its this cold all the time, not very long"
"no seriously, how long USE going to be in Canada?"
"so what did my buddy up there say to this question?"
"HOW LONG?"
"3 days, going to Toronto"
"have a nice trip" with a smile
"thank you"
And that was it.
We are in Canada. Sault Saint Marie, Ontario to be exact. Time for
breakfast. We leave the border crossing and promptly pull in a Tim
Horton's Donut shop. The place is busy and crowded.
Do they take American money here? I pay for my donut and drink, with a 5
and get 5 back Canadian, or close to it. What the hell?
The donuts are not exactly Krispy Kreme, but ok.
We leave the donut shop and get on a one way street going east. It is 4
lanes. Traffic is thankfully low. We pull to a light and Phil points
over to a parking lot to our right, 3 lanes over. He says his ear plug fell
out. No cars are around us. Just before the light turns green, I
check my right mirror, I mean I REALLLLY check my mirror before bolting 3
lanes. Leaning forward to get all the angles, it is then I see it. A
pickup truck in the far right lane, heading quickly to the intersection. I
freeze and sit in horror as Phil jumps the instant the light changes for the
parking lot. I see it playing out in my mind before it happens. Phil
is going to cut right in front of the speeding truck. I see the truck whiz
by me 2 lanes over heading for a rendezvous with Phil. Phil still hasn't
seen the truck, and I wince and squint my eyes at the inevitable. At
present speed, I figure Phil is going to take a glancing blow near the truck's
rear tire. Amazingly, the truck sees what's coming down, and speeds up,
and gets by Phil at the last instant. Inches separating them.
Awesome.
I pull into the parking lot with Phil. I am more shaken then him.
"did you see that guy speeding out of nowhere?"
"Phil you can't be cutting folks off and blaming it on HIM!!"
"well he was going to fast"
We speed out of the "Soo" on Highway 17. We are heading east to
Sudbury. They give the distance in kilometers. That means nothing to
me.
I have KPH on my speedo, but it is too small to really see. We hear Canada
enforces their speed limits zealously so we play it cautious, and just follow
everyone else.
The ride east is quiet, and soon we escape into rural Canada. The
landscape is a blaze of reds, oranges, and yellows. From the saddle of my
bike, I am treated to rural Canada, and all its fall glory. We pass over
streams and lakes, through villages, and pass rustic farm houses.
A quiet cove on Route 17
Photo Phil Derryberry
We stop for pictures and a butt break at a rest area near Iron Bridge.
We pass through a Ontario Province Police road block.
Are they checking license? Shakedown? No, they are checking for seat belt
compliance. They wave us through. Reckon, if I was a scofflaw, I
wouldn't just ease my belt on while waiting in the que line?
We stop for gas and a snack near North Center, or as they spell in Canada-Centre.
A 18 wheeler pulls in behind the STs, I stand in the passenger door and quiz the
driver where the radar traps are.
We get back on the road in our customary formation. Phil in front. I
am use to it and like it that way.We roll into Sudbury, and look for some where
to eat. We find a Swiss Chalet and are quickly seated. We get
outstanding service from a waitress named Shelly. I am served the biggest
hamburger in the world. I can't come close to eating all of it. I go
to bar to use the phone and a nice hostess lets me use the house phone, instead
of the pay phone.
Let me say this now, the Canadian people are the nicest, most accommodating
people I have ever come in contact with. Everywhere we went, strangers had
a genuine interest in us, and wanted to hear our story. They treated us
with kindness and respect. They offered their condolences to us about
Sept. 11. Whenever they spotted the flag on my right shoulder, they would
wave.
I paid for my lunch with my card, letting Visa sort out the exchange rate. I
left Shelly a 3 dollar tip American.
We left Sudbury and settled in for the long scoot to Toronto.
The weekend coming up is a major holiday in Canada. Thanksgiving.
Riding south I noticed a line of traffic and RVs heading north for the
holiday. It got thicker and thicker, the farther south we rode.
The ride south on 69 is uneventful. Just more great scenery.
It is 4pm when 69 turns into a interstate 4 lane highway. We ride along at
the speed limit when a truck goes by us at 90mph. Here we go-a rabbit at
last. We fall in behind him and take off. Soon, I find myself on 90mph and
still losing ground to this guy. Man this guy is flying. A Few miles
later I am at 100mph trying to keep him in sight. How fast is this in
kilometers? 200? Finally the concentration of running at 100 is too much,
and I let the truck go.
We come down off the highway at a small town called Waverly for gas. A
lady strikes up a conversation with us. The nice lady wishes us a safe
trip.
We have a 7pm destination in Toronto with fellow ST riders and BBS
members. We have motel arrangements waiting for us there.
We enter the Toronto suburbs at dusk. Its a madhouse.
Entering Toronto we recheck our directions to the motel. It begins to
drizzle. We find the road we are looking for, but its a dead end. We
find ourselves in a Asian community and stop for directions. A smartly
dressed Vietnamese gentleman is standing on the curb, he steps back when we pull
up. When he sees we are harmless he steps forward. He calls the
motel for us and secures directions. We are less then 3 minutes
away. The blocked road is indeed the road we want, but it is not
finished. We thank our helper, and soon find ourselves idling up to the
motel lobby.
We spot the figure of a man with a cane, and immediately I know its Rob from the
BBS. He greets us warmly and escorts us in the motel. He won't let
us pay for anything. What a host. We get our stuff unloaded and
catch up on things.
We finished the day with 489 miles.
Our accommodations are first class, and I talk to Rob about many things.
Rob briefs us on supper and leaves us to shower and get ready. We are
booked in suite with all the extras.
I tell Phil-
"gonna be hard to get back in a tent after this brother"
"tell me about it"
I misunderstand the directions about our ride to the restaurant. "You mean
I was suppose to call y'all when we were ready?" Opppps.
Rob picks us up and takes us to the Chinese restaurant a short distance
away. Here we meet the rest of the Toronto contingent. Mark and
Carrie, Les, Michael(Maxpower) and Theresa.
They quickly make us feel comfortable. We have great conversation and
great food. I ate squid, fried rice, pepper steak, and stuff Rob said not
to ask about. I got a futile chop stick lesson, and resorted to a fork.
I quiz Rob about Spock from the ST BBS. He assures me his real.
It was a great end to a great day. Good riding, good friends. Does
not get any better.
Rob delivers us back to the motel about 11pm and we crawl in bed, looking
forward to the ride to Mark and Carrie's the next day.
 
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