Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 6 Wawa was draped in a thick, soupy fog when Coop and I crossed the highway, and gassed at a small local gas station. We will join forces for the ride to Sault St. Marie, there, he will turn west for Wisconsin, and I will go south to Toronto and New York. The atmosphere reminded me of those old fashioned horror movies I use to go see on Saturday mornings. In the days before computer tricks, scary movies depended on dialog and direction for thrills. The fog shrouded streets of Wawa reminded me of a London soundstage from the Wolfman sagas. The fog was so thick I almost missed a stop sign on the way out town. At last we were on Highway 17 and charging south. The fog was really thick, and we kept our speed down. I can't write about the scenery because I saw so little of it. The treeline on the shoulder was barley visible. My PIAAs picked a really bad time to fade out. Without them, I knew my visibility to approaching cars was really greatly reduced. I never needed them on a trip as bad as I did on this one. The fog was persistent, and hung with us way too long. We came through a few gaps, but not many. I caught a few glimpses of Lake Superior, and the water looked like it was covered in smoke. We took the right lane and allowed a couple of mini vans to pass on the truck lane. We can't see, and we have less room for error than they do. Fifteen klics north of Montreal River, the fog lifted and we reeled in the 2 mini vans. The vans were clipping along well above the speed limit, so we gave them the appropriate distance, and fell in behind. If they feel good about risking a ticket, then I won't argue, I'll just freeload. Together, I called us the "coalition of the speeding." Soon we were back in the Soo, and in a gas mart for a break. We said our good byes and promised to stay in touch. In a few minutes Coop was back in the saddle, on his way home. That joker and I saw a lot of awesome country this summer.
My early plan was to ferry over to the Bruce Peninsula, but I am pushed and won't have enough time to work it in. Today is a gas and go day south, and I am not really enjoying it. I went in the store and bought a bag of chips and a Dew. I tried to use the last of my Canadian currency. I was almost out of money, but couldn't use the stores ATM. I didn't want to get stuck holding Canadian money when I get south of the border. It doesn't spend in Alabama. I still had 6 dollars I needed to unload. I finished my break and followed 17 east out of the Soo. I came this way in 2001 with Uncle Phil. It was fall then, and the surrounding area was covered in orange, red and yellow leaves. Traffic was bed, and it was getting warmer, but I really wouldn't call it hot. Just warmer then Wawa. A long construction zone blockaded me, and I shut the ST down for a lengthy wait. One lane was closed and everyone was forced to filter over. It took 30 minutes to clear it, but soon after, I saw the first of 3 major thunderstorms on the horizon. I overtook a BMW oilhead with a sidecar. It was black, and had one of those oval country stickers stuck on the rear. I believe it was BEL or BGM. Would that be Belgium? The passenger in the side car, was a motionless mannequin. I think she was thinking about the rain ahead. The eastern clouds were dark and hanging low, and the wind began to pick up as I overtook the storm. I decided to ride through it, waiting it out would only delay things. I did not have time to wait for this system to blow off to the coast. I stopped for lunch in a small local cafe, in a city I can't remember (my notes got wet, and became unreadable). The place was crowded, and only 1 waitress was on duty. She did the best she could, so I remained patient. Fortunately, I was ahead of the main crowd and got my hamburger in a reasonable amount of time. The BMW saw my bike in the parking lot and pulled in. That seems to happen a lot. One rider sees the other, and many times that is the deciding factor on where to eat. Their riding gear was caked in dried mud, and their boots were old with broken straps. They looked like they just came off the Baja.
Lunch was over, time to get moving. By my figures, if I can get to Buffalo, I will have less then 400 miles to do tomorrow. In fact, I might even be able to get off interstates tomorrow, and relieve myself of these tedious interstate freeways, if I can make the border. My burger was less then half digested when the rain slammed me. It washed over me in a fierce tidal wave. I slowed up and pushed on. A big truck hit a low spot and splashed me, causing water to seep through the Roadcrafter's main zipper. It was really hard to see, but I kept going and came out of it, to meet partly cloudy skies a few miles later. In Sudbury, I took Highway 69 south and traffic picked up. Always fearful of the OPP, I kept the ST reigned in. I passed cars when I could, but mostly I behaved. The houses along 69 were in summer mode. I saw folks painting trim work and cutting grass. I waved at a lady painting a lawn chair when I came through Estaire. This route is the main connecting road for Northern Ontario, and the Toronto area. Big trucks, RVs, and busses flowed along the road in infinite streams. I could feel the stares of bored passengers as I moved out and passed a big bus. Twenty clicks north of Parry Sound, more rain found me. The gray clouds turned black. I braced up, and like before, kept going. This time it swept me side to side. For 10 miles the rain slapped me around, but I made it. When I broke out of it, I celebrated with a butt break and gas up. I checked the rain cover on the Moto Fizz for leaks, and found everything ok. I secured a table and snacked on a candy bar and Dew. I also took this time to check voice mail. Afternoon was coming on when I finished my break. I was on schedule and don't see a problem getting south of the border before dark. This trip has been nothing like the west coast tour 2 months ago. I feel way too rushed, and there are no long run outs to lonely towns. Welcome to the east. I can't ever recall a ride just to get somewhere, and the dose I'm getting today, reinforces my dislike of such riding. All day I've been dreading the freeway systems of Toronto. They are crowded and chaotic, one of the worse I've ever been in. The asphalt jungle of the area looms, with roads such as the 400, 410, 407 and the QEW. Pick your poison. So many roads with similar numbers, easy to make a wrong turn with no easy way to correct it. I think they do that on purpose. The massive volume of traffic this system moves almost rivals the Bay Area and Atlanta, but what makes this system so much more difficult is how confining it is. Highway 69 turns to the 400. Traffic is a nightmare. I am coming through right at rush hour. To top off, the dark clouds of another storm are lurking ahead. I take the far left lane, and and pick up the pace. I keep my eyes on my mirrors, and focus on the traffic ahead. Traffic can suddenly back up on a freeway like this, and at this speed you have to be focused far down the road. Use your "soft" vision on the vehicle immediately in front of you, while you look ahead to the 4th or 5th car. Bringing the bike down in a panic stop from 80 mph is not fun. The storm ahead reminds me every bit of the mid west storm I battled 2 years ago. On that morning I was on a lonely prairie road, today, just the opposite. This is a gut check storm, it is BIG, windy, with lightening and rush hour traffic thrown in for good measure. Like I said, I pride myself on making good decisions, always erring on the side of caution, so I can't explain why I did not hole up. Continuing on in such conditions was not the smartest thing I've ever done, but I did it. I paid for it handsomely. I hit the front wall of the squall, and was quickly sent reeling. The raindrops were so big I couldn't see a damn thing. The brake lights on the millions of cars ahead of me lit up, as drivers are suddenly blinded, the white out rain makes it difficult to judge distance so I close the throttle down. My contingency plan is to take the shoulder or lane split if I find traffic stopped in front of me. I am not going to trust the guy behind me to see me in this storm. I try to keep a safe zone in front of me, but everytime I open a gap to the vehicle ahead, some joker jumps in it. I've never been in a harder rain. I'm trying to follow the signs south to the QEW, while at the same time keeping a eye on the wet surface. It was very unnerving. My hands were tight on the grips. If my wife knew I was doing this she would be pissed. Several times, cars just take my space, and I have no choice but to give it to them. The rain punishes me all the way to Hamilton, where it finally lets up. The sun begins to poke through and I relax. It was helluva ride. I should have never undertook it. The Roadcrafter kept me reasonably dry, but water managed to get in the normal spots, but all and all it did a good job. I motor pass the urban sprawl this area is famous for. I will spend the night on this side of the border, taking advantage of the exchange rate. A few miles is not going to make any difference the next day. My enthusiasm was quickly dashed as ANOTHER storm brewed ahead. What the hell? The light flashes tell me this storm could be as bad as the one I just came through. With rain drops splattering the windscreen I take the first Catherine exit. That's it, I can't take another one. It is almost dark, and I'm just not up to it. I was beat down, and ready to get off the road. I work my way down the service roads to the Super 8, with 610 miles on the odometer. The ST comes to a stop under the lobby canopy and I go in. This place is a little fancy for a Long Rider, but that's ok, I might take advantage of the indoor pool. A young lady behind the desk greets me- "tough ride today?" "baby if you only knew, what's the best rate ya got for a wet Long Rider?" "80 Canadian?" "noway sweetie, call the boss and ask him if y'all will take 40 AMERICAN". I don't have any cash and can't play that card this time. She comes back and says, "he said for you 45 American tax included" "deal" as I hand her my checkcard. The place was less then half full and I sweet talked the lady into a ground floor room. I threw my stuff into room 114 and peeled off the still damp Roadcrafter. I dialed up the AC. "Dang bunch of Eskimos musta slept in here last night." I think to myself. It was every bit of 50 degrees in the room. After I showered I took a walk across the street to a yuppie kind of place of supper. The hostess escorted me to a table by the tv, at my request. I gave the young lady my order for roast beef and potatoes. After I placed my order, 3 folks in the booth behind me asked where I was from. Even more then my bike, my accent seems to generate the most conversation, especially in the north. At first, I was kind of embarrassed about it, and tried to limit my exposures with the locals, but by now I accept I stick out in this part of the world, and just learn to deal with it. I know not take any comments personally. I finished my meal with a nice French pastry, total bill 17.90 CDN. I had about 6 bucks of CDN cash, and wondered what to do with it. As always, I paid the tab with my Visa check card, letting the bank sort the exchange. I wasn't going to be able the use the CDN back home so I left the waitress a 6 dollar tip. I'm sure she can find some good use for it. When supper was over I went back to the motel. I stopped in the lobby for a paper but the rack was empty. I commented to the clerk. "dang baby, the rack is empty" "here, you can have mine, everyone has read it" "awwwwww y'all are so good to me up here. I reckon I need to move up here someday" Back at the room, I made a few phone calls and watched TV. The rest of the ride home will be easy, no long days are on schedule, a good feeling. I fell asleep about 11, looking forward to meeting family the next day.
Next: Niagara Falls, and south to Philly
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