1756 kilometres of Northern Ontario

I have done a lot of driving in a week. This time last week, I was driving south from Flin Flon, Manitoba. And now I am writing to you from the north shore of Lake Huron (where I managed to find a public library in the small town of Thessalon to park in front of and “borrow” the wireless connection to post this).

According to my map, my odometre and my calculations, 1289 kms from Kenora to Thessalon - plus another 467 to the cottage near Peterborough. I originally planned to race through this wilderness. But I decided, after my first 8-hour stretch from Kenora to Thunder Bay, that it was probably worth more to my own sanity and physical well-being – not to mention the spirit of this journey – if I slow down and appreciate it along the way.

I'm glad that I took that initial 8-hour stretch in one go, though. If you thought you'd be bored driving across the prairies... try Kenora-Thunder Bay.

One thing I noticed along that 8-hour way was roadkill, in three forms ranging from big to huge, and from expected to... well, not. Up until now, I've seen porcupines, squirrels, birds, racoons, skunks and gophers, to name a few. But along this stretch, about 2 hours into the drive,I passed a deer, a not-so-unusual animal to find dead along any stretch of highway across Canada. So, sad, yes, but not strange.

A couple of hours later, I was wrenched out of my driving pasttime of practicing and admiring my own singing abilities – which I think are developing, although when I turn the music down and actually hear my own voice without the benefit of the harmony, I realise the truth and quickly turn the music back up – when a shocking smudge of black caught the corner of my eye to the left. Luckily this stretch of highway isn't very busy so there was plenty of chance for me to slow down and take a glance as I drifted by a dead black bear. I kid you not. In all my years having grown up in Alberta and travelling through it and BC, I've seen a few bears along the side of the road. But each one of them has been alive. This poor guy was laying sprawled out on the shoulder of the road, tummy down, arms splayed like a kid sleeping, head first toward the road, tongue hanging out. Very dead. It shocked me, and bothered me, and for the next several hours I kept wondering “How does anyone hit a bear along the side of the road??”

I started writing a story in an attempt to answer that question later that night.

The last roadkill was even bigger and more elusive, but not at all unexpected. A moose. I saw his butt with his legs fallen forward into the ditch a few hours later. All along the northern Ontario highway there are signs that claim “Moose on the Loose” and “Night Danger” (I plan to do an entire blog dedicated to road signs one day soon; there are some crazy ones out there), all with an odd mix of artistic and official renderings of Canada's giant to warn drivers of the possibilities of hitting one. They should include the deer and bear on the warnings.
That was only the stretch from Kenora to Thunder Bay.

I camped out at Kakabeka Falls, just outside of Thunder Bay (which is, btw, an ugly little city on the northern shore of Lake Superior; I didn't stay long). The day I pulled in it was about all I could do to make a dinner for myself and read a bit before I fell asleep. The next morning, however, I revelled in my freedom from the steering wheel and worked the kinks out of my sore driver's butt by riding around the area on Betty for about 40 kms up and down hills. And, to top off my Northern Ontarian wildlife adventure, as I was cycling somewhere around kilometre 25, just about to head into an 8% incline, the distinct form of a black bear ran across the highway just breaths ahead of me. Three more turns of the pedal and we might have looked each other in the eyes. As quickly as he was there, he had disappeared again, into the neverending greenery along the side of the road.

Good to know that (s)he, at least, had managed to cross the highway and stay alive.

Just outside of Thunder Bay I found yet another monument to Terry Fox. Its at the spot on the Trans Canada where he was forced to stop his run from St. John's. I don't know what it is about that boy's journey but I get choked up about it everytime I see a statue or monument in Canada retelling his story. Its just so damned moving. Yeesh, what a geek. I'm sure I'll see it again in Newfoundland where he began.

My next stop was not too far away, but with a gorgeous view of the northern shore of Lake Superior.Ｉparked the Jamboree into a spot that faced out onto the gigantic lake head first and with nothing but a few metres between us and the beach. The night brought on the most awesome thunder and lightning storm I've seen yet this summer all across Canada, and I sat in the driver's seat, because it had the best view, with a glass of wine in my hand and watched. The power went out a few times but was quickly restored; I just made sure I didn't use much electricity that night.

In the morning the storm had cleared, and I lingered on the beach to drink my coffee and read for a while before setting off again. Into more and more road; kilometre after kilometre of 90kms/hr and everyone passing me and the Jamboree because we go so slow; and don't even mention the trees.

Hello, does anyone live around here?? Apparently not. Not many, anyway. I can tell ya, after all this time out there in the boonies – both prairie and northern Ontarian – I'm ready for a bit of civilization.

Alas, not yet. Too many more kilometres to go yet.

There were three more very interesting things that I stopped for amidst all that continuously stunning wilderness (and really, take all this with tongue-in-cheek, I have had so many breathless moments reaching for and aiming my camera out of the Jamboree's bug-stained windshield in order to capture the naturally beautiful scenery that I am, once again - sigh – witnessing while rambling down the road).

The first was the birth place of Winnie the Pooh. I love that bear. Anyway, apparently he was a cute little black bear cub – a real, live one – that a Canadian soldier stationed in the back-of-beyond in northern Ontario, a place called White River, bought from a trapper who came from even further afield back in the early 1900s. This leutnenant was sent to France in World War I and before he left, he ensured that his beloved pet bear, “Winnie” - a shortened version of the moniker for his hometown Winnipeg – was in the good hands of the London (Ontario, not UK) zoo. That's where AA Milne visited with his son, Christopher Robin, who also fell in love with this apparently exceptionally cute little guy, and, well, I think you know the rest.

I do still wonder about the origins of the likes of Tigger and Eyore. And the “Pooh” part of the name.

Anyway.

Disney has their claws in, and there's a cute little themepark for kids to play in when you drive through this dot on the map in this otherwise middle-of-nowhere stretch of Ontario.

I then spent a night in a place called Wawa with a giant statue of a Canadian goose overlooking the campsite. Wawa means “wild goose” in Ojibway, so I guess the goose makes sense.

It's as if the humour gods planned a bit of fun along this very, very long stretch of road just to break it up a little bit. I mean, one can only take so many hours on end of trees, no matter how naturally beautiful it all is.

The last interesting thing I'll tell you about is the Ojibway Agawa rock drawings I found in the Lake Superior Provincial Park yesterday. They are drawings made of red ochre estimated between 200-400 years old on a 90 degree angle ledge of rock leading directly from a cliff into Lake Superior. They face out to the water, of course, so the adventure lies in getting to a place where you can see them.

Some people kayak or canoe by. I would rather have done that. But, seeing as I was without either, nor in the know with a local kayaking club to take me out on the water, I settled for parking the Jamboree in the parking lot and walking out to it.

There are a lot of signs along the way telling to you be careful when the weather is shitty. Waves might kill you. Luckily for me, it was a calm, sunny summer day, and so walking wasn't an issue. I walked out on the rock, barefoot as they recommended (and which felt really great), I'd like to think intrepidly on my own, but, alas, surrounded by tourists from all across Canada and the northern States (we are only a stone's throw, albeit across a very large body of water, from Michigan from here).

At least I got one of those like-minded intrepid travellers (uh-huh) to take a picture of me on the rock. Like I'm being brave or something.

I'm telling you, I had no idea driving across Ontario would take so bloody long. I've been here five days, I've been driving every day (although, admittedly, I haven't been pushing it exactly) and I'm barely halfway there yet.

And there's yet so much more fun to be had in this province.

Here's a link to the pictures from Ontario so far:

Northern Ontario