Chapter
4
Brainerd-Rally-Brainerd
We departed, Marve's odometer read 51,521. By 7:32 AM we'd arrived in Tamarack, a little over half-way to Duluth, (this on MN Hwy# 210). Gas'n eat. By 10:10 AM we were at the Army Corps of Engineer's Museum, located on the lock-like seaway that gives the ore ships access to Superior Wisconsin. Pat and I had visited here two years previous, a museum that's well worth doing. The ore boats are sometimes over 1000' in length...and they call them boats!
Marve
e/r Tamarack
Army Corps of Engineers Museum Ore Ship's Channel into Superior WS
It was 11:21 when we rolled into the parking lot for Betty's Pies just outside Two Harbors. You would have thought it was 'free pie day', they were doing a land-office business, one I suspect was fueled by the post church service crowd, it being Sunday'n all. It was here that we saw our first 'rally -bound' fellow BMW riders.
Stretched here, having noted
the beauty as we passed over the bridge.
We stretched and tried to snooze at the historical trading fort at Grand Portage - but without success. We crossed into Canada here but not before Marve bought a carton'o smokes and some candy at the Duty-Free Shop. I'd told him about Canadian pricing on smokes and liquor and urged his action. The duty-free shop has to run the cigarettes right up to the boarder where they;re passed-off to the purchaser in the 'no-man's land' between the customs buildings. I was carrying a full 5th of whisky, decanted into a plastic bottle which is kept in the cooler. I brought a sufficient quantity of pipe tobacco to last me the month, this in two different places on the motorcycle.
We queued-up for Canadian Customs, several BMW motorcyclists were ahead of us with other vehicles in between. I had my passport in my luggage, but buried the San Francisco Police patch I keep under the clear plastic of the map case (atop my gas tank pack). On a previous entry to Canada I was 'tossed' and I suspect they didn't believe me then when I said I was unarmed - I didn't choose to unnecessarily risk being 'tossed' again.
Harumph! They didn't even ask to see photo ID! Was I carrying liquor? (Yes!), Was I carrying smoking tobacco? (Yes!) Why was I entering Canada, where was I going? This was answered and I was waved through. They spent less time with Marve. I suspect that some poor soul on a BMW motorcycle is going to pull-up during the week and not say 'Trenton' when asked his destination and he's gonna get 'tossed' because it's the unexpected answer.
We rolled through Thunder Bay and ate at a road-house/hotel well out of town, a place called McKennzie River. Marve advanced me funds as the banks were closed and I had no Canadian currency. We got into a discussion about Thunder Bay when I told Marve it used to be Port Arthur. Marve said, No! That it used to be Fort William, he was just sure of it! Well, we asked the waitress. She was too young and innocent to know the community by any other name than Thunder Bay but she did involve some 'elders' and we were told that we were both right. Old Port Arthur and Fort Williams combined to form a new city, Thunder Bay in what was believed to be the late 60's.
Where or where were we going to camp? My map showed Sleeping Giant Provincial Park on a peninsula that formed the north 'arm' of Thunder Bay. We were told that that was the place; that it was just a few kilometers off the main route. Few! Hah! Try 40 KM one-way! (24 miles) We got a spot and Marve wanted to use his tent - why not? Well, in setting-up we used my ground-cloth and in doing so inadvertently covered two of Marve's poles. We had enough to set the tent up but Marve was upset with himself. I told him I thought I'd seen those poles earlier, but we couldn't find them. They were 'ridge-tips' and the tent would work without them. A fellow came buy and introduced himself (Steve Wright), his father was going to the rally and he was an old-time rider himself, but now engaged in raising a brood of young girls.
Sleeping
Giant Camp - Marve's tent without the ridge 'pole-tips'
Morning
after - parked expecting rain - only got 'spit'.
Tom provided-us with coffee and a couple of spare poles the following morning. However, the accepted poles were soon returned upon our finding the missing poles folded into the ground cloth. We'd gotten up at 7:30 AM and left the campground at 9:00 AM. My motor's starter seemed a tad weak but it fired right off! I thought nothing of it at the time. I gassed-up at a cost of $11.01 CN ($7.16 US).
Our next community and hope of bank and breakfast was is Nipegon and we found both in this pretty, little, old community, practically right next door to one another. The ATM gives me Canadian and we eat, do postcards. Marve gets some payment from me. It's time to hit the road. Whoa! Nothing with my machine but a healthy starter 'click'. Headlights nice'n bright, bendix just clicks away, but no starter motor response. Oh fecal matter!
We unload the machine and push to start, finally getting it going (never a hill when you need one!). Load-up. I head for the post office leaving my motor running. It costs $65. CN to mail a first class letter or postcard to the US. I buy stamps, five books of 5 ea. stamps.
Our route left Canadian Highway 17 at Nipigoen, we were planned for Hwy. #11 across the upper interior of Ontario Province. Note that Ontario is a huge piece of sparsely populated real estate, it's about twice the size of Texas. Our route passes many beautiful and seemingly untouched wooded lakes with little wooded islands. We took breaks along the way where we had the advantage of a hill upon which to re-start my motor. We paused in Geralton for a stretch and got involved with a Canadian pipe smoker. We were all interested in this unusually shaped 4-story building across the street. Marve learned that it was a gold mine and the building had recently undergone restoration as a community project.
We opted for an early shut-down that day so as to pry-into the innards of my motorcycle in the hope of finding a simple explanation for the loss of the starter. We did so in Longlac where we got a very nice motel (Four Winds Motor Lodge) at a cost of $77. CN ($50. US), this with a restaurant built-in. We unpacked, rested-up and let my motor cool in the shade. Later, returning to the motorcycle we stripped-off the gas tank and starter motor cover in our quest for the obvious. We broke an in-line fuel filter in this process and Marve dashed off to get a replacement. This motorcycle is new enough to be a 'California version' with a lot of smog piping that gets in the way, but we could reach the starter motor connections. They were solid. The battery? I had a hydrometer with me and the battery measured full-charge in each'n every cell. During this time the dismounted gas tank was bumped and rolled-over on the concrete, ruining what had been a nice paint job. Oh well! We next pulled the front engine cover to check the starter motor's power supply from there and again found nothing obvious. Seems one can't even find something wrong when one wants to!
We reassembled everything, connecting the gas line, new filter et al.
I told Marve that from here until the Rally (where I was sure a starter could be obtained), we're only going to eat at places with names like 'Lillie's on the Grade' and the 'Top'o the Hill Cafe'. We retired for the day and I spoke with Pat twice. I was told she'd written Doc Walt Drescher now twice and had heard from Gary Ackerman. Marve'n I had a nice big dinner there in the motel, the bill showing two different taxes. Afterwards, we took a long walk around the town and called it at day.
07/09/02 Started early, these ranchers can't, or won't, sleep-in - it was 6:10 AM.
Pack-up, do coffee and then try'n start the motor, we pushed'n clutch-popped to no avail. I took-out a $20. CN bill and flagged down a motorist. He tried my idea briefly before borrowing a rope from a friend's parked vehicle and eventually got me started. We went straight away for gas, leaving my engine running of course.
It was going to be a long day's ride. We gassed and breakfasted in Hearst, a town where on entering I spotted a hardware store and made a bee-line to the ropes'n twine. Bought 50' of three-cord polypropylene rope, soon dubbed 'the starter'. Comfortable with the knowledge we could always get started, we slowed down a bit.
We stretched in Kapuskasing on a shaded side road. It was here that I noticed that one of the bolts holding my rack had sheared and the additional strain was pulling the weld apart on the opposite side. Oh boy! What else can go wrong, I thought.
Marve had some synthetic twine used to roll hay-bales and we tied the connections together, fitment for one side, extra strength for the other.
We took a break at an Esso Gas Station that was also the local Ford Dealer, this in Val Gagne. There was a Canadian-made 11.5' camper on an almost new Ford truck that Marve was enamored with, we stayed a good hour. We stretched and mailed cards in Engelhart and rode-on . We made it all the way to the Finlayson Provincial Park in Temagami for the night. Our campsite was just 1000' from a Chinese Restaurant - yummy! It was a 438 mile day per Marve's odometer. We enjoyed cigars and cocktails back at camp after Chinese 'beans'. My ass was sore! My rear shock had died earlier-on, and now, with no rebound-dampening at all, I was riding a galloping goose.
Finlayson
Park Campsite (my tent) Power Cord
from m/c.
7/10/01 We were ready for the road at 7:25 AM and perfected our starting routine - not be design mind you. We got started'n all, but after putting the starter rope away yours truly, killed it! Aargh! We breakfasted in Tildlen Lake, bought liquor in Trout Creek, ice and gas in Dwight, and lunch'n banking in Minden. We cleared the latter at 2:05 PM. Marve'n I were each instructed by our significant 'others' to bring home some Tylonol with Codine, something you can buy from under the counter, from the Pharmacist. I bought mine, 100 tablet count and reminded Marve of his admonition to 'buy'. I'm talking with a local next-door merchant, a gallery owner, about Minden (a seemingly popular retirement settlement) when Marve walks-out and says he got it! Then, with a big grin, says he paid $13. CN less than I did. What!, I exclaimed. Marve got a different clerk and after saying what he wanted, she offered him the generic equivalent. Smart move...it hadn't occurred to me.
Regarding Canadian liquor, all 'Canadian Whisky' (Seagram's et al, are all rye whiskies), there is one that's head'n shoulders above the rest, Alberta Springs. It's about $22.00 CN ($14.30 US) for a fifth, but s-m-o-o-t-h! Real sippin stuff....
We reached the shores of Lake Ontario at the picturesque old town of Port Hope at 4:48 PM, this after our first 'wrong-turn/missed turn'. (We'd planned on Hwy. #7 East out of Peterbourough but found ourselves headed straight down for the lake shore.) Pat would like this country, it's covered in 'antique stores'. A nice 'beanery' was found on main street, Stippy's, where I had my first Canadian beer this trip.
Downtown Port Hope, both photos taken from same place
We were now VERY close to the Rally site at Trenton, just up the shore about 100 KM (60-65 miles). We rode out of town staying off the 401 Freeway, this on Hwy. #2, a quaint route through pastoral farmlands and quaint villages. By 6:05 PM we were ensconced in a former KOA campground in Coborg. This is the nicest facility of its type I'd stayed in. Tent sites were along a creek on a cut-grass strip maybe 60' wide - completely obscured from any other campground facilities. And damn few bugs too! Marve told me we only rolled-out 310 miles for the day. I'll drink to that! The bad news? Well, somewhere along in here Marve strains his groin, but doesn't tell me about it until AFTER were in the Motel in Belleville the next day. (These farm boys must eat bullets like popcorn!)
Campsite at Coberg, along the river - both photos from same
place
07/11/01 The first 'open day' at the Rally didn't start well. Seems that somehow, between taking my glasses off the night before, and reaching for them this morning, a bow had been broken. Well, with the helmet on, the glasses stayed in place - just something else that went SUD (French for 'South'). (You see a lot of bilingual road signs in this country, after all we were getting closer to Quebec, the 'French' province.) We were on the tow-rope at 0838.
We stopped in the town of Colbourn for coffee and pastry, parking on a slope next to a church built in 1830. Beautiful structure, an historical plaque explained the building's history and refinements over the years. We arrived at the Rally at 10:30 that morning. No, to my surprise I had NOT pre-registered. So $47. CN later I got to make a bee-line for the repair facility. This facility turned out to be a fancy custom-built 5th wheel trailer outfitted with a motorcycle lift, ramp parts bins etc. etc. Two mechanics were already busy doing fork seals and such, one working under the awning. I quickly learned that they had no starters with them (four in the shop in Utah - yeah, great help!). We later pushed my motorcycle through a 'zoo' of parked and arriving rally-goers, but only after Marve's picked his tent site and pitched. We needed to have room to 'start' and in that atmosphere, not easy to do. We were soon off to find the motel into which I'd pre-registered - this in Belleville, about 18 KM further up the lake shore. We arrived in town and sought-out North Front Street. The city fathers had done us dirty as we found Front Street straight away, rode its' length and never found 'North'. Well, we eventually found that the two streets are miles apart and not otherwise 'connected'- damn dirty trick I say!
Things didn't get easier at the motel either. First off the registration clerk couldn't find my reservation, even though I had a copy of same on their letter-head in my hand. He eventually found it in the computer, explaining that it had not been printed-out as per procedure. Next, the room wasn't then available. So, it was off to the coffee shop for a real breakfast. When we eventually got to the room I whipped-out the phone card and the Anonymous Book listings for Canadian Dealers, and started calling to locate a starter motor.
The old-time BMW Motorcycle Dealer is McBride Motors in Toronto, I get to speak with the Service Manager, Peter. I was told that I am considerably closer to the Canadian Importer, who's also a dealer, a firm located in Whitby. He explains that their parts (McBride's), come from Whitby. He supplies a telephone number. I call and the girl who answered shunts me into the service department's voice mail. I leave a clear message of my predicament, the importance of a prompt return call, etc. I've now used-up the minutes on my phone card (obtained from the US. Post Office[1]); Marve, God bless'em, lends me his.
I never heard from the Canadian Importer - all staff at the Rally? Likely! (I waited two hours.) Called the Canadian Importer again, now it's about 2:30 PM on a Thursday and the whole plant is then on 'voice mail'. I was fit to be tied. I call-back to McBride and get Peter, the Service manager again. He promises to search for a used unit and will call-back either way. He did call back. He's got a used unit for $300. CN (a new one is $560 CN), and could I be 'in', in the morning? You bet! In the interim Marve takes advantage of my shower and I'm shown a half-grapefruit-sized bulge on the inside of his left thigh. Ouch! How'd you do that Marve? (He wouldn't tell me then and I don't think it'll happen today either!).
Having noticed an eye-glass place across the street from the motel, Hakim Optical, I walk my busted glasses over. East Indian sales clerk asks if I can leave them and she'll try to find a serviceable bow - they're open 9 AM until 7 PM. I go 'glassless'.
Later, Marve gets me started and we ride-off to the Rally. Things are looking-up! We arrive, deposit our raffle tickets and split-up for a couple hours. While touring the out-door vendor area a 'tiny tornado' descended out of nowhere, without warning, and decimated two vendor tents. They were uprooted, sticks holding banners snapped and small light objects 'shot into the sky'. Many people got down on their hands'n knees to pick-up signs and products to return them to the respective merchants but some of that stuff was going to land miles away. I'd never seen anything quite like it. You didn't hear the wind, just the destruction of those things contacted.
I always enjoy the old restorations - there were some nice
ones.
There were some old'n unusual motorcycles parked around the rally grounds, Mars, Adler and MV were all spotted/photographed. Marve'n I later got our picture taken (my camera), going through the start-up procedure as we headed back to the motel. Upon our arrival there I went straight across the street, it was a minute'er two after 7PM but they were open. The salesgirl fetches my glasses, now sporting two bows that don't match, but it isn't apparent. No charge says she! Something was starting to go 'right'. At the motel there was a note on my door from Scott Brooks, a BMW enthusiast who races sidecars. Steve is a soon-to-be police lieutenant from the greater New Bedford Massachusetts area (No. Dartmouth PD as I recall). He's in the room next door, one I'd originally reserved last year and later gave-up when I learned Pat was not going to accompany me to this rally. Scott was met on the Internet when making ' sidecar inquiries'; he was currently traveling with two companions and arrived a day early. I later learned that they'd paused to 'play' with back-roads in Vermont. They were very impressed with Vermont as a road-rider's playground but still arrived a day early.
MV (Italian )
1953 Adler
(German) 1948 Victoria
Aero (German)
Marve with BMW Issetta ('58) Saches powered/reverse fork
I'd nailed-down a 'dinner-house' recommendation from the desk clerk - it was within walking distance and the lot of us (5 total) walked to dinner. Well, four walked, Marve 'hobbled'. It was a great meal...I wound-up eating here each'n every night!
Marve'n I both called home after dinner (his phone card mind you..). Marve had had trouble 'connecting' with his wife who was off'n playing with girlfriends or relatives each day we were gone, tonight he connected. When I called Pat I learned of the 'great flood' at St. Andrew's - backed-up plumbing, flooded pre-school area etc. etc.
07/12/02, better known as the 'wasted-day'. Marve got me up at 7:00 AM and got me started toward Toronto and McBride Motors, one of the longest single 'sittings' in my motorcycling career. It's 'rush-hour' and I have nearly 200 KM to ride without shut-down as my 'starter motor' is going to the Rally - I'm on my own. My ride into and through Toronto is instructional, and it's hot. Even at 7 AM I'm in shirtsleeves so the heat adds to the experience.
The Canadians have some damn good ideas for traffic control, only one of which was disconcerting. Rather than give you a left turn 'green-arrow', you get a regular green light that 'flashes' and when 'steady-green' you have to yield to on-coming traffic - no red-light as here at home. As you enter the greater Toronto area the four-lane freeway becomes six lanes or more, the left lanes being 'expressway' with a barrier inserted for merging freeway traffic. The road signs tell you what off-ramps are accessible for the 'non-expressway' lanes so you know when to move-off the express lanes and get into the 'slower freeway' traffic that's clogged with on-ramp/off-ramp traffic flow. This idea made sense to me.
Another ingenious idea was the use of very large chevrons that covered the whole lane - used where tight freeway turns existed. Signs proclaimed that you must have two chevrons visible on the pavement between you and the vehicle in front. This slowed traffic where and when it was needed and I can only assume reduced rear-end accidents significantly.
I arrived at McBride Motors just after 11 AM. McBride Motors is in an older section of town, all the buildings being brick. I leave the motor and walk a block'er two to a sandwich shop for breakfast and do some postcards. The latter had to be done with the ball-point pen in my Swiss Army knife as my 'regular' died. Hard to write with, that little pen.
Mc Bride's BMW Showroom McBride's Buildings Brands X,Y
and Z
Back at the shop I learn that contrary to prior ascertations, they don't have a used starter motor; that their source supposedly has them all sold to rally-goes. And, I'm told nobody has seen a starter motor quite like mine, a California oddity? Do I believe any/all this? No. But not to worry, they've rushed my starter over to be re-built. I might point-out here that this starter is not the long-time BMW standby made by the German company, Bosch but the newer European supplier Valero, a starter of Spanish or Italian origin. These units have a history of the epoxy letting-go, the ones that hold the magnets in place...horror stories about these units abound.
Own a Saturn? They use the same starter with a different ring-gear.
The day is spent helping McBride
staff take-down a tent awning and helping to un-crate and set-up new Honda,
Kawasaki and Susuki motorcycles.
And that folks, is McBrides' problem. Yes, they sell BMW.
BMW even has its very-own showroom and sales staff but because McBride
sells so few BMW's in relationship to total units moved, they keep little or no
parts inventory. The Canadian
importer and their requirements/expectations are not those of the American
importer. The dealers have a
'network' for parts sharing and I was told that there wasn't a starter motor to
be had in the whole damn Province, new or used. It's almost 6: PM when my starter comes back to the shop -
bad armature, can't be fixed I'm told.
So, the same bum starter I rolled-in with is re-installed and the
mechanics push to get the motor started and I roll-out for Belliville again.
It's 7:43 PM and I take a break in a commuter railway station that has a parking lot with a hill that could be seen from the freeway. Thank you Lord! Wished I'd known this 'spot' existed that morning. It's 9:05 PM when I arrived back at the motel, tired, frustrated and hungry. I was the last customer at the steak house that night. It truly was a 'wasted-day' for I was no better off than when I arose and $83. CN poorer, one-hour labor is all they charged me.
Marve was spending the night in his tent at the rally.
7/13/02 Saturday, the 'big day at the Rally'. Marve showed-up early, he wasn't feeling all that 'chipper', he headed for the shower and opted to stay in the motel and rest, legs-up! He suggested that I call his dealer in Monticello MN (suburban Minneapolis) and have them order-in a starter motor as Marve could get me running each'n every day until I got there. It was a plan that made sense. I called 'Jim' the parts man at Moon Motors from the motel room. He said to call him back Monday, that he'll set-about to order-in the starter. Deal!
Marve invited me to take his motorcycle (a K-75, water-cooled, triple cylinder model) and go visit the rally. Accepted! I was gone for several hours. I returned to the motel and after a brief respite Marve'n I boarded his motorcycle and returned to the Rally. It was Marve's first stint in his pillion seat and he was decidedly NOT impressed.
We hooked-up with our motel room-mates at the Rally and together we all attended the awards ceremony together. There were 6582 announced attendees with 3387 BMW motorcycles packing 4589 riders. 318 female riders attended.
I suspect that this was our first, and last BMWMOA National to be held in Canada. The 30th Annual National Rally's attendance was way down and there were relatively few vendors and nobody selling used bits compared to years past. Canadian Customs and their regulations are suspect. It certainly wasn't the setting. The Rally grounds were more'n ample with some of the best camping areas I've seen short of the State Fairgrounds in Du Quoin Illinois. We were missing at least 2000 additional attendees ( based on announced past years attendances).
Award Ceremonies at grass-covered amphitheater
Marve'n I grabbed a night-cap at the bar across from the motel on arriving 'home' as it were.
7/14/02 Check-out'n pay-up time. We were on the road at 8:30 AM, our motel being on the road we wanted. We gassed in Limerick Lake and breakfasted in Bancroft. Highway #62, our highway, is a bright red-line on my map- running right out of Belleville with that red line goring right straight up the map at the entrance to Algonquin Provincial Park. That statement is true! Except maybe for the part where Highway #62 makes a turn and becomes black line on the map as it turns east. You guessed it, I followed #62 and realized my error after about 20 KM. Ergo, we saw about 60 KM of real estate that wasn't in the 'agreed general plan'. The other half of the 'red line' was marked '127', a detail I missed. Oh well! 'My route' took us to Barry's Bay. We stretched at Carson lake and entered the mentioned Provincial Park at 11:52 AM, stretched in the park at 12:43 PM.
It's about 3:40 PM on a road numbered '518' that gets all curvy, etc. and Marve 'wakes-up'. Whoa Marve, Whoa! We take a break, I walk back and get a waterfall picture and walk back to the bike to find Marve hiding in the woods to stay cool.
Water
fall walked back-to
We shut-down Sunday night at Grundy Lake Provincial Park where we met two other rally-goers from the Chicago Region at check-in. We compared notes. They told us that there used to be a BMW dealer in Sudbury who was advertising old-stock BMW parts - that he might have a starter motor. They didn't have a dealer's name, but that's a 'hot-tip'. It's now about 6:25 PM and we were all set-up'n ready for cocktails at our campsite by 7:06 PM. By 7:07 PM we were feeding the mosquitoes in earnest. And, had Earnest been there, we would've gladly fed him to the mosquitoes instead! We'd covered 311 miles during the course of the day.
Grundy
Lake Campsite
Lake
from back of Campsite
07/15/02 Groan! Farm boys! Up at 0550 hours, showered, packed and ready to start at 0705. We arrive in Sudbury at 8:10 AM and gas. We inquire for a phone book and note a couple names and phone numbers, it being too early to call just yet. The gas station/convenience store manager tells us that he thought the Harley Dealer used to carry BMW's and gives us directions, easy to follow too! We ride out to the Harley Dealer's shop and find that they're not open just yet, that the place covers a whole block. The dealer does business under the name, 'The Shop". We were spoken to by a fellow coming-out a side door and learned that he was Eric Kanerva, 3rd generation shop owner. Yes, they used to be a BMW dealer, yes, still had some parts and we'd have to check inside with his parts people to know if a starter motor could be had. Would we like coffee? (Talk about dumb questions...Marve NEEDS coffee in the morning...).
We get coffee, introduced to parts people (huge facility), no, no starter motor. Sure, sell me some 20-50 weight motor oil while I'm here. (Gezzz! It's official 'Harley Oil', what'll the boys back home think....) However, when you get away from the West Coast, finding 20-50 motor oil can be very difficult...need to remember that every Harley Dealer stocks it. No, it's not worth $4.49 CN/quart, but when you can't get
20-50 what's a rider to do?
We were given a guided tour of the whole facility. The Shop started business selling snow mobiles, having built their own crude machines in the late 1920's. They are a Polaris Dealer and have spun-off a next-door operation that manufactures snow-trail grooming machines. One of their buildings held consignment equipment, a huge structure and around the base, on shelves three-high, was a collection of very old snow mobiles. You could look at the age and see the developments that were being made, one manufacturer to another.
Our host gave us a restaurant recommendation. We rode off to breakfast, a truck stop about 25 KM down the road.
At the truck stop I used the phone (one at each table) and my new phone card data (supplied by Pat), to call Jim at Moon Motors. Jim told me the part was on order and in-stock from his supplier; that he'd have it no later'n Wednesday. He asked that I hold the line for the service manager. I was connected and briefed the Service Manager Brian on my predicament, location etc. and was told to come-in Thursday AM, that he'd fit me in. Needless to say, I said "THANK YOU!" It was a good breakfast. We were ready to roll at 10:28 and I used a knoll'n ditch off the parking lot to start.
Marve'n I rode around the North Shore and upon arrival at Iron Bridge pulled into the Iron Bridge Motel. On my retirement ride in '98 Pat'n I spent two days at this motel, one run by the Parker family. Mr. Parker, a construction worker by day befriended me and when he heard my lament about not having my canoe with me, loaded-up one of his canoes into his truck and drove us about 6-8 miles up the Mississaga river to a dam's after bay. He took our photo and pushed us 'off' to paddle down river and back to the motel. We started before dusk and arrived in the dead of night. It was for us one of the most memorable experiences of that trip. I re-introduced myself to Mrs. Parker and told her of this and asked if for $20. US, we couldn't do the same thing. She was surprised and amused. Sure! She got her van, backed it up near the canoe, chased-down paddles, cushions and rope. Marve'n I loaded the canoe, tied it down on the van's luggage rack and were ready to go. Mrs. Parker contacted her son who came over and drove us up river. Marve was particularly interested in learning how the Canadians allow the native Indians to fish off the reservations and in any manner they please.
Parker's
Motel - Iron Bridge - Canoe being tied-down
We were pushed-off and on our way. Rather than being the slow-moving placid waters Pat'n I experienced, today we had more'n faster moving water. Pat and I got ourselves stuck on a sandbar, and experience we profitted from this trip. Marve'n I got into some really shallow water but corrected soon enough so as to not get stuck.
Marve was impressed with the experience, the clarity of the water and the like. Away from ducks, we saw no other wild life, nor did we hear Beaver as Pat'n I had.
Bwana Marve - River Guide The 'Pusher'
Crossed back into the USA at Sault Ste. Marie but not before missing a turn and getting lost in an industrial area. US. Customs welcomed us back without a hitch. We started across the 'U.P.' (Upper Peninsula - a separated part of Michigan) on MI. #28. We arrived in Munising at 8:10 PM, this at their city-run campground. Called Pat - she was pissed-off! Seems she'd been expecting my call hours earlier and delayed her plans. In spite of the time taken with the canoe, et al. we'd covered 373 miles for the day. It was extremely humid.
Munising
City's Campground
07/16/02 Marve has me up at 6:40 AM and we're on the road by 7:00 AM. We gassed at an Indian casino, 'Pair-a-Dice' and had breakfast in Harvey, just south of Marquette. The 'UP' is sparsely populated, lots of piney woods and meadows. We crossed into Wisconsin (now of US Hwy. #2) and at Brule stopped for gas and a stretch. I kept the engine running and Marve, motioning to this lake in front of us, surrounded by a park with benches and shelters everywhere said we'd break "..right over there". I finished gassing (used the credit card), rode the 100 yards into this park and parked at the top of the highest slope I could find. I shut down and started to pack my pipe when I looked-up to see Marve out on the main highway and riding around to the other side of the lake. Huh? He said, 'right over there'. Well I'm really stiff'n sore, he'll be back, I think to myself. Couple minutes latter I spot Marve across the lake, he's coming back! I walked to the shore and started to wave, he's coming my way...but wait, he pulls off a couple hundred yards before he gets to me, turns around and rides back the other way. Marve! What are you doing to me!
Well, no Marve, no starter! Sure hope this slope's enough. Turn-on the key, find 3rd gear, pull in the clutch and waddle down the hill for additional speed. I popped the clutch and the motorcycle bucked'n snorted and just as I was running out of slope, 'caught fire'. Marve's gotta be here so I rode around the lake slowly looking at the convenience store parking lots, restaurant lots, shady-spots etc. etc. Nothing! Well, we are both destined for his place and were scheduled to arrive back this very afternoon. I'd resigned myself to riding on to Brainerd alone - just looking for slopes'n hills. I'm coming into Wentworth, about 8 miles from Brule when what do I see coming the other way, good ol' Marve. I hadn't been abandoned after all! Turns out that when he gestured 'right over there', he was thinking in terms of the other side of the lake, not seeing the park facilities located just beyond the gas station..and not knowing they existed, never came back to the station itself.
We'd picked-up and hour earlier in the day ant it was 2:50 PM when we took a break on MN #210 at Sawyer, having just ridden through Superior Wisconsin and it's 'twin city', Duluth, MN., this via a new and architecturally attractive curved bridge. We'd yet to see any game since having left Minnesota but now, since we were back, I was vigilant. It was 6:07 PM when we arrived back at Marve's, this after having first visited a liquor store to replenish supplies. I had previously introduced Carol to Bea Stuart's favorite beverage, Fetzer Vineyards' Gwertztraminer, it was a big hit and I brought-in another bottle. Upon arrival I learned we'd covered 434 miles for the day. Marve did the figures. It was 1314 miles his place to Trenton and 1129 miles, Trenton to Brainerd (2443 R/T). These were the only mileage figures I have for the whole trip, save the first two tankfuls.