Day 10: Rossport to Two Harbors—and then home! (By Shannon)

We stepped in the door of home sweet home around 7 p.m. after 577 miles, and driving through rain and accidents on I-35. We got to Two Harbors at 2:30, had lunch, and decided just to drive straight through to home, which we thought would only take a few hours.

Laurence as he arrived at home

The ride was somewhat uneventful until we reached the U.S. border patrol near Thunder Bay. As usual, Laurence and I were pulled aside, so they could ask Laurence a number of questions because of his green card and resident alien status. We’re used to it. After about 15 minutes, he came out smiling—so I knew we were not considered a terrorist danger, at least this time.

In Two Harbors, we like to stop and have a meal at Vanilla Bean Bakery, and I had been looking forward to a cappuccino for some time. Vanilla Bean makes the best cappuccino in northern Minnesota. I guarantee it. I could have had two waiting for my meal to arrive.

Gimme a break! You’d have hair like that after riding that many miles too!

I ordered a cranberry turkey sandwich with chips, and the waitress delivered the sandwich with a plate of fruit. I like fruit, but I was looking forward to some salty chips, so I told her of the error. A minute later, another waitress appeared and reached to grabbed the fruit off my plate. “The cook said I would have to charge you for the fruit, so here are some chips and I’ll take the fruit back,” she said. I looked at her in disbelief. “You want me to give you back this fruit, that you and I have both handled? Really?” She started taking the grapes off my plate, and I just stared at her. “That’s just rude.” She stopped and said I was right and went to tell the cook. What were they going to do with the handled fruit? It was their mistake? That was odd.

After finishing our meals, the guy next to us began to inquire about our ride. Turns out he, Dave, owns a BMW F650 CS, and I have the GS version.

One thing I noticed is the amount of people who will approach us to inquire about our bikes, where we are from, and where we are going. It’s a great way to start a conversation with people.

After lunch, after a lot of iffing and awing, Laurence and I decided to head home—even though we were told the B&B would still charge us.

The ride was eventful, to say the least. A typical two-hour drive turned into a 3.5-hour fiasco.

At one point, we were going 30 miles an hour on a jam-packed Interstate 35. My hand ached from shifting between gears so often, and I was cold from the light mist and rain. It’s probably a good thing we were going to slow because I get nervous in that type of weather. Later, I learned Laurence loved that bit, where we were stuck in traffic, which is most unusual considering he gets road rage all the time.

I was hoping to get home in time to pick up our dog from the kennel, but it wasn’t until 7:30 when I stepped off my bike, for at least a few days. I’m sure we’ll be back on in no time at all.

 
You are taking a photo of what?

Near Thunder Bay, Minnesota and looking out at Lake Superior

Near Thunder Bay, Minnesota and looking out at Lake Superior

The V-Strom on holiday

Day 9: Sault Ste. Marie to Rossport, a hidden treasure (By Shannon)

By 4:30 p.m., when we finally arrived at Rossport, I was shivering. It had rained off and on during the day—which by the way was one of the most beautiful rides during our entire trip—and the last 7 km from Schreiber to Rossport were undeniably the most torturous of the day’s ride. I felt like crying, until we pulled off the road into the hidden community of Rossport, Ontario.

Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Let’s keep Rossport a secret, so only we can travel there on occasion, to get away from it all and enjoy this treasure. This town is like a picture book, a picture of a small New England community near the sea. Every house faces Lake Superior and the islands and bay that surround the town. There are only about 150 or so residents here, and some, like the owner of the Rossport Inn, only live here late spring through fall. There are sailboats on the bay, lush gardens, cottages, only a few small restaurants.

I took off my helmet, which took me a few minutes longer because I could not feel my hands, and Laurence and I walked into the Rossport Inn, which looks like an old-English pub from the outside.

I stepped in the door and a woman approached me, smiling, “Here, you look so cold. Let me warm your hands.” She held them, rubbed them to her warm, gentle hands, soothing me, and at that moment, I felt I needed nothing more in life-I could die a happy woman. “You wait here, and I’m going to put on some fresh coffee to warm you up,” and she and her smile disappeared into the back kitchen.

Random acts of kindness: Her random act affects me today as much as it did when she held my hands. How often does a stranger go out of the way to show kindness, in such a simple way? It reminds me of when I did the Montana AIDS Vaccine Ride on my bicycle six years ago.

The AIDS Ride was and still is the most challenging act I’ve ever done in my life. I had to raise almost $3,000 and train for riding through Montana almost 600 miles in seven days. It was 6:00 a.m. on day four, and we were getting lined up to start the day’s ride; they wouldn’t let us start for another 15 minutes. The day before had been particularly difficult for my friend LaNora and me, so much so we had taken the SAG bus after 77 miles in 90-degree heat we could no longer do the last 15 miles into camp (this is the only day we sagged out). My hands ached, and I stood there that morning, waiting in line rubbing my hands. A woman walked over to me, took off my gloves, and started rubbing my hands. I cried not only because it felt so good on my aching hands, but also because she didn’t know me and yet took time to do this. She was a massage therapist by trade, and she said I looked like I could use some help.

A simple act of kindness travels miles, and miles, and miles-all the way to Rossport Inn.

Billy Joe is her name. She brought us fresh coffee, sugar and cream and stood to chat with us in the lobby, always smiling and giggling. She lives five miles outside of Rossport, and used to work as an accountant until she had kids. They are all grown now, so she helps out Ned with the Rossport Inn from May to October (they close the doors for the winter). And, the town has many stories about the boat that sank there back in the early 1900s, and it still sits more than 300 miles below the surface of the lake. “We lost two divers to that boat,” said Billy Joe as she showed us pictures and news clippings hung on the wall.

Our two-room cottage was quaint and warm, like home. It was nothing special, but it, like Billy Joe, was comforting. We probably would have had our best night’s sleep if not for the train that literally passes right outside the front, (four times on the night we stayed there). While laying in bed, we could look out the front window at the bay, sailboats and islands.

We had dinner at the Inn’s restaurant: fresh trout rubbed with almond and garlic, fresh steamed vegetables and wild rice. Everything, including the tartar sauce, was made fresh. We gorged, even drinking two bottles of wine and splitting a big piece of homemade blueberry pie with ice cream. The food was excellent!

The next morning, as we dropped off the keys, and got on our bikes, Billy Joe waved us good-bye.

Shannon and yet another semi at a rest stop about 50 km from Rossport.
Canker sore Shannon developed from all the semi stress! Almost to Rossport.

 

Cabin 10, our warm little sanctuary

Out our front window, see the train tracks.

Trying to warm up!

Day 8: Serenity now–jellybeans and a mechanic shop (By Shannon)

“You watch Seinfeld,” asked Andy, a customer service repairman. Of course I do, all the time I told him as he scrolled through our blog; Richard, the other customer service repairman, sat at his desk behind us. “Well, when you pass those semi trucks you should say serenity now.”

Andy, checking the blog

Serenity now. Serenity now. I’ll start saying it now and perhaps it will help us get back on our way-all the way to Sault Ste. Marie (293 km). 

Laurence and I are here in the customer service section of the The Shop, a Harley Davidson repair shop, located just outside Sudbury in Lively, Ontario. It’s definitely “lively” in here with locals coming in to get repairs, telling jokes, “It’s a free for all in the mechanic shop,” said Richard.

Before leaving, Pete from the Artisan Guest House helped Laurence locate some local bike repair shops in case we could find a new chain for his bike. This is the only one that had the chain he needed, and we thought even if they can’t get it in to be repaired, we at least would have a new chain, in case the other one came off in some rural location (Pete also wanted us to stop and see Sudbury’s claim to fame, the world’s largest nickel).

World’s largest nickel in Sudbury, Ontario.

It’s 11:40, and the chain is already on the bike. When we got here, another guy helped get Laurence’s bike in the shop early. They weren’t sure if they could get to it before lunch, but they obviously have been able to do it. Until then, we are hanging out with the guys.

The room smells of oil and exhaust, the walls are filled with posters of Harley Davidsons, Certificate of Mechanic Qualifications, a calendar with a hot biker babe on a Harley, and the ever-present-in-a-mechanic-shop candy dispensers.

There are always filled candy dispensers in a mechanic’s shop, and I wonder: Who eats this stuff? How long have those jellybeans and barbeque peanuts been sitting in those dispensers absorbing the smells, the dust, and all the other grime in a shop. A shop and food go together like Bloomingdales and beer.

Laurence is in the shop with Richard and the mechanic. I knew he couldn’t keep from going in there to watch what the mechanic is doing, perhaps learn something more about the bike, and check out all the other bikes. He’s drawn to mechanic shops, loves the smells, grease, sounds, chatter; he beams.

Got a quarter? Laurence would probably like some of those jellybeans.

Laurence in the shop with Richard.

Snake and Mike from Sudbury. These two characters walked in as I was typing this posting, and they requested I take their photo, so they can be famous on our blog. By the way, they are both Mikes; to tell each other apart, one guy calls himself Snake.

Day 8: Sudbury to Sault Ste. Marie—stuck in the shop (by Laurence)

I love my bikes, I really do, almost as much as I love my wife and kids, but I am sitting here in the service department of The Shop—Sudbury’s Harley dealership waiting to have the chain replaced. I think the longest trip I did on a motorcycle (other than the Isle of Man) was to visit my then girlfriend in Dumfries Scotland. It was about 200 miles. The journey home hadn’t lasted long; I was just getting out of town when a clanking noise from down below had me pull over. The source of offending rattle was located—the chain was just about to snap! The connecting link had broken, the reason why they don’t have those chains anymore.

So now, 12 years later I sit here waiting! As much as I love my current bike, I think at some point in the distant future I will be looking for a new bike, only the next one will be either shaft or belt drive. But for now, I am happy to be with my chain driven V-strom. I had called a member of dealerships last night trying to locate a chain; the only place that had one in stock was where I find myself updating this blog—the Shop, a Harley dealership. They informed me they had the chain and put me through to the service department where I was told I would have to wait three weeks!

We located the Shop on the way out of town, and I would just like to use this space to say thanks to the parts guy (who’s name I never got) for his knowledge, patience, and ability to move me up a full three weeks in the service schedule. “They can get you in, but maybe not until just after lunch.” It was 10 am. Bit of a no brainer really—yes, get us in. Well, we were out of there and on our way by noon with a brand new chain, and happy in the knowledge that my bike would now finish the trip-chain problem free. And we were thoroughly entertained by the staff and customers to boot!

If you guys at the shop actually end up reading this, please pass on my appreciation to Richard in service, and the parts guy that located my chain-I would dearly love to see your pictures of the IOM and Donington.

Later that night, after we arrived in Sault Ste. Marie, we took a boat tour of the locks.

Laurence helps out a moose in the Sault Ste. Marie bay area.

Day 7: Niagara-on-the-Lake to Sudbury (By Laurence)

Well I did it! I cursed the bikes! After giving you an update yesterday on the state of the bikes, and how well behaved they have been, mine decided to let me know that all is not as well as first appeared!After returning from a visit to the falls last night I gave the bikes the usual once over, and it was then I noticed the state of the chain on my bike; it had stretched-again. It resembles more of an elastic band than a heavy duty O-ring chain. There should be 1.2 inches of movement up and down. What alarmed me the most was the 2.5 inches of travel side to side!

Options were very limited at this point as it was about 10 at night! What to do?

I didn’t sleep much last night; worry about the chain was ever present on my mind, to the point that it dictated my dreams. What should I do? What if it breaks, falls off, and leaves us stranded in the middle of nowhere, or worse still on a busy interstate of a busy city?

All was going well, and we were making good time doing about 75 mph on the QEW during rush hour, when all of a sudden a strange noise happens, and I lost all power! Kirk to engine room, “We need more power”, I cannea do it captain, I JUST CANNEA DO IT!

In these situations, it seems like the same thing happens; many different thoughts and scenarios race through your mind in the eons of time that pass-about 0.0003 nano seconds! I quickly pull in the clutch and try to communicate to the leader of the pack-Shannon-that she needs to pull over-quick!

She did, and as we both managed to stop on an exit ramp, that fortunately wasn’t too busy. My thoughts turned to what was wrong, and more importantly, how I was going to fix it. It turned out the chain had fallen off! All it required was to loosen the back wheel, get the chain back on the sprocket, set the tension and be on our way. It seemed like the whole episode took about five minutes; Shannon informs me it was more like fifteen!

It worked. It got us to our destination without any further mishaps, but I am still stuck with a chain that has stretched to being about one link too many. I just located a new chain at a local dealer-at the third attempt, but they informed me they will add me to the waiting list-about three weeks long-before they can put it on. The dealership is on our way out of town tomorrow so we will pick up the chain and take our chances to Sault Ste Marie with the old one-for now!

Day 7: Hierarchy of Shannon’s Need (By Shannon)

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. I revert to the simple psychological theory I learned in 9th grade. It’s a pyramid, and our basic needs start with food, shelter and water. Next, I believe is the need for socialization, and it works its way to the top, small triangle shaped part of the pyramid: self actualization. In my textbook, I remember the author used Martin Luther King as an example of someone who has met all his other needs, and could then focus on self actualization, for example.

Today, my needs were at the basic level, the first stage of needs-the need to get off my bike. I’m not certain Maslow considered this need when he wrote his theory, but I’m taking the liberty of adding it, and I give my permission to any upcoming textbook author to use me as an example of someone who hasn’t met their basic needs.

It was 5:29 a.m. when I woke up, and 5:30 when the alarm went off. I barely slept last night, and apparently neither did Laurence. I’m not sure if I was nervous about our long ride, including the ride through Toronto commuter traffic, that made me so restless or the fact that once again it was so damn quiet. I did listen to Madonna’s Ray of Light album on my iPod last night though, which helped (great album).

By 6:30 a.m. we were on our way, and ready for Toronto’s morning rush. Laurence, bless him, had planned a path leading us around the QEW because he knew how nervous I was the day prior when I was passing semis. And, yes, I was nervous, but not enough to want to add another hour to our anticipated seven-hour ride, and believe it or not, the QEW was not nearly as busy or hectic-until Laurence’s chain fell off.

Nothing is worse than being stuck on the side of a major interstate while your spouse is fixing the chain on the bike. I kept having visions of some idiot hitting us on the side lane, but I busied myself with taking video and photos, and trying to amuse Laurence.

 

Now, we are sitting on the couch in our room at the Artisian B&B in Sudbury, the window is open and rain is pouring down. And, I think: Nothing would be worse than being out on the roads in this downpour.

It’s been a day of riding on an interstate, going 70-75 miles per hour (120 km, or about 30 km over the speed limit), and pushing to get here before dusk. The area is beautiful, reminds me of the Big Horn mountains, where I grew up, just as you drive over the top near Bear Lodge: pine trees, fresh air, cool breezes, creeks (prounounced Cr-ICKS, if you live in Wyoming), and logging trucks. Yes, lots of truck.

I have a low tolerance level for trucks. Have you noticed? This may sound redundant, but… Nothing is worse than passing a semitruck, on a curvy road, with 20 cars behind you, and two lanes of traffic coming at you on the left side. Yes, I participated in this special-type of event today. “I hate this. I f*^king hate this. This blows. I hate you,” was what I screamed in my helmet, and I tried to get past this particular gas truck. I sped up. He sped up. I was going 80. He was going 80, miles per hour, not kilometers. Cars were irrirated behind me, as they tailgated Laurence-who patiently waited for me to get past the truck. I admit it. I almost cried on this one. Almost.

Shannon and her friends, semis.

The rain has stopped now. The fresh, just-rained-out smell is wafting through the front window, and Laurence is watching Seinfeld on the telly, “Hee. Heee,” he giggles.

We are both so tired, we haven’t even ventured out of the room-which is fantastic by the way. The owner, Pete, built everything from the bed to the trim to the armoire in the wall of our room; it’s a gorgeous place.

Because we were so tired, and it was raining out, Pete made us burgers on the grill. We met his three charming children, too, all aspiring to be the next NBA champs-which makes me miss my darling teenage babes, Caleb and Haydn (Call or e-mail, please. I miss you. xoxoxoxo).

Later I plan to write about the differences between all of the places we’ve stayed, but I want to stay this; when you travel, if you want to get the full-flavor of a city, town or village, stay in a B&B. Each and every place we stayed has offered us something we’ve never experienced and never would have if we had stayed in a generic, out-of-the-box hotel like Days Inn. Stay in B&Bs.

And, now I believe I’ve moved up the first Maslow level to socialization: had food, some rest, and have shelter. “Laurence, time to turn off the telly.”

This is a photo of Laurence at Tim Hortons. Tim Hortons is Canada’s main fast food chain, which everyone seems to love! It’s like a cross between Subway and Krispy Creme. ”Oh, yes the cottage is on the street, just past Tim Hortons.” Or on Canada Day, one woman said, “Oh, Tim Hortons will be open.” Or another person said, “Oooh, there’s a Tim Hortons there.” We stopped there on our way to Sudbury today, and yes, it was damn good.

NOTE: To all

Until the last two days, we’ve not had Internet access, and I apologize for not updating the blog. I made sure to call Mom, and let her know, I had NOT been blown off the road by semis.We’ve been using our one-hour Internet allowance per day here at the Niagara-on-the-Lake public library, and have had to rush to get everything online. I’m not sure how often we can update the blog after we leave, but we’ll do our best.

Day 6: Niagara, Ontario—Gardener’s delight (By Shan)

When I first moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota, I was awestruck by the differences in how locals care for their yards or gardens. Minnesotans take pride in their gardens, but not nearly as much as Canadians-or at least those who live in the province of Ontario.I find myself getting lost in the gardens nearby our cottage: hosta, roses, hydrangeas, spirea, daisies, astilbe, climbing roses, flox, varieties of evergreen and groundcovers. Don’t quote me, but based on what they use here, we share the same growing zone: Zone 4. I use many of these same plants and shrubs in my garden, but it isn’t nearly as creative and well placed as those I’ve seen while here.

As we rode the 25-minute drive in the rain from our cottage in Niagara-on-the-Lake to Niagara Falls, I had the opportunity to sit on the V-Strom behind Laurence and indulge in the views-wineries, vineyards, mansions and parks. Each and every location was landscaped with well-manicured gardens, gardens engulfing the yard, barely any grass to be seen. Even the ends of the vineyards were decorated with climbing roses, winding up the ends of the ties, between the grape vines.

I was mesmerized by the gardens more than the view of the Niagara River, both in riding there and back. I can’t wait to get home and work on mine.

Day 6: Independence Day indeed (Shan)

Today is Independence Day, July 4, but it is also our independence day from riding our motorcycles. We are spending a full day at the Willow Cottage before our 350-mile trek to Sudbury.Last night, while trying to fall asleep, I realized just how used to living in the city, and the noise, I have become. It was completely quiet in this neighborhood, so much so, I could hear nothing other than my breathing and Laurence’s snoring. I needed some noise, and I considered using my iPod before I finally fell asleep.

So far, we’ve had a casual day. I made cinnamon rolls and coffee this morning, while Laurence finally wrote his blog. I did two loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, took a bath in the Jacuzzi tub (note: be careful adding shampoo to a Jacuzzi tub! I had piles of bubbles falling over the edges, before I finally figured out I had to turn off the jets-panic!). I curled my hair, put on make-up and actual regular clothes-not motorcycle gear. I almost felt normal, but then it began raining just as we decided to drive to Niagara Falls-and nothing is normal about motorcycle raingear.

We put on our yellow rain bottoms, boots, jackets and helmets and suited up for our wet, 25-minute drive to Niagara Falls from the cottage. What a beautiful drive!

The Falls are amazing, truly magnificent, nature at its best. There’s what seems a stranded ship, stuck at the top, just before the drop over. Because we’ve not done the tourist Maid of the Mist tourist boat rides, I have no history or factual information to add to this-only observational notes. Is it a folly, simply built to make us wonder or was that boat actually stranded there? I wondered who would be there when it finally became unlatched from the rocks and went over the falls for all to see.

Laurence and I walked up and down the path in our helmets and gear, quite a spectacle I’m sure. I’m surprised foreigners weren’t taking photos. I felt ridiculous, but at least I was dry, or somewhat dry.

My boots, rain pants and helmet kept me dry, but my motorcycling jacket and gloves were soaked. I still have black stains on my hands from the dye in the leather, but Laurence assured me this won’t happen in the future, the dye wears off.

We are now dry and cozy here in the cottage after having bacon buddies, or toast with bacon and butter, that Laurence made for lunch (He does love bacon buddies, almost as much as fish and chips with mushy peas, but still not nearly as much as Heinz baked beans). He’s cleaning up the kitchen. The dryer is on, filled with our jacket liners, socks and gloves. Josh Groban is on the radio. And, as I look out the window from the dining room, I believe it seems to have stopped raining.

What’s next? We may try and ride out to Niagara Falls for the fireworks show tonight, or we may just sit here and relax in the cottage. Remember, it’s Independence Day, and we can do whatever we want-no miles to ride, no route to follow-at least not until tomorrow morning.

Information about the bikes as of day 6, by Laurence

I don’t want to write about how good the bikes have been and curse them with bad luck, but I know there are some readers out there interested in this ‘technical’ stuff.No problems whatsoever so far. All I have had to do is adjust the chain tension on the V-strom, and lube both bikes’ chains-a lot! Oil levels are good, and should be as I changed the oil and filters on both bikes just before we left.

My bike is carrying all the weight; I have both side cases and a top box. The side cases hold our clothing and are quite heavy. The top box however doesn’t have too much in it; the laptop, cameras, some tools and the water proofs, and is the heaviest! So what is usually a big heavy bike is an even bigger and heavier bike. I can’t get it on the center stand by myself when it is fully loaded! SHANNON, SHANNON!

The new tank bag is working like a charm. It is magnetic, but as ninety percent of my tank is plastic, the magnets don’t work too well. That’s why I chose this product; it has d-rings and bungies that connect to my crash bars-perfect. I also installed a throttle rest, a small plastic thingy that goes on the right handlebar. It rotates one way, but not the other. It serves as a hand rest and cruise control. It’s the best ten dorra I have ever spent, I love it.

Not sure what the gas mileage is, I am not that pedantic, both bikes though are averaging about 200 miles a tank using 89 or 91 octane gas. We could only get 87 the other day in the back of beyond, so I bought some octane booster. My bike pings with lower octane fuel, and we do seem to get better mileage with higher-octane fuel.

Finally, I put a sheepskin seat cover on our bikes. Shannon didn’t like hers and took it off. I kept mine on, and I have to say, I am glad I did. It feels much better than just the seat alone, and although it’s difficult to say if it had been better without it, it feels like it is making a big difference on the longer rides.