I unhitched my bag from the passenger seat and carry it in
to the cabin. For $80 I get a two bedroom cabin with bathroom, not recently
updated, but well maintained, clean bright and neat. The only downside is an air-conditioning
unit that will give a Go Train diesel locomotive a run for its money on the noise
making front and when set to the lowest power and on the cusp of producing hot
air, pours out a stream of frigid air that turns the hot humid room to the
inside of an igloo in seconds. Later on I solve this by sleeping in the second
bedroom and leave the door open just a teeny bit, enough to defeat the clammy
warmth and moderate the noise sufficient to get a good night’s rest. But that is
still in the future, I unpack my bag, shower and dress in clean, if very creased
clothes.
The Cabin
A word about the bag. I have discovered that despite the apparent
look of spaciousness of the saddle bags, they actually don’t carry very much
and are impractical as luggage - I don’t fancy to have to carry my delicates
(ha, ha, I love that word) and other bits, from the bike, in my hands. I bought
this square, faux leather and nylon little number from Royal Distributors in
Innisfil, for about $100. It can fit on your passenger seat, or luggage rack,
probably on your rear mudguard or hang off a sissy bar, and despite its small
size seems to accommodate a huge amount of stuff. It’s amazing, like the horn
of plenty, but in reverse. It comes with these really cool straps that work
with Velcro… so easy, loop around a convenient bar, pull tight and push the two
sides together and the Velcro grips and hold. Brilliant, sometimes technology really
does comes through.
Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, I pour myself a small Scotch
from a bottle bought at a shop, designated a “party shop” at
one of my rest stops along the way. I cool
it with ice from the fridge thoughtfully put there by the proprietor, and relax
outside, have a small party for one. That is something I do like about the
US (and Quebec), none of this LCBO bullshit, the evil liquor is available for
sale where ever and whenever you want and a bit of competition keeps the price
of this vice within reach of your average Joe.
The sun is still high in the sky even though it is almost 7
p.m. and it’s hot. I grab my camera, douse myself in insect repellant and take
a walk to the beach. This is a very real beach with acres of yellow sand, girls
in bikinis catching the last of the sun, someone paragliding, people swimming
and life guards. Beach front homes to the right of the public beach where some
affluent looking kids are putting a pile of logs together in preparation for a
bonfire, this could be Florida or California or Cape Town (except of course in
four months’ time it will be bloody freezing here.) I take some pictures and
sit on the beach and stare out over the lake. What it is with people and a
piece of water, funny isn’t it, it draws us like a magnet. Eventually the
emptiness in my stomach overcomes the attraction of the lake and I walk to the Riverside
Roadhouse recommended by the hostess at the motel. http://www.riversideroadhousecaseville.com/
Real Beach Stuff
Her faith was not misplaced, I had a well prepared meal of
shrimp followed by a Portobello mushroom sandwich and a few pints of a local
beer in a convivial atmosphere. Finally I waddled back to my cabin at the
Rainbow Motel, day three blues dispelled, and fall into a deep dreamless sleep,
the Go train diesel loco in the next room didn’t bother me at all.
Day four. I hit the road early, plan to breakfast in Port
Austin, there is a long ride ahead. I am toying with the idea of making it all
the way home.
After breakfast the
road moves inland again, but I settle in quickly and enjoy the ride. I feel
good, in control, which of course is a little bit of a fallacy. I have learned
that when you ride a bike things can change from great to pretty bloody awful in
the space of milliseconds. An oncoming car drifting into your lane, driven by
an asshole texting on a cell phone, for instance…last year I had just such an underpants
soiling moment. Even an indecisive squirrel can cause a serious problem or a
sharp object deflating a tire. Let’s face it, an incident that likely would
only be an inconvenience if you were in a car can be fatal on a motorcycle. Of
course I don’t dwell on this for long, perhaps it’s the danger that adds to the
intensity of the experience. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with us, our ancient
ancestors lived on the edge every moment of everyday, and we miss that in our
safe suburban little lives. We evolved to thrive on danger and adrenaline, now
we play video games, golf and corporate politics or pop pills…or if we are lucky
we get to ride motorcycles, ski or skydive, you get what I’m saying? Anyway I love riding this machine, but there
are moments when my inexperience makes me just want to cringe in embarrassment,
sometimes embarrassed by the danger I put myself in.
There are two things in particular that for some reason I constantly
screw-up. Firstly not cancelling the indicator after a turn. Now I want to pose
this question to Suzuki - really you couldn’t add $150 to the price and automate
that? You know that a dead motorcyclist is not the sort of motorcyclist that buys
your new model. It is the single biggest complaint I have about the Boulevard
and seriously might get me to buy a different brand next time that actually has
this fairly rudimentary feature. Come guys if this were a British bike I could
understand, but you make cars that virtually park themselves, a little automatic indicator cancel feature
should be standard. The second thing is sooo stupid, I have practiced this and
tried to drive it into my head from the beginning, but still I screw up. Coming
to a complete stop before putting the bike into 1stgear. I have
tried to cross busy intersections, from an uphill start, in fifth gear, for goodness sake… just
awful, really bloody awful.
The road swings closer to the lake, and its forest on my
right, lake on the left, it’s clear and bright and the sun bounces off the
water. The forest has changed character from predominantly conifer to mostly deciduous
- maples, ashes and oaks… here and there I spot a few leaves starting to turn
colour, but I pretend not to notice, the fall is not something I feel like
contemplating right now.
My mood is good, my ass is holding up better than on
other days, even my throttle hand is good, I wish this would go on forever. But
of course it doesn’t, forest turns to parking lot and lake to Walmart, Sarnia
arrives without warning. I take the motorway and cross the bridge into Canada, “Your
majesty, your faithful, humble servant has returned.”
I could make it to Newmarket before dark, it would be a hard
ride on mostly 400 series motorways, but that’s not the decider. I’m just not
ready to end the ride. I leave Highway 402 by way of County Road 27 and then
onto County Road 7 or Lakeshore Road – North East to Sauble beach – going home will
be stuff of tomorrow.
