Planes, Trains and Motorcycles

This trip wasn’t really planned, until yesterday I hadn’t even thought about riding, other than maybe a snatched few hours if the weather played ball. It’s been that sort of week, head down and deal with the brown stuff as it comes my way. Yesterday afternoon I lifted my head up and noticed that the weather forecast was looking rather good for the weekend. These weekends with nice weather at this time of year are little gifts bestowed by the gods of weather to the gods of motorbikes, and are ignored at your peril, pissing these celestial beings off can result in constant rain until it starts to snow in November. At any rate that is my story and I will stand by it, which is why I am setting out for a weekend numb-bum shortly before noon on a truly glorious fall day. My original thought had been to leave home at the fart-of-sparrow, but there has been a niggling job that had to be done sooner or later and to my credit I decide to do it, of course I had reckoned on an hour delay, tops – heard that one before?

The caulk-free drain provided as a freebie with the shower I had installed was proving to be a little unsatisfactory, it leaked, and my temporary solution of a bucket beneath the drain in the crawl space, whilst effective, was definitely not a final solution. Continuing with this ersatz arrangement for another few days was tempting, but I needed to get it fixed before it is discovered by other members of the family and my rep goes down the drain, so to speak. My morning activities involved the caulk-free drain getting thoroughly caulked, but only after a monumental struggle to get the bloody thing loose. This involved sawing through PVC drain pipes, and then having to cement the severed pipes back together with joins, after dashing to the nearest Home Depot for the joins and cement. Anyway, I’ll see in due course if my efforts will be rewarded by the gods of plumbing with a leak free showering experience.  Words of wisdom for others that may be installing showers, make the hole in the floor big enough to get your hands in, make sure the thread on the ring is clean and oil it with a drop of baby oil. Oh yes, use a good quality silicon sealer even if the manufacturer claims that you don’t need any caulk at all.

Job done, I spend a half hour poring over Google maps and decide that I’ll ride to Tobermory at the north end of the Bruce Peninsula, find a place to stay, then spend Sunday exploring the area, before riding home. It seems like a good plan, but the little voice in my head tells me that the fall colors will be more spectacular in Muskoka. Of course Maine, Vermont or Adirondack would be the pinnacle, but that requires a bit more time than I have on my hands right now. Still I set out with a route in mind that will take me to Bruce County, however as I reach the turn-off from highway 27 that will take me there, the KLR goes straight, Muskoka it is… more lakes, more forest, more hills and there are still some damn good roads there that I haven’t yet ridden.

Fall colours in Muskoka  

For some distance I trace, going the other way, the route Helena and I took a week ago when we rode up to have lunch in Bracebridge. It’s the homeward route we followed that I am riding now. North on highway 27, then north on highway 400 from Barrie, east on Old Barrie Road, then north again on highway 11. I take my leave of the motorway at Severn Township and follow Muskoka road 13, also known as Southwood Road. This is great, pretty much what I came this way to see, the autumn color festival courtesy of the forest trees. There is a fair amount of evergreen around here, lots of pine, so the reds yellows and orange contrast wonderfully against the green. Sometimes one comes across whole swathes of forest that seem not to be effected in the slightest by the season and are hanging onto summer verdant greens, why these trees are green and not the ones a mile back, same species as far as I can tell… who knows?

Southwood Road with cemetery in the middle of nowhere

The last time I rode this road was with my heavy (see http://www.not-so-easy-rider.blogspot.ca/2015/07/bike-shopping.html) in late spring. I am impressed, back then there were considerable stretches that were seriously damaged, now almost all of the bad sections have been resurfaced. It’s a lovely ride, but you can’t take most of these corners at a speed that makes for exhilarating riding, they are just too tight. Fortunately the scenery is so lovely that you actually just want to take it easy, take in the view and smell the hummus, so to speak. After dashing up the motorways at 120 km/h plus, this is a nice change of pace. I relax and get into a pattern of weaving through the non-stop corners going at between forty and sixty, mostly I’m in third or fourth gear and I get to practice leaning on the corners. There are not many places that you can safely stop to take some pictures, but I come across a little cemetery and stop for a photo op. It’s sunny and warm, an absolutely a gorgeous fall day, all the more precious when you know that there are only a few of these left this year and quite possibly no more that fall on a weekend. Living the dream… at least for now.

Southwood Road eventually winds its way to meet up with Highway 169, which I follow north to the picturesque little town of Bala, I stop to stretch my legs and buy a little bottle of Scotch at the local LCBO. For the benefit of readers outside of Canada, LCBO stands for the Liquor Control Board of Ontario, which controls the liquor in Ontario by selling it to anyone over the age of 19 that can pay for it, it is a government controlled monopoly. From my point of view it is a slick, well run business with cheerful, beautifully laid out shops, stocked with booze from the four corners of this world. As

alcohol is an addictive chemical substance, this would make the government of Ontario the biggest pusher in the province. I’m actually ok with the whole idea, at least the profits of this trade are going into a pot that keeps my taxes a bit lower and doesn’t just make some fat cat capitalist even richer, which is exactly what would happen if it were decided to privatize. So I’m all for the LCBO, and must stress that I have grave doubts any private enterprise could do this any better, the LCBO outlets are the very example of retail at its best. Anyway the LCBO at Bala is in complete character with the town, and as I am in an expansive mood I splash out on a half bottle of Glenfiddich Single Malt 12 years old Scotch… yum.

From Bala I carry on with the 169 to Foot’s Bay, then Lake Joseph Road. This is lake country, lots of water, lots of hills and the road takes lovely sweeping curves. This is a great road for riding a motorcycle, the blacktop is in excellent condition, the traffic is light, the scenery is great and you can do a good speed. The sun is getting a little low in the sky so I am glad I am travelling north. Thus time of year riding east or west in the early morning or evening carries the extra danger of getting blinded by the sun, or even worse, the oncoming traffic getting blinded. I am not exaggerating, I have had moments when coming over a rise to suddenly find the sun directly in my eyes and I couldn’t see anything at all except this blinding light, bloody scary. Eventually Lake Joseph Road meets up with Highway 400 and the last few kilometers to Parry Sound pass in a blur of 120 to 130 km/h, high speed indeed for the KLR, but that single cylinder 650 cc carbureted motor seems to be quite up to the job… love this little bike.

Parry Sound is an interesting if not entirely pretty town, on the shores of Lake Huron. It’s a little bit of a gritty town with a gritty past and hasn’t been completely gentrified by ‘cottage money’ from Toronto…I like it, it’s got the feeling of a working class town with few pretensions. The town is a bit of a railway juncture, a good deal of Canadian timber that built the great cities of North America passed through Parry Sound over the last hundred or so years, and as I will reveal, the railway lines are still running (at all hours of the night). I make my way to the waterfront with the intention of finding a pleasant, but inexpensive pension where I might spend the night, preferably with a verandah and a view over the harbor. I assume that there will be dozens of such establishments with plenty of vacant rooms at nicely discount prices…I assume wrong, there is one and it is full, damn. I ask the proprietress to point me in the direction of some other places where I may lay my head down for the night. There is nothing on the waterfront, but there are several motels in town and a Comfort Inn, but she warns me, a touch gleefully, that there is a very big wedding on the go and she thinks that nearly everything is fully booked.  I’m not too worried, if Parry Sound does not have room at an inn for me, I’ll just go elsewhere, it is still a few hours before sunset is complete.

Nonetheless I follow her directions to where the motels are located, it seems they are mostly on Church Street (what town settled by Brits in the Victorian era does not sport a Church street?). Enquires at the first three places come up with blanks, but my persistence pays off on the third place. The Town and Country Motel is not actually on Church Street, it is on Joseph Street, however Church becomes Joseph. The motel is just as the lady from the B&B on the waterfront said, “Just a block after the Dairy Queen”. The way she spoke it was as if DQ is the pinnacle of Parry Sound cuisine, I hope not. There are two rooms left, a smoking room and a non-smoking room, I am surprised that smoking rooms still exist, but snap up the non-smoking room. This is a real motel, but a really nice one. It advertises itself as “clean, quiet and affordable”, and indeed that is exactly what it is. The room is spotless, simply, but nicely furnished and as I said really, really clean. The owner, it turns out, is also a keen motorcyclist and we spend a few moments discussing the joys of riding a steel pony. I notice a few other motorbikes parked in front of the rooms (it’s a motel, you park in front of your room). My room costs about $70 for the night, very inexpensive when you consider there are beds for 5 people, and it has its own bathroom, needless to say spotless as well.  Nowadays you

would think that having its own bathroom is sort of accepted as a given, but as I discovered on the trip to Manitoulin Island earlier this year (see http://www.not-so-easy-rider.blogspot.ca/2015/07/wet-wet-wet.html) there are still places that consider that as an extra, an optional luxury, and as you didn’t ask for a bathroom you shouldn’t be surprised by its absence. Anyway no such concern with Town and Country Motel, the bathroom is thrown right in.  So far all is good and as advertised, clean, quiet and fairly priced, I would say cheap, but that word has managed to get a bad press. 

I am about a fifteen to twenty minute walk from the waterfront where I have decided to have dinner, Dairy Queen be damned (actually I would not be caught dead eating at DQ). After an afternoon on the bike, walking feels good. I have of course freshened up with a shower and a change of underwear, but as I have not packed extravagantly, my cleanest dirty shirt and the jeans I wore all day will have to do. I have left the motorcycle jacket in the room and wear a fleecy hoody instead, however, in truth it is almost warm enough for shirt sleeves. Fall is soo unpredictable, can be hot one day and pissing cold the next.

Parry Sound has a very pleasant, if rather quiet little waterfront, a bit short on places to stay as already mentioned, but there are a few pubs and restaurants, with verandahs with nice views. I notice that these establishments are not terribly busy so I spend a few quality minutes wandering about the harbor area, unconcerned that I will not be able to get dinner. There is an actual airline, the Georgian Bay Airlines Ltd. albeit it has just a few Cessna single engine seaplanes, still very romantic. The

Island Queen Cruise ship lies at anchor, I’m not sure that it still operates this late in the season, in season you can book what I believe is a pretty decent outing on this vessel and get to see many of the islands (there are some 30,000 plus they say) in the Georgian bay area. I have seen some of these from the ferry between Tobermory and Manitoulin Island so can attest to the general loveliness of Georgian Bay. If you have been following this blog you will know that I have a love affair with Lake Huron. I elect to have supper at the Bay Street Café, which turns out to be a pretty decent choice. I have a plate of fried squid to start and finish with baby spinach salad with scallops in a cream sauce… very delicious low carb options. Service is friendly and efficient and the waitress certainly earns her tip. As a bonus I watch a full moon rise over a hill covered in autumn colors.

Moon rise over hill with train crossing bridge - from the patio of Bay Street Café

It is still light when I leave the restaurant and start my walk back to the motel, perhaps now with a little less spring in my step thanks to a pleasantly full stomach. I pass under the somewhat famous trestle railway bridge that crosses over Seguin River (hardly much of a river, just a short piece of water connecting Mill Lake to Lake Huron), completed in 1907, still very much in service and to my delight get to watch a long freight train cross the bridge. I think I have mentioned that I like bridges and this one is really beautiful. I have noticed that there are at least two railway lines going through the town, so there is about nowhere that you can possibly be very far from a railway line, it seems to be charming, I like trains almost as much as bridges. I have no foreboding.

Trestle railway bridge over Seguin River

After a nice walk, long enough to settle the dinner I get back to the motel and bash out a few paragraphs of this blog on my laptop. Can’t seem to pick up the Wi-Fi so the idea of streaming a movie from Netflix is a non-starter, that really is something Canadian hospitality needs to get better with, good fast internet is not an option anymore, like bathrooms, it is expected. I have a few tots of the Glenfiddich Single Malt 12 years old Scotch and forgive the Town and Country the lousy internet. I’m pretty tired so bed seems like a decent option anyway.

It’s morning and the Sealy Posturepedic moment is conspicuous by its absence, I did not exactly get a good night sleep. Now I do not blame the motel in the slightest, if you stay in Parry Sound this is a given, I just didn’t know it. I was in the depths of a really good sleep, about midnight, when the ‘My Cousin Vinny’ thing happened. The sudden noise was awful, that fucker of a train diver leaned unnecessarily long and hard on his horn, which sent me flying up from my bed in fright, sleep banished… so much for quiet. It may have been a conspiracy, but it felt like there were trains passing through at regular intervals all of the rest of the night, spaced apart so I could just slip into a state of slumber before the next one. Eventually by wrapping my head in a pillow I managed to get some sleep. 

It’s a couple of hours later than intended that I get washed, dressed, pack my stuff up and drag my bleary-eyed persona to the reception room where coffee and muffins are served, included in the reasonable rate. I decline the muffins but the coffee is acceptable and by the third cup my bonhomie is somewhat restored. There are a couple of other guys about my age having breakfast that are also touring the area on motorcycles, we discuss routes… I plan to visit the semi-famous Screaming Heads of Muskoka, and get a suggestion for a few interesting roads to ride to get there and then home. These sound better than the route I had planned, this is really a great little place despite the railways, clean and full of like-minded people!