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Sights & Surveys Striking Scenic Routes, & Survives Somewhat Sticky Situation the Sultry Summer of 2001.

Schedules, deadlines, agendas, checkpoints.

These words describe a pattern of life many of us fall subject to. Living life by the palm-pilot, scheduling everything down to the last minute is not for me. As John Lennon once put it, "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." Well, I'd had enough of that for the meantime. It was time to throw the agenda to the wind and let things land as they may. It was time for a vacation.

An urge to explore the expansive coastline of Lake Superior had been boiling in my blood for two summers now. I had the next 12 days off, the air was warm and the summer days were long, so what the heck. I grabbed my pocket map, packed it on top of all the other bare essentials, and b-lined it out of Grand Rapids via 131 to 75 North. I am becoming increasingly convinced that anyone who drives in the greater Grand Rapids area has either abnormal road-rage tendencies or a death wish, so I stick to highways in the lower peninsula for speed and safety. The highway drive to the Mackinac Bridge was quite pleasant. I don't remember 131 or 75 ever being as nicely paved or scenic as they were the summer of '01. Smooth sailing so far, and only one more hour to the great Soo.

Crossing into Canada was no problem. The ease at which the customs department let me into the country reminded me how fortunate we are to have such a trusting relationship with our neighbors. (Sidenote - this trip was taken the first week of August) The first few miles into Ontario were comforting. The Canadians share many of the same road customs Americans do. Traffic lights, driving signs, and speed limits were all familiar. Highway 17, one of two Canadian highways to connect eastern and western Canada provinces, is clearly marked and very well maintained.

After leaving the bustling Sault Ste. Marie, highway 17 became quite interesting. In a distance of less than 5 miles, the road went from ordinary to extraordinary. Up, down, left, right, smooth, rolling curves, each with a panoramic view. Lotsa Kodak moments so far, and I was only several miles into my trip. I had imagined the roads along the lakeshore would be nice, but this was far better than I had anticipated.

The eastern shore of Lake Superior is composed of dark red and pink rocks (not sure what type) which pile high along the coast. During a cloudless sunset, these shoreline rocks seem to burst into crimson flames, especially when the lake is smooth and the sun reflects of the water. I took several pictures, but they will never do the actual sight any justice.

What is it with Ontario and their fascination for oversized animals? This three-story goose was erected just outside of WaWa, Ontario. Similar statues adorn the city everywhere!

After 400 easy miles, I decided to turn in for the night. Traveling single, I didn't have to worry about finding a chain hotel with those luxurious accommodations the wife needs. Therefore, the night was comfortably spent at a rinky-dink mom & pop motel in Goulais River, a don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it-town on Batchewana Bay. Spending only $30 Canadian for lodging allowed me to splurge a little on an adventurous dinner and home-cooked breakfast at the local diner adjacent to the motel.

Day 2.

Up and at 'em by 6 a.m. I couldn't wait to get back on Highway 17, which is very well paved and litter free. The next few hours of traveling were nothing less than spectacular all the way to Montreal River. I'm not so good at describing riding experiences, but this was pure riding pleasure in every way; technical riding, gorgeous scenery, well-groomed roads, considerate drivers, etc. While gassing up, I chatted with the store owner, a fellow biker from Dublin, Ireland. We swapped stories for the next 15 minutes and he pointed out the more interesting places to visit while in Ontario. He stressed the importance of refueling every chance possible, as gas stations become few and far between. However, should a biker run out of gas, I was told not to worry, as most people carry gas cans with them for emergencies. Canadians are more than willing to assist those of us putting our hard-earned money into their economy.

The rest of the route along 17 through Wawa and over to Marathon was, well, relatively boring. Sidenote - Canadians have this thing with oversized trinkets. I can't tell you how many oversized geese I encountered near Wawa. American icons are the Statue of Liberty and the Washington Monument. I'll have to find out what's so historic about a goose and a coin that two-story monuments are constructed in honor of them. Anyhow, the scenery was okay, but the roads were long, straight, and HOT. A fire had destroyed thousands of acres of forest, leaving everything bleak and skeletal. Interestingly, the closer I came to Marathon, the greater the wind speeds picked up. By the time I was in Marathon, the temperature had drastically reduced by 20 degrees and I was engulfed in a swirling blanket of fog. And I thought Grand Haven experienced some dramatic lake effect weather! The stretch of road from Marathon to Nipigon was phenomenal. I'm sure there were plenty of nice views to behold as 17 wound through the "mountains," but the fog prevented me from seeing anything other than the road directly in front of me and out of rainstorms until I crossed the border and retired in Grand Marais, Minnesota. The people there are very used to meeting tourists and offered several suggestions for interesting places to visit. This is when things really began to get interesting.

Day 3

The Gun Flint Trail: Don't let the tar snakes worry you - these roads are in excellent condition.

Everyone in Grand Marais suggested two roads of extraordinary interest to bikers from all around. I had heard of neither, so I decided to give them a shot. After all, I was on my own schedule, so why not? The GUNFLINT TRAIL (highway 12) runs out of Grand Marais. It is a "dead-end" two-laner, 62 miles long. This road is an old logging road that grew longer and longer as more lumber was needed. It winds up, down, and around mountains, lakes, and streams until it dead ends in Quetico Park. Fire has savaged some acreage along this route, but new growth has since blossomed. Birch trees thrive along this route, which look like streaks of lightning shooting from the soot and ash-covered ground when the early morning sun reflects off the white bark. Of the 62 miles on the Gunflint Trail, over 40 miles consist of 35, 25, and even 15 mph curves. I had a blast on my Honda Shadow on these curves, and I can only imagine how much fun this would be for sport-bikes. However, the shoulders are not very wide and sight is limited, especially with so many sharp curves. I encountered very little traffic on this road, but nearly every vehicle I saw was a 4WD and had a canoe strapped on the roof. This area is truly a canoeists paradise. If I am ever within a few hours driving distance from the Gunflint Trail, I will no doubt take the time to rediscover this God-given stretch of road. It's that good!

After returning to Grand Marais, I headed SW along highway 61 until just after Little Marais. Highway 1, from Finland to Ely, was also recommended to me as a popular biker's destination. This road was unbelievable!!! After riding through 10-15 miles of hot, straight bleakness the road immediately transformed into something very similar to Michigan 119. Nothing but well-paved, scenic, shady curvy road for the next 40+ miles! Some stretches of this road were so much fun I turned around and rode them twice. Highway 1 runs between numerous lakes, streams, and rivers. I never saw any wildlife, but keep an eye out for it, as this road is very twisty and sight is limited.

Someday soon, I will definitely make the trip to ride these roads again. I would consider these two roads worthy of being "Patch Roads," hands down.

Canadian Highway 17 along the west side of Lake Superior.

I spent the rest of Day 3 meandering through Minnesota looking for places of interest. The whole northern interior of Minnesota is a sight to behold. Lake Itasca, the headwaters of the Mississippi River, and the whole Chippewa Natn'l Forest are full of scenic, entertaining roads. There was (and still is) a lot of iron mining in Minnesota. One gets the illusion of riding along the Grand Canyon in some areas where the land has been deeply mined and the remaining iron has stained the ground a rust color.

From here I turned Eastward and found a comfortable motel just past Duluth. After three days of solitude and adventure, I was feeling ready to head for home. I had truly had more adventure on this trip than I anticipated. I was also starting to get pretty far west, close to North Dakota, and I wanted to (1) steer clear of Sturgis and (2) get back to the Lake Superior coastline.

The ride through Michigan's U.P. was HOT, there is no other way to describe it. When it wasn't hot, it was REALLY HOT! How hot was it?? Well, hot enough to boil all the juice out of my battery! At the end of the day I noticed it was becoming increasingly harder to start my bike, and it even stalled a few times. After letting it cool and doing a general fluid level check, I looked at my battery and found it dry as a bone (all the fluid levels were full when I left for this trip). WOW!! It was hot. I put some distilled H20 in, got my charge back and headed toward the Mackinac Bridge. (I had seen the southern coast of Superior before, so I decided to explore the interior).

Michigan 119: I love this sign!

I met a guy on a solo vacation from Arizona and we rode together for a few hours, enjoying the scenery and company of another rider. After the bridge I turned west to tackle 119 and he continued down 31. Most people take 119 from Cross Village to Harbor Springs. I would recommend taking it all the way from Bliss to Harbor Springs, this adds another 6 or so miles of nice twisties to that route (From 31 south, turn west at the Carp Lake crossroads).

Once I hit Petoskey I felt the urge to make it home that night. The day had been horrendously hot and tomorrow would be worse, so I might as well do these last 200 miles in the coolness of night. I fueled up and hit the road….for one mile.

Oh no…

Chug, Chug, gasp, cough, cough, chug….smoke….smoke….smoke….

Oh no…

What in the world?? A blown valve? Bad piston??? There was no engine rattle, but something expensive was wrong.

After a tow back to the gas station, I searched the yellow pages only to find there wasn't a bike station for miles around. While walking back to my bike I figured out the mistake.

In Grand Rapids, gas pumps come in all different colors, depending on the station. Sometimes the pumps are red, white, black, gray, gold, blue, etc. And the diesel pump is always separate. Well, in Petoskey I learned that Green is now the universal color for diesel fuel (whatever) and that sometimes the diesel pump and the 93 octane pump can be connected. That's right, rice-burners don't run on diesel.

The time was 8 p.m. By the time I had taken my bike apart (under a streetlight along 131) and made a list of needed supplies, it was 10 p.m. I hitched a ride to Walmart, and bless their souls for admitting me after store hours to purchase the parts I needed. I think they felt compassion for me because they knew I wasn't bluffing. I also reeked of diesel fuel and sweat, I was covered in grease and road dust, and I had that signature biker glove tan. They probably felt pity more than compassion for me.

I did what I could with what I had, which wasn't enough. The tank was drained, the lines flushed, the filter cleaned, but to no avail. I couldn't reach the spark plugs or the screws to drain the float bowls in my carburator (sp). That meant doing what I could to push the remaining diesel fuel through the system and hoping for the best. Several locals came by and helped me try push starting the bike, but it just wasn't gonna kick over without new plugs. There was a Napa down the road, but I'd just have to kill time until 7 a.m.

All in all, I worked on my bike until 5:30 that morning. Several late shift workers came by to chat and offer assistance. Fortunately, one of them had use for 3 gallons of diesel/gas mix (I didn't know how I was going to get rid of that). The next time I head up that way I'll be sure to take Pastor Ron and Silas out for a fat steak. They made the night and predawn hours pass by quickly, as I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. By the way, why didn't any bikers stop to offer assistance? Many drove by and just waved…did they think I was having a picnic under a streetlight along the highway at 11 p.m.? Was it because I wasn't on a Harley during Sturgis week??

Napa finally opened and I went shopping. After several hours of pulling & cleaning the plugs and kicking it over, my abused, diesel covered engine finally purred back to life. Several minutes of blowing greasy smoke passed by until she was her old self again. Whew!

Now came the interesting task of packing all my newly acquired tools on my already full bike. Total new assets = 1 drain pan, 3 two-gallon gas cans, new ratchet set, can of either, bottle of carb/fuel injector cleaner, drain hose, and miscellaneous items. I managed to give one gas can away, but being the pack-rat I am, I couldn't leave anything behind (I'm not Dutch, but you'd think otherwise). I purchased more than a few bungee cords to hold my new accessories down. When the items were secured, they nearly piled higher than my head when I was sitting on my bike. I must've looked like Lawrence heading out on a three-week camel crossing across Arabia.

This is the station where I pumped 1 gallon of diesel into my tank, thus postponing my trip. I spent 18 hours, including the entire night, under a streetlight in front of this station - cleaning out my fuel lines/carbs/etc. After I packed all my new supplies on my bike, I looked like I was preparing to cross the Sahara.

It was difficult packing everything on my bike, largely because of the increasing winds that kept blowing things all over the place. Looking over my shoulder to the NW I saw a storm rolling in that looked nothing short of the wrath of God. This enormous front line was spreading across the sky like an atomic blast wave. Shortly behind it were black, dense clouds that were literally rolling in. Just behind that was, well, I don't know because the rain was so thick it obscured everything behind it.

Thirty seconds ahead of the storm.

If you want an even more detailed account of this storm, contact Dr. Thunderfoot. He and two other new RIDE members did a bridge run that day and were actually riding on 119 during the peak of this storm. While they tell this story, listen for words and phrases such as "mudslide," "falling trees," and "roads submerged in water."

I managed to stay several yards ahead of the hail and lightening, but I stopped several times just to take pictures of this magnificent storm that was engulfing Petoskey. Once safely ahead of this monsoon, the roads once again became hot and dusty. The ride home was more or less a blur of heat waves rising off the road like mirages. I put the windshield back up because the breeze was so hot it almost burns your skin. Once back into Grand Rapids I encountered the drivers I so eagerly left behind five days ago. Jerks!

All in all, it was a very enjoyable trip. The route I took was well-maintained and the company (and even lack of) made for a pleasant, relaxing vacation. I have definitely found some "Patch Roads," as I'm sure anyone who has ridden these roads will agree. I also think I might be eligible for a "Badge of Aaron" patch. I'll share a more detailed version of the story with the club elders and see what happens.

This is a trip I will plan again for next year, plus or minus a few roads and adventures. Of the 2,000+ miles I rode, 1,000 were very entertaining and challenging. My next trip will most likely include a more adventurous sidetrip through western Ontario and northern Minnesota. I also did 1,000 miles in eastern Ontario, and some of those roads may find their way into the trip.

Until next time, keep the rubber on the road,

Scooter