Waking up in my tent and seeing my breath in the middle of July was a
little bit surprising. Then again, I was camped right on the edge of
Lake Superior, so some cooler temperatures were to be expected. I
quickly dressed inside my tent, crawled out, donned all of my riding
gear (aside from the helmet and gloves) and paced around the campsite
eating a breakfast bar until I warmed up a bit. From there I again
quickly packed my gear and was back on the road by 7:00am; this time
heading North on Highway 17 back to Wawa, where I would then be turning
east towards Chapleau and Timmins, before turning north in Quebec to
the James Bay Road.
Sure, it was a bit cold when I was packing up my tent, but blasting up
Highway 17 along Lake Superior at high speed made me glad I installed
heated grips. I quickly switched them on and also noticed it was cold
enough that my mirrors were fogging up. I wasn't too worried - traffic
was very light, and I didn't expect anyone to catch up to me. Small
lakes and bogs along the road were invisible under the collected steam
hovering over the top of them.
Midway through my ride I spotted a single headlight coming towards me.
"7:00am, middle of nowhere, motorcycle... this HAS to be a Beemer". A
minute later I was proved correct as we roared past each other; waving
on our way by. I'm sure he was smiling as big as I was.
I quickly came upon a lone semi who was slowing my forward progress.
Many parts of the hilly and winding road are only two lanes and strewn
with double yellow lines. There is plenty of space for a motorcycle (or
lone car) to pass, but I think the lines were painted for the lowest
common denominator of large trucks and tourists hauling trailers. I was
just checking for a clear space to shoot by when the truck turned on
his left signal... then turned it off... then on again. I had seen this
a few times yesterday before making passes, as well. It finally sunk in
that they were signaling to let me know the road was clear ahead. How
nice! I wish truckers elsewhere would follow this same procedure. I
blew past the truck, gave a friendly wave, and continued on; quickly
reaching Wawa. Once in Wawa, I fueled up the bike and also grabbed a
two gallon gas can. I was finally getting into more remote areas, and
was pretty sure I would at least need an extra gallon for the James Bay
Road. With the gas can filled up and secured to the rear rack of the
bike, I veered off onto Highway 101.
The next section of road was less that exciting, except there was very
little traffic. Fear of wildlife kept me from going too fast, even
though they kept the brush trimmed well away from the road. The air was
still a little cool, but the sun was shining brightly and promising a
good day. I would pass an occasional car, but more frequently I was
seeing logging trucks pulling off of the many dirt roads scattered
about - leading back into the wilderness. Houses would pop up from time
to time, as well as signs for various campgrounds and hunting/fishing
lodges. I'm sure this area gets a bit more traffic when hunting season
is really open. I skirted Chapleau, and continued on this rather boring
road until my map showed me I only had one decent place to stop for
fuel before getting to Timmins; a distance that would be just beyond my
reach. Off of 101, I turned into the small town (village?) of Foleyet.
With a booming population of 350, I'm sure a new visitor is quite the
talk of the town; especially a visitor on a BMW motorcycle, with a
high-viz jacket on, with Ohio plates. I rolled past what is probably
the only restaurant in town, and 4 or 5 locals stared as I passed them
by and pulled into the gas station/general store.
My first task was operating the nearly antique gas pump. This was one
of those fun ones with the rolling numbers and the spinning ball inside
a glass cover that showed you fuel was flowing. Far out. After fueling
up I went inside to pay and grab a Red Bull, which I enjoyed outside on
the covered porch. I felt like I was in the old west. I didn't find any
tumbleweed; probably out of season. The whole time the locals at the
nearby restaurant were eyeing me, and I started to hear that
"Deliverance" music playing in my head. I didn't think my barnyard
animal imitations were really up to snuff, so it was time to move on.
Riding out of town they again followed my every move, and I gave them
all a wave as I passed. One returned the wave; the rest just kept
staring... I imagine they watched me until I was totally out of sight.
I eventually made it into the booming metropolis of Timmins; population
43000, and home of Shania Twain (as advertised on the welcome sign).
Rolling into a place this large was quite a culture shock for me, and
took a bit of the "adventure" out of my trip. I stopped at a large
grocery store to get something to clean off my face shield, I grabbed
some junk food at a Burger King, and I felt great sitting outside in
the warm sun. I pulled out my cell phone (now with excellent service)
and started calling friends and family to relay my most recent hardship
to them. Pretty rough living in Timmins, I assure you. I am an
adventure riding god; look out Helge Pedersen, I'm coming for you,
right after I finish my Whopper! With a huge smile on my face I rode
out of the hustle and bustle of Timmins and in what seemed like no time
at all I was celebrating crossing into remote Quebec as I had my gas
tank filled up by the young "gas boy" who spoke little to no English.
Ahh, beautiful day. I continued on east and then north towards Macamic
where I noticed the sky began to get a bit darker off to the northwest.
No worries; I pulled over in the small hamlet of Poularies, closed the
vents on my jacket, donned my rain pants, and continued north. In my
mind I spoke in my best French Canadian accent; "Rain? I worry not
about rain!"
Approaching my turn onto Route 111 in Macamic, there was a slight
problem; the road was closed and the only detour was back south. Still
no worries... until I noticed that "rain cloud" had turned into a
thunderhead; full of very visible ground-touching lighting, now only
minutes off to the East. "Mon Dieu!" I quickly hauled south and saw the
posted detour sign. I turned back east following the detour, and all I
could see in my mirrors was black sky and the occasional flash of
lightning. I was determined to outrun this beast. WE were determined. I
twisted the throttle open on the R80 and received an immediate response
as we hit warp speed...