I'm catching up on a few things on my rest day in English River, a little hunting and fishing outpost along Highway 17. I am not a hunter, nor do I condone it but it is the economic mainstay for this little community. The English River Inn (a great place to stay) fortunately doesn't post gruesome photographs of bears and moose hanging by a chain from some crossbeams with happy hunters smiling beside their trophies like one place I visited. I've heard all the arguments but I still can't stomach the gratification someone can get in killing wildlife for fun. One day when I was riding past a ranch near Starbuck Manitoba, a small herd of cattle (acknowledging that they are not wild) started running alongside the fence skirting the road beside me. It was a remarkable sight as they didn't seem to be startled by me but seemed like they were joining me for a bit of my ride. Maybe I started a stampede. Okay, I'm probably anthropomorphizing a little too much here, but I really felt a connection with those animals. Something similar happened at an elk ranch in eastern Manitoba and I experienced the same sentimentality. A city boy mentality, I suppose. Nonetheless, I must admit that I am unresolved with the meat eating dilemna. I guess the main issue for me is about killing wildlife for fun as opposed to necessity or one's livelihood.
Highway 17 is a long run (by bike) of over 500 km. between Winnipeg and Thunder Bay, Ontario, with a handful of small communities in between. When I first looked at the route on the map, I admit that I felt intimidated by the open spaces and perceived long rides in the north Ontario wilderness without much "civilization". It turned out much better than imagined as I began to feel more intimate with the countryside. It was much friendlier than I thought. One night, I had to camp in a rest stop because there was no other choice given time and distance factors. I had an exceptional time at Jackfish Lake, humming John Lennon's lyric, "Oh that magic feelin', no where to go...!" After my MEC dehydrated seafood chowder (recommended), I took an evening stroll to the lake and watched the moon's reflection on it's glassy surface with background sounds of loons, frogs and of intermittent 18 wheelers from the highway. Later, when settling in to the Summer Moon (my tent), I heard the distant roll of thunder preceded with a few flashes of lightening. Although it seemed afar, the patter of rain began and pretty much put me to sleep, feeling fairly secure, thinking that the weather would help dissuade bears from interrupting my much needed sleep.
The next morning brought breaks in the sky and the promise of a good day. It turned out to be one of my best as the winds were mostly friendly and I covered a little over 120 km to English River. I was a rather tired in the a.m. but got a welcome 2nd wind in the afternoon and 3rd in the evening. The landscape flattened out which also helped considerably.
One event worth noting occurred earlier in the day when I rolled into rest stop to look for water. I had another 40 km to go to reach a town called Ignace and had about 500 ml of Gaterade remaining. I drink a lot of water, especially on a warm day so I thought I'd try my luck although I didn't think there would be a reliable source. I was having a conversation with a truck driver from Quebec when an odd looking fellow, sporting a scraggly beard and crooked yellow tear drop sunglasses, approached. He seemed rather eccentric and interrupted with irrelevant comments. His old van was parked on the other side of the pull over and it's open side door revealed that he was the "keeper of many things". He was the kind of fellow I was tempted to ignore or placate but he asked me straight out, "How are you doing for water?" What a question! Guardian angels don't look like this, I thought. As I cautiously joined him at his van, he warned me about his vicious dog who did not look dangerous at all but rather motley, like his master. He told me that he filled up with water from the Huskey Station in Kenora and proceeded to grab an old plastic Coke bottle with the bottom cut out for a funnel and filled up my water bottle to overflowing before I knew it. My cup runneth over as there was abundance for all! A line from an old hymn came to mind later as I resumed my ride towards Ignace..."His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me..." I thanked him for his generosity, we shook hands and wished each other well. He said he was heading for Halifax and debated whether he should take the Lake Superior route past Thunder Bay because it's twisty and steep...the route I may be taking. I'd rather not hear about that.
I'm grateful for this rest day as I've slept, fed, walked (what a concept!) and written - some functions repeatedly. It's a great opportunity to pour over my map to plan potential routes and destinations. My next leg will probably include Thunder Bay to Wawa, Ontario. In a couple of days, I would like to visit the Terry Fox Lookout, east of TB. Tomorrow, I'll be in the Eastern Time Zone...crazy, huh?
I'm not covering the mileage I hoped to achieve but I believe it's the journey that's most important and it's better to "respond" than "react" to changing elements of my ride. I'm grateful for how well things have gone so far. Is Ottawa at the end of Canada? This country is so damn big!
Thanks for reading.
Take care,
Doug
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