After spending an evening making my way along dirt roads and communing with deer, moose and elk, I arrived in the Canadian Provence of Quebec. I was surprised by the European feel of so many of the little towns, with crooked cobblestone streets and cozy little cottages. |
I have to admit, Quebec was also something of a culture shock. I had never been to Canada before, and I expected there to be multi-lingual signage across the French-Canadian Provinces. There wasn't. EVERYTHING was in French - No English at all. Not on road signs or billboards, not even at gas stations or restaurants. I had some trouble with my bank card at one of the gas stations, and no one there spoke (or was willing to speak) English to sort out the trouble. Wow! It was a very interesting place to visit, but next time I'll have to be better prepared! |
It was right about the time I crossed into Ontario that I was hit with about the worst weather I've ever ridden in. The kind of weather where all you want in the world is to pull over, but you don't because no one else on the road can see anything either and it's only a matter of time before some wayward big rig takes you out. Amazingly, I caught up to a couple other hapless bikers muscling through the storm, and together we pushed on for several hours until we reached a little town where I could pick up a hotel room and wring myself out. The following day, with all of my gear still saturated and freezing, I tracked down a place known only as "The Shop". The Shop is a Harley / Honda / Farm Implement dealer in the bustling little metropolis of Lively, Ontario. They warmed me up with plenty of free coffee and asked all about my trip. Then I purchased a new pair of dry waterproof winter gloves (1/3 off, because only pansies like me wear heavy winter gloves in balmy June weather) and I was getting ready to leave when one of the employees presented me with a gift. It was a Canadian goose, intricately created out of bark and twigs. He said he wanted to make sure that they had made a good impression on behalf of Ontario and Canada, and that the goose would bring me good luck for the remainder of the trip. What a great bunch of people! The goose is still one of my cherished mementos, and it has continued to bring me luck on my many subsequent adventures. |
I heard that the Central Canadian Provinces are pretty much the same as the Plains States, so I figured since the ride would be the same either way, I would head back to the US and pick up the last couple states that I had yet to visit by motorcycle. I crossed the border at Sault Ste. Marie and rode around the edge of Lake Michigan for a while. I was amazed at the vastness of the Great Lakes; it was like looking out over the ocean. I also learned that when people talk about "Pasties" in Michigan, they probably aren't talking about the same thing that we're talking about when we say "Pasties" in California. Boy, THAT made for a couple of awkward conversations... |
A few nights later I was in Ironwood, Wisconsin, and after partaking of the most mouthwatering cheese curds in the world, I settled in for the night at a local campground. Now granted I wasn't riding at the time, which was a bonus, but that night I was hit by a storm that made the one in Canada look like a light mist. My tent was blowing away with me in it, and I had to pull my shoelaces out of my boots in the middle of the night to tie my tent posts together. I didn't think that would keep them from blowing way, but I figured at least that way I would only have to look for one bunch of things tied together rather than 12 little pieces scattered all over the place. The thunder was so loud and constant that my ears were ringing well into the morning. The power was off for as far as I could see, and if a tornado warning siren had gone off I don't think I would have even heard it. Having no place to go, all I could do was ride it out and hope for the best. In the morning, I found that the wind had been so ferocious blowing against my bike that the force actually made a crack right down the middle of my Big Foot. (A Big Foot is a big plastic foot, about 1/4" thick, placed under your kickstand to keep it from sinking into soft dirt.) I can't even imagine the amount of force it took to cause that to crack, but I know what I went through that night and was glad that I would at least have an impressive souvenir of the storm. |
After wandering across Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota (where I passed through Rugby, the geographical center of North America), and the better park of Montana, I found myself once again facing off with the weather. I believe it was right about Cut Bank, Montana - the self-proclaimed "Coldest Spot in the US" - that the slushy snow set it. Since it obviously was not in the cards for me to be warm or dry on any portion of this trip, I just zipped up my rain gear and kept right on going. |
Eventually I climbed above the clouds and out of the wet, although a little slush is all it takes to spend the rest of the day freezing. It was worth it, though. Waterfalls just aren't waterfalls without a little rain to envigorate things. Glacier National Park was an amazing place to visit, and I would do it again in a second - rain, snow or otherwise! |
Self portrait in Glacier National Park. Funny, it doesn't LOOK freezing... |