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To tell you the truth, the plan was to drive to Churchill, Manitoba. The problem with this is that there is no road to Churchill, Manitoba. It just makes it that much more interesting. The goal was to drive as far north in Manitoba as I could. Now, I do try to plan my trips, or tours, as I call them, so that I know where I am going and how I am going to get there. This adventure was going to be different. I narrowed it down to Manitoba and just headed north. Seeing that I live in North Carolina, that was a sure bet. The rest I just let come as I got to it. Churchill was the plan, even if I had to drive along the railroad tracks. Hey, it was a dream more than a plan, what can I say? |
For me, the real tour did not begin until I reached Canada. A short trip, to what I still refer to as my hometown, Pulaski, NY, to see my nephew receive his high school diploma was just a warm-up for the real thing. As I think back to my high school days, I draw the same conclusion. They were just a warm-up for the real adventure. Like then, I was ready to move on.
From northern New York, I traced the Great Lakes and enjoyed following my foot steps from journeys taken years previous. Lake Superior Provincial Park, with its Native American rock paintings was a must stop, as well as the statute for Terry Fox just outside Thunder Bay, Ontario. For those of you that need inspiration, read up on Terry Fox, a man with one leg that had a dream to run across the second largest country in the world. My dream to reach Churchill by motorcycle pales to his, but he inspires me to dream, the greatest gift anyone can give to another. I turned north. Well, to tell you the truth, it was west, north would come once I reached Manitoba. I didn\'t have to wait long.
Manitoba is one of those long, skinny Canadian provinces that does not fit well in a road atlas. Check it out for yourself. I find it all quite interesting. I open the road atlas to the page for Manitoba and find it stuck together with Saskatchewan. They fit nicely together, but their tops are missing. My kind of places. I then look at the overall map of Canada and see that, yes, the red lines do continue on. My atlas shows a split at Thompson. That is where I will see how my dream pans out. First, I have to get at least that far north.
I reached the Manitoba border and stopped to ask for the best way to skirt Winnipeg. To be honest, I am not a big city person and choose to live up to my license plate motto; I seek out the BAK RDS. The kind lady at the Information Center planned my route well and I was ready to really begin my journey. Funny how tourist centers are set up along the Trans-Canada Highway, my exit north on route 44 was just a mile down the road. I am glad I stopped.
I needed to get to route 6 North which headed for Thompson. The countryside was wonderful, the road rough but empty, and I could not of asked for more. What I could of asked for was less wind, oh, and heat. I remember the wind the most. Manitoba is the North Dakota of Canada and the wide open plains really wreck havoc on small moving objects as they scream down the pavement. I was all over the place. That was before the tractor trailers blew by, then it become real interesting. One journal entry after one such episode reads ...OK, back on the road again... that was fun. I\'ll try not to mention the wind again.
My first night in Manitoba was spent in the small town of Ashern. There is a community campground right off the road that was very pleasant. Of course, the main attraction for me was the ESSO station/store/restaurant that was within walking distance from my tent. An earlier storm, that I had luckily missed, had knocked out the power (hot water) at the campground and I did my best to clean up while waiting for my meal. I love being on the road.
It took me the second day to figure out why the atlas cut off the top of Manitoba. You are pretty much alone up there. Nice road, low, but rolling hills, pine trees, and lakes. Many lakes. The major traffic, what little there was of it, was fishermen headed for one of the lakes, and, oh yeah, the occasional tractor trailer. Funny thing, I did not see other motorcycles. I just drove on.
I reached a point where the tall, skinny pine trees were just black twigs, the result of what must have been a huge forest fire. Made for a strange, war-like landscape out of a Mad-Max movie. It was in this setting that, while stopped for lunch (if trail-mix constitutes a lunch) that I noticed an oil leak. I am not a mechanic. I don\'t even try to fool myself into thinking I have the slightest notion of what goes on below the gas cap. I do know that oil under the kickstand is a bad thing. I took another look around, then at my map, and finished lunch. Thompson was within reach, no problem.
Thompson, Manitoba. Home of Crazy Pete\'s, my first stop. It proved to be the right place to be. If you want it, need it, or even think you need it, Pete has it or can get it some how. Of course, the best things are free, and I found out everything I needed to know about the city, it\'s history, the people, food, campgrounds, and then some. I also had the chance to look up under my engine and come to the conclusion that a little, tiny, oil leak was nothing a paper towel jammed up there couldn\'t stop. Ignorance is bliss.
Crazy Pete also informed me that I was crazy if I thought I could reach Churchill on my motorcycle. He kindly informed me that this was neither Paris, nor Dakar, and that if I wanted to head as far north as I could, I should take the left fork in the road outside town and just keep on going. How can you not trust a man called crazy Pete. I headed left.
Well, not right away. First, I cleaned the bike, changed the oil (and promised to check it\'s level often), went jogging, did my laundry, and had dinner at Popeye\'s. Excellent.
The next morning, the left fork turned to gravel real sudden. I was 3,000 miles into my trip and felt like I was just starting all over again. The gravel took a little time to get used to but was not that bad. It was the sand that caused my heart to match my RPMs. I slowed down and just enjoyed the emptiness of both the landscape and the road. Well, the truth is, I had 100% of my concentration focused on the road, which made it seem empty all around me, which was far from the truth. I did enjoy the many stops at places like Rat Lake, to rest and take photographs. There are some names that you just have to stop for. Rat Lake was one of them.
Another interesting aspect of the road (391 on your maps), was it\'s
