Ontario, Highway 17 from Ottawa to Kenora, Aug 18 -22, 2008

5 03 2011

Wild Berries of Ontario

So we had to be at the airport in Calgary by the evening of the 24th, to pick up our friend Linda , who would travel with us the last 10 days of our trip. Maybe for some people, 6 days is plenty of time to get from Ottawa to Calgary, but—don’t stop me if I’ve mentioned this before—it takes Step and I forever to get from point A to point B in the van. Part of the reason is we use propane as fuel whenever possible, and while it is cheaper and cleaner burning than gas, it takes a long time to fill the tank. The other reason is that we are Looky-Loos and I take about 100 pictures a day, so we are constantly stopping for photo ops.

On our way east we had traveled Highway 67 (also in a hurry—why?), so this part of Highway 17 was new to us. Despite our determination to make road time, it was very slow going due to frequent detours and delays caused by crews maintaining the roads. At one point when we were at a standstill, a trucker got out and bounced our bikes. He explained he thought our rack was loose, and had tried to contact us on our CB radio. Haha! We fooled him! The Boogie Bus had at some previous owner’s point had a CB, but all we had left were the antennas.

Awesome Abundance

Ironically, after traveling the Stewart Cassiar and Trans Labrador highways, it was highway 17 that gave us the biggest windshield crack of the trip, from a flying rock, and, of course, right in front of the driver’s side.

We stopped in Sault Sainte Marie for propane and groceries, and after spending so much time in the Maritimes and Newfoundland and Labrador, I was gobsmacked by what most would consider a normal array of foods for sale, and took pictures until a suspicious but friendly store manager asked me to stop.

Half a Highway

Maybe an hour down the road we made a pit stop, and I was surprised to note we had stopped at the halfway point of the Trans Canada highway. There weren’t bells and whistles, just this plaque.

We also went into Wawa for gas, and I learned the giant goose by the highway was just 1 of 3! It turned out the original one had been flimsy but so effective at getting Trans Canada visitors to stop that a sturdier one replaced it. I don’t know where the 3rd one came from.

The 1st Goose

The 3rd and Most Mysterious Goose

We camped at Berry Trails campsite, at Obatanga Provincial park. It’s too bad I had never seen a wild blueberry before, because we saw a lot of them there and I bet they were fucking delicious. I suspected what they might be, but was too afraid to try one. (Yes, I ate the blackberry in Labrador, but I had a botanical guide for that area). The trees are really tall there, although they hardly rival those on the west coast, and the campsites are near a small, serene lake. We had a campfire which we doused multiple times with lake water, but in the morning the remaining logs were entirely embers, so I learned how hard it is to put a fire out. I am glad we did not burn down the park. Berry Trails campsite has the Worst Showers Ever. Why? Because the shower heads were ridiculously high up on the wall, and the water sprayed out so far that all the water just ran down the walls and none of it landed on us. So we got slightly damp but not at all clean.

Berry Trails Campsite

We had to gas up in Marathon, again. ‘Nuff said.

Michael's Yard

Before Thunder Bay we stopped to visit Michael, an old University friend of Steps’s, and his wife. They have a very lovely home on a little lake, including their own Finnish sauna which we all enjoyed and then ran into the lake. That reminded us we wanted to try the Finnish pancakes at Kangas Sauna. It was a debate on whether to lunch there, or once again at the beloved Hoito, but in the end Kangas won, since we had only saunaed there on our trip out, but not sampled the fare. They were good! So was the smoked fish we picked up at Lilsa Karkkainen Fish Shop. She had wild blueberries for sale, but they really cost a lot. It makes sense—wild blueberries are tiny and picked by hand.

We also stopped in at the Terry Fox Memorial and Lookout. For those that don’t know, Terry Fox is a iconic Canadian Hero, who, due to cancer, had his leg amputated at a young age. He then decided to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research; The Marathon of Hope. At first, no one paid any attention, but as his marathon gained momentum, so did his fame and the feelings he inspired in people. Even though he was from Port Coquitlam, which is in British Columbia, he started the run in St. John’s, Newfoundland, and made it to basically Thunder Bay before succumbing to his illness. So he didn’t make it across Canada, but he died trying. I know, too, from personal experience, it’s a long way from St. John’s to Thunder Bay. Anyway, Canada has all sorts of Terry Fox memorials but the one near Thunder Bay is the main one. Step felt quite emotional at the memorial and wouldn’t let me take his picture.

Terry Fox Memorial and Lookout

If you want to learn more about Terry Fox and his story, Douglas Coupland wrote a really readable biography of him, and the proceeds from the book go to the Terry Fox Foundation.

Tin Man near Kenora

From Thunder Bay we were able to veer off of the Trans Canada Highway, which we had already driven, and instead drove Highway 11 through Fort Frances and then the cottage district of Lake of the Woods to Kenora, where we got back onto Highway 1. I didn’t take pictures of the cottage district, but it was Canadian and woodsy, with signs with beavers and mooses and whatnot. Also, we slept that night behind an empty building in Emo, but we got sort of paranoid because there were kids out drinking and fooling around, and then the police came to investigate the kids, and we were hoping no one would investigate us, and thankfully no one did. So, were those these Emo kids we hear so much about, haha?

Sadly, the most boring part of the Trans-Canada highway is from Kenora to Winnepeg, but there are no alternate routes so we now drove it a second time.

Shevlin Yard in Fort Frances





Ontario, Lake Superior, June 20, 2008

23 07 2008
Bridge at Ouimet Canyon

Bridge at Ouimet Canyon

Step with fish from the Fish Shop

Step with fish from the Fish Shop

The long scenic road around Lake Superior is fraught with unexpected sights and perils of nature and man. Our first stop was the Lisa Karkkainen Fish Shop (which everyone always referred to as simply the “Fish Shop”) where we purchased some not-that-great Finnish rye bread and a large portion of really great fresh water trout. Seeing numerous lakey vistas and forrestscapes, we were surprised by how beautiful the drive actually was, since all anybody had ever mentioned was how long it was. We tried to stop at a roadside rest stop and BBQ the fish for lunch but soon realized there were way too many black flies around for that to be possible, and instead had bread, sausage and cheese inside the van.

The Indian Head of Ouimet Canyon

The Indian Head of Ouimet Canyon

Ouimet Canyon (pronounced wee-met) was on this stretch of road (and weirdly not buggy). It costs $3 on the honour system to go view this incredible natural phenomenon, which is a short and easy walk through the forest. One thing I learned is in Canada most really tall thin, rocks with a bigger rock on top are called “Indian Head”, but I still don’t know why. They don’t look more Indian than any other ethnic background.

Ouimet Canyon, Man

Another Roadside Distraction?

Another Roadside Distraction?

Somewhere around Schreiber I noticed an oddly out of place carnival booth serving Wiggle Chips, and was so distracted yelling “Wiggle Chips, Wiggle Chips” it took a moment to register that a large moose (is there any other kind?) had decided to cross the highway right in front of us. Why is it always me driving and why do wildlife seem to wait until you’re coming before they cross the road? We had of course seen numerous roadside warnings, not just signs but decaying moose carcasses and bent up trucks on the side of the road. And yet somehow you believe it will never happen to you. So after that we decided not to drive at night anymore.

Twilight at Neys Provincial Park

Twilight at Neys Provincial Park

Morning at Neys Provincial Park

Morning at Neys Provincial Park

Neys Provincial Park is where Lawren Harris painted a lot of his most famous paintings, and we were able to get a kickass spot right by the shore for the night. It was fun to see that his paintings actually weren’t as stylized as I had thought—the landscape (or lakescape) really looks like that. We barbecued the trout and Step made me listen to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” twice. In the song Gordon Lightfoot calls Lake Superior by it’s First Nation’s name “Gitche Gumee”. It’s a very haunting song and now I can never look at the lake without seeing it as somewhat dangerous and sinister.

The Lonely Planet claims sailors would rather go on half rations than have to stop at Marathon, but that was where the auto propane was so there were no half rations for us. The excitement of Marathon was they were finally getting pavement for their road. The station with propane had a truly impressive gallery of moose accident pictures. When Step asked the lady for some propane she would only respond by grunting and grabbing her chemical gloves. The propane was pumping slow so she got a fresh young fellow, who was originally from Newfoundland, to hold the handle and his demeanor was much more outgoing and upbeat. When Step asked him what it was like to live in Marathon, the friendly young man replied “It’s a crappy town”. We thought that was pretty funny, but we don’t have to live in Marathon.

Canadian Goose

Canadian Goose

You must stop at Wawa because they have a statue of a giant Canada Goose. They put it right by the highway, though, so you don’t have to go into the town proper. The giant Canada Goose is a nice place to have a picnic lunch and there were currently on display outside all kinds of doors that had been painted with people’s stories about their Grandma’s and other female heroes. I live for that kind of thing.

Our goal was to get to Sudbury by nightfall but we didn’t make it and it was way down into twilight and super foggy as well. We were worried about the highway mooses and so we stopped at a random campsite called Silver Maple Campground. There is always one that is the best campsite ever and one that is the worst. We should have figured it out by the sinister Tom Waits music we were playing, and the bats darting down the road ahead of us, but all we did was joke about how we would be attended to by a 7 foot tall imbecile man dressed in clothes too small who would be introduced to us as “harmless”. Our next clue was after we registered the owner decided to give us a $2 (7%!) discount because the new bathrooms weren’t ready yet. It turned out the “bathroom facilities” were toilets and cold water sinks in a little bug infested shanty, with not even a nail to hang your travel toiletries bag from. We tried to pull into our “site” but as there was no ground treatment we instantly got stuck in the mud, and spent the night not-quite-level and trodding through suction mud whenever we needed to visit the shanty.

We conjectured the other visitors of the campground must be hunters, for we could think of no other reason anyone would camp there, let alone have season passes as were apparent by the wooden porches and other additions people had put on their trailers. The next morning 4 overweight shirtless guys with moustaches pushed us out of our mudhole, and we were glad to take our dirt sodden boots and be on our way.

I be a Lucky Leprechaun

I be a Lucky Leprechaun








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