Easy Going

I woke up late this morning, even without  considering that I've changed time zones and it's now an hour later for everyone else than whatever I think it is. But I got around and walked with my host to a hole in the wall breakfast place, as we had made plans to do yesterday night. She insisted I get the pancakes, and also that I got them with strawberries, and I complied. It was a good breakfast. Then after we got back, she asked if I could help with the trash quick, which I of course said I would. Though I admit it wasn't quite what I expected. We hauled the couple barrels she had to the curb, which is apparently the extent of trash they will pick up in Thunder Bay. But then there was bag after bag more, and other miscellaneous junk besides, which we carried down and stuffed in the space under the outside stairs for someone else she was paying to haul it to the dump. I didn't really get it. But then I didn't have to.

Shortly after that, I was off. Thankfully, navigating my way out of Thunder Bay was far easier than into it. I was on a nice, somewhat quiet road close to the lake for awhile, and then on highway for the rest of the day. It was easy going. The wind wasn't too strong and it was on my side, and while there were some climbs here and there, they weren't anything particularly tough. But it was also dull. I didn't see much of anything. The good views I had of the lake always seemed to come when I was rushing down a hill. And most the day I was well away from it. Mostly I saw trees, marshes, construction, and quarries. It was also very dusty, and I found myself riding with the mask of my Buff balaclava up most the day.

Once I got here to my stay in Nipigon, a very cool spot above a bakery and cafe owned by the same couple, I learned from my host that "Ontario is the land of secrets" and that just off the highway on the way up here there's a waterfall, some cool trails, and some scenic overlooks, it's just that none of it is marked. Go figure. If only I'd talked to him Before biking that stretch. But it's good to know though that the region is not as boring as it seems from the highway.

The La Luna Cafe, above which I am staying, is really neat. The building is over 100 years old. The upstairs is from the 50s or 60s, and was originally a number of very tight dorm rooms. Daniel and Caitlin bought the place last year and have really renovated it and made it nice, currently in the process of fixing up the upstairs living space. They're doing all the construction themselves, learning as they go.

Daniel is preparing for a race on Monday, and he took off from the cafe for a bit to go for a run. I went with. He asked me if I didn't want my bike to go with him, but I insisted I was done biking for the day, and wanted the chance to run. He took me along a very neat, though also muddy and rough at parts, trail along the river. The warmup jog we did through that was fun. Then he started his actual training run, giving me plenty of warning he's a real runner. ...I kept up (well...almost) for the first ten minute stretch (of five), then knew as we did a short rest up jog that I didn't possibly have another in me. I could make excuses for myself that I'd already biked 70 miles today...but frankly it wouldn't have mattered. I am not a runner, as much as I find it a nice indulgence now and again. But it was good, and I am more than glad that I did it,  and that I had the fun of failing to keep pace. I made my own way back, and did my bike maintenance while he finished up his run. Then I took a much needed shower, followed by much needed laundry.

I hung out in the bakery for awhile. I got a cookie. I watched a pizza get burnt (which we would later throw toppings on and eat). And I got to see how Daniel and Caitlin have a rapport with all their clients (this being a small town after all). It was nice. Then as the sun was getting low, I got invited on a "walk" with them and their dog, Polar...which was actually more of a hike, through major mud and woods and up a hill to get a scenic overlook of the town. It was a little irritating to get so muddy without warning when I had just got all my clothes clean. But it was a fun hike, good talk, and a gorgeous view, so well worth it. Though it's a shame the fading light wasn't enough to take any decent pictures by. And it was a little dark to be making an unfamiliar descent for my taste, but nothing too rough. And now after having a little food on the return, it is definitely time for bed.

Into Ontario

I reluctantly dragged myself out of the extremely comfortable hostel bed, heated up my left over pizza from yesterday for breakfast, and then headed on my way by 8. As I suspected I would, I burned brake going down that extremely steep gravel road to get back to the highway. But I played it smart and cautious and got down just fine, sticking to the 15mph speed limit when gravity wanted me to do 30.

Once back on the highway it was about 30 miles to the border, then 40 miles on from there to my stay for the night in Thunder Bay. And it was mostly nothing all across the Grand Portage Reservation all the way up to Grand Portage itself, where there's a lodge, trading post, and casino. I bought some candy, used the bathroom, and made use of the last cell data I'm going to get for awhile to message people and take care of things. I was amazed at how many people came up to me while I was there, asking me questions about my bike and my tour. Generally no one has really given me any notice throughout Minnesota. I had one fellow tell me he didn't want to discourage me (in a tone that was clearly meant to) but I was going to be in for an awfully big climb as soon as I left Grand Portage. I told him it was alright, that I've biked a few mountains in my day. He gave a real non-commital mutter to that and walked away. I didn't mean to shut him up...but then I guess I did.

And that steep climb, Mt Josephine as a sign called it? Yeah, it was no big deal. It was a little work to be sure, but I have low gears for a reason. ...Though I will say I did pass up the opportunities for some cool shots of scenic vistas on the way down because I wasn't interested in burning any more brakes as I sped my way down.

And before I knew it, I was at the border. After my awful time getting into British Columbia before, I was all ready for another terrible ordeal, having all my bags checked and the whole nine yards. The border guard asked me some simple questions about where I'm from, what I do, where I've been staying, how many days I'll be in Canada and why. Then out of nowhere he suddenly asks where I have any weapons, clearly to catch me off guard and see my expression. I answer honestly that I don't, no firearms, no mace, and no on the narcotics (including marijuana) too, no, no, and no. And then he says, alright, there's a washroom just over here if you need, enjoy your time in Canada. I ask in a little surprise, "That's it, I'm good?" And yeah, that was it, I was good. I guess Western Canada border crossings really are tougher, just like I'd heard. It was quick and easy. When a lady stopped me with a pamphlet on fire safety after I came through, I even couldn't help commenting to her I appreciated how easy they made the process.

The rest of the ride up to Thunder Bay was largely uneventful, aside for me developing some unpleasant indigestion I then dealt with most the day. Ontario looks like Minesotta, save for everything being in kilometers, the guard rails looking different, a stronger smell of manure from the farms, and much browner water for some reason. Once I got to Thunder Bay however, it was all the fun of getting into a city, but now with less aid from Google. I turned somehow off the highway when I shouldn't have, then thought I could make up for it by crossing a bridge that turned out to be closed, and had to bike all the way back to return to the highway. Then I messed up and didn't get off the highway when I legally had to, and a highway patrolman car pulled me over. It was fine though, he was polite, understanding, and helpful as could be. This is Canada after all. And honestly, while I was nervous in my navigating, cars always passed properly and never once honked. Because it's Canada. I got on bike trail and was able to follow that most of the way, and only got a little turned around at the university. Hell, I even only knocked on one wrong door because I mixed up 30 and 20 in my head.

My host is cool and lives in a neat house. She's very high energy and talkative, and is extremely well traveled, with lots of great stories. She's also done her share of bike touring, across Canada, some of the Pacific Coast, and over in Asia even. After my shower we went to a nearby bar and I got a drink and a plateful of nachos (burning away more money I shouldn't, hah). Then we came back and drank tea while enjoying the lovely view from her balcony. I also checked out her bike after working on mine, and was able to tell her it definitely needs in to the shop (her drive train is shot for one thing, with lots of miles clearly put on it). She apologized for being boring and calling it a day, but honestly, I was more than fine with getting this little bit of alone time, and soon I'll be off to sleep myself. It's another big day tomorrow.

Hungry Hippies

Regrettably, I won't be able to post this as I write it tonight. I don't have wifi and only get the rarest, briefest moments of signal where I'm at tonight. And it's been awhile since the last, so who knows if I will get lucky enough to be graced another. I'm just glad I was able to get a quick message out to my dad to let him know I'm in for the night so he doesn't worry. It's a little disappointing being cut off...but I guess it's good practice for the days ahead in Canada.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I cross the border and spend my first night, of what should be 8, in Canada. Tomorrow I begin my first real stretch of bike touring out of country (considering my trip to Vancouver was really just a quick pop over the border and back). I've been seeing signs with distances to the border all day, watching it get ever closer. I'm nervous, honestly. But I'm the sort of person who has nerves about everything before I do it the first time. It never stops me from doing it anyways.

It was a good day today. I slept terribly. I awoke many times in the night. I was well awake at dawn, but I refused to move from my bag out into the cold for nearly two hours. It warmed up reasonably quickly today, but that early morning was very chilly right next to the lake. I managed to cut my numb finger, right at the cuticle, on my front chainring, as I slipped while undoing my lock. It bled a surprising amount, especially for the total lack of pain (aided by my hands being numb. I joked that it was a blood offering to my bike, and that I was bound for a good day with my sacrifice made already in the morning.

Then there was the mystery of the opened peanut butter pouch. I put all my bags in the bear box last night. A pouch of peanut butter I'd had in my belt bag got tossed on top of my food pannier, rather than into it. I opened the bear box this morning to discover that it was open and bits of peanut butter were all over. At first I thought it must be a small mammal, but then quickly realized that was impossible, the bear box being properly sealed against anything like that. Then I thought insects. But that made no sense either. No peanut butter was actually consumed, bits of the top of the pouch and some peanut butter was scattered on things, but nothing else touched, no bugs or anything visible. And thus by Holmesian deduction, ruling out the impossible, I was left with what seemed improbable, but must be true, that some temperature/pressure changes had made the bag explode open on its own. I've never heard of anything like it, but it's the only explanation that fits the facts. It was odd, but no real harm done. ...Save that several of my bags now smell faintly of peanut butter, right as I'm entering bear country. Oh how tragically funny it would be if that gets me eaten by a bear.

After rolling out of the camp site, I went back to the visitor center, restocked on water, charged my phone, and took vengeance on that vending machine by feeding it back its nickels and dimes to get a candy bar (...not much for vengeance, but I got rid of them at least). I didn't get on the road until almost 10.

But that was fine; I needed the time out this morning. And there was less to see today as it turned out anyway. Though not to say that what there was wasn't well worth it. There was an impressive waterfall that ran under the highway, with walkway down to get a better view. I totally hopped the guard rail and went climbing about where I wasn't supposed to in order to get a closer look. There were also some neat views from Temperance River State Park. And the town of Grand Marais is neat too, full of character and quirky and quaint little businesses. At the outskirts it had one of the funniest mom and pop styled mini golf courses I've ever seen, complete with cages with turkies and chickens. And since Alex recommended it as the place everyone goes there in Grand Marais (though it seemed there were a lot of eateries of all kinds, including what claimed to be "The World's Best Donuts"), I went to Sven and Olie's pizza place and splurged on a pizza. I've lost a little weight, so I figured eating a whole, greasy pizza might help. ...I couldn't finish it though. I need to eat constantly, but I still have a relatively small stomach, so I can only handle so much at a time. I asked for a to go box...and was given a full size pizza box. Thankfully, I have some masterful, albeit messy looking, box folding skills, and I managed to fit it into my pannier while not getting grease all over everything. That pizza is now in the refrigerator here.

And where is here? The Hungry Hippie Hostel, recommended by someone on Couch surfing when they declined my request because they have family visiting. It's a cool spot, again, with a lot of character, and only a couple miles off the highway...though more work than I'd initially realized to get here. I kept noticing on Google Maps that I had a lot of climbing to do to get to my destination for the night...but I wasn't really doing much all day. Which of course led to the obvious realization that all that climbing was at the day's end on my way in from the coast to get here. And damn...what a climb it turned out to be, with most of it on gravel at that. I used my lowest gear on the 920 for the first time ever, and was glad to have it. I'm honestly nervous about going back down in the morning (though by the time this is posted, I realize I'll already have done it). I tightened my brakes up a bit to be ready.

But this place is neat, even with the lack of wifi and signal. Jeremy and his wife, the people who run the place, were trying to figure out what to do with their big farm property, whether to grow crops or raise horses or what (he does have some pigs), when he struck on the novel idea to turn the barn into a hostel. He's done some backpacking and long distance hiking, and that along with noticing (as I have) that camping is crazy expensive around here, influenced his decision to make the Hungry Hippie Hostel. He has his degree in construction management and his primary job is working construction at the Grand Portage Casino (which I'll be sure to see, from the outside at least, tomorrow), and it's obvious in the design of this place that he knows his stuff. I groaned on the inside and was afraid for my wallet again when he told me that the bunks (and their rate of $25/night) weren't available yet, despite being advertised on the website. But Jeremy is a really nice, understanding fellow just getting his business started and he cut me a deal of $35 for a private room instead of the usual $55. He even let me do laundry free when it's normally an extra paid service, telling me he had a soft spot for folks living on the road. And that all seemed more than fair to me.  I may be spending more lately than I usually try to, but I feel a lot better about the $35 I spent for tonight than the $23 I spent last night. I think sometimes I need to loosen up with my traveling finances a little. It's a cool experience to be here. And in the years to come when this place becomes a smashing success as I think it will, I get to boast that I was their first ever bike tourist. That's well worth it in itself.