Crossing Canada

After the fun bits of Quebec came the tedious bit – skirting around firstly Quebec City, then the following day Montreal and Ottowa, where our satnavs took us through the centre of the city. Actually, at least the traffic was moving there and it is only small, so no great shakes. But we lost Al along the way, and Chris decided to go a bit further so just Dave and I stayed in a place called Arnprior, Chris camped and we all met up the next day when we had finally arrived on the shore of Lake Superior.

By now we were in Ontario, and it is grievously incorrect to label this part of the ride as tedious. It was fabulous. I had been told that this road, Rte 17, was one of the best roads for bikes on our ride but I was sceptical. I had imagined a corniche along the shore of one of the great lakes to be continually interrupted by tourist towns with the attendant traffic, but I was so wrong. I guess one simply doesn’t grasp the scale of Canada. From where we first encountered Lake Superior at Sault Ste Marie to where we left it at it’s western end is a distance on the road of 700 km. And there were almost no tourist towns, or traffic of any kind, spoiling the ride.

Lake Superior is the largest of the Great Lakes – it was actually quite exciting to see as I remember being taught about the lakes in junior school. It is the largest freshwater lake by surface are in the world, about 45% of it lying within Canadian territory (the rest being in the USA, in case your geography is a bit sketchy). The shoreline has a rugged and pristine beauty, with rocky cliffs and dense forests frequently obscuring the views of the lake.

We camped at a small place called Marathon, and were warned that this was bear country so full precautions required. So we decided to cook, but made sure the washing up was thorough and put all utensils and leftovers in a sealed bag some distance from the tents. And had a disappointingly undisturbed night. The next morning was damp and overcast so tents were packed quickly and we headed for breakfast at the ubiquitous Tim Horton in the local town. As I left the campsite the heavens opened with a rare ferocity and like the others I was completely drenched in the 5 minutes it took to get to the coffee shop, having unwisely decided against waterproofs. Then of course the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started. This set the tone for the day – riding while wet, and trying to get things dried. We headed to Thunder Bay which the guide book suggested was a vibrant and interesting town, but we didn’t find that bit. Instead we found several km of strip malls, a road of corporate hotels, and another drenching as we decided where to stay. Camping was out for most of us – we wanted to get (and stay) dry. Chris again decided to press onwards and ticked the box (as he put it) of camping in the wild and reappeared the day after.

Both Al’s KTM and Dave’s BMW have been giving cause for concern. Despite getting a new chain, but being told the sprockets were fine, the KTM is showing significant signs of wear. Al has decided to replace them both, and arranged to have this done on Friday 12th in Lethbridge, south of Calgary. We left Thunder Bay on the 9th, and Al had a hotel booked in Lethbridge for the evening of the 11th. Lethbridge is just over 1900 km from Thunder Bay and he had three days to cover the distance, so set off early, catching up with Chris along the way. Dave and I intended to take it a bit more leisurely, but to still get a move on. Ideally, I wanted to get to Calgary by Friday evening, so having 4 days to cover the just over 2000 km.

The route from Thunder Bay westwards towards Calgary crosses the Canadian plains. These are a vast expanse of fertile land that stretch across the provinces on Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, characterised by its wide open spaces, gently undulating hills and rich agricultural land. It is largely flat, and the Canadians joke that if your dog runs off, you can watch it running for three days before losing sight of it. The main road that traverses this plain is the Trans Canada Highway, or TCH. There are a couple of other options but the TCH is dual carriageway all the way and has a higher speed limit of 110 kmph – and there was a long way to go so we took this easy option.

Dave’s BMW has been intermittently failing to start, the battery appearing to have insufficient charge. Luckily he had had the foresight to bring a set of jump leads, which were used on several occasions at the roadside or in petrol stations. After an early-ish start on the second day of our ride across the plains, thinking that we might catch up with Chris, the BMW again failed to restart at a petrol station just outside of Winnipeg. Dave is understandably disappointed, and frustrated never knowing if the bike would start without assistance from a handy nearby Ducati (oh, the ignominy!). He suddenly brightened up: Hang about Phil, what’s that over there? Over there, on the other side of the dual carriageway of the TCH, was a large motorcycle dealer. So off he went while I finished my coffee (first stop of the day), and sure enough not only was it a bike dealer but also a BMW dealer, and it had a suitable replacement battery in stock. Having tested the old one and determined that that was indeed the problem, I left Dave and continued on, while he waited for about three hours while the new battery was prepared and fitted.

I enjoyed a great ride. I had determined that Chris and Al, who had by now reconnected, were not a long way ahead and Al had booked a hotel and Moose Jaw (yes, that’s the name of the town). This was roughly 600 km from where I was near Winnipeg, and I had already ridden about 200 km before breakfast (and battery change), so listening to some music from my youth I set off at a quicker pace than previously, enjoying the scenery and the space inside my helmet. Alongside the TCH runs the tracks of the Canadian Pacific Railway, which carry the immense freight trains. These are quite mesmerising – I can see how you could ride off the road while trying to count the wagons. The power needed to move these mile-long leviathans is mind-boggling.

The day was hot, and got hotter. The air temperature recorded on my bike reached 37 degrees. I just rode on, and at a stop in the afternoon realised to my surprise that I had overtaken both Al and Chris – Al had stopped at a museum he had chanced across in Brandon. The three of us congregated in Moose Jaw and thoroughly enjoyed a beer or two. Dave was happy that his bike was sorted, and relaxed a few hundred km behind us.

Two days later, which is today as I write, Al has his chain sorted and will join us in a rented apartment tomorrow, Chris and I are together in a Calgary airport hotel where our respective wives have landed, and Dave is a couple of hours to the east, again joining us tomorrow.

The landscape and the riding will change dramatically from here as we head into the Rockies and turn northwards.