Thursday, October 19

Another "Queenie"!



One of Ardys Kellerman's BMW is a K-series bike. The one in the picture is not hers but she rides one similar to it. Since first hearing about Ardys Kellerman, distance rider, great grandmother, I have admired this woman. This morning I discover that she shares the pet name, "Queenie" with my bike! How cool is that! Ardys Kellerman has become somewhat of an obsession of mine. She's a great grandmother, which I'm not, she's an "elder", which I'm not--yet--she is a woman, which I am. I know if I met her we'd like each other. We have a lot in common: motorcycles, a love of solo riding, distance riding, and a fondness for BMWs. I want to be Ardys Kellerman when I grow up.

Ardys Kellerman belongs to a select group. She has finished 4 Iron Butt Rallies (IRB) to date. This means, she has ridden multiple rides of 11,000 miles in 11 days! You read that right! She stands not just at the top of women's list of IRB finishers, she has outperformed most men who compete in the IRB too. She is someone who definitely follows the motorcycle adage: "ride your own ride."

Kudos to Ardys Kellerman, someone you should know.

Monday, October 16

Brrrrr! Winter storage or what?!

Thinking aloud about needing to decide what to do with the bike for the next five months...

It is not unusual now to awaken to mornings that are 35 degrees. Until this year, I've never complained too loudly about cold weather. Jogging, hiking, and x-cross country skiing along the lakefront can keep one sanguine during the winter doldrums. Just dress properly and outdoor life can be fun. Dressing properly are the operative words. As this is my first "winter" riding a motorcycle, I'd like to see just how long I can go before the cold makes me cry uncle. All I know now is that riding at 35 degree F, at speeds of 60 mph, feels less than joyous on anything longer than 25 miles. I have gear that, so far, has kept me relatively comfortable. But allow me be clear: I have not come close to the skin-slicing, nose-hair freezing, knee-numbing, head-hurting cold that is standard fare for Chicago. I'm not a wimp. But on my last "cold" ride, I was not a happy trooper.

I could put the bike in storage now, which would render it entirely off limits on those sporadic November through April days when the weather's schizophrenia produces some amazingly warm, ride-friendly days. Like today, the early morning has reached 54 degrees F. A couple of days ago, at the same time, it was 34 degrees. That's a huge difference! At 54 degrees, I'll ride without hesitation; I'm less enthusiastic at 34 degrees. I could not store the bike and face the frequent frustration of warming it up and accepting that my pleasure shall be restricted, at best, to listening to the engine rev. I guess, I could pack up and relocate somewhere that promises year 'round motorcycling.

All of these "choices" have drawbacks that make me whine. The best solution, I think, is to select a date and put the bike in storage regardless of the temp outside at the time. I'd grumble and get over it and ache for the new riding season. For a reasonable fee, Motorworks, at 1901 S. Western Avenue, Chicago, IL, will store the bike in a climate-controlled space, change the oil, remove the battery and keep it on a battery tender. Then come Spring, the bike is given an assessment, serviced and is ready to be ridden out the door. Doing a home variant of this that may consist of occasionally firing up the bike or removing the battery and storing it in the house. No sense kidding myself, that would be agony. Sort of like baking sweet potato pie every few days, smelling the rich cinnanomy aroma and not being able to eat any of it. I am not a masochist.

I don't believe the adage, "out of sight, out of mind." I will think of the bike and my yearning to ride every day. More aptly, putting the bike in storage will be "out of sight," slightly less whine.

Coming up: SRTT Report--Finally!

Thursday, October 12

Caught cheating: Here's the "Other" Bike


I've cheated on the blue gal-pal! I recently mounted this mint condition fella, played with its throttle and rode this SV650 beauty until forced to stop. Had 4000 miles on its odometer. The owner is a suburban policeman whose wife is pregnant. The least he could do is get rid of the bike so that there's no chance of him getting killed on it and leaving her a single mother. His lost, some one's great gain! Hey, what about being a policeman? That might have some dangers they might want to think about too...but I digress.

The bike is EFI (fuel injection engine). I didn't notice any significant riding differences. I loved that getting on it seemed just like riding the gal-pal. Even the start wasn't as automatic as I thought but this could be because the owner says he allows the bike to warm to 120 degrees before riding--that took about as long as it takes for my choke to kick in and warm up my bike.

The owner is doting and meticulous--just the kind of person from whom you want to purchase a bike. He introduced the bike as his "baby." His car was his first baby, an unblemished Jeep Wrangler, which he bought off Craigslist. But now the "real" baby was on the way, forcing him to part with his fire engine red SV. Felt sorry for him, he was visibly moved at the thought of parting with it. One plus for him: He uses his garage to store an in-law's bike with the understanding that whenever he experiences post bike-sale withdrawal symptoms, he has rider-rights to the blue Kawasaki. This clever barter seemed to dull the pain of selling his bike.

He's asking $4800 for the bike, which I think is an excellent starting price. Because he's a policeman, I had to show him my "M" license to ride. He told me was "worried" about having prospective buyers ride his bike and had given this considerable thought. To date only two riders have "EVER" ridden the baby. That I rode up with my fairly clean, slightly cock-eyed blue friend, looking very much like his bike's cousin, might have helped him feel a little more comfortable about me riding it. Of course, that he went with me, leading on the blue Kaw, must have brought him the real relief.

It was a smooth ride along some nice suburban roads, approximately 25 miles outside of Chicago. Leaves covered the street making me highly conscious about where I placed those tires. We rode slowly at first, then all the way through the six gears. From 10 mph to 60 mph, we navigated the wide, tree-lined quiet streets of single family homes. I could tell that he is an excellent rider. His head always turned, his shifting, both up and down, was flawless and hardly noticeable. The V-twin is the best engine sound (IMHO).

Our ride was great; the weather was perfect, upper 60s and just enough wind to feel caressed. He told me to let him know when I wanted to end the ride--yeah, right--like that's going to happen. It was evident that he wanted to ride too. He was the first to turn back. When we pulled into his driveway, he took off his helmet and that neon grin said it all.

I'm seriously interested in this bike. Only one drawback. It's totally stock. To get the bike to my standards demands an investment that I've already made in the blue gal-pal. First thing I'd do is reaffirm the gender--it is definitely a male bike; although he said it's a "she." After that, I'd install frame sliders. Not because I fear dropping it, but because some people are major creeps and they might--like someone attempting to steal it! (I still feel murderous when I think about that!)

Here's my list of "must-add" to the bike:

Frame sliders
Center stand
Sergeant Seat
Rear Cowl
Givi windscreen

Unfortunately, these extras put this bike within a few hundred dollars of a brand new '06 SV650! So, why buy this bike? Yes, I'd have to add these features to a new bike too. Difference is...I'd be the one to put on all the miles! Hmmm?

This red hot tamale will find a home and someone will be made significantly happier, too bad it will not be me!

Sunday, October 8

Queenie will rise again!

Well, my gal-pal needs new handlebars, a new brake lever, new right mirror--eventually--and new right bar end (optional, if the scratches don't annoy me). Currently, she sports a "temporary" brake lever, making for a mismatch pair of levers, which definitely annoy me as the bike looks put together with spare parts! But it's better than being unable to ride her.

Cost? I don't know yet, but the items are relatively inexpensive. It's that dang labor that will get you every time! But this shop has been great about prices and service. I learned that a larger shop has my parts in stock, which means I could get her fixed and spiffy right away. But I try to support good, small businesses. Besides, this other shop has a tacky, strange atmosphere. I have purchased items there and have had no major problems with sales folks or the repair shop--although I think their labor charges are outrageous! The really unpleasant part about this other shop is the guy who seems to run the place. He runs hot-cold at unpredictable times. He's been both friendly and inexplicably Arctic to me. Weird bedside--or motorcycleside--manner. Truthfully, he seems off. Not slightly. But hugely! I don't pay for maltreatment. Motorworks, my shop of choice, treats you like fine silk! Their service is superior. Every time I've stepped foot in the place, I feel like I'm there to hang out with a bunch of guy-pals. And, I never leave there without learning something new. So, Queenie and I will wait for our TLC and parts from Motorworks.

When I left the shop, riding with my cock-eyed handlebars, I stopped at the range where the Ride-Chicago teachers would bound to be conducting a class. My advanced riding class, SRTT (Street Riding Technical Training),would be Sunday (today) and I wanted to know if I should even show up. I liked that they too were ticked upon learning that someone had tried to steal my bike. They had their own bitter memories.

Chris, my first safety instructor, thought I should attend the class, that the ride might be a tad awkward initially, but he felt I'd soon adjust. I hate when things I need are not up to snuff. I know if I don't do as well as I want in class, I'll always think it was the cock-eyed handlebars that sabotaged me. Chris inspected my handlebars and said he might be able to straighten them. The bend was at a stress point that could snap. He tried. Eventually, others helped him. I hated that Queenie was being manhandled by three strapping guys, but in this case the "no pain, no gain" was in effect. In running a safety school, Chris said they are experienced at straightening out handlebars. Mine seemed particularly stubborn and refused to cooperate. Later, when I prepared to leave, the ride did seem slightly less cock-eyed. It's weird that I'm riding with a countersteering sensation. But Chris assured me I should be okay in the class, which is held on a track. Getting there will be interesting.

I should get some shut eye before I ride the cock-eyed bike. Signing off...

Friday, October 6

Theft averted, parking ticket, helmet drop...

There's an old blues refrain that goes like this: "If it wasn't for bad luck I wouldn't have any luck at all!" That's how today has felt to me! So here's my whining rant.

Got up early this morning for a short ride before work. Opened the door leading to my garage and didn't see my bike. It's the first thing I see after passing through two doors. For a second, I thought I'd parked it elsewhere--haven't ridden in a few days. But as I walked in the direction of where my bike is supposed to be, I saw a huge mound of something on the ground. It was my freaking bike! It was as if she were resting--it looked too peaceful to be the result of a crash...just my gal-pal...on the ground.

Freaked, is not a strong enough word to express my reaction! I looked around as if to catch whomever could have done this. I stood there looking as if willing the bike to upright itself. I couldn't think. Then I couldn't lift her. I've lifted my bike before, but the way it was on the ground, left no space to stoop and get my butt against the seat to hoist it. I stood there puzzled, trying to think of what to do next. I think I was going into shock...

I noticed that the brake lever was broken, the bulbous end was on the ground and the right bar end was badly scratched. I couldn't tell if the body was damaged or scratched, but it didn't look like it. Thank goodness I put on those frame sliders! Finally, I asked one of the guys at my building's front desk to help me upright it. Like me, they were appalled at the nerve of some people! Once uprighted, I inspected the bike. The only problem was the disc lock. Evidently, the thief tried to roll the bike and could only get so far before the disc lock prevented further movement. The sound of the alarmed probably scared off the creep who then dropped the bike.

The disc lock was jammed pretty tightly on the disc brake. When I tried to dislodge it, the poor little yellow lock tried to scream but it must have lost much of its juice while averting the thief. It sounded weak but continued to beep and screech its heart out. Eventually, I was able to work the disc loose and unlock it.

With the exception of the broken brake lever, the bike seemed fine. Well...the handlebars seemed slightly crooked--or maybe that was my imagination. Rode to a local cafe to get some work done. Meter parking doesn't kick in until 8 o'clock so I had a couple of carefree hours yet. I worked well, despite being distracted about my bike's violation. Looked up and it was 8:03. I had a pocket full of quarters to pay for street parking. As I walked to the bike, I couldn't help but spot the large florescent, safety-orange colored parking ticket neatly tucked beneath the bungee cord on the rear seat. UGH!! The ticket was written at 8:04 a.m.! I looked at my watch: 8:05 a.m.! That one minute will cost me $30!

Loaded the meter up for a couple of hours and returned to work. When I finally left the cafe, I detoured to a computer store to buy ink. No street parking anywhere. At first I thought of parking illegally and just sticking my ticket on the bike. But knew the guilties would get to me. So, I found one of those 5 minutes spots and knew I'd be risking another ticket if I didn't get in and out of the store in a few short minutes. I raced to and fro and made it back before a new ticket appeared. Before zipping up my jacket that I had opened to keep cool while running, I sat my helmet on the bike's seat. I don't ordinarily do that--it's just plain dumb! Yes, it fell. A hard fall too! It fell with a bang and then bounced. My favorite helmet now has a gouge and I'll now wonder about the structural integrity of the helmet. Okay, I'm crying "Uncle" now!

I went home after the drop rather than go into work. I could work from home and cry openly whenever the mood struck. The work has been slow going because the whole day has been one giant distraction. I'm looking forward to the day's end so I can stop this dark cloud from following me.

Tuesday, October 3

Guest Blogger, Lucas, returns safe, sound--and happy!

I've only read half of Lucas' report so far but it sounds great! Wanted to get it posted before I finished. We'll have to wait until next summer to read more ride reports from Lucas so sit back, sip some tea and ENJOY!

Lucas, I'm glad you took the plunge--you did well!

The Road to Tobermory - IV

Final Dispatch from Lucas:

This will be the longest and final entry on my journey to Tobermory from Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. This is the body of the trip and is composed of four days of life on the road with a motorcycle. I am writing this entry after my successful return home in one go instead from notes I should have taken. I needed to purchase a journal but it never got in my shopping cart and pulling over to find a place that had a simple notebook was never convenient on the trip. For example in Guelph, I pulled in for my first fuel stop and there was plenty of large strip malls but it was raining and the traffic was heavy. I didn’t know my way around and felt it was better to get moving than try to find a way to navigate into a parking lot to get a notebook. The trip is fresh in my mind and I’ll capture as many facts as I can to make this an interesting read.

I pulled into my driveway yesterday after noon which was October 2nd. Corrina had almost 1000 km on her trip odometer, that’s 600 miles. I filled her up three times on this journey for a total of $30.00 CDN. With an average price of $0.85 a litre, Corrina had consumed 35 litres of gas which is approximately 8 ¾ gallons resulting in about 65 m.p.g. Corrina is a BMW F650CS motorcycle and I felt she did very well as a touring rig. I’m not an expert on motorcycles and this is the only motorcycle other than my moped that I’ve ever owned but she was very comfortable, handled the wind and the trucks confidently and had plenty of power for passing and the hills. The heated hand grips were a boon on cold and windy days.

Before I rant on much further I have to thank the universal powers that be for a safe and successful journey. For giving me strength and courage and to not let me cave in to my darkest fears. Thank you for having this opportunity to be able to have the means and facilities to ride a motorcycle. This trip opened up a whole world that I never knew existed just a few hours north of where I live. I will return plenty and often – I now have some ideal weekend get-aways that I will do much next summer.

This trip was the final trip of the season and I’m so happy to have accomplished it. The journey was a remarkable way to wrap up the riding season. This summer I dreamt about riding, researched into the possibility of riding, met some great people on line that ride, got my license and learned to ride and then took a grand tour riding. I couldn’t ask for more than that and call it a success.

Now about the trip.

On Friday morning, September 29th – I was up early with anticipation and anxieties about the trip. After feeding the dogs, getting breakfast, cleaning up and getting the spouse out the door and the dogs walked. I was ready to embark on my trip. The bike was packed from the night before and I added the final bits and secured the luggage one last time. Corrina’s chrome gleamed in the fluorescent lighting of the garage as in eager anticipation of her first journey. Her first owner only put 2677 km on her and maybe less as she was used as a loaner bike for awhile at the Toronto BMW Motorrad. I did find a receipt in her stuff bag for bagels. Maybe that is all that he wanted out of motorcycling, was to get bagels. I knew the owner was a ‘he’ as the salesman told me Corrina was traded in so the guy could get a sport bike.

I put on my riding gear, a bit too much as I felt confined and hot immediately. The fleece pants and top were too much with the winter liner of my riding gear. I let it go for awhile to see if I could take it and if it would become more comfortable. I rolled Corrina out of the garage and onto the street. This was it, I’m either going or I’m not. I was going. My neighbour Pauline was mowing another neighbour’s grass with her grandson Brody. She is the sweetest and warmest person I know. She can make a friend with anyone. Pauline has lived her entire life in this area – she knows how to be happy by enjoying the simplest things. Seeing Pauline before I left was a good thing because she has encouraged me so much to ride. Her husband Marshall an ex-RCMP motorcycle cop got me to ride down the street on my own. They are the best neighbours.

I talked to Pauline for a few moments and she wished me a safe journey. I closed the lid on my helmet, let go of the front brake and rolled on the throttle. Corrina purred to life and surged towards the stop sign at the end of the street. I checked for traffic, made a right and then a left and I was on to Glendale Boulevard pointing west bound. My first stop was at the bank just before leaving town. I needed to deposit my last ‘side-job’ check as this was going to be part of my funding for the trip. After leaving the check at the bank and taking out $100.00 Canadian, I felt the fleece had to go. I was too stiff and too hot with all of that on. At the back end of the bank’s parking lot I ditched the fleece and stuffed it into my luggage. I would need it later but not now.

The sun was shining through patchy silver and grey clouds. I looked westward and could see some ominous dark clouds, that was Guelph and from the weather report I knew rain was ahead in that area. I haven’t done much riding in rain since I learned to ride my motorcycle this summer. I did some practice in the wet but nothing long distance and this did cause me some consternation and anxiety. I didn’t let it bother me too much as the weather in my current location was fine.

I worked my way out of the bank and back on to Glendale Boulevard, past the mall and out towards the far westward end of town towards St. Paul Street which becomes Rt. 81. Rt. 81 has been a favourite ride of mine and I have been down that road several times. The road goes from suburban homes and into light industrial to farm land and vineyards. Through Balls Falls Conservation area there are some twists and turns in the road. Sitting up higher towards the Niagara Escarpment, the road provides a good view of the flat land that leads to the Lake Ontario. The flat land has provided a bounty of agriculture and viticulture over the years. The golden brown fields in autumn lead to the blue water of Ontario and on a clear day you can see Toronto from here.

This area is known as the ‘Golden Horseshoe’. I’m not sure why it’s called that, maybe the western end of Lake Ontario is horseshoe shaped and the golden part could be from all of the natural resources that have been extracted out of the land over the years. The road to Tobermory is northwest from Niagara Falls. I need to move west to get away from the lake and up into the back country to get to my destination. I started at 10:30 and by the time I left the bank it was 11:30. This included all of the final preparation and getting to the bank and then changing back out of the fleece. My destination for this day was Sauble Falls Provincial Park. The park is about an hour south of my furthest destination, Tobermory. Between St. Paul Street and Sauble Falls, I had about 5 hours of time – I road about 4 hours of that time. For now, I had a large city and a smaller city to get through and then face the open road for the first time with rain. I had to fight back all of the negative thoughts and keep positive. I knew deep down that I would be safe and that I would have a good ride with plenty of memories to share.

Riding for me is part of living my past. There were days when I didn’t have the moped and I can’t exactly remember why. I’m not sure if it wasn’t working or if I had become too embarrassed to ride it. Instead, I would hitchhike from my house in Lake Hughes to Lancaster for work. I remember a ride home that left me stranded in the desert, when my ride wanted to go right and I needed to go straight. I got let off out in the dark. I only had the heat of the road to keep me warm. I discovered that there is a power within, a deep down resource that you can tap into to find a reserve of strength and courage. I’ve used that reserve to overcome many challenges in my life since that night in the desert. Using the internal power reserve, I was able to overcome those negative thoughts of ‘can’t’, ‘what-if’, ‘loser’, etc. that can really bag your ride.

I rode through Rt. 81, enjoying the ride and the feeling of the open road. Corrina was set perfectly. Her oil was at the correct level giving good shifts and positive accelerations. The spring pre-load was comfortable and she felt confident. The camping gear was properly load and well balanced. Heading into Hamilton was going to be a new challenge; heavy city traffic. This was not as big a problem as I had imagined it would be. I found being confident in the lane, clearly signalling your intentions and keeping alert provided the necessary tools to tackle this hurdle. I remembered the directions from the map and studying mapquest.com, but managed to get turned around when I saw a sign to Highway 6. I missed a turn and ended up at a dead end. Turning around, eventually I found my way to a city park. At the park entrance, I found a detailed map of parks in the city and realized I was only a block away from York Road. York Road leads to Hwy 6, which is where I needed to be.

Highway 6 was my road to Tobermory and getting on that highway was a big accomplishment. This means that I fought back every negative thought and tackled the big bad city. Little did I know that I would quickly face another challenge. I misread the map and didn’t see the little red squiggle for Highway 6 meant getting on a real expressway, 401. When the sign appeared that Highway 6 meant 401 for 2 km, I hesitated at first – then checked the right turn lane for traffic and leaned Corrina onto the on-ramp of 401. I had done some expressway practice but for short distances and with slower traffic. I got on to 401 and the traffic in the slow lane was doing over 120 kmh. I had a car on my left that was block my entrance to the highway. On a motorcycle you don’t have the luxury of a car body to nudge people out of the way. I’ve learned if you signal your intentions very strongly that the cars will move. I stretched my left arm out and point to the left lane and the black Audi backed off and went into the next lane; this allowed me to get onto the expressway at 120 kmh. I was nestled in between some rather large trucks and was glad to see my exit was coming up. I was now on Highway 6 proper and moving northwest.

Made a stop in Guelph for lunch and gas. Lunch was a BumbleBee lunch pack, for $2.50 US it was quite a deal. I found them to be the right amount of food for motorcycling. I’ve read you don’t want to fill up too much and have that after-lunch-want-to-take-a-nap feeling. The lunch pack consisted of 6 crackers, a can of tuna salad, a cookie and a fruit cup. I also had some hot tea from the McDonalds, as I used their restrooms – I felt that I owed them $1.25 for the use of it. The gas station was in the same parking lot, filled the tank and I was off.

Leaving Guelph, the small towns and farmer’s fields passed my view out of my full-face helmet. Some of the towns were noteworthy and others were barely remember-able. Towns like Fergus and Arthur had some pretty streetscapes that were still maintained in this area of big block stores and strip malls. Highway 6 isn’t a great bike route and more of a get-there kind of road for automobiles. Being unfamiliar with this area and on my first run, I was inclined to stay in an area that I would be most comfortable. I had a deja’ voux in Mt Forest. I’ve had these before in the past and when you encounter a scene, it’s quite eerie. I had dreamt several years ago about a small town, as you entered the small town you saw the main street went up a hill and the road was being repaired – a detour was required to get back on to Highway 6. I dreamt all of this exactly. This tells you that more is going on in this world than we know about.

I stopped for a break outside of Mt. Forest at a little M.T.O. rest stop. The weather was a bit chilly and I put on my fleece vest for more warmth. I had purchased a BMW neck warmer and that was worth every penny ($35.00 US). Its waterproof on the outside and fleece lined on the inside. There is a zipper on the left side, so it fits snug against your neck sealing out drafts. I’m not into buying name brand apparel for the sake of the brand, but if they make the best item then I’ll buy it. My feet were cold, so I added some extra socks. With the heated handgrips on my bike, I was doing quite well in the chilly and wet climate.

I motored on to Owen Sound, arriving at about 3:30 pm. From what I could see of Owen Sound, it was a pretty town that I would like to revisit. I followed the signs for Highway 6 and soon I saw the Ontario Parks sign for Sauble Falls Provincial Park. I was close to my destination and feeling good. An hour later, I arrived at Sauble Falls Provincial Park. The park was quiet with few visitors at this time of year. The shadows were long by this time and the feelings of loneliness were great. I had just accomplished the first leg of my trip and feeling a bit overwhelmed. I wish I had someone to share the ride with. Setting up camp and searching for fire wood with no luck helped fill the time. I went to the local store for fire wood, they didn’t have it in bags – so I canned the idea. Deciding for a hike instead up to Sauble Falls, the bright warm sunlight changed my mood and it felt good basking in the suns rays.

Returning to the tent, I started my dinner routine, finished and spent the rest of the evening reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. My earlier feelings I had upon arriving at the park were vindicated by reading Robert Persig’s account of his journey as he stated the same exact feelings towards the end of his day. The mornings are bright and full of hope and possibilities that everything is going to work out. By the evening as the shadows grow longer, there is less chance to make right for went wrong. You have to live with that day’s decisions and think about them through the evening.

The rain came in through the evening and I stayed dry and comfortable in my tent. I’ve had that tent for over ten years. It’s a great backpacking tent that holds two people. The tent is light-weight and roomy. For moto-camping, I’d highly recommend getting a backpacker’s tent – don’t attempt to bring your big Coleman dome tent. You want something that will pack down into a small space and is very light. I’d almost recommend a bivvy sack but you may feel claustrophobic on long raining evenings.

The next morning, Saturday was Tobermory day. The rain had stopped long enough for me to get breakfast, take a shower and pack up my gear. As I put my riding gear on, the rain drops began. Corrina didn’t want to start this morning – I think it was a combination of running the heated handgrips on high all day and being left out in the cold damp weather without a cover. I need to get a cover for the bike and remember to turn off the grip heat at least 10 miles before my destination. Corrina’s starter cranked very slowly and when I thought the battery was going to give out, she sputtered to life. I blew a sae of relief and I was driving out of the park. The park was on Rt. 13 and I followed that as the weather began to kick into full rain, wind and cold. I followed Rt. 13 back onto Highway 6. Not much to talk about Highway 6, straight as an arrow and two lanes without a divider – what joy! My destination was Parks Canada Visitor Center in Tobermory.

Arriving almost an hour later at the Visitor Center and with a sense of accomplishment. I had officially reached my goal of Tobermory. The Visitor Center was a welcome relief to the rain and cold of the road. I visitor in the parking lot had to comment about riding a motorcycle in the cold weather, I replied ‘It’s not so bad if you bundle up.’ Which is true, I really wasn’t that uncomfortable with the winter lining, the winter lining in my gloves, the fleece and of course those blessed heated grips. The visitor center had some nice displays on the history of the area and a decent video that showed some of the park highlights. I climbed the 20’ tower to view the entire peninsula and beyond. Then I followed the tower climb with a 15 minute walk to Georgian Bay. Grey and hazy, the dark forested islands beyond were enshrouded. With the grey-green water lapping the shoreline. I stayed at the visitor center awhile longer as the rain had not abated much since my arrival. Eventually, I figured it’s now or never – I walked back to the bike, put my helmet and gloves on and rode out to the village of Tobermory.

There wasn’t much to see in Tobermory – it’s mostly a village of crap-shacks (aka gift shops) and local eateries. I partook in the crap-a-thon by visiting the Purple Dog House. I had to pick up some gourmet biscuits for my pooches. They wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t. I asked about a ‘come-as-you-are’ restaurant as I was in my motorcycle gear and wasn’t going to change out of it for pleasantries. The Lighthouse was recommended and as it was just a few doors down from the Purple Dog House – it became the obvious choice. A meal of white fish and seafood chowder, the rain finally backed off for the afternoon. I used the opportunity to cruise around the village making my way over to Big Tub Harbor and the lighthouse. After taking a few snaps, I walked back to the bike to find a man and his wife admiring my ride. They were both riders (but not that day) and really liked the look of my BMW.

I had misplaced my beanie the night before in Sauble Falls and was severely in need of a replacement. In Canada a beanie is called a Toque, why I don’t know – it’s a Canadian thing, I’ll never understand. A beanie can be a backpacker’s best friend and motorcyclist as well. On cool days, after riding several hours – your head gets used to the heat inside of the helmet. Then you get off your bike and remove your helmet. Your head is suddenly at a loss without its former insulating layer. Throwing a beanie on will help save you from a headache or worse, a cold or fever. Keep a beanie in your tank bag and put it on at every stop. The beanie helps with over night camping by providing an insulating layer for your head while you sleep. You’ll stay much warmer through the night while wearing your beanie. I found a replacement beanie in the village for $5.00 bucks, it was on sale but no journal.

My fuel light was on – first time on this trip. In need of gas and ready to move on, I found a filling station (Canadianism – Gas Bar) and motored out of town. I headed to Cypress Lake Park Canada Campgroud and got a spot. The friendly woman at the desk recommended a very nice site. After setting up the tent, went back for firewood as it was sold at the check-in in bags. I later changed into some appropriate hiking gear. The weather was holding out and I was up for a hike. I put on my fleece top and bottom, with my nylon rain pants and green rain slicker and of course, my beanie. I went on a nice hike around the lake and out to Georgian Bay. After returning to my campsite, the rain began. No chance of using that firewood tonight, it would be another night inside the tent reading. Since my lunch was at the Lighthouse Restaurant, I decide to have my lunch for dinner and forego the dinner routine due to the rain. The rain kept up through the night and finally abated in the morning.

Sunday morning I woke to blue skies and crisp temperatures. I could see storm clouds forming out over the bay – the big tall scary ones. I was hoping it would stay over the bay but no luck. I have been granted some nice spells without rain and the hike around the lake was one of them. I was truly grateful for that hike as I was for the one the night before. I got back to my campsite and found the beautiful blue skies being replaced by the stormy grey ones. One thing I really hate about camping is packing in the rain – I used my time wisely and quickly packed up while fixing breakfast. I slurped down my breakfast and just as the raindrops began to fall, I was on the road. My destination was going to be either Inverhuron or Goderich – it all depended on the weather.

Time was plentiful on Sunday as I had no stops to make. Whatever the road presented is what I planned to see. I knew I wanted to get off of Highway 6 as soon as I could and see some of the back country. Again, Highway 6 was uneventful except for the rain. A Suzuki Burgman was making its way northbound as I was going southbound. That was totally cool sight to see. The big scooters will open up motorcycling to many people that previously were restricted from it due to abilities or injuries. Making a list of places I’d like to see, I made a stop in Sauble Beach. Sauble Beach looks like one of those old timey East Coast resorts that have long been forgotten, it even has the sign to go with it. I’ll come back next summer and visit the beach and some of the interesting stores.

Following 13 down to 21 east bound, I made my way to Southhampton. Southhampton is a community with a church on every corner and being about 4 square blocks, that about covered it. They have a nice lighthouse and a decent water front. The neighbourhoods are filled with turn of the century homes – they look like a nice place to raise a family. I have found many small towns in this area where time has forgotten and the people seem to like it that way. Visiting these towns, I have left with a sense that we have lost so much in our own neighbourhoods. The Walmarts and Best-Buys will never have the sense of community and character that these places have.

After taking a few pictures of the lighthouse and the waterfront, I made my way back to where I left the bike. I had left the bike at a local museum and they opened at 1:00 pm. It was only noon. I had BumbleBee lunch roadside and waited for the museum to open. The museum is typical of this area. Here is short description; the land was formed millions of years ago and it’s made out of these rocks on display. Then some nice native people moved in and lived in harmony with nature for thousands of years (again on display). A couple of hundred years ago, some European types showed up and kicked those nice native people out and called them savages(huh?). Ok, that part was rough, and the museum is truly sorry about that part, but hey the Europeans made some really nice stuff out of all the timber and other resources they raped from the land (see display). The native people weren’t mentioned again but if you want to see them, they’re selling cheap smokes along Highway 6 and they only own 2% of their original property that was stolen from them. Moving along.

After Southhampton, I quickly made my way to Inverhuron. The time was at 3:00 and I had still plenty of day light. The skies were filled with grey and chubby fat rain clouds with day light breaking in all over. Inverhuron was filled with these and some other dark nasty clouds. I had plenty of time and Goderich was only an hour and half a way. I looked down the road and figured Goderich was among that nicer set of looking clouds. At that point, Inverhuron was bagged and Goderich became my destination and I’m glad I did. Arriving in Goderich at about 4:00 pm, the sky was autumn blue and temps were nice. Another nice lady gave me a sweet spot along the shoreline. Trees sheltered the spot from the direct winds of Lake Huron, but I was able to walk down a few yards and get a beautiful view of the lake. A campfire was successful this evening and I also got to watch the sun set on the lake – a double feature. Sunday evening was filled with the dinner routine, reading and keeping the fire going.

Monday morning and my last day on the trip. I awoke to blue skies and mild temperatures. I walked down to the lake front, among the sand and the sea grass. These beaches aren’t as nice as the ones in Michigan along Lake Michigan. But, they were enough to remind of my days as a kid living just about every weekend on the dunes of Lake Michigan. It’s a memory that I always cherish. I will come back to this camp site, again. Before heading out, I took a few snaps of the wind farm that was located across from the campsite. The wind turbines are beautiful structures that generate re-usable natural energy without any waste or contaminates. While taking my pictures a group of bikes on tour honked their horn and waved. It’s really fun being part of the biker community. I would love to tour with a larger group someday.

From the campsite, I rode south to the town of Goderich. Now this is something you got to see. It’s a town with a thriving downtown! Yeah, no kidding. You could almost see the men in their Fedora’s and the woman in their PillBox hats and white gloves. The downtown was filled with cars and people shopping. I picked up some chocolates for the spouse at a store, took some more pictures and headed out of town. I should have gotten gas and every gas station I passed I kept thinking, you should get gas. The fuel light wasn’t on and I had kind of forgotten my last fill up was in Tobermory. I pushed on and pushed my luck. Finding my way on to Highway 8 towards Kitchener, my fuel light finally came on. I had spoken to a nice man that helped me find some nice back country rodes. Highway 8 was way too busy with cars and tractor-trailers all in too much of a hurry to get somewhere and with no divider. I figured I could find gas outside of Clinton and gotten myself to a village called Kinburn. The place didn’t even deserve a dot on the map – there was nothing there but a sign that said Kinburn. In a panic and without gas, I made my way back to Clinton. I had to ride around a bit to find gas. I wasn’t out as much as I thought I was as the tank only needed $11.00 CDN to fill at 0.85 a litre. I’ve put in more before.

After the scary gas incident and beginning to lose time, I decided to bag the scenic route and just put up with Highway 8. Seaforth, Mitchell and Stratford were all nice towns that would be decent to visit again. After Stratford, the ride became a commute back home. Highway 8 turned into an expressway and I had to bring the bike up to 110 kmh. Making my way through Hamilton, and finally back home, arriving home safely at 4:30 pm.

My impressions of the trip were overwhelming positive and ecstatic. I would definitely do this again. I really liked the old churches – I’m not a religious person but they do bring back a sense of community that has long since gone away. There is a beautiful old church north of Goderich that I would like to visit. I should take up photography and take some pictures of these places. To me they represent a beacon out on the road of town nearby.

I need to investigate some more of the back roads and stay off of the red lines on the map, purchasing a GPS will help and some better maps. There is so much to see and do in my own backyard – this trip has opened up the possibilities of seeing these and many more places.

-Lucas-

For photos of the trip follow the link below:

Sunday, October 1

Taking LSD, Sheridan Road and lessons on lost

Saturday, September 23, 2006:

(Well I'm baaack! It's me, Sojourner Rides. I delayed posting this account so that I could introduce Lucas and let him tell us about his trip plans. As we wait for Lucas to return home and hear more about his trip, here is one from me).

Rainy, cloudy and foggy. I blamed it for 83% of my funk. My riding days are numbered, I know, so I take predictions of bad weather personally. Sunday’s forecast promised brighter skies with no significant moisture. The morning, however, seemed to roll its eyes at the meteorologist’s prediction of clear skies and upper 60s. The weather looked downright rude! My early morning departure—sometime before 7:00 a.m.—looked ominous: dark, cold and yucky. Undeterred, I prepared to leave. Prior to taking off, I had one thing yet to accomplish:

The dang center stand, the bane of my life the past few months!

Good, kind, smart people have given me advice on how to get the bike on its stand. My mechanic, Steve, gave me a detailed lesson. The forum folks gave me more ideas than I could try in a month of Sundays! Still, no luck. It’s not that the bike is too heavy (weightlifting-yes!). It’s the lift and simultaneous up and pull back that seems to stump me. Before it reaches that point where it seemingly hops up, my arm would protest and I would need to stop before completing the process. My arm seemed awkwardly placed. I’d grab at the most logical spot, at the rear grab bar underneath the pillion seat. I’d make certain the front wheel was straight, the bike, in neutral. Except for an irritating strain on my formerly shattered wrist and arm, no “hops up” on the center stand!

But Sunday was going to different. The bike was going up! After three or four tries, however, I began to doubt myself, thinking that I had wasted my money listening to others sing and dance the center stand jig. So, after I stood there feeling madder than a scared puffer fish, I decided to break it down. That’s when I realized the weight of the bike wasn’t the issue. It was my hand position. Where I grabbed was awkward. Why? I couldn’t get enough leverage. The grab bar felt too far away. I decided to try holding onto the bracket that anchors the passenger foot peg. The leverage there felt solid and mighty. After three attempts, however, my hand was getting abused from the bracket’s rather scratchy edges. I decided to use my riding glove—duh? The lift was easy; the bike snapped into place almost effortlessly! Fluke? I tried it again and CA-LUNK! It popped up as if to say, “that’s all you had to do in the first place...was wear your riding glove!” I’m telling you, I mounted the bike and rode with a renewed confidence. To finally accomplish something you’ve tried hard to do over the last few months is HUGE in my book.

Given my center stand accomplishment, I refusd to grumble about the overcast sky, the mist, and the cold. Well...for the most part. Within 30 minutes, it sprinkled for about 5 minutes. The ride north along Sheridan Road was uneventful, just the way I like it. I could relax and enjoy the curvy roads and the few tight twisties that exist. I wore a turtle neck underneath my Firstgear and for the first time since I returned from my long trip, I wore my much-needed fleece lining. I’m still getting acclimated to how cold it feels when moving at 55 mph at 51 degrees. It feels dang near Artic! Saw lots of bicyclists out, all donning their mandatory black spandex thigh length biking shorts and colorful shirts and aerodynamically-styled helmets (I rarely see—no, never see—a serious bicyclist riding helmetless). Those little skinny legs pump all the heat bicyclists need to stay warm.

By the time I reached Lake Bluff, some thirty-plus miles away, the sky had cleared considerably. The air was warmer against my face every time I stopped and flipped my helmet lid to take pictures. Eventually, I retracted the mean things I said about whomever is responsible for weather. I stopped for a light lunch in Waukegan and took my riding pulse on whether I wanted to continue north or turn south back home. Decided to tour Waukegan and return home when done.

This uneventful trip doesn’t begin to capture the beauty of Sheridan Road. At times, one rides parallel to wide tree-lined streets, old train depots, and rail road tracks near Waukegan, or villages like Highland Park or Highwood with their trendy downtowns and quaint gathering spots. Glencoe with its old, well-kept, stately mansions is a reminder that I live in a very different world. But most of us do by, for example, Kenilworth’s standards.

Chew on this: Illinois has the distinction of having both the nation’s richest suburb, Kenilworth, which is situated along Sheridan Road and the poorest suburb, Ford Heights, a southeast suburb. Median income for a household in Kenilworth is $297, 585—that is not a typo. The median income for a household in Ford Height is $17, 500—that is truly not a typo! Can you even comprehend what the differences in those figures mean!

As I had wound my way through Evanston and round Northwestern University, it dawned on me just how good it felt to be out and about. The lake was kicking up a fuss but that did not spoil its majesty. With its strategically placed picture-ready cloud puffs, the sky looked almost fake. I don’t care what anyone says. Chicago’s skyline is unparalleled—and always has been. ‘Nuf said!

What shall make this LSD/Sheridan Road ride memorable is that I lost some valuables! Tucked safely—I thought—in the rear seat (car trunk-equivalent) of my bike were my Suzuki SV 650 owner’s manual, Cruz Tools kit, and a tire plugger repair kit w/CO inflation--no less! Somehow, the bottom fell out. Somewhere along my ride, a screw came loose and my hard-earned stuff were ejected. Never felt or heard a thing. Brand new tools and plugger kit, finger-snap gone! I have an extra owner’s manual. But losing those other items…that hurts. My discovery was only a few blocks from home base. Perhaps it’s best that I learned this late in the ride because the knowledge of my lost made those few blocks home distracting, trying to figure out how and when that bottom opened and where is my stuff now. My luck, I probably lost them in a place like Kenilworth, rather than in some working class neighborhood where my lost is someone’s gain. In the end, it’s all perspective. Somewhere that day a motorcyclist lost his/her life. Me? Thankfully, I lost only some replaceable, material things. Thus, "all's well that ends well."

Sheridan Road pics

Godspeed to Lucas!

Lucas should be making his way home from Tobermory. He will report on his trip--with pictures--upon his return. Sending him "good vibrations" for a safe journey.

Sojourner

Friday, September 29

Road to Tobermory - III

Dispatches from Lucas: September 29, 2006

It's 7:00 am on Friday morning and I have 3 hours to go before setting off on my trip to Tobermory. My bike is packed and checked out. I did that last night so I'd have plenty of time to think about what I need and to thoroughly check the bike over.

Corrina (my pet name for my F650CS) looks really good in her touring profile. I sat on the bike last night with the remaining gear and she still felt well balanced. The blue and gold F650CS luggage works well. I have camping supplies for 4 days. Clothing is mostly fleece and rain gear. I've learned fleece is the best gear to take backpacking as it dries quickly and keeps you warm with minimal bulk. I don't intend to be too sociable on this trip so my appearance will be less than appropriate for 4 star dining.

This trip is more about the journey than the destination. I don't have in my heart or mind an urge to 'get there'. I just want to get on to the open road and feel the hum of Corrina's 650cc Single-Cylinder engine. A single cylinder is also known as a thumper, but I've never really felt thumping coming out of the power plant, more of a nice buzz. I'm hoping to see some fall colors as I get farther north, not much color around here yet. There are a few light houses that I'm hoping to see.

My trip plans have changed slightly as I look at the weather forecast. Instead of going to Kincardine this afternoon, I'm going to take a central route up to Owen Sound and then move west to Sauble Falls. The reason for this alteration is that Saturday will be a rain day. Sauble Falls is only an hour away from Tobermory versus the three hours that Kincardine presented. I'll wake on Saturday and find a clearing in the weather and make way to Bruce Penninsula National Park and camp. If the weather looks ok, then I'll make my way into Tobermory and walk around and check the sites.

Sunday the weather will clear and with only a 40% chance of rain, I'll make my way to Inverhuron in Kincardine and camp. A lighthouse is in Kincardine and I would like to take a look and snap some pictures. On Monday, I'll make my way back home. Monday looks really good - warm and sunny. A perfect way to end my trip. – Lucas --

Tuesday, September 26

Rode to Tobermory - II

Dispatches from Lucas: Monday, September 25, 2006 – Introductions and Pre-flight Check.

Sharon posted my first blog entry to her Moto Tales. I’m very happy that Sharon has invited me to share her blog space with me. She is a respected, skilled and knowledgeable rider and author. Her many triumphs, travels and travails have been posted on the about.motorcycles.com forums. I began my journey into motorcycling this summer and eventually found the About.motorcycles.com site in my quest for information. Sharon, our other cohort Doug and the other forum members, provided so much information, help and support that I am truly honoured to be part of the forum community.

I read my first dispatch after Sharon posted it to the web site. I felt it read a bit dry and I did not add any introduction to who I am and what I’m doing on a motorcycle. How did I get into motorcycling?

Many years ago when I was a bit younger I used to ride a moped. Yes, a blue and silver moped. I don’t recall the manufacturer, just that I loved riding my moped in the high desert near Lancaster, California and up in the mountains near Lake Hughes. It had a top speed of 50 mph with a good tail wind and pointing down hill. To school, back roads and fire trails I took my moped. The moped took all of the abuse that I could offer it and asked for more. Then the thrill of the automobile took over and my interest followed that direction and I lost the feel of wind in your hair and bugs in your teeth and that just plain wide open feeling.

You look back and see that we let go so easily the toys and joys of our youth. We move on to other adventures leaving those halcyon days go as easily as we tear off the next month on the calendar. We get busy with education, pursuit of a life, raising families and just trying to stay sane in this fast paced and crazy world we live in. The veneer of life wears thin over time and we become tired, worn and scared. There is an answer, there is always an answer.

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer

(Let it Be, Beatles 1969)

My answer has been a culmination of events and each event has become an integral part of me and how I see the world. Motorcycling is one of those events. It combines my interest of camping, yoga, spirituality and adventure/travel. Motorcycling called me, I didn’t call motorcycling. You may find this odd and wonder how that happened. It all began with a Honda motorcycle flyer I found in my mailbox about three years ago. I never asked for this literature or even thought much about riding a motorcycle. I have no idea to this day how I got that flyer. Sometimes, it is best to not ask why.

The current TV shows about motorcycles did not enflame me with any passion to ride. I did watch them for the mechanical aspects but those aren’t my kind of bikes. I know very few people that ride and they did not provide me with any encouragement. Since that flyer, I kept getting a nudge to ride and I would troll the manufacturer’s web sites and then put it away for awhile. Finally, this summer I could take the nudging no longer and decided to ride. I first bought David Hough’s ‘Proficient Motorcycling’ – I figured that would hold me off for a while. Not a chance, I wanted more and bought more books. I’ve read over 10 titles on motorcycling and ton’s of web sites about motorcycling.

At the end of June, I made the plunge and got my rider’s permit, a BMW F650CS motorcycle and the Motorcycle Safety Foundation – Basic Rider’s course and a whole bunch of gear. It’s been 90 days since I’ve ventured into motorcycling and I have enjoyed just about every minute of it. I bought my motorcycle used with 2677km (1673 miles) and have almost doubled that mileage in 90 days. What a waste to buy a 10,000 dollar motorcycle and barely ride it.

The BMW F650CS is a very unique motorcycle unlike any other. I’ve named my bike Corrina. It’s my favourite girls name and was made legend in the song Corrina, Corrina by Muddy Waters.

Instead of boring you with all of the details on the F650CS, here are some links for more information: http://uk.motorcity.com/display/visualizzaprove.php3?id=779&idcanale=1

http://www.soundrider.com/archive/bikes/bmw_f650cs.htm

If you follow the link to these web sites, notice the luggage on the back of the bike. I purchased this luggage for my motorcycle.
It’s bike-specific for the F650CS. The luggage holds 61 litres of cargo. The large pillion bag has held my tool bag, large bag of dog food and picnic supplies – not all at the same time.

The riding season is starting to wind down and I really wanted to do a moto-tour before the weather got any colder or meaner. I’ve heard that Tobermory is a nice place to visit; it’s the farthest point on the ‘Escarpment’. The escarpment is a cliff like ridge that runs north/south along the Niagara peninsula.
Riding along the Queen Elizabeth Way (QEW) from Niagara Falls, looking west this prominent landmark can be seen. A straight drive to Tobermory will take just over 6 hours. I’ve decided to break this down into 4 days and enjoy the journey more than the destination.

The weather seems to be getting worse this weekend. It looked better early on, yet as the weekend arrives rain is the main event all weekend. Precipitation is forecasted at 40% on Friday, 70% on Saturday and again 40% on Sunday. I’m definitely going to get wet and shall be prepared for it.

In my previous entry, I gave a link to Tobermory. This link was to the Tobermory Chamber of Commerce web site. This no longer seems to be working, not sure if they’ve paid their hosting bill or not. Try this link instead: http://www.thebrucepeninsula.com/tobermory

--PreFlight Shake Down.

After work today, I got on my riding gear. Looked and felt a bit nasty and cold out, justified adding my inner liner. I felt hot getting my bike out of the garage but as soon as I got moving I’m glad I did. I was very comfortable on my ride today. This inner liner adds an additional level of weather proofing. My gear is Olympia AST Tour Jacket and Olympia AirMesh pants. This is good gear for ranges between 40F up 90F. With the liners removed and the vents open, I’ve been able to ride through the summer without sacrificing my protection.

I adjusted my suspension giving it a little extra firmness. I’ve noticed if I’m riding single, setting my preload on Standard is very comfortable. I get a good ride without being too squishy. If I set it too firm then my butt goes numb after an hour of riding. I added one level of firmness to the preload to adjust for the gear load. This felt very good on today’s ride. I’ll stay with this setting on the first day of the trip and see how it goes.

None of my gear fell off on today’s run. I feel the tie down system is working. The pillion bag with the sleeping bag on top where right up to my back, that felt awkward at first but then I got used to it. I have a cup in my seat and I like to have my butt firmly in that cup – I feel I get the best comfort and control in that position. -- Lucas --




Corrina in tour profile:












Monday, September 25

Sojourner Welcomes Guest Blogger!

I've never wanted this to be an entirely Sojourner dog and pony show. On occasion, I will invite special friends to post their tales, pics and reviews. Thus, this morning I'm introducing a friend, his name is Lucas. He rides a BMW F650 (I'll let him tell you about his bike). Lucas is a newbie whose been piling on the miles and preparing for his first trip next weekend.

Enjoy!

The Road to Tobermory: A beginning motorcyclist first moto-trip

Dispatches from Lucas: Saturday September 9, 2006 – First Day of Planning

First real day of planning commences. I’ve looked at the weather forecast for my trip and the weather seems to be looking positive for the 4 days of my trip. The trip dates are September 29th through to October 1st. I’ve allowed one extra day on Tuesday.

I went to the Canadian Automobile Association and upgraded my membership to CAA Plus to cover the motorcycle. I also picked up a map of Ontario.

A visit to the local Radio Shack (now known as The Edge by Future Shop) provided me with some parts to build a battery pack for my XM Satellite Radio. This will be used to provide campsite entertainment. An evening of Vivaldi or Berloitz or just some plain ol’ Hank will provide some relaxation after a day of riding.

Raining today. After doing my errands, came home and built my battery pack for the XM radio. Didn’t take much to build; Radio Shack has a 4 AA battery case with an on/off switch. The case had two leads coming out of it, I added some heat shrink to the wires for protection. Then I soldered the ends into a compatible power jack. It worked. Just not sure how long the batteries will last, I bought extra just in case.

My intinerary is as follows:
· Friday, September 29th
o Leave St. Catharines at approximately 10:00 am. The first leg of the trip should take 4 hours according to mapquest to reach my destination.
o By noon I should be near Cambridge, Ontario (home of Mistress K). I’ll find a resting spot, check fuel, bike and luggage. Bag some lunch.
o Between 3 and 4 pm I should be in Kincardine. This is the largest town near my final destination for the 29th, which is Invehuron Provincial Park.

· Saturday, September 30th
o From Inverhuron Provincial Park take Highway 21 north to Sauble Falls Provincial Park. This should be about 1 hour of ride time.
o Check in and get a spot. Use as base camp.
o Use Saturday to go to Tobermory.

· Sunday, September 31st
o Leave Sauble Falls Provincial Park, head south to Point Farms Provincial Park.
o Arrive Point Farms Provincial Park.
· Monday, October 1st
o Leave Point Farms Provincial Park, head south on Rt. 8 back to Hamilton and St. Catharines.

Things to do:
Get camping gear down from garage loft. Inspect sleeping bag, tent and pad. Find all of my backpack straps.
Get cooking gear out and inspect stove and check for fuel.
Make list of food supplies. I’ll buy minimal – expect to buy more on trip.
Make list of moto parts. Again, minimal. Not much I can do with the bike if it breaks down. I have a tire plug kit and the BMW tool kit. Also, I have spare bulbs and fuses. I’ll bring some duct tape, water, some extra oil.

Local Weather:
St. Catharines - http://www.weather.ca/weather/cities/can/Pages/CAON0638.htm
Kincardine - http://www.weather.ca/weather/cities/can/Pages/CAON0345.htm
Tobermory - http://www.weather.ca/weather/cities/can/Pages/CAON0694.htm

Camping Locations:
Inverhuron (9/29) - http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/inve.html
Sauble Falls (9/30) - http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/saub.html
Point Farms (9/31) - http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/poin.html

Final Destination - http://www.thebrucepeninsula.com/tobermory
Sunday, September 24, 2006 – Revising Route Plans
I looked at the map this morning and looked at some possible route alterations that may make the trip more efficient. The main problem will be getting out of Hamilton. It’s a large older city that sits in between my starting and final destination for Friday’s leg of the trip. One way streets and flying cages will be my biggest peril in this section. There is no alternative other than taking the QEW.

Once past Hamilton, I’ll start reaching country that is lest populated and congested. Although, congested is a relative term. I’ve seen congested after living in Los Angeles for 10 years. When you see a 6 lane highway (that’s on each side) completely gridlocked – then you know congested. I’ll breathe easier once past Guelph. That’s where I’ll be able to settle into a rhythm. The road side will become more rural, fields and farm equipment will replace housing subdivisions and crowded downtowns. As I get closer to Lake Huron the air will change into that open air moist smell of the lakes. It’ hard to describe as the lakes are fresh water and don’t have that sea air smell. It’s similar but without the smell of salt. -- Lucas --

Friday, September 22

Windy City Ride...

It’s that time of season when Chicago’s weather is nothing short of schizophrenic. The last few early mornings, the temperature hovered around 40 degrees F! By mid-day things had usually improved by as much as 25 degrees. Still, given that I’ve been coming down with some kind of horrific plague, I’ve not felt highly motivated to throw a leg over the bike. But today I have an excuse for getting out there. At 60 degrees F--around 5:00 a.m.--a heat wave is brewing!

I leave before 5:30 a.m. and head into a dark, windy morning. I mean, really windy! Weather report…wind gust up to 30 mph! As I execute a right turn, I feel the bike’s rear tire slide from a sudden blast. The office is not far away but within seconds, I am cold! I use my left hand to pull up my turtle neck. It is clear that, despite wearing a textile/leather jacket, turtleneck, leather pants, helmet and gloves, I should have worn the ever-ready Firstgear jacket. Still, the quiet beauty of the downtown streets, still aglow with lights, brings solace to this zealous urbanite.

I stall at my first major intersection. I NEVER--almost never-- stall. I blame it on being sick. Really, I think it’s the bike’s payback for not riding her in days. I take my snub in stride and move on. I need to go to the office to complete paperwork before the others arrive—no sense infecting them, well…at least not all of them.

Spent enough time there that I had to return to the bike and feed the meter! Twenty-five cents per five minutes—a sin and a shame, IMHO! I can’t apply the parking receipt to the bike’s tiny windshield because I don’t have anything to stick it with. (Note to self: Always carry the duct tape under the seat). Oh, well. The sign says, “Parking laws strictly enforced.” I decide to take my receipt to court should I get a ticket.

When I leave the office, it is raining but not long enough to have scrubbed away the oil and gunk from the road. I make a mental not to be extra careful. I take off and immediately encounter a puddle at the stoplight. I skirt around it only to end up stopping bull’s eye on the fat white line—those slick spots motorcyclists should avoid. I stop right on it but am easy on the brakes and all is well. I decide to take a small detour back home—I mean, I’m already sick and I’m already out there, so it can’t hurt that much more. Within three blocks, the rain picks up. In spite of my yearning to ride, I decide to play it safe and head home.

At stops, I make that sure my feet are firmly planted, flat-footed on the ground as the bike sways vigorously. At one take off, I struggle to push through what feels like a powerful, yet invisible barricade that forces me to apply more throttle than usual. Once through that headwind, I push onward. I can take the cold. Rain, I can take too. But cold + rain + 30 mph wind gusts require you to be fully functioning. I am not. I ride the rest of the way eager to park my gal-pal and return to my sick bed.

Wednesday, September 20

Miscellany

Here are some of the things that keep me awake at night. Now they can keep you up too. I've read as much as one can about this woman. When I grow up, I want to be Ardys Kellerman. This 70+ year old great-grandmother still rides many thousands of miles. She's an Iron Butt Rally veteran and frequent winner of her BMW club's high mileage award. Before I draw my last breath, I'd like to do the IRB biggie--10,000 miles in ten days!

Next, this is one of those dream jobs--except it's not a dream to Carla King. I would look forward to work each day if this were my job. I swear, I wouldn't complain if I had my own daily misadventures on a motorcycle. Yes, it would probably become routine. But so what. Even routine would be fun on a bike!

This is the beauty of the Information Age! Before Al Gore discovered the Internet (haha) it would take forever to amass data that is now literally at the press of a button! Here a nice list of motorcycle relevant spots to bookmark.

For motorcycle touring, I repeatedly return to this site. It hasn't be updated in years. Still, IMHO, it is one of the best spots to learn everything you need for getting into touring. The author is humorous, sometimes stern--even grumpy-- but clearly has your best touring experience at heart. You can sense that he wants you to have an excellent adventure. So he's not messing around. You can just hear him yell in that Robert Duvall, "Great Santini" voice: "TOE THE LINE AND LISTEN UP PEOPLE!"

Okay. I'm announcing it here. Next summer, I'm doing AND completing an Iron Butt Rally ride. Planning for this will carry me through the winter doldrums--let's hope. Last year I didn't have a bike and it was tough getting through the winter thinking about riding. Thank goodness the search for a bike kept me sane. The IRB...Don't know how the little SV would do on the 10,000 miles in 10 days ride but she could handle some of the other rides in a blink. Right now, the SaddleSore (1000 miles in under 24 hours) sounds fun. This may sound like a lot or imply the need for excessive speed. Not true! These timed rides demand strategy and consistency more than speed. (sidebar: Read Against the Wind: A Rider's Account of the Incredible Iron Butt Rally--book review soon). I just need to figure out which ride and how to execute it. At minimum, I believe I could do the National Parks Tour, which requires a visit to at least 50 national parks and monuments in at least 25 states in one calendar year. Now that just might be the best one to start with. Hmmm...

Finally, I'm actually going to get into an advanced training class that I thought was closed! Turns out there was a posting glitch and the course isn't until October. Hooray! Ride Chicago (amazing teachers!) is the only school that offers the SRTT (Street Riding Technical Training) course.

You know, I think motorcycle schools could really do a needed service AND make money if they offered courses throughout the winter. For those of us who will face serious withdrawal in a few weeks (I can't be the only one), it would be a great way to keep skills sharp too. With an indoor range, how difficult can this be? The schools already have the bikes. I for one am not looking forward to the ticks, being strapped to a bed, the sweating, the heaves, the heebee-geebees...I don't need a twelve step program...I just need a year 'round riding fix!

Tuesday, September 19

More on ear plugs and teeny weeny ear canals

My quest for a pair of comfortable, well-fitting ear plugs continues. That's a picture of my latest attempt to safeguard my hearing. They’re called "SilentEars," small, cute and colorful little buds with a yellow flower-like base. They actually look like they’d be fun to wear. The Ear Plug *Super* Store website claims that the SilentEars are the “highest rated reusable ear plugs currently made anywhere in the world.”

I will never be able to test those claims. Even though I bought the smallest size available, the little blue and yellow plugs do not fit! The blue bulbous tip goes inside my ear only a little bit. I can force them in some more but could never get them in all the way—and trying to makes my ears revolt. I’m at my wit’s end. I had hoped to avoid going to an audiologist for custom plugs. Well, looks like such a visit is in store for next season.

I can make do ‘til the end of this season with the cheap, spongy/foamy things I buy at the drugstore, which come about a dozen per box. Been wondering if plain old cotton balls would work. I can’t imagine cotton balls being that effective but they have to be better than nothing and probably as effective as the spongy ones. At times, the little buggers just work their way out of my ears and land somewhere inside my helmet. I go through these plugs fast because they can also pop out like minature missiles whenever I take off my helmet. And, I don’t believe that the five second rule about food dropped on the ground applies to dropped ear plugs. When they hit the ground, I imagine microscopic germs instantly landing all over them, rendering them too gross to touch. I can replace plugs two or three times before I make it home from a 100 miler.

Persistently sore ears and ear plugs in assorted shapes, colors and sizes is all I now possess to show for my pursuit of the perfect plug. I’m open to other suggestions before I go the doctor route. Posted by Picasa

Sunday, September 17

A Hairy situation, helmet woes & the Firstgear Kilimanjaro jacket

As you read this, hum the chorus of "Hair" from the musical of the same name.

This is *the* hair, my hair, about which perfect strangers feel free to comment and ask a lot of bizaare questions (e.g., "can you wash it?"; or, "do you have to burn the ends to make it stay?"; or, my favorite, "where is it hooked on?"). I am annoyed by these intrusions at least once a day!

My hair, which has never bothered me before has now become a major part of riding Queenie, my motorcycle. I'm thinking about it way too much!

My mid-butt length hair, which is real, is clean and washable and is not hooked on but sprouted from my very own hair follicles. Lately, I've been asking myself: "Should I cut it or keep it?" To some that might be a simple question with an easy answer. If it gets in the way of riding, chop it off. But that gives in to all those who keep ordering me to cut it. That my hair seems to bother others, give me a sort of perverse pleasure in knowing that I have the power to annoy others just by being myself. Keeping it is my answer to those who feel they have a right to tell me what to do with my hair. Besides, after ten years, I've grown attached to my hair. Over time, the style has taken on a spiritual dimension that is hard to explain.

But do I need to be inconvenienced just to prove a point?

Fitting all my hair under my Sy-Max HJC helmet is impossible. So, I low pony-tail it most of the time. Still, on any ride over 30 mph it becomes a swirling tangle of tentacles that whip around me. Braid it, you say. My hair is so thick that a braid makes fitting on the helmet a tiring tug of war. It creates a huge knot at the nape so the helmet must be forced down to wear. After riding a bit, the helmet can become bothersome. Braiding it lower works some of the time so I aim for that. Most of the time, I go the low pony-tail route but wearing it blowing free in the wind makes the best helmet fit--hair whipping around me notwithstanding.

Wearing my favorite jacket + my hair takes patience. The Firstgear Kilimanjaro jacket is worth every penny. It works in hot and cold weather with a system of removable liners. It is waterproof and a sure bet every time you wear it. One of the best decisions I made was to take it on the LMCT. It served me exceedingly well. Thus, I decided to ignore the daily hair battles as a result of this jacket. The Kilimanjaro is replete with covert and overt pockets, zippers, snaps and velcro flaps that allow excellent ventilation, great padding, and in all the right places, reflective piping. What more can one ask?

Well as much as I love this jacket, now that it's become my all around favorite, I've been fighting with it a lot. I've not been completely honest about the one major design flaw it has--at least for my kind of hair. I have thick, kinky, wooly hair that I have refused to chemically straighten (don't get me started...) since I was 17, which is a lot of years ago. Until ten years ago, I wore a TWA (tiny weeny afro), which, by the way, people bugged me about too, noting my similarity to cancer patients who have undergone chemotherapy! I now wear locks--not "dread" locks--as there is nothing dreadful about it. I wear my hair in beautiful, healthy nubian locks that require the same care you'd give to extra-fine cashmere.

The Kilimanjaro jacket owes much of its versality to Velcro. My hair is the soft fuzzy female side that mates with the wiry plastic male side of Velcro. When my jacket is on, my hair becomes a super magnet for wiry parts, which seek it out and instantly adhere to it. If I'm not careful, getting my jacket on is a chore. I have to remember to gather my hair to one side and slip the jacket on. Still, parts of it often catch on its wiry mate and I have to literally rip them apart, producing that jarring skrunchy sound we're all familiar with. Taking the jacket off can be a real headache too. I can remove it and still have it hanging on me by an open Velcro pocket or the collar because my hair has wrapped itself around these sections. If I'm not watchful, this impromptu mating can prevent me from turning my head at will as grops of locks have joined in group matting along a long Velcro strip. Someone recommended putting my hair inside my jacket. I tried that. Can you say "Quasimodo"? The hump underneath my ever-present knapsack made people whisper--or so I imagined them doing. In any case, it took my mind off the ride, which is never good.

I shouldn't hold my hair issues against helmet or jacket makers. Clearly, neither makes its products with with me in mind. Of my three helmets and four jackets, these are the best. I love this particular helmet and this particular jacket but I might be forced now to look for more lock-friendly gear. Or, YIKES...cut my hair.

If your hair is unlike mine, you can't go wrong with this HJC helmet or Firstgear jacket. Posted by Picasa

Saturday, September 16

Sojourner Rides Three Presidents!

Disclaimer: I did not vote for any of them! There was no blue dress involved.

Still, I did three Presidents on a recent ride of 218 miles! It all started with a keen desire to follow a popular street in Chicago. It's Rt. 38, better known to Chicagoans as "Roosevelt Road." The eastern most tail of it is steps from my downtown start point. On a map, Rt.38 seems to stretch west forever. I take it, winding my way through diverse neighborhoods on a warm Saturday with the aroma of each ethnic group's cuisine filling the air, tempting my nostrils and brain to stop and eat, eat, eat.

As I leave familiar Chicago streets, the north side of the road is, at one point, lined with graveyard after graveyard. Passing through, I remember calling it "cemetery row." Eventually, the roads elongate, become long and flat and westward with few people out and about--contrary to the congestion back east on Chicago's Roosevelt Road. Early morning riding is simply the best!

After going through some trendy, upscale environs like Geneva, one comes to rural areas such as DeKalb. Continue west and reap the rewards of... cornfields. Miles and miles of cornfields. Nothing spectacular or challenging about the roads, they are just there--flat and occasionally slightly curvy. Crossing railroad tracks breaks the monotony now and again. However, those flat out, straight road have their own merit. They are hushed. Passing through the small towns of Ashton, Rochelle and Franklin Grove engenders a connection with nature. The sound of birds and an occasional "moo" from a cow is a far more welcoming call than a cabbie honking at you or a "traffic cop" blasting a whistle at you just because you're crossing the street while reading!

Heading west, one cannot miss the signs for "Historic Lincoln Highway," which is aka Rt. 30. This is my second nod to a President. I've taken Lincoln Highway many times but never this far west. I hop on and it snakes through some old, tiny villages that look as if they all decided to thumb their collective noses at time. Franklin Grove, IL--my personal favorite--is one town that prides itself with maintaining history. Soon after turning into the town, I see a large red, white and blue painted sign along side the building's front. It announces the Lincoln Highway Association National Headquarters. It is housed in an ancient building. A group of dedicated volunteers continues to do all they can to restore, maintain, and manage this tiny operation.

Inside the headquarters, I meet Lynn, who encourages me to sign the visitors' book and hang around to chat. Lynn is gregarious and doesn't need to hawk the items in the shop, which has tons of Lincoln Highway memorabilia, trinkets and antiques that locals place on consignment. After talking to Lynn, you just want to buy stuff. I am limited by my knapsack--and funds. Lynn knows the history of Lincoln Highway and imparts it with vitality that only a dedicated volunteer can. You'll learn everything about the bricks and mortar of the building, the volunteer efforts to keep it going, the construction of Lincoln Highway, and all the town history that only and insider can reveal. Lynn tells me about a relative, who not only rides a motorcycle but also builds them! On the spot, she calls his mother to find out if he has a website. He does. (I'm still looking for the url she gave me).

If you ever go by Franklin Grove stop in, say “hello” to Lynn, and sign in. You won't be disappointed if she's there and you'll learn a lot of regional history too.

Continuing west, I come to Dixon, IL and the childhood home of the next President: Ronald Reagan. His birthplace, Tampico, IL is still many miles west. The Reagan family rented five houses in Dixon. Two have been destroyed; two are privately occupied and not open to the public. The "museum" house stands on a street now named in honor of RR. The house is manned by enthusiastic volunteers who will tell you more than you will remember about the boyhood of Ronald Reagan and his days in Dixon. I watch a ten-minute film that was way more interesting than I thought possible; I tour the house, learn a lot of regional history, but ultimately I leave the house disappointed. NO JELLY BEANS!

Someone told that there were jellybeans on this tour, in honor of President Reagan's passion. Perhaps I misunderstood. I kept waiting for my treat. NOTHING. It's rude to ask about it. I'm thinking, I'll get my reward at the end. But when the door opens for me to leave, I do so. Nothing! Not even a "thank-you" for coming all this way to visit the house of a president I did not even vote for! Later I learned that they do not just give you the jellies, you must buy them in the gift shop! Tricked! That's how I feel. Oh, well, I only really like the red ones anyway. I won't say I wouldn't have visited had I known about the jelly beans ruse...but getting there was oh so sweet thinking a treat awaited me at the end.

I planned my return trip to follow another familiar road. I take Rt.64 all the way into downtown Chicago. Now I know that North Avenue is congested whether one is in Chicago or in the boonies! The only thing that made this an enjoyable eastward ride was going through towns like Sycamore and St. Charles. However, you must be comfortable in heavy traffic! Many malls --both small and large, line Rt.64. Where malls exist, there are far more chances for a motorcyclist to become road kill by inconsiderate, bad-driving, cell phone yakking shoppers. Construction is robust along parts of Rt.64. The best way through is patience, covering the front brake at all times, and owl-like head rotations to regularly scan for what's near you or bearing down on you! Still, the ride is worth it as there are wonderful, fun moments when one is not needing to avoid impatient drivers and only inching forward in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Doing Presidents...a great way to have spent a recent Saturday.

Pics: Presidential Ride/Rt.38

Thursday, September 14

R.I.P. Ann Richards, EX-TX Governor and motorcyclist

Ann Richards had more class in a hair follicle than some of us have in our entire being! She was one smart and snazzy woman. Her spirit, humor and wit always made me stop to listen to her. I remember the comment she made in defense of women's abilities in a "man's world."

To paraphrase, she said, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only she did it backwards and in high heels. This morning, I heard another memorable Richards quote: "I don't want my headstone to say, 'She kept a clean house.' I could just hear her releasing that famous laugh.

At 60, Richards bought herself a motorcycle and rode it!

RIP, Ann Richards.

Great American Motorcycle Tours: A Brief Review/Rant

Gary McKechnie’s book, Great American Motorcycle Tours, is a book I really wanted to eat up. I mean, what is there not to relish? It's well-written, over 500 pages of detailed, fun-sounding motorcycle adventures with maps, restaurants and shopping suggestions, and black and white photos--it even includes an opening essay by Peter Fonda, Hollywood’s bad-boy motorcyclist. The book is the winner of the Benjamin Franklin Gold Award and the Lowell Thomas Silver Award. So how could I--or anyone--not love this book?

For the longest, however, I couldn’t put my finger on what was irritating me—a lot—about the book. It hit me after I had been riding a short time. My first “long” ride was around 50 miles—not long by most motorcycle standards. Within days, my ride length had doubled. One sunny Saturday, with little planning, I did 220 easy miles. Now, I still consider myself a re-entry/newbie rider. I rode more than 20 years ago (briefly) . No doubt about it, it has felt like...well…starting over. Yet, accumulating mileage has come naturally and easily. On any given excursion, the miles seem to melt away. Were it not for time and obligations, I feel as if I could ride forever. This, from a relative newbie like me; I am not unique. Experienced riders cover far more terrain than I currently can and do. One motorcyclist I read about went to the store to retrieve items for lunch and took a 200 plus mile "jaunt" home.

Now let's look at some tours McKechnie describes: Amish Country Run, 110 miles. To cover this, McKechnie suggests three days with stops. Blue Ridge Parkway Run, 200 miles, “consider five days with stops.” Mighty Montana Run, 335 miles, “consider four days with stops.” Sawtooth Range Run, 450 miles, “consider six days with stops.” McKechnie appears to have some exceedingly low expectations for motorcyclists. These are looooooong completion times!

Why, someone tell me, would it take anyone three days to cover 110 miles?! Even on challenging roads, one should be able to cover 110 miles in less than three days—even with stops! For the average biker, 110 miles could be covered in a few hours—even with stops. McKechnie's average is approximately 36 miles a day! Come on! I can walk 110 miles in three days! This rant applies to all the distances in McKechnie's book. Even playing tourist to the max, should not turn these trips into the multiple day outings McKechnie recommends.

If you want to squeeze in a weekender or have limited vacation time, following a McKechnie tour will devour--FAST--whatever time you set aside, while not taking you very far. In six days, one would only cover about 450 miles of a McKechnie trip. The times/distances in Great American Motorcycle Tours seemed written for bicyclists rather than for motorcyclists! It’s a shame that such a good book, in terms of its tour descriptions, will annoy many motorcyclists. It will. Trust me!