T’was a foggy morning out in the wilds of Southern Ontario, Canada. I took some photos with the big camera before leaving, then grabbed the Theta360 for some foggy road photos…
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Riding River Road on Easter Monday morning. The day promised to warm up, but it was cool in the valley. With little traffic and miles of winding road, the Tiger was frisky and I was ready to explore some corners.
With the ThetaV 4k video camera wrapped around the rear view mirror, I proceeded down the hill on Prince of Wales Road to River Road before heading east. The Theta seems to kick off when it hits two gigs of video. 4k video is heavy and you reach two gigs after only five minutes, so here is five minutes of riding down into the valley before it chokes on itself.
I couldn’t stop at the Terra Nova Public House (closed for the holiday), but on the way back I went back to my happier medium of still photography and set the ThetaV at its one photo every four seconds rate to catch some corners, which I then chased down on my way back through the valley to Horning’s Mills. Later in the year it’ll be quite busy, but on this early spring holiday, there were only a smattering of other vehicles and the corners were open and empty…
Riding through the desolation of winter before spring green is back. |
Neutral throttle in, winding it on through the apex and out the other side. The Tiger is a settled, athletic thing for such a big bike. |
Some Photoshopping to give it a painted look. That scalloped sky followed me all the way home. |
I ride an hour out of my way just to find that magical sign. |
Terra Nova might have been closed, but Brewed Awakenings in Grand Valley was open with hot coffee and a date square ready to go. |
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It was sunny this morning, so Max and I thought we’d try and squeeze in a ride over to The Fork of the Credit and back. Once we got going it was cloudy and 5°C instead of the 7-8 partially sunny degrees we were promised.
So, with a windchill of -3 we got there shivering only to discover it was idiot-in-a-car day on The Forks. They’ve removed the speed bumps so every bosozoku dingdong from the GTA rushed up in his Fast & Furious car to make a traffic jam.
Many of them seemed particularly confused by the hairpin, especially the mouth breathing fuckwit in the Ford Focus who came around the corner half in our lane. Once again my assumption that anyone in a hopped up turd-mobile is next to useless saved us. I wasn’t riding the hairpin so much as sticking to the outside of my lane – as far from the Eminem clones who can’t drive in their own lane as I could get. Even on this cold day, driving a car still feels like a poor alternative to riding a motorcycle.
Just in case the twisty road wasn’t difficult enough, there was also a car parked at the top of the switchback with a drone hovering right over the road. As a qualified drone operator, it’s this kind of stupidity that gives the hobby a bad reputation. He could have easily set up and flown so he wasn’t a potential hazard, but he didn’t. It’s a shame. Getting some aerial media of the road is a great idea, just do it with some sense.
We got back to Belfountain and ended up turning around and going the long way around back to Erin and Holtom’s Bakery. The big row of traffic blocking up the only road through the tiny village is yet another win for the the four wheeled crowd. Between being unable to drive in their lanes, blocking up villages and otherwise being pests, our cold trip out to The Forks underlined car culture in all its glory.
Escaping up the back way on Mississauga Road away from Belfountain. |
That might have been our last ride of 2018. Since then winter has descended:
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A week before we headed out to Victoria my wife suddenly suggested that we get scooters for our first day. I was flabbergasted, she isn’t a fan of motorbikes. I quickly arranged the scooters with CycleBC and waited to see what would happen.
Thursday morning we woke early after the longest day ever (up since 6am, a day of work, four and a half hour flight to Calgary thanks to tornadoes in Saskatchewan, an hour layover and another hour on to Victoria before the cab ride in – we got in at 1am West Coast time, that’d be 4am our time). After a big breakfast we walked over to the rental place and got ourselves two scooters.
Alanna got herself a little, red Honda Jazz and Max and I got the industrial looking Yamaha BWs. After a quick practice in front of the shop we pulled on to the street. We’d been told about a park a block away so we headed over there and rode around on empty streets for a few minutes, then discovered the petting zoo there and ended up not leaving for half an hour. We then puttered over to the sea and started circumnavigating Victoria’s coastline. We ended up covering over 64 kilometres that day. The scooters made it easy to pull in and hop off anytime we saw something interesting.
We pushed on up the coast and through the very green Mount Doug Park before finally cutting inland for the run out to Boutchart Gardens. Waiting at a light an older fellow on a Triumph T-bird stopped behind us and struck up a conversation with Alanna after she told him it was her first time ever on one. He told us about how he and his wife used to rent scooters together before the light changed and we all burbled off down the road. You just don’t get moments like that in a rented cage.
We arrived at the Gardens and were directed to special 2-wheel parking close to the entrance and enjoyed a long walk and lunch in one of the loveliest spots in a lovely city.
Later in the afternoon we saddled up for the long ride back. By now Alanna is riding like an old pro, but the rush hour traffic we ran into on our way out was heavy, and with Max and I on the little Yamaha, we had trouble getting to 40km/hr on flats, on hills I just started pulling over into the bike lane to let traffic past. Apparently that wasn’t enough for a couple of fuck-wits in a pickup who thought that throwing a full beer can at us would be funny. Seeing red I suggested they slow down so I could haul them out of the passenger window and beat the shit out of them, which my son found hilarious. If either of them happen to be reading this drop me a line, I’d like to meet you guys.
We pushed on into town and the traffic only got sillier, so we made a change of direction and puttered through the University of Victoria before heading back to the quiet roads on the coast. We retraced our steps before angling in to the CycleBC store downtown and dropping off the scooters.
We had bugs in our teeth and big smiles on our faces. Alanna was surprised at how much fun she had and how gentle the scooter was on her arthritis. She’s now thinking about getting a scooter, which is awesome!
A quick look around found some nice, lightly used scooters for well under $1000. Even bigger 150cc units aren’t much more expensive. Even bonkers Italian Vespa style costs less than four grand brand new, and the super dependable Japanese, Italian inspired copies are only a touch over two.
Since Ontario made a full motorcycle license a requirement to ride something as simple as a scooter, she’d have to take the course I took last year, but they do a great job of making it fun. I’m hoping she’s still willing to give it a go.
The weather is lovely: mid-high teens all week, rather than the zero degree snow we’ve got going on here all week.
Yeah, it’d be cool, but it wouldn’t be painful, and the roads would be salt free and winding through the mountains. To top it all off those waterfalls would be plump from all the run off. It’d be a photography and media making dream. The mountains would be blooming in early spring and I’d have the cameras on hand to catch that moment on two wheels.
Each day we’d loop back to Roanoke before heading out in a different direction the next day. Thanks to all the mountain roads there would be virtually no overlap between loops with each offering unique sites. Having the same base camp also means the bike will be light on gear and ready to explore the mountains.
Leaving on a Monday morning, we’d be in Roanoke Monday night and ready for a Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday of motorcycle riding from waterfall to waterfall before making the ride back north into the snow and darkness on Friday.
It’s not a crazy expensive week. Under five hundred bucks for hotel then gas and food money. Two long distance highway days would be all about gas and quick food stops. $200 would feed the van, another $60 would cover the bike. Five days of food on the road could probably be done for $250. All in that’s a thousand dollar holiday. The three days in Virginia would be all about slow lunches and dinners and riding between photogenic waterfalls.
Of course, the ongoing issue is not having the bike delivery system. Mid-winter isn’t the worst time to be a motorcyclist in Canada. The worst time is the end of the off season when the snow is fading but the winter weather hangs on week after week, prolonging the caged life.
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February isn’t a giving month for motorcyclists in Canada. Last year, with the twenty three year old Kawasaki in pieces, I was unable to get the thing out on the warm weekend we had in December, and couldn’t even get it going when the snow finally cleared in March.
Since the Tiger was only getting regular maintenance done, it was turn-key ready when we suddenly had a warm break in February. With snow melt running across the road and the temperature a heady 7°C, I enjoyed a foggy ride in to work, and a slightly warmer ride the long way around home in the afternoon:
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“You might say the B.S. quotient it low… unless you’re dealing with Harley owners. Then it can actually be quite high.”
You’d think most people would buy the dependable ones, right? |
That idea of a B.S. quotient led me look up motorcycle reliability indices for the first time. Consumer Reports gets into it by explaining how customer satisfaction is different from reliability. You’d think the two things are closely linked, but they aren’t so much.
“If you want to know how satisfied riders are with their motorcycle, ask them about comfort. We found that comfort ratings track most closely with overall satisfaction scores. “
You know those leather clad tough guys in their Motor Company regalia? They like comfort the most. Potato, potato, potato…
My buddy Jeff is heading off to the West Coast and a golden retirement shortly, so he’s cleaning up and vacating Ontario (good time to be doing it). One of his motorcycle herd is a GL1800 Goldwing. He offered Max and I a ride last weekend to see if it worked for us since Max is now a full sized adult and your typical motorcycle is overloaded with two big guys on it. A few years ago I rode Jeff’s daughter’s Honda Firestorm, by far the sportiest bike I’ve ever ridden. This time around we were way up the other end of the spectrum with the ‘Wing.
That seat looks mighty appealing to a kid who has been forced to ride motorcycle saddles since he was eight. Not only is it recliner comfortable, it’s also heated! The rest of the bike is equally enormous and astonishingly appointed. With fourteen year old, adult sized Max on the back, we had no points of physical contact, which is strange because we’re usually back to chest on the Tiger, which is a big bike in its own right.
We rode out of Jeff’s place on a dirt farm road in South Western Ontario, in April, so it was really wet and soft… on an eight hundred pound gorilla, uh, bike, with 430ish pounds of us on it. The ‘Wing handles our size without a problem, but the whole thing rolling down the road is massive, so massive in fact that you just ride through puddles and mud and ignore variations in the road that I’d be skirting around on a typical bike. The Tiger is a sure footed thing, but it felt a bit skittish on the muddy driveway, not so the ‘Wing.
Once out on the road the first thing that hits you is no wind, at all. I ended up flipping open my helmet even though it was a cool day because of the zero wind blast. No wind noise, no buffeting, it didn’t really feel like riding a bike. All the elemental cues that I get from riding were gone. I’m looking out through a screen instead of over one and the fairings cover you head to toe.
The dash looks back at you with a staggering array of buttons. My car doesn’t have half that many. The tachometer looks like the one out of my old Civic, and red lines lower. It took me ten minutes of riding to work out where the heated grips and seats were. The grips themselves are meaty, way thicker than any I’ve used before; my hands didn’t quite wrap around them.
On pavement you twist the throttle and get whooshed down the road without drama. The ‘Wing is motorbike quick and smooth, but I wouldn’t call it inspiring. Jeff set a quick pace on his Yamaha Super Ténéré and I had no trouble keeping the twelve hundred pounds of us in sight of him. I was tentative in the first couple of corners, but once I realized how nimble the ‘Wing felt, I just dropped it into corners and trusted the tires to handle us. I often feel weightless when I’m riding, but as well as the Goldwing handles its size, I was always conscious of it. In fairness, it also had over four hundred pounds of human on it as well.
The brakes haul it down from speed quickly and it picks up with piles of torque and very little need to change gears, which were smooth and direct when I did use them. By the end of the ride I was up and down in the gears without a second thought, so that’s a thumbs up from my foot. The first time I realized I didn’t need to cancel the turn signals after a corner was a nice surprise, but habit had me turning them off anyway. The GPS in the middle of the dash is nice too, but wasn’t very bright.
We did a short, half an hour ride around the area, looking for some of the few twists and turns available to us in the agri-desert that is rural Southern Ontario. Jeff is moving out to Vancouver Island where the riding season is virtually year ’round and the roads are never dull, but the ‘Wing isn’t making the trip. The Super Ten and his customized BMW Cafe Racer are going in the container though.
After parking it back up I can say I get the Goldwing. I understand why it’s as popular as it is and what function is serves. As a device to transport my son and I in comfort it does that, but I find myself back where I was in 2014 pondering the CanAm Spyder. There comes a point where a motorcycle is trying so hard to be something else that it isn’t really a motorcycle any more. The Goldwing, with its faceful of buttons and speakers and radios and weatherproofed rider cocoon, removes me from what I think riding is all about.
I’m a number of years into riding now and I’ve been on all sorts of bikes in all sorts of strange places. That experience has refined my aesthetic sense of motorcycling. For me it’s all about getting to that feeling of flying. It’s a visceral experience with wind, noise and a sense of lightness. When you bend into a corner that feeling is amplified. You can probably see where this is going. The ‘Wing will lean into a corner, but it feels stately and remote when it does it. Everything feels far away, and ends up begging the question: why suffer the indignities of motorcycling when the bike is trying so hard to be something else?
I can get a lightly used one of these for the same price as a Goldwing. Given a choice, I’d go for the mini-Mazda Ferrari in a second. |
It might sound perverse, but the other side of motorcycling for me is embracing the physical difficulty of the activity. I don’t consider motorcycling a hobby, I consider it a sport and want to attack it with the same physicality. This philosophy doesn’t only contrast with the Goldwing. Any bike that does all it can to not delivery that immediacy of riding experience misses the mark for me. Whether it be a Harley tourer or a BMW K1600, any big, heavy cruiser with windshields and fairings and every gizmo imaginable makes me wonder why in terms of motorcycling. If you want to bring that much stuff with you, go in a car. In many cases the car is cheaper and more efficient, and contrary to biker prejudice they aren’t all cages.
I love to ride, but I’m still smitten with bikes that feel like bikes and focus me on the aesthetics of riding. When a lightly used Mazda MX-5 RF costs the same as a new Goldwing and looks like a piece of rolling art rather than a compromise, that’s where my eye wanders. Motorcyclists call car drivers cagers trapped in their boxes, but a massive bike that does all it can to not feel like a motorcycle is more of a fetishy gilded cage than any number of cars designed to be entertaining drives.
So, the Goldwing is not for me. When I get to the point that I can’t handle the elemental feeling of riding (a moment I hope I never see), I’ll be looking for a Lotus, not a mega-bike. My son is only a couple of years away from starting the never-ending and sickeningly expensive licensing and insurance process in Ontario. I’m hoping that he has developed a taste for riding and will one day join me on a ride on his own machine, then we can both revel in the visceral feel of flying down the road together.
Jeff will have no trouble selling his Goldwing on. He has meticulously maintained it and there is a strong market for ‘Wings since there are so many older bikers who are looking for that kind of ride. I, for one, will miss him when he’s gone. As a motorcycling mentor, he has been a great friend and teacher. I hope I can get out to see him on the West Coast and ride those magical roads in the future. In the meantime, I’m feeling more and more like Ontario is getting too tight for me, yet here I stay.
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A Sunday in the teens (Celsius) meant that riding was inevitable. The Tiger had been sitting in the garage as it hailed and snowed outside this past week, but once again we get a break in the neverending Canadian winter, so off I go.
In the fall I got a Ricoh Theta V, so this was the first go at on-bike photography with it. Using the mount I made last year, I attached the new camera (same form factor and similar size to the SC I’d used before) and off I went for the first ride over to The Forks of the Credit and Higher Ground.
The ThetaV has better processing power for video than the older model, but the camera is similar spec, so still photos, where I like to work, weren’t likely to change. Once nice thing about the V is that it processes way faster, so can do a photo every 4 seconds instead of the old camera’s one every eight. Having twice the chance of catching a good corner was no bad thing and resulted in a number of good shots as I rode up and down The Forks, usually behind confused people driving beige minivans as slowly as they possibly could. I waited for a gap on the return ride and got a bit luckier with space, though it was pretty busy on the first sunny Sunday of the year.
Winter run-off everywhere meant a cautious line, but the Tiger on Michelins is always sure footed whether it’s on snow runoff or piles of sand left over from winter. |
I guess someone missed the switchback – bet it was a fast and furious type… |
Stuck behind that tool in a big maroon mini-van again, so I’m waiting for a gap. Nothing more frustrating than riding for an hour to find some curves only to be stuck behind a yobbo in a mini-van. |
Quality of photo is similar between the ThetaSC and the ThetaV, but the V takes way more photos quickly, so you’re more likely to capture a good moment. |
Parked up at Higher Ground in Belfountain. Don’t order a specialty coffee if it’s busy – the regular brew is good and you get it right away. |
As capable as the V is, it suddenly flashed out on me when I went to ride home and wouldn’t start. This was a bit of a surprise as all previous Thetas have been astonishingly tough. The Theta V seems to have magically fixed itself today, but now I’m wondering if it’s up to the job.
In the meantime they’ve come out with the Theta Z1, a higher resolution 360 camera with a faster lens and even faster processing performance, including in-camera stitching of images together. It looks very nice, but if my first upgrade won’t take photos when I need it to after it’s first real weekend of use, I’m second guessing a bigger, more expensive step further.
In another meanwhile, GoPro has the Fusion 360 camera, which is tough and offers similar high resolution imaging. It’s a bit of a brick, so the Theta still seems like a more aerodynamic and logical choice for on-bike photography, but not if it doesn’t work. More to come. Hopefully this in-and-out Theta V was a one time thing.
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411kms across the Highlands |
After a few days of R&R recovering from our ride out to the 1000 Islands and seeing the sights, it was time to pack up and prepare for our return home. The plan was to travel through the Halliburton Highlands, where it is claimed that Ontario’s best roads reside.
The Tiger morphed from light weight, single rider mode to two-up, full luggage touring mode in about ten minutes. The rear suspension was tightened up for the extra weight and we were ready to go.
The plan was to cut north west from the Thousand Islands and get onto the twisties as soon as possible. It worked well. We soon found ourselves leaning into corners more than we were upright (a rarity in Ontario). When I’m in corners like that i don’t stiffen up in the saddle and I can ride for hours without fatigue.
Regional Road 15 got interesting almost immediately, weaving around lakes and pieces of the Canadian Shield peaking through the earth. As we travelled north those rock outcroppings became the norm rather than the exception and the roads only got better. 38 up to Highway 7 was a lovely ride with constant bends and big elevation changes as we bounced in and out of river valleys that had cut their way through the rock. If this road was a sign of things to come, then the riding the highlands was going to be special.
We stopped at Fall River Restaurant on Highway 7 because I figured it would be the last place with a busy enough road to warrant an open business, except it didn’t. This turned into a theme on this ride: don’t depend on the tourist trade to keep a business open, instead look to a stable community to keep a business open.
The lady from the post office came out and told us only the post office is open, the general store, ice cream and restaurant are all closed and only open on the weekend. There wasn’t even a toilet available. Three vehicles pulled in looking for a stop while we were there, but were turned away. We drank our own water and stretched in the empty parking lot before hoping on the bike and continuing up the winding country road 38.
In Elphin the plan was to turn with the 38 and continue west, and even though Elphin is a tiny place with only one major turn, we missed it. This spoke to another thing we learned on this ride; you’ll see signs for corners and bumps everywhere even though these things are self evident, but navigational signs are small, missing or incorrect. I guess most people follow a screen telling them what to do nowadays, but for the rest of us, some accurate navigational signage would be appreciated.
When I saw a second sign for regional road 12 which we weren’t supposed to be on, I pulled over at the Mississippi River (when I take a wrong turn, I don’t mess around!). It was a beautiful, shady spot and we had a good stretch and watched the kingfishers getting their breakfast before saddling up again and u-turning back to Elphin.
Back on the 38 again, we wound around lakes before finding the 509 I turned left toward Ompah, but it turns out that should have been a right (turning signs around is fun!). When we arrived back at Highway 7 I just shook my head and made a right turn, figuring I could angle north again on either Kaladar or Madoc. By now the heat was back and moving at speed down Highway 7 was a nice way to cool off. This was the prettiest part of 7, with few towns and no reduced speeds, so everyone was clipping along nicely. We stopped in Kaladar for gas even though we didn’t really need it and got sports drinks. By the time we got to Madoc it was wicked hot and we sought air conditioning in the only open restaurant we’d seen so far – a McDonalds. I was beginning to despair for local food in the Highlands.
Coe Hill Cafe – cool ceiling, good bakery and coffee. |
After a much needed cool down and hydration we hopped back on the bike and hiked up highway 62 to Coe Hill, which is where we learned that you’ll find local businesses, but only in small towns where people live year round. The cottage crowd and travellers are too fickle and passing to support a business up here.
The ride up 62 had us stopping at various bridges for up to five minutes at a time due to construction, so we got into Coe Hill ready to get out of the sun for a few minutes again. Fortunately, the Coe Hill Cafe was open and got us sorted out even though we were looking a bit ragged. It’s amazing what a good cup of coffee in a cool shady place can do to get you back on your feet.
I missed the poor signage for Lower Faraday Road (the reason we’d come this way in the first place), and then missed another turn thirty seconds later. I cannot over state how random the road signage is up this way. I really wish the MoT would take the money put into redundant cornering signage and apply it to identifying the roads themselves.
They show a couple of sports bikes riding down Lower Faraday on the website, but the section they’re showing is the last mile up to Ontario 28. While this road is indeed twisty, much of the surface is atrocious with big pot holes and gravel everywhere from the many driveways that feed onto it. You’d find it frustrating trying to explore any section of this road on a sports bike.
Even with the big shocks on the Tiger it was a rough, perilous ride. You couldn’t push any corners because of the debris, quality of the road and traffic. Lower Faraday has no centre line for much of it and every vehicle coming the other way was the largest possible pickup truck you’ve ever seen moving well above the speed limit in the middle of the road, and this was on a Tuesday afternoon. We road out of our way to see this ‘ten best’ road, and it wasn’t.
We headed in to Bancroft after the disappointing Faraday experience and stopped at the information tourism building. They have an excellent little mineral exhibit showing the various mining that goes on in the area, as well as being a cooling centre. Half an hour in the air conditioning with cold water and some cool rocks got us ready to ride again.
Some of the best roads of the day were ahead of us. We took 62 north out of Bancroft and then cut across toward Highland Grove. This roller-coaster of a road was well marked, clean and had a consistent surface. Corners varied from tight switchbacks to long sweepers with big elevation changes, what a joy! We followed the 648 around to the 118, passing Old Ridge Authentic BBQ (closed) where I’d hoped to have dinner.
The bike looks fine, we were exhausted! |
We quickly discovered that the 118 is no boring connecting road, with beautiful scenery and engaging corners all the way in to Haliburton. Even though it was heading towards evening the air temperature was still well in the thirties and humidity was high. We’d done over 400kms entirely on twisty back roads and were wiped. We limped in to Pinestone Resort just south of Haliburton and parked it up.
The Pinestone offered a quiet room with good beds for a reasonable price. We went for a swim (salt water indoor and outdoor pools) and then had an excellent dinner at Stone 21, the onsite restaurant. By the end of the evening we were back on our feet again.
I had us up early the next morning, hoping to beat the heat. I’d looked up good local breakfasts and found The Millpond Restaurant in Carnarvon, right on our way to Bracebridge. It was a short hop over there on very windy, but rough backroad for an excellent breakfast. Great price, great food, great service. If you’re anywhere around Haliburton, give the Millpond a go, you won’t be disappointed.
The most perfect 100kms of the trip. |
Outside afterwards the hydro line-men who were there for breakfast were curious about the bike. For the fifth time this trip I explained the resurrection of Triumph and how they are building new bikes. The general public seems to recognize the brand as historical, but our post-modern/art-deco Tiger raises a lot of questions.
It was only just past 9am at this point, we were well fed, well rested and it was a perfect 20°C under a cloudless sky. We pulled on to an empty 118 and rode the weaving, smooth pavement in bliss. No sweat, no traffic, beautiful scenery, this was the moment we’d been searching for.
We passed through Bracebridge and got into Port Carling about 10:30am. Traffic had picked up once we were into the Muskokas, so we pulled over at the information/tourism place for a stretch and a heads up on where to get a coffee. Stopping at the info/tourism spots on this trip was never a disappointment.
Port Carling is a pretty little place. We were told it was a short walk to the Camp Muskoka Coffeehouse which helps support a camp that teaches leadership to students. The coffee was excellent and the walk into town offered a good stretch.
Back up at the info-stop we bumped into a fellow from Barbados who was puzzled at our very modern looking Triumph. He said there are lots of old Triumphs on the island, but they’re very expensive. Once again I told the phoenix like story of Hinckley Triumph and how they are building some of the most modern bikes on the planet. He had no idea, but thought there would be a huge market for a modern, small Triumph (they have cc limits in Barbados). Perhaps he’ll contact Hinckley and see about the 250cc little Triumph that hasn’t happened yet.
We saddled up and left the shade of the info stop. The sun was blistering now, but we were nearing the end of our Highlands road ride. We quickly got to Bala, but I missed the poorly marked turn out to the 400 (surprise, surprise). No worries, we just stayed on the 169 down the Gravenhurst. A couple of ten minute stops at bridge construction had us both sweating heavily by the time we got into Gravenhurst. I’d only ever seen the highway side of Gravenhurst, so I was surprised that it took us 15 minutes of traffic lights to get through it.
Ahhh…. air conditioning! |
Once clear I hopped on 11 South and made time. We pushed through the heat and steady but fast moving traffic all the way past Barrie before stopping at an ONroute for gas, lunch and a cool down. I’d been getting over 49mpg solo without luggage. The astonishing Tiger was still getting 47.2mpg two up with luggage. We’d done over 430kms since our last fill up the day before in Madoc.
I used every trick in the book to cool off, soaking my head and arms to let the water evaporate and drinking a lot of fluids. We took our time before stepping back out into the oven. It was over 40°C with humidity when we finally left.
We bombed down the 400 and turned toward Orangeville on Highway 9, which was chockablock with traffic on a Wednesday afternoon. Aggressive drivers on the highway were lane changing without indicating around typically poor Canadian lane discipline (you’re supposed to pass on the left). We got cut off a couple of times, once badly enough to prompt a salute from me. On Highway 9 with eighteen wheelers spitting hot gravel at us and cars sitting at green lights while staring at their smartphones, I was at the end of my patience. We finally got around Orangeville only to almost get hit by a car passing a line of traffic coming right at us on the Fergus Road. This was as far from the 118 on a cool, quiet morning as we could possibly get.
We rolled in to Elora mid-afternoon. Once parked I pulled out the laser temperature tester from the garage. The driveway was over 50°C. A cold shower and feet up on the couch ended our 750+km ride through the Haliburton Highlands. The last leg back into Southern Ontario was the most dangerous part of the whole trip, and made me wish those sublime Ontario Highland roads weren’t so far away on the other side of these overcrowded, frustrating and tedious Southern Ontario roads.
The whole shebang – including the boring straight bits at the end. |
Top of the tower in 1000 Islands |
Canadian rider… |
Riding through the Canadian Shield… literally! |
The beginning of the big bake-off to get home |