Schreiber to Thunder Bay

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Odometer: 41428km

I stopped to talk to one of the locals in front of his house last night. He was unloading his car when I approached to ask a question about his town. I guess I must have looked a little suspicious with my non-local look and a writing book under my arm. I gathered this from his face when I started talking. Maybe he thought I was a Mormon coming to talk to him about other stages of life. . I could almost see the wheels turning as he evaluated who the heck I was. I quickly put him at ease and we had a good chat. One thing he mentioned was to be sure to take the short drive to the lake front, down Isbester Drive to the Isbester Lookout. Isbester was the name of the explorer who first established the town, but when the CPR decided to make it a division point on the railway, Mr. Schreiber interfered, and used his position to alter history.

That is where I was headed at 7am. The trek took me down a very steep, loose gravel road and all I could think about was the challenge of getting back up on my heavy motorcycle. The beach was typical of Lake Superior, although this one was covered in small round rocks instead of sand. In the woods along the shore there were about eight campers with a sprinkling of tents. I was trying to figure out how these vehicles got down here when a man wandered up to talk to me. It turns out the whole beach on the inlet is privately owned by the family to which the man belonged. I apologized for being there and noted there were no signs saying it was private property. He said he understood and it really wasn’t a problem. The family were planning to sell the main part of the beach to the town anyway. On this weekend, the they had gathered there to celebrate the 97th birthday of the family patriarch. He said they were having a great time as a family and there were many there that he hadn’t seen in a long time. I think it is a good thing to have long living relatives. They seem to create the opportunity for families to stay connected more than they would without them.

The ride back up the steep road was another non-event that I had built up in my mind to be more of a problem than it was. I could hear Les’s voice as I expressed my pessimism - “Stop it!” or something as equally direct. She was right, again.

Back on the highway, I headed west, looking for a good place for breakfast. I was willing to accept the small town eggs and bacon café, so I was surprised and thrilled to find The Rossport Inn at the sleepy village of Rossport. It was one of those fluky moments that, after you do it, becomes a ‘brilliant moments’. I came around a corner and saw the small road turning off the main highway posted ‘Rossport’. I had no idea about the place, but I had unhappily bypassed so many such roads yesterday in the interest of time, so for that reason alone, I braked hard and turned off. What a treat I discovered.

The town is a cozy place nestled on a bay and well protected by Nickel Island offshore. The railway comes through the centre and, although the railway station is gone, the hotel that served railway patrons still stands - The Rossport Inn. They have sleeping accommodations as well as a restaurant that, I found out from others afterwards, is famous for its good food. My breakfast attested to that. I had some of the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten. What is more, I was able to eat my meal while looking out on a calm lake in the warmth of low morning rays from the sun. The ambiance of the place was created by the way the owners had kept everything similar to what is was in the old days. There was lots of wood trim, all well maintained, various antiques scattered about in the sitting room adjacent to the dining room, and, get this, not a note of music to mask the sounds of people quietly starting their day. It was one of those moments that I wished could last for a long time.

The Inn tried to survive through a few owners in the past, but it wasn’t until the present owners, who are American by the way, took over and made the inn what it is today. Again, I was made aware of how much the shores of the Great Lakes are a melting pot of Canadians and Americans. It is as though the border doesn’t exist. Even at breakfast, at the table beside me, was an American couple and a Canadian couple who had arrived in their boats, purposely setting out to see each other again. From their chat, it was clear they had known each other for some time.

Back on the road again, I had to press on, non-stop. Ron and Caddie, neighbours of ours in Calgary, have a cottage at Trout Lake, not too far from Thunder Bay. They had invited me to spend a few days with them on my way through. When I called them last night, I said I would be there by 11 or 12 noon, so I had to keep moving to meet that commitment. I didn’t want them waiting around when they had other things to do.

The country I then rode through was very nice. The most dramatic sights were provided by a couple of vistas that hit me as I crested a hill where the road was cut through the granite rock at the top. This cut framed beautiful views of Lake Superior. Again, there was no place to safely stop, so all I could do was put the image into my own memory bank and ride on.

I got to Trout Lake on time, where Ron and Caddie set me up in a nice building they have in the back of their cottage. We then went off to a field day where their grandkids enjoyed themselves and I met a lot of people whose names I couldn’t remember shortly afterward. One by one, I met them again back at the cottage, as they were all relatives who had cottages nearby. The day was finished with a refreshing swim in the lake and a great meal. I went to bed thinking how I would see some of the sights of Thunder Bay and then put some miles under the wheels the next day. Thankfully, in the morning, a rested Jack made a more reasonable decision.

Odometer at the end of the day: 41666km

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Photos

Isbester Beach near Schreiber
This shows how the lake impacts the weather. The clouds came in off the lake in the evening, but were clearing out in the morning, again influenced by the lake.

Breakfast view at Rossport Inn
This was one of those breakfasts that you want to go on forever.

The Rossport Inn
This only shows part of the building. They also have nice cottages for rent.

Overview of Thunder Bay
Taken from the Terry Fox Memorial.