Day 42: Ignace, Ontario: Familiar Country



Once again we face easterlies, which slow down our averages to 21-22 kms/ hr. The highway isn't as user friendly as before. Not as consistent are the wider shoulders and for long stretches there is only a 2 foot strip on a two way highway. You definitely have to keep your machine inside the paint and hope that when one semi simultaneously meets another on the other side of road that he is on his game. The very real prospect of a semi trailer swooshing by you 3 or 4 feet away at 110kms/hr, sucking you forward as it passes ranges from uncomfortable to scary. We try to keep safe by wearing bright riding vests and checking our mirrors for approaching big rigs. The law states that we are not allowed to "block", ie slowly follow the rider as it will slow down normal traffic. Anyway this is cross Canada bike travel and we deal with it. We are relieved when shoulders widen and when semi's give us a wide birth when they pass.

5 hours in the saddle gets us to Ignace and the Davey Campground. As a guide at Bending Lake throughout my university days, Ignace was the closest fly in point, probably only 25 miles as the crow flys. The southerly fly in point was Ft. Francis, Ontario, a resort town on the US border just opposite International Falls, Minnesota. This was a hub of course for all the "you alls", itching to get at our abundance of pike, pickerel, lake trout, bear and moose.

Gin has some history here too, as this is where we spent our honeymoon. No Bali, Las Vegas, Hawaii, like they do now: this was a solid tenting, fishin, float planning, campfire cooking, Black Tower drinking extravaganza. What a girl and she'd do it again. We softened up our "moon" a little the last couple of days and accepted an invitation from my old boss to stay in the lodge and dine with the rest of the guests. The fishing was fabulous and Gin caught one of the biggest lake trout I have ever seen come out of Middle Bay. It now hangs proudly on the wall of her parents cabin on the Red River with a gold inscription below...."The Honeymoon Trout".

We loose another hour today (our third since leaving Whistler), and dinner time conversation revolves around stories of days gone by and tomorrow's 102 km ride through lake country to Upsala.

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