Light rain and fog this morning that is supposed to move out quickly. The fog lifted around 7:30 and off I go with occasional sprinkles. Schriber is only 9 miles so I skip morning coffee in favor of breakfast when I arrive. For the past 20 miles I have seen one billboard after another advertising places in the town of Schribee and even some Chamber of Commerce type signs extolling the beauty of Schriber. Wow! Hoodwinked again. This place is a bonafide dump with one restaurant - a Robins donut shop. I drink my coffee amid two tables of local deaf retirees yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Some enterprising audiologist should open a hearing aid store here and make a killing. I was hoping to wait out the rain, but riding wet is preferable to the company of screaming geezers.
The nearer I come to Thunder Bay, the Closer together points of interest are clustered. Just 13 miles past Schriber is a little fishing town called Rossport featuring a half dozen cute little B&B's. The highest rated one is Serendipity Gardens also advertising a cafe. Who can resist a place with this name? I can; it's closed. I ride to the end of a Marina pier and enjoy a protein bar in the company of... nobody. It is peaceful here.
10 miles more takes me to the heart of the Pays Plat First Nation Indian Reservation. There is a convenience store here and I purchase a prepackaged sub and a carton of chocolate milk. The cashier asks which way I'm going (to which I reply "west") and she launches into motherly advice mode. She conjers up a serious face and declares "don't talk to nobody in Thumder Bay because of the murders." All the while she is pointing to the front page of the newspaper with a story about Thunder Bay, Ontario snatching Canada's statistical murder capital crown from Edmonton, Alberta. Not to make light of a per capita murder rate, but it was on a parallel with discussing Chicago's stats with a resident White Pigeon.
Canadians, in general, seem to be more reserved socially than Midwestern Americans. Polite but not welcoming with open arms. "Hi" and quickly look away. I thought it was because I'm American, but they don't really know unless I open my wallet or my mouth. The Pays Plat took this to a whole new level. As I'm sitting in front of the store at a picnic table enjoying lunch, several patrons of North Americam Native descent go in and out of the store. Not a single hello, eye contact or recognition of any kind. These are some angry people reminding me of the Chippewa Reservation in Mount Pleasant when I was in College at CMU. Soaring Eagle casino changed all that and now the Chips enjoy a level of prosperity never imagined. They like white people a lot better now, too. Maybe Pays Plat should renegotiate their treaty with Ontario.
38 miles total today with some big hills. The last 10 miles were in pouring rain which didn't move the needle on my Fun-O-Meter. So I find myself in Gravel River Resort - which is more like a high end gas station/motel/diner. I checked; no hot tub, no spa and no fitness center. No turndown service with a mint on the pillow either. I've been warned not to take my bike in my room but was given the option of putting it in the firewood shed behind the motel. This structure looks like something in the middle of Bangalore made of corrugated steel and FEMA tarps. I just want it to stay standing for one more night and I will be off once again.
The nearer I come to Thunder Bay, the Closer together points of interest are clustered. Just 13 miles past Schriber is a little fishing town called Rossport featuring a half dozen cute little B&B's. The highest rated one is Serendipity Gardens also advertising a cafe. Who can resist a place with this name? I can; it's closed. I ride to the end of a Marina pier and enjoy a protein bar in the company of... nobody. It is peaceful here.
10 miles more takes me to the heart of the Pays Plat First Nation Indian Reservation. There is a convenience store here and I purchase a prepackaged sub and a carton of chocolate milk. The cashier asks which way I'm going (to which I reply "west") and she launches into motherly advice mode. She conjers up a serious face and declares "don't talk to nobody in Thumder Bay because of the murders." All the while she is pointing to the front page of the newspaper with a story about Thunder Bay, Ontario snatching Canada's statistical murder capital crown from Edmonton, Alberta. Not to make light of a per capita murder rate, but it was on a parallel with discussing Chicago's stats with a resident White Pigeon.
Canadians, in general, seem to be more reserved socially than Midwestern Americans. Polite but not welcoming with open arms. "Hi" and quickly look away. I thought it was because I'm American, but they don't really know unless I open my wallet or my mouth. The Pays Plat took this to a whole new level. As I'm sitting in front of the store at a picnic table enjoying lunch, several patrons of North Americam Native descent go in and out of the store. Not a single hello, eye contact or recognition of any kind. These are some angry people reminding me of the Chippewa Reservation in Mount Pleasant when I was in College at CMU. Soaring Eagle casino changed all that and now the Chips enjoy a level of prosperity never imagined. They like white people a lot better now, too. Maybe Pays Plat should renegotiate their treaty with Ontario.
38 miles total today with some big hills. The last 10 miles were in pouring rain which didn't move the needle on my Fun-O-Meter. So I find myself in Gravel River Resort - which is more like a high end gas station/motel/diner. I checked; no hot tub, no spa and no fitness center. No turndown service with a mint on the pillow either. I've been warned not to take my bike in my room but was given the option of putting it in the firewood shed behind the motel. This structure looks like something in the middle of Bangalore made of corrugated steel and FEMA tarps. I just want it to stay standing for one more night and I will be off once again.
I'm starting to think there's a reason why "Pure Ontario" never caught on as an advertising slogan.
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