Bicycling the Trans Canada Highway

As a restless youth, I had a vision of packing up my two-wheeled pack animal and crossing the country. Bicycling the Trans-Canada highway Ontario to find the shortest route to Vancouver, British Columbia. With adventure in my mind, and the sense not to embark on such a trip myself. A good friend decided that a challenge is what was called for. A tribal passage into manhood, both literally and metaphorically.

For some, this is a “bucket list journey” in our case, it was only a matter of getting the bikes tuned up, purchasing some specialized equipment for both cycling and camping. The kit packed and weight distributed; we were nearing that date of departure. Yes, this was to be a bicycle/camping excursion of proportions that I doubt we really ready for. We were not athletes, trained for this. We were two guys with bicycles that we used for commuting through the streets of Toronto, Ontario.

Babylon by Bus- via the Trans Canada Highway.

The Trans Canada Highway is not the best place to ride, especially in the vicinity of Toronto. In fact, the night prior to our leaving, someone was left for dead on Canada’s deadliest highway. There was some trepidation, too late to turn back now. Here we had a plan. A one-way bus ride north, this would get us out of the city. A one-way ticket to further the commitment, no room for that last minute “opt-out.” I am confident this was never going to happen. On a rainy June evening, we said goodbye to friends and family. Hiring a van and made our way to our initial departure point. The Greyhound Station on Bay Street. Tickets in hand, Bicycles and equipment stowed in the baggage compartment of the bus, we sat looking out the window as the silver coach left the city leaving us with only memories and anticipation of what was to come.

Welcome Sault Saint Marie

Arriving at “the Sault” (Sault Saint Marie, Ontario), it was a bright, fresh morning. Neither of us gained much rest on the overnight journey, we were peaked with enthusiasm. The Sault is about 10 hours north of Toronto. Here the trans-Canada highway was not the behemoth of 16 lanes, we were on the much more manageable two and sometimes four-lane roads that would be our guide across the country. Reassembling our bicycles and placing the assorted equipment on our mechanical mules, fastening the map books and audio devices, we waved goodbye to everything we knew. Riding out of the city of Sault Saint Marie onto Hwy 17 towards our first destination of the day. Montreal River Bay, where we could camp for that night.

The trans-Canada to Montreal Bay

We cleverly plotted stops along the route so that we would not be left “stranded” too often. On the map, a journey of a mere 125 kilometres seemed a distance that would not seem to be too daunting. As we approached halfway, we both had some serious doubts as to what we were undertaking- nothing was verbalized.  The terrain was always undulating, with some long expanses of climbing. Stopping off to the side of the road, it was lunchtime. Unwrapping the snack, we looked out over the vastness of lake superior and the ruggedness of the Northern Canadian shield. We realized that this was the adventure that we hoped it should be. Nothing easy, but nothing worth doing is. Our resolve restored, the remainder of the days distanced rolled away effortlessly- that would be a considerable exaggeration. Finding a place to camp, we collapsed for the rest of the evening.

Montreal Bay To Wawa

The heat in the tent got us to breakfast early, and we were back on the road by 9 am. This would be a routine. This morning we woke a little sore. We had not done a great deal of riding before departure. The previous day left us less than 100 percent. Fortunately, today’s ride was just over 100 Km’s away, and we were both confident that it would be conquered by the end of the day. As the first downward stroke of the peddle, initiated what would be an exciting day of bicycling the trans Canada Highway in Ontario north. 

The view of Superior as if it was watching over us, the boreal forests a beacon of survival and inspiration. The soreness slowly dissipated as we gained our “riding legs” over the never yielding highway, which would become our home. Off into the distance, a giant Goose was spotted on the horizon, barely 6 pm we reached today’s destination Wawa, Ontario. Unlike Montreal Bay, we booked into a motel and enjoyed the rest of the evening with a few beers and a big joint. Not Athletes. 

Highway to White River

The previous days were idyllic, warm sunshine, a slight breeze and the riding perfect. As we left Wawa early that morning en route to White River, it seemed that it was going to yet another “perfect” day. With Wawa behind us, not more than 15 Km’s on highway 17, our first obstacle. A Construction area, that seemed to go on for days. Here the road was now one way, continually stopping and avoiding the now angry vehicles. 

Although giving them as much space as possible, it was never enough. The refuge of the shoulder was no longer our friend. As another transport truck starts to suck you into its vortex-like a vacuum. All you could do is hold your position and hope. Nerves frazzled, the progress was plodding. We were very skeptical if today’s destination would be achieved. The day was long and exhausting. We rolled into White River late into the evening as the sun was going down over the lake. Nerves tattered. Remembering Winnie the Pooh. Breath, Jon, breath.

Around Lake Superior to Marathon.

I can’t speak for Andrew, but after yesterday’s harrowing experience, I was not so keen to get back into the saddle. Apprehension and soreness were always going to play a large part in this journey.  Loaded up and feet strapped into the peddles, we slowly made our way back bicycling the Trans Canada Highway and began to make our way to Marathon, Ontario. Today the shoulder was back and the road reasonably clear. It was the weekend, so no construction. Becoming more comfortable as the day rolled on. We stopped in to have a bite to eat at the side of the road. As we sat on a reclining piece of the Canadian shield and were mesmerized by the view of Lake Superior. Inspired. Our progress was good. Then I heard what could be described as a “chunking sound.” I looked down, and there it was a flat tire.  

We were prepared for such eventuality, but it did mean removing 150 pounds of equipment off the bike and then reloading. Time. After the set back was concluded, the riding once again commenced. More beautiful scenery and the ever-present running your bicycle into the soft shoulders of the road. Always being aware of the traffic from behind. Still Kilometers from Marathon, all I can think of is” man, I could use a beer.” One more valley, a slight slope and my wish would be answered…It has been a marathon to Marathon. 

Folk Music on Trans Canada Highway

It was Sunday morning, leaving Marathon. Like Neil Young once sang: “and I felt like getting stoned” so coffee and a big joint- It was time to ride. Headphones on, clear road, it was euphoria. Your cadence enveloped in the rhythms in your head. The kilometers passed as your body was becoming in tune with the physical endurance that each day brought on. The magical scenery and the freedom of the road brought a transcendence to the activity. Today’s journey would take us to Terrance Bay. Although we scheduled a full day to reach our destination, we were faster today than other days and stood on the shores of Lake Superior at Terrace Bay, contemplating if we should go further or stick to the schedule. We decided to stay and sing Gordon Lightfoot songs. “The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” 

A chill in the air in Nipigon.

After the customary breakfast of pancakes and coffee, it was time to saddle up and ride to Nipigon, Ontario. The morning was a little cooler than the other days, you could smell the rain in the air. Sunglasses on, it was time to once again enter the highway that serpentined its way through the Canadian topography. As we approached 30 km’s into the journey, a mist appeared over the lake- it was beautiful to look at and foreboding at the same time. Within minutes we were completely engulfed in limited visibility, and we were in no location that offered shelter.

Leaning up against a massive slab of rock facing, it was time for rain-wear and reflective clothing. We had to press on. The day did not get any easier as the road continued to undulate under our wheels, while the spray from the cars was a mild nuisance. However, when a truck came flying by drawing you under and its devastating spray, you had to use all your riding skill and nerve to hold your position on the white line. The soft shoulder would leave you sprawling on the ground. It was going to be a long day in the saddle, trudging through like the adventures before, we would not be deterred. 

After what seemed to be a lifetime and completely soaked and mentally inebriated, in our sights a sign; “Nipigon.” Elation. We were not dead. A campground, and hopefully some dryish ground to place the tents and get firewood. Food and shared a laugh.

A Clap of Thunder Bay

The rain persisted overnight, its constant pattering of raindrops bouncing off the side of the tent was somehow soothing. Our belongings were housed in tents. Unfortunately, we still had some very wet tents and damp clothes. We considered not moving that day, it was still raining. This idea was quickly put to rest, and we rode to the nearest diner for breakfast and to warm up. Hoping that the rain would subside while we wasted time. No such luck. Soggy as it was, it was time to mount the cycles and back on the highway to our next location- Thunder Bay. This would be the largest city we would visit until we made it to Winnipeg- if we made it to Winnipeg. We were excited to finish this leg of the journey and take a well-deserved rest, wash and replenish supplies. Like the day before it was wet, this time it rained, we pushed through.

 Bicycling with white Line fever.

Focusing on the “white line,” our heads barely raised beyond our shoulder, trying to ride the 100 plus km’s to Thunder Bay. Midway through, we found an abandoned gas station and pulled in for comfort. We knew that we could not stay here, we still had much distance to travel before days end. I had a bit of a tantrum- more like venting. Off we were back on the road. On occasion, a motorist would ask if we need assistance- one motorist. The day was longer than expected, and I began to have doubts that we would ever make it. We stopped to take a look at the Terry Fox memorial and think that gave us “hope” too. Towards the end of the day, the rain slowed, and the sun could be seen from behind the clouds. Looking out to Lake Superior, the sky and mist created an unforgettable watercolour image, something Lawren Harris may have created. In natural beauty, there is belief.

 The lights of Thunder Bay was now visible as the sun began to sink low on the horizon. We had reached our destination, three 3 hours longer than what we anticipated and I had to question our sanity. Andrew was too tired to care. Did someone say shower and cocktail- not Athletes!

Heading to Upsala

The rest day came and went like a leaf on a wind current directionless and finally landing. Slightly rejuvenated, it was once again time to secure the sweet spot of your ass to the seat. We realized, by looking at the map, we would need to extend our day. Many locals were indicating that there were bears in the direction in which we were going. Always listen to the locals. Today we would ride Upsala, and although the distance would be one our longest days, we did feel up to the task after a restful and entertaining day in Thunder Bay. 

The day started well, a mild breeze and only a few trucks to increase my heart rate. Soon we were down to the old signal lane bicycling  Trans Canada highway surrounded by the rugged scenery. We had now left the picturesque Lake Superior and were now heading northwest. There were few obstructions or attractions on this leg of our journey. About halfway at Raith pulled off to the side of the road for our obligatory peanut butter and jam sandwich, gorp, more water and rest for the old bum. After rolling a doobie, it was time to saddle up for part two of the journey. Headphones on and legs rotating, we entered Upsals just about when we thought we would. Found lodging at the Parkview Motel. A good long day.

Soft Shoulders of Ignace

It would be Friday night when we would arrive at Ignace, and according to the map, it would have a bar and a grocery store. The bar, I think, is pretty apparent. The grocery store- less so. For those that may not have guessed, on a journey like this, you consume many calories. Being on a fully loaded bicycle, you carried only the basics, and usually, this was only two days worth of well-rationed food. 

Knowing that Ignace would not be too far-compared to the previous day, we mounted up in what could be considered good spirits. The sun was out, it was coolish, and we knew what we wanted to accomplish by the end of the day… Beer and food. Everything was going according to plan.

There was a squeal of brakes locking up and then a loud “pop” sound and a swell of smoke. Yes, a truck blew out a tire,  we were so close we abandoned the road for the soft shoulder dumping ourselves and the bikes for a precarious spill. The truck regained control as it passed us. But for us, it was too late. Felled on the side of the road, with small stones embedded into our skin. This was not the perfect day it was 10 minutes ago. Picking ourselves up and using some very well conceived words. We sat quietly beside the highway, with first aid kit in hand. Feeling lucky that this was the extent of our misery. Bikes unharmed. It was time to be off, Ignace, like a beautiful maiden, was waiting. I had a double vodka that night to wash down my beer.

Dryden

We had a great night in Ignace on the shore of Agimak lake. This made the mornings start a little sluggish. Honestly, I did not fully gather that I was on my bike riding until noon. This was actually a good thing. It was the first day that we realized we were making good progress towards Vancouver, that was still a long way off. After yesterday we know that on the Hwy one, anything is possible. Riding was tolerable for now.

The sign said Borrup Corners, we had hit the “wall” legs stopped and, more importantly, the will not to continue crept in like a cold front. It was something that we knew would happen, but why today and now. I have no answer for that -it may have been the accident from the previous day. We were about halfway to Dryden, a town much larger than Ignace. We pulled over, added more fuel to our engine, but nothing. Ride and stop and then repeat. Dryden did not seem like it was going to be an attainable destination. We had time, and the goal of the team is to help each other succeed. Andrew and I had been friends for years. We knew “what button to push” to motivate each other person. The day was long and slow, like the last note of a sonata we made Dryden, none too happy we found a room at the Chalet Inn motel.

Biking to Kenora or…

The two best parts of the day were the morning and evening, this is where you could interact with other people. Most days were like slugging it out with the heavyweight champion of the world for 8 hours. Breakfast this morning at a local diner was excellent, with many characters anxious to know what the hell we were doing and, as importantly, why? Most shook their heads in admiration with good-hearted good luck. That morning we looked at the map, realizing we had two options. A fast day to Vermilion Bay or a long day to Kenora. We decided as we so often did “we would play it by ear” if we felt good, we would continue. If not, we would stop. After the previous day, this seemed logical. Breakfast almost digested, it was time to put a leg over the two-wheeled chariot and continue our trek along the road of destiny.

Born to wander the Trans Canada

Vermilion Bay was in sight, and we had only been riding for about two and a half hours- there must have been a tailwind. We decided we had what it would take to ride to Kenora. We knew that once we made this decision that we would have to continue. There were very few shelters, and if we did not make it by nightfall, we would be forced to camp. Camping was not the issue- we were prepared for that, black bears are in abundance in this area, never a good thing. Moving was our ally. We briskly crossed the densely forested terrain highlighted by lakes off into the distance. As the kilometres fell away, the roads began to widen, giving us a little more than simply being on top of the “white line.” Head down with headphones on the highway was now “our brother,” and we knew “we were born to wander.”

The rest of the day went well, and spirits remained high. The sun began to sink lower on the horizon and still no Kenora insight.  No one should be bicycling the trans-Canada highway at night. The glare of the sun was directly in our eyes, making visibility almost impossible. We were definitely heading west. To the side of the road, a sign said Long Bow Lake, we knew we were close. We pushed hard. We were still on the asphalt as darkness descended upon us. Fuck!!! This was not good. Trucks and bears come out at night. No stopping now, we moved through the early evening sky using North Star as a beacon. The lights of Kenora were within our sights. Cocktail anyone- Not athletes.

Too much highway.

We found refuge at the Cozy Cove bed and breakfast. Like many of our places to stop, they offered simple and adequate accommodations. Breakfast and coffee were all you needed, a couple of pieces of fruit for the road. Sunglasses on, it was time meet to introduce ourselves to our newest family member-the highway. Remember, you can’t pick your family. The day would hold extra special meaning. Five Kms back, it was perfect, blue skies and a breeze. Now rain. The spray of the trucks was intense, there seemed to be more of them; then there had been on previous days. We were only two days outside of Winnipeg. This was very exciting and stimulating. As we crossed into Manitoba, we both knew what we had accomplished, a “high five” was all that was necessary. Touched the provincial designation sign and said goodbye to bicycling the Trans Canada highway in Ontario.

 Bring on the prairies and everything that they could throw at us. At least it should be flat. First, we needed to finish this day and celebrate with a spliff and a couple of beers. We were halfway through the day, and the rain did not subside. Sure we were in another province but no less wet. Trudging on as we often did, our destination was in sight. Prawda Manitoba. At least that is where we thought we were about to stop. Looking around, we found the middle of nowhere, so we continued to delay our beer and spliff. We finally found accommodations at the Riverside Motel in a place named Hadashville. Do you have a light?

Highway 1 to Winnipeg

We had managed to make arrangements with friends that we could stay with for a few days before continuing our journey west of the mighty highway 1. The day started wet, but as the day passed, it began to dry up, and roads became more manageable. Honestly, it didn’t matter, it could have been snowing, we were going to have a few days of rest. A real shower and a few proper meals. The bicycles were nearly perfect machines; they too needed a little TLC before we continued.

We continued to ride west, and the volume of traffic began to increase as we made our way close to “the Peg.” Another metropolitan city, very similar to Toronto just on a smaller scale. In some ways, it felt like home. It was the first time I thought about home since we left “The Sault.” Bicycling the trans-Canada highway was no longer an option. We left our brother with the promise of a meeting later in the week. We needed to detour to provincial Hwy 15, this would take us into Winnipeg. The rest of the day was filled with anticipation and jubilation. We had conquered this leg of our journey. Fueled by marijuana, alcohol and determination. 

With a sense of unbridled fulfillment, it was time to reacquaint with those that would be our hosts.

We were only Just Starting

Arriving In Winnipeg was just the beginning of what would be become an adventure wrought with challenges and misgivings. Contrary to what you may believe, the prairies are not absolutely flat, and an environmental element that we did not account for would rear its ugly head on many occasions.

So please stay with us as we continue on the backs of our brother, The Trans Canada Highway.
If you have anything you would like to add, get clarity from, please enter them in the comments area below.

As always, it is our privilege to bring this to you.
It is your Vacation, Your Escape.
VTE