Pronounced “feen”.

So as not to leave you hangin’, I’m back in Minnesota having driven from Sleeping Giant Provincial Park to St. Paul.

Packed up a wet camper on Friday, but ultimately the decision to move on was made easier by the prospect of another wet morning on Saturday.  The decision to not stop anywhere on the North Shore before coming home was really made for me.  Truth is, I didn’t think this one ahead very well.  In my world everyday is Saturday except Sunday.  In the rest of the world of course, there are workdays and weekends.

Highway 61 was packed with people.  The parking lot at the Grand Portage National Monument Visitors Center didn’t have a parking space left. Grand Marais was already a mass of weekend humanity at one o’clock in the afternoon.  The prospect of stopping to exchange my Canadian money seemed fruitless.  There were cars everywhere, with dad frowning and mom pointing, that were obviously looking for  a place to park.  Lunch at the Angry Trout?  A pipe dream.

So instead, it was a Culver’s Deluxe burger in Two Harbors and a drive home.  The entire way, cars were streaming north.  I don’t know where they were all going to fit.

For those of you that followed along with me once again, my heart felt thanks for your interest.

I am home at the end of another safe journey.  Thanks be to God.  I am well, and I hope you all are too. 🙂

I came up to the truck stop to get a cell and wifi signal and to be able to look at the forecast.  It’s raining and this morning I was going to move back into MN either to Cascade or Temperance River State Park.  The forecast for the area between here and Duluth doesn’t really help me to make up my mind about staying or moving.  Sometime in the next couple of hours I’ll need to decide.

I am well and hope you all are too.

This photo is taken over looking Thunder Bay from the Terry Fox Memorial Lookout and Visitor Center. Remember Terry Fox? In 1980, with his cancer somewhat in remission, he attempted to run across Canada on a prosthetic leg to raise money for cancer research. Cancer had taken his right leg several years before.

He fell short of his goal. But only of his running goal. Just east of here is a sign marking the spot where Terry, his cancer once again trying to take his body, had to stop his run. Implored by his family and support team, without fanfare, he climbed into the van and rode into Thunder Bay.  He had run close to the equivalent of a marathon for 143 straight days. Terry slipped into the Kingdom the following year.

His legacy of fundraising alone is enough that his story should be remembered. In the 35 years since, hundreds of millions of dollars have been raised for cancer research in Terry’s name. But it is his legacy of courage and inspiration that has cemented his place as a Canadian Icon.

In the morning, after a walk down along the lake, I drove into Thunder Bay with a number of missions; K cups, an oil change, cigars, and the Sleeping Giant Brewery. And if there was time, a visit to Historic Ft. William. I figured doing those would quench my desire to “see” Thunder Bay. All missions were accomplished except Ft. William, which I’ll stop at on my way back into Minnesota tomorrow. It’s out on the south end of town on the road to Grand Portage. Sleeping Giant Brewery has an excellent English Pale Ale. I can’t find the words of pleasure ‘cause all throughout Ontario so far I haven’t found a single place that makes strong coffee or carries anything other than various versions what can only be called light beer. Yikes, what’s a coffee and beer snob to do?

Wednesday, September 14th

Sleeping Giant Park is on a peninsula that’s across the bay from the city of Thunder Bay. The park takes up most of the peninsula, which is full of little lakes. The exception is the little town of Silver Islet that terminates the only paved road. The rest of the roads are all dirt tracks that lead back to the little lakes and trailheads. I arrived in plenty of time to do some good exploring both by truck and bike.

The campground at Sleeping Giant is great and sits along the shore of Marie Louise Lake, the largest lake on the peninsula.

These guys were sunning in the afternoon and didn’t seem to mind my being close to them at all.

Silver Islet has its historical roots in silver mining but today is just a sleepy little cottage hamlet with a small craft marina and general store.

The store has been there since the mining days.

The “streets” are all little one laners and I suspect you have to be a local to know if you’re going the right way.  Many of them have signs that say, No Access from May 15 – September 15.  It’s a clear message that they don’t want tourists driving through their neighborhoods. Being there was only one day ‘til the deadline, I drove down the lane along the shore that was lake on one side and cottages on the other. No one chased me away. The cottages don’t look out on the vast lake because this area is full of islands, big and small. Beyond the islands is Isle Royale.

Silver Islet is a hidden treasure that’s hiding in plain sight. It’s just fortunate enough to be off the beaten path.

I wasn’t that far from my next destination and in no need to hurry to pack up the camper. I decided the night before that I would leave the campground at first light and head into Schreiber and then come back and pack up.

There were a number of things going on here. One, there was a fire trail I wanted to walk, leading down to a lake that looked like it would be a prime place to spot a moose. Two, I’m out of regular coffee and there isn’t a K cup within a hundred miles of me. Three, while driving through Schreiber yesterday I spotted a combination motel office, Pizza Hut, KFC, and Robins Doughnuts (coffee stop) with a wifi sign in the window. Hey, this is the boonies of Ontario, they have to multi-task. And four, I wanted to visit a bear trap. Yup, I’m not making that up either.

So back up to yesterday again. Right along the highway through Schreiber, in a vacant lot, is a food truck. Chapman’s Fish and Chips, owned and operated by a Native American named, you guessed it, Chappy. Right near his truck was what I recognized to be a live bear trap. I knew right away what it was because it’s similar to ones the DNR uses in Minnesota. Basically it’s a big section of steel culvert mounted on a small trailer with heavy rebar fixed to one end and a rebar sliding trap door on the other.  No need to be subtle.  Bears will climb up onto anything and into anything if they think food will be the result.  When a bear gets caught, they just hitch him up to a truck and haul him back deep into the woods.

Chappy is a hard working guy, taking orders to go on his cell phone, hand cutting all his fries with the skin on, and of course cooking fish with grandma’s secret batter recipe. I watched him through the door on the end of his truck as I ate. The fish and chips did not disappoint.

When I finished I wanted to pay him a compliment so I chatted him up from the stairs up to his doorway. I asked him about the trap and he laughed and showed me the dents and claw scratches on his truck. He said to come back tomorrow early and I’d probably see one in a very grumpy frame of mind.

Fast forward back to today. When I arrived at Robin’s Doughnuts/KFC/Pizza Hut/motel office, I looked down the highway towards Chappy’s and could see the trap was already gone. When I asked the woman working the counter about the trap she said, “Yeah, they went by with him about a half hour ago, but if you go down this road over there, right across, I heard they had another one down there. If he’s there you can’t miss it, it’s right in a vacant lot back in that neighborhood.” I’m pretty sure I found the vacant lot she was talking about, but that trap was already gone as well.

Back to camp to pack up.

Something new, a Provincial Park that actually has a town near it. And Schreiber turned out to offer a couple of interesting surprises. More on that.

Although the drive from Pancake Bay up to Rainbow Falls was a rainy one, it was a long breathtaking stretch passing through the heart of Lake Superior Provincial Park and skirting Pukaskwa National Park. Think of the North Shore on steroids without the towns. During this sojourn, I glimpsed a bull moose munching on some lily pads, their favorite treat, and had a big black bear cross the road in front of me so close I had to brake hard. Couple those with the scenery and you have a top ten day of travel, in spite of the rain, although it did clear late in the day.   Rainbow Falls Campground? Not so much. I ended up staying just one night.

Monday was windy and sunny. It even turned into a shorts and tee shirt day in the afternoon, but it was one of those fall days where when you’re in the sun you’re hot, and when you’re in the shade you’re chilled.

Early in the morning I did some exploring in my truck to the north of where I’m camped. Lake Superior Provincial Park is up there and although I’ll be heading that way when I move on, I know I won’t have a lot of time for stopping and the weather is supposed to turn back to rain again anyway. This part of the east side of the lake seems to be the area where the shoreline is transitioning from sand and pebble beaches to rocky and rugged.

Here is the requisite picture of the lake, but I’m not inclined to shoot the lake, or the many waterfalls I see, because everyone has seen pictures of Lake Superior and waterfalls. Don’t get me wrong, I love both, and this lake projects a power that has drawn me my whole life.

Back at camp I switched to the bike for a couple of hours. I have to say I find riding in remote areas both exhilarating and unnerving. You’re moving along at a decent clip and not making much noise. A tailor made situation for surprising a critter. I am hyper alert, even more than riding in traffic in the city. When I don’t see much of the road ahead I ring my bell. Yes, my bike has a little bell, doesn’t everyone’s?

I ended this fine day by plunking myself in my camp chair on the beach to soak up the last of the day’s sunshine. I passed the time watching the tapered end of a contrail disappear behind a jetliner so high it was just a spot. And I tried to decide which is more mesmerizing, waves or staring into a campfire. Oh, and why, no matter where you are on the shore of a lake, do the waves come toward the shore. I mean where on the lake do they decide to go in different directions?

I am well, (can’t you tell?) and hope you are too.

The decision to wait out the rainy day turned out to be a good one. I spent the inclement day in a couple of friendly spots, first the Café Rosetta in Calumet for some good coffee and excellent tomato basil soup. It also had a speedy wifi signal and I was able to catch up on my posting and photo work. When I tired of coffee I moved down to Houghton to test drive the Keweenaw Brewhouse. There I sampled a couple of their seasonal brews and was able to go on line and review some of the information on the Provincial Parks on my route.

Sunday dawned sunny and as I made my way east toward Sault Ste Marie the lake was on my left for a good portion of the morning. I also got a good look at a cow and calf moose but no pic.  I stopped along the shore and read the mass for that day. Some of my cradle Catholic friends would be quick to razz me good naturedly that that doesn’t “count”, but I’m confident God loved the intent.

For much of the day I had a recurring image in my head of a stairwell full people streaming down the stairs and firefighters going up. NYC cops, firefighters, and first responders should be beloved forever for their work that day. I welled up a number of times that day as I rolled along, and again now as I write about it.  What a day in our history.

The crossing at “The Soo” took awhile. They’re building a new customs checkpoint so the whole thing is a confused jumble of construction zone and temporary lanes and check booths. What I saw of Sault Ste Marie didn’t move me much, ‘ay.  Heading north you’re very quickly in the beauty of Ontario. This is Voyageur country and all the signs are in French and English. Oh yeah, and then there’s that kilometer and Canadian dollars thing.

Pancake Bay campground is very nice. The sites are all strung out for nearly a mile on or near the lake, and the bay is almost entirely sand beach. I even had a nice little creek running right next my site.

I know some of you might think pictures of my truck and camper are getting old. I like to have them for my own memories. But more importantly I take them for my daughter, because when I was taking my trip last winter, she told me she likes to be able to picture me in the spots I stay. So the rest of you will have to just get over it.

Well this post is feeling a little long so I think I’ll close it up. Love you all.

Technically speaking it’s not really a peninsula.  The land is split north to south by a large waterway connecting with the lake at both ends. It separates the twin towns of Houghton and Hancock, each perched on steep hills either side of the waterway, reminding me of smaller versions of Duluth. Houghton is the home of Michigan Tech University, feared rival of just about every Division 1 hockey team in America.

The peninsula is sporting the very first hints of fall color change and it’s dotted with small towns that are either harbor towns or towns historically tied to the copper mining and processing industry of years past. Many of the smaller roads are completely canopied and in some cases the trees are so close to the road they put reflectors on them for safer nighttime driving.

The Eagle River making it’s way to the lake. The beauty of the whole peninsula is undeniable.  It is, as you might expect, a thriving tourist area.

From what I’ve seen, the south shore of Lake Superior is quite different from the north shore in Minnesota. It’s almost completely lacking in the rugged rocky shores and ramparts of it’s opposite shore and boasts many more harbors and picturesque coves and inlets. There are scores of marinas big and small.

This is something you don’t see every day on your drive through the countryside. Even as heavily forested as it is here, I was glimpsing this stack from miles away. The picture can’t do justice to how immense this monolith is. This is the old site of the Mohawk Stamping Mill that sits on the edge of the town of Gay, which is named after a prominent mining official. Between this stack and the shoreline were remnants of massive foundations and footings with cutoff rebar that was five inches in diameter. The stamping mill, part of copper processing, was in operation from 1900 to 1932.

The town of Gay, which swelled to nearly two thousand at the mills height, followed the pattern of many mining towns, first booming and then slowly dissolving to almost nothing. In it’s peak years it had power, gas, and regular rail and mail service, which wasn’t all that common in remote areas back then. When the copper industry started to decline so did the town. Some residents stayed, supported by a large logging operation, that also eventually declined. The large, three story stone school, which even today is an impressive structure, is approaching it’s seventieth year of standing empty. The post office, established in 1902 finally closed in 1988. There is still a bar and of course someone had to name it The Gay Bar. Really people??

One of my highlights of the day was a stop at the Brickside Brewery in Copper Harbor. A couple of 40ish hippies own it, very engaging fellows who are living their entrepreneurial dreams. I didn’t sample the fish truck outside but it seemed to be quite the popular stop.

It was a great day of exploring with great weather. Life is good.