Well, the last morning of my trip started as the clusterfuck from hell. I woke up in that dump of a hotel in that dump of a town just wanting to get out. I was waffling between a couple different strategies for the ride home. Should I take the back roads through Ontario with a stop in Toronto, or should I head to Niagara Falls for a short day and then head home from there through Michigan, or should I just freeway it home along the south side of Lake Erie and then stop somewhere in between.
With no real plan, I left my hotel (after leaving a big tip for the maid – at least I could leave behind some warmth or maybe a smile in this smileless town) and make my way into Canada thinking I’d settled on back roads of Ontario. When I got into Canada, I found a massive traffic jam that I could not see the end of. I did not have the patience for this, so I headed to some back roads and found myself in the most depressing town I’d ever seen. It seriously looked like all the country’s misfits and rejects had landed here to aimlessly wonder the streets. I couldn’t take it (really, it was that bad) after all the natural wonder I’d experienced over the last two weeks. I turned around and decided to head back into the States and continue from there.
Once I’d returned, I debated my route. I just couldn’t go to Niagara Falls. Seeing that raging powerful beauty behind fences and surrounded by petting zoos, gocarts, and miniature golf next to stores stocked full of back scratchers, thimbles, and “I heart Niagara Falls” sweatshirts was just more than I could stomach. And the thought of boring back roads through industrial towns with another night’s stay in a nothing hotel in a nothing place was not appealing at all.
These options just seemed to be disrespectful ways to end this amazing trip. I needed to put a cap on the end of the trip that was as amazing as the trip. So, it was decided. I’d ride all the way home in one go. 1,011 miles. My new record. In the motorcycle world, this is called an Iron Butt ride. I think there is some process needed to make it “official,” but I don’t care – I know I did it. And it was absolutely awesome.
My source of energy for the long ride. I could reach these while riding. If nothing else, it gave me something to do.
At mile 300 or so, I was beginning to doubt myself. My whole body hurt, and I didn’t see myself making it the entire way. But as the ride progressed, I began to feel better and better, and by the time I arrived (3am) in Milwaukee, I felt like I could have kept going all night.
Safe and sound in the garage after a very long ride.
One moment of excitement was taking a wrong exit and then ending up going back the wrong direction on the freeway I’d already come down finding the next exit to be 24 miles back the way I came. There was now way I was going to go 50 miles out of the way when I still had 850 go. That was a pretty down moment. So, I found a break in the construction where I could whip an illegal u-turn. As I start to pull through the median, I realize that the gravel is really baseball sized rocks, and that this traverse would not be simple in the loaded bike. The thought of going down here was just plain frightening – how will I get this bike back up on this surface, how bad will the police ding me for this, am I going to be stuck here, oh shit. But, long story short, I made it across. Whew.
It’s interesting because the last time I was on these roads, I was driving a rented Ford Tauras with bald tires one-way through a blizzard in a mad escape from New York City while my brother followed from home on the internet the weather pattern I was trying to work around but ended up going right through. Not an appropriate story for this blog – it’s a family show. Sometime when we’re elbows down on a bar with a couple of cold Belgians in front of us, I’ll spin you the yarn. It’s something. In both cases, they’re rather unique trips.
How I really felt.
So, what started out as a complete clusterfuck and dreaded ride turned into the unexpected adventure I didn’t want to end. Strange but I almost felt bad making La Gugante sleep in the garage. Just didn’t feel right at all.
Not much for photos this leg – no time to stop on a ride like this.
One more post tomorrow – a recap of sorts. I hope you’ve enjoyed.
Well, the last morning of my trip started as the clusterfuck from hell. I woke up in that dump of a hotel in that dump of a town just wanting to get out. I was waffling between a couple different strategies for the ride home. Should I take the back roads through Ontario with a stop in Toronto, or should I head to Niagara Falls for a short day and then head home from there through Michigan, or should I just freeway it home along the south side of Lake Erie and then stop somewhere in between.
With no real plan, I left my hotel (after leaving a big tip for the maid – at least I could leave behind some warmth or maybe a smile in this smileless town) and make my way into Canada thinking I’d settled on back roads of Ontario. When I got into Canada, I found a massive traffic jam that I could not see the end of. I did not have the patience for this, so I headed to some back roads and found myself in the most depressing town I’d ever seen. It seriously looked like all the country’s misfits and rejects had landed here to aimlessly wonder the streets. I couldn’t take it (really, it was that bad) after all the natural wonder I’d experienced over the last two weeks. I turned around and decided to head back into the States and continue from there.
Once I’d returned, I debated my route. I just couldn’t go to Niagara Falls. Seeing that raging powerful beauty behind fences and surrounded by petting zoos, gocarts, and miniature golf next to stores stocked full of back scratchers, thimbles, and “I heart Niagara Falls” sweatshirts was just more than I could stomach. And the thought of boring back roads through industrial towns with another night’s stay in a nothing hotel in a nothing place was not appealing at all.
These options just seemed to be disrespectful ways to end this amazing trip. I needed to put a cap on the end of the trip that was as amazing as the trip. So, it was decided. I’d ride all the way home in one go. 1,011 miles. My new record. In the motorcycle world, this is called an Iron Butt ride. I think there is some process needed to make it “official,” but I don’t care – I know I did it. And it was absolutely awesome.
At mile 300 or so, I was beginning to doubt myself. My whole body hurt, and I didn’t see myself making it the entire way. But as the ride progressed, I began to feel better and better, and by the time I arrived (3am) in Milwaukee, I felt like I could have kept going all night.
One moment of excitement was taking a wrong exit and then ending up going back the wrong direction on the freeway I’d already come down finding the next exit to be 24 miles back the way I came. There was now way I was going to go 50 miles out of the way when I still had 850 go. That was a pretty down moment. So, I found a break in the construction where I could whip an illegal u-turn. As I start to pull through the median, I realize that the gravel is really baseball sized rocks, and that this traverse would not be simple in the loaded bike. The thought of going down here was just plain frightening – how will I get this bike back up on this surface, how bad will the police ding me for this, am I going to be stuck here, oh shit. But, long story short, I made it across. Whew.
It’s interesting because the last time I was on these roads, I was driving a rented Ford Tauras with bald tires one-way through a blizzard in a mad escape from New York City while my brother followed from home on the internet the weather pattern I was trying to work around but ended up going right through. Not an appropriate story for this blog – it’s a family show. Sometime when we’re elbows down on a bar with a couple of cold Belgians in front of us, I’ll spin you the yarn. It’s something. In both cases, they’re rather unique trips.
So, what started out as a complete clusterfuck and dreaded ride turned into the unexpected adventure I didn’t want to end. Strange but I almost felt bad making La Gugante sleep in the garage. Just didn’t feel right at all.
Not much for photos this leg – no time to stop on a ride like this.
One more post coming. A recap of the trip tomorrow. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
The Road. Travelled. 