ONE LAST PUSH

When last I scribbled an entry for this blog I was at Nipigon, just west of the intersection of Highways 11 and 17.  I headed out west via the 17, which is something of a spiritual experience with its hills, construction, twisty turns and such.  Coming home, I was going to visit folks in Atikokan, Wawa, Sault-Ste-Marie and Elliott Lake, all of which are on the southern route.  BUT!!! Since none of them were available to come out and play during this time frame, I took the northern route, which is a MUCH gentler ride.  Of course, it can be a couple hundred kilometres from one town to the next, so one wants to have a dependable vehicle with a fairly large fuel tank.  The F-250 qualifies on both counts.

As I have previously mentioned, I am bringing east with me some monsoon rains, which the local folks have embraced, but which make for pretty crappy driving, especially since they have been accompanied by gale force winds most of the time.  Thus it was yesterday when I got up to an inch of standing water in the RV Campground, and braved heavy weather most of the day.  I almost gave up at Hearst, where I should have stopped for the night, but by golly I was determined to make it to Cochrane.  Sustained by wayyyy too much Tim Horton’s coffee, I did make my destination, exhausted and caffeine jittery for sure.

As I went past the Hearst Air Services HQ, I could not help but wonder what poor suckers are out in their outpost camps right now, like the one I stayed in at Lake Manzatika some years ago.  That would be the one with NO firewood cut, NO meat pole and winch, LOTS of mouse shit throughout the cabin, the boarded-up window through which the bear had recently broken in, and all of the other amenities one hopes for in a fly-in moose hunt.  Charming.  Can`t imagine why I never went back, nor would I......

So I made Cochrane, where I did NOT choose to take the Polar Bear Express to Moosonee.  Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.  Their business model counts on heavy advertising to lure first-time tourists to take the train north to Moosonee, where they can spend MINUTES until the train turns around to grind along the same crappy track, at almost twenty miles an hour when they turn up the speed, through interminable muskeg vistas.  And YES!  You can have a taste of the north with their incredibly awful fish dinner while you are slowly rotting away in their uncomfortable, noisy antiquated rail cars.  They have a captive audience in the poor souls who inhabit Moosonee and Moose Factory, for whom there is no viable alternative to go south to civilization, but their gravy train is gullible tourists like me that succumb to their slick advertising.  I am betting that no southerner (or foreigner) EVER EVER goes for a second helping of misery with those folks.  And BTW the absolute defence against a libel suit is the truth.

Cochrane has a pizza place, in the grocery store, and if you want it delivered you call a taxi.  If you want to pick up your pizza, it will be ready in 40 to 50 short minutes.  I have been to Cochrane three or maybe four times, and if I never ever ever visit that God-forsaken hole of a town it will be too soon.  But I had a nice dinner of liver and onions at the restaurant beside my hotel, and hit the hay early.  Of course, my body was highly unhappy with me about my caffeine intake, and it was about 4 am when I awoke, wide awake and jittery.  This is NOT a good way to start another long day in the saddle, but........on fait son possible, as they say en francais.

Yesterday I bit off more than I can chew for a day’s driving.  I did the same today.  So I left Cochrane, where the Lord would put the hose if He were going to give the Earth an enema, and headed for Chalk River.  I REALLY did not think I would make it, and in fact intended to stay at a campground before I hit town, but they are all closed.  So I am now at the home of Dan and Maryanne, the latter of whom I had never met and was beginning to think was a figment of Dan’s imagination.   For the Gun Nutz amongst us, Dan is DizzyDan1.  The rig is parked beside their garage, and I need to get my head down.  Tomorrow I hope to get home!

Doug

PS)  I am home now and posting this from my home network, how novel!  More later.