Happy Canada Day!!!
Pitter patter, pitter patter. I sit here listening to the constant drumming outside the building. Whilst others may be celebrating their Canada Day 150 with friends and family, crowds, music, celebrations, barbeques and fireworks, Charlie and I are literally in the middle of nowhere! We are 100 km from Longlac and 111 km from Hearst on number 11, the northernmost highway traversing Ontario from west to east. There is virtually nothing between the two communities except a fishing camp amd this little spot, which I’ll detail later. The fishing cabins, Klotz Lake Outfitters, are about 50km back, located, appropriately enough, on Klotz Lake. When we had originally planned this cycling route, one consideration was the vast expanse we would have to cross with zero access to anything we might need. So we looked at different alternatives.
One alternative we considered was finding someone with a half ton truck and paying him to meet us on the highway to take us from wherever we were, (halfway, or hopefully further) to Hearst where we would stay the night and the following morning take us and our bikes back to the same spot to resume our ride. EFI. Well, we got a few names of people and Charlie made some calls. Nothing really materialized and no wonder! Who wants to tote around a couple of crazy cyclists on Canada Day when they could be drinking beer and having fun. If we had gone with that arrangement I would have been uneasy that perhaps he would forget to come get us. Could we do 211km? I think so. Today I think we could have but it would have been more than either of us would really want to do. The wind is not heavy today but neither is it in our favour. The other option was to see if we could rent a cabin at Klotz Lake. Charlie left several messages, all of which went unanswered. We figured it must be closed. Then someone told us about Pagwa Outfitters which is in an ideal location, halfway at about 100km. Charlie looked up the phone number, dialled it and was cheerily answered by Jerry, a francophone man. Charlie explained our situation, Jerry handed the phone to Diane, his wife, and she told Charlie that we would be welcome to stay in the mobile home at the hunt camp, located just off the highway. When asked how much we should pay for the night, he was emphatically told, “Rien! Absolutement rien!” I know this, because I was sitting beside him and heard it all.
We left the RanDan Motel in Longlac a bit later than usual at 8:15. Unless we are trying to beat the heat, there really isn’t any point in getting up at the crack of dawn. We really haven’t seen extreme heat; not since we were in BC’s Fraser Canyon, anyway. RanDan, both Charlie and I thought, sounds like RunDown and that it wasn’t a great name for an accommodation. It is a modest little place but the owners, Marilyn and Claude Morrisett are such genuine down-to-earth people, we were glad to give them our business. Their rooms aren’t fancy but they are very clean and the beds are new and to the eye, spotless. We were there 2 nights and we cooked several meals in their kitchenette. We left the premises as clean as we found them and all they will have to do is wash the sheets and towels.
The morning was cool and still, nary an insect in sight. I ventured out without my bugsuit and was able to cycle about 60km before they started to come out. And out they did come, swirling, darting, masses of crazed black flies and determined horseflies and the ever present mosquitoes. Even Charlie put on his rain pants to avoid them. He has a full bug suit too, I saw to that, but so far has not worn it. I, on the other hand, wear mine every day. The guy at Klotz Lake, who was there after all (but has not as of yet mastered his answering machine,or on general principle, does not respond to out of province calls), called my bug suit an “I dream of Jeannie” outfit. Charlie liked that. Even though we are in such a remote area, it doesn’t feel that way. There are trucks passing us by every few minutes, most of which give us wide clearance on passing. Really, the only time for concern is when there’s oncoming traffic and you can hear a truck behind as well. Sometimes we quickly take our bikes onto the soft gravel shoulder. It’s not ideal but it’s better than being mown down by a Mac truck.
The hunt camp is just to the left before the Pagwa bridge. It’s closed now, of course. Hunting season doesn’t start until the fall. Marilyn of RanDan told me how she once helped with bear baiting. Yes, it doesn’t seem fair to me , but they actually do bait the bears to draw them in to the area for the hunters. She said they set up feeding areas with cooking grease ( like from restaurants) and then they put in these huge cylinders made of, get this, Twizzlers. Yep, that’s right, red licorice, and then they coat it with icing sugar!!!! And I’ve been eyeing the Twizzlers when we go into gas stations. As if I need to make myself even more desirable to bears!!! No, I’ll forgo red licorice until there’s a car I can get into nearby.
So, here we are in this mobile home at the hunt camp on Canada Day. 
The fridge is on, but that’s the only thing on. None of the lights work. (It will be an early night) . The stove doesn’t work. There’s no water and no indoor bathroom. Nonetheless less, there are sturdy walls all around us, a roof which is great because it’s supposed to rain tonight. There’s no wifi but that’s OK as I can blog then save this as draft until somewhere along the line, the signal is stronger ought to send this plus about 5 more off into the stratosphere. I also have downloaded an iBook. Obviously I had been listening to too much CBC as I downloaded Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” thinking maybe I’d git meself a little more cultured and edumucated on my ride this summer. What was I thinking!!!?!! We have some canned food like Puritan Irish Stew, flakes of Turkey and Beeferoni, which we’ll eat cold, followed by fistfulls of yummy trail mix with M and M’s. and bottled water. Charlie’s been looking at the beer in the fridge, but we mustn’t touch what is not ours. We are again astounded and grateful for the kindness and generosity of strangers. Mercia Diane et Jerry LaRoche.
Oh, and that pitter patter that we’ve been listening to…? That’s not rain. It’s the constant barragement of insect bodies colliding with the windows and outside the building.
Wendingourway:Across Canada by Bike 2017 
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