It was July 9th and I needed to be up and organized and hoped to hit the road by 9:30 as Tuesday was a travel day. The screeching of the crows and/or vultures made sure that I would catapult myself out of the tent by 7:00 am. I have achieved some level of proficiency by laying out all of the things for my oatmeal concoction and coffee in the back of the car (would prefer the picnic table but alas the park rangers are a bit squeamish about attracting bears to one’s tent site.) Once up, all I need to do is heat water! So breaking camp is also getting easier and more organized, assuming I could stay focused while swatting mosquitos all of the time. These are the moments when I begin to understand the preference for an RV’s (and if you invite me on trip in your RV I will not decline!).

Today’s drive would again mostly be through the flatland of southern Manatoba. I had a few “hitch-hikers” that I had to deal with along the road— 3 massive bees and several mosquitos signed on to travel to Ontario with me. The challenge is how to pass the time while appreciating the surrounds but not finding much differentiation mile upon mile.  I listen to podcasts but not being of a generation that grew up with earbuds or anything other than AM radio while traveling in the car, I can get very weary of constantly having auditory stimulation. But the miles clicked on by and by 2:45 ish when I stopped to get some gas, about 90 miles from my destination, my car would not start.  Now the screen said my car was running but clearly it was not.  It would shift gears but go nowhere.  The parking brake would not release.  After numerous attempts to get it on the move, I gave up and called AAA. After about 15 minutes on the phone a tow truck was going to pick me up and take me to Kenora Ontario, the town closest to where I was to camp.  I said to the agent “Before we hang up, let me try to start it again.”  Why hadn’t I trusted that “Lady Spitfire” could fix herself.  It started right up so I cancelled the tow but was on edge the rest of the trip and did not turn the car off until I was at my campsite. at Rushing River Provincial Park.

I lucked out again with the campsite. It is a wooded unserviced site in a tent only area with a perfect spot to put my tent on a bluff overlooking Dogtooth Lake. Traveling east has brought warmer temperatures but the- mid 80’s wasn’t bad given my at home Oregon temperatures between 100-111 this past week. Another upside was that there were fewer flying critters to inject their venom. No slapping myself silly tonight. The downside was I discovered that the loo servicing our circle of sites was probably one of the worst I have ever come across in a campground. Of course I needed to befriend my trusty Coleman stove yet again but I was having no inclination whatsoever to prepare anything beyond the basic “just add water” or “dunk in boiling water” food.

I have entered into a new era of my camping rituals or rather non-rituals. I have foregone the “traditional” nightly campfire so far on this trip. One of these nights I will feel motivated but probably not a good plan for me to be chopping the purchased logs into more burnable sizes. Just sitting and immersing myself in the sounds of nature has been quite satisfying. Somewhat related to campfires is a silliness moment when at the last couple of campgrounds I would hear what I thought were people playing paddle ball well into the evening. I finally dawned on me that it was the Paul Bunyans in the camp thwacking at wood for their ritual fire. It was uncanny how it sounded just like the crack of the paddleball. Sitting, gazing at the lake and the sitting sun was enough to slake my thirst for calmness and it colored down nicely to a pleasant 70 degrees for sleeping.

What a delight it was to awaken, unzip the front “window” of my tent and see a shimmering lake.  I  welcomed this day off from driving but decided I needed to go into the closest town, Kenora,  to make some phone calls etc and would thus need better cell service that the almost nothing service here at the camp. But 12 mile is not 300 miles and I was hoping to send some emails as well… eventually I realized I was dawdling away the day in an ordinary anywhere USA or Canada, I headed back as I wanted to do a hike to finally have an up close encounter with the Rushing River. Once back at the Campground, I found the trailhead and started off on this tripping root and muddy path adventure. It had been a while since I had to very cautiously watch every footfall so as not to either slide flat on my derriere in the mud or fall flat on my face with the toe of my shoe attached to a protruding root…all the while flapping my hat around to ward of the mosquitos. Great hike!

I am sure by now some of my readers must wonder about my sanity and have yet to figure out how any of what I describe could be enjoyable or why I would even voluntarily choose to do this. There is something so empowering for me in both the physicality of the endeavor but also being so in touch with the natural world with all its delights and annoyances. It is the real world I thrive in not the virtual world. Since I was very young I loved being physical and for many years I lost that aspect of myself. As a kid I climbed trees and scooped up pollywogs from a pond behind our property. I embraced scouting and earned just about every badge there was that had to do with the outdoors and natural world. I lost my way for many years and I found it again by signing up for a three week Outward Bound. That awakened the long dormant side of myself that craved the outdoors.

So I cautiously stepped over the roots and up the steps and over the boardwalks to see and hear the power of the water that the campground was named for: It indeed was a “rushing river. ” Satisfied I returned to my campsite and embraced the regular routine of cooking, organizing, writing and relaxing lakeside. A perfect end to the day was laying on my cot peering out of the window of my tent drinking in the delicious hues of a lovely sunset.

The following day was a travel day. I really hated leaving this large quiet private lakeside campsite (except for of course the very rank outdoor privies servicing this area but the Sleeping Giant awaited my arrival so I was on my way up through Thunder Bay Ontario to Sleeping Giant Provincial Park and the Marie Louise Lake Campground. Much of the terrain through Ontario appeared to be bog and marshland. The trees reminded me of the stunted evergreens on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska. I was really looking for to another good camping experience and had reserved another lakeside spot. I somehow had romanticized this park for no logical reason what-so-ever other than the name Thunder Bay intrigued me and I imagined a quaint town up on Lake Superior and the campground would be beautifully forested and … Much to my chagrin, upon arriving at my campsite I was quite dismayed. It was high on a ridge and though “lakeside” it would involve bushwacking down the steep forested hill to get to the lake. The site was narrow (I could hear the whole conversation my neighbors across the road were having in their tent.) and in full sun.

The best part though was that it was beloved by hundreds of tiny black flies (buffalo gnats) which were intent on biting me around my neck and ears and hairline.  With a lot of flicking, slapping, fanning, and swatting I managed to get camp set up though suffering several nasty little bites on my neck and behind my ears.. The only cell service was accessible down by the lake. I decided not to bush-wack down but took the car instead.

I sent a few text and enjoyed the cool breeze and mostly freedom from the vicious insect world up yonder. I made a very impromptu but wise decision to only spend one night in this fly infested space and made a motel reservation in Thunder Bay for the next evening. As soon as it was cool enough I retreated into my tent for the evening feeling a bit despondent and quite itchy. The view was less than stellar. What a difference a day and 300 miles can make.

Since I had the campsite for two nights I did not have to break camp but headed out early for the one hike I wanted to do which was to visit the Sea Lion Trail. It was a 1.5 mile round trip from Kabeyan Trail Parking lot and considered a moderate hike but took me to an overlook of the Sea Lion Arch on Lake Superior. Though the trail was relatively easy, and thus relatively crowded, it still had a couple steeper bits and loose rocks, roots, and bugs! My imagination could not conjure up a sea lion in the rock formation but I was delighted to have made the trek to see this rock layer cake.

Following the loop road and definitely the end of the road for any cars wishing to travel further south, I stopped at Silver Lake at the only store I saw on the whole peninsula. It was named for the extracting of silver from the area in the mid 1800’s. I then headed on back to extricate my belongings from Marie Louise! I would definitely give her a 1 star out of 10 though admittedly I did see some very nice lakeside campsites (but perhaps they also had bug swarms to accompany them).

On the way out I stopped at Marie Louise Lake to get a better picture of the “Sleeping Giant” for whom this park was named. He sleeps on his back with arms folded on his chest. and is a massive formation of mesas and sills.

Then on the way out I spotted a road called Thunder Bay Lookout Road and of course made a sharp left to access it. The sign warned of the very steep hills, its narrowness, and of course bumps and ruts, potholes and washboards and in general serving up any other bone jarring road irregularities. Just my kind of road though I must add that I was glad to have a trail ready four wheel drive vehicle. The Thunder Bay lookout has a platform that juts out over the side of the cliff with an unobstructed view of Thunder Bay and Lake Superior. My legs got quite shaky and wobbly as I walked out onto the platform seeing nothing beneath me though it would probably be a softer landing if it extended out over the water should it give way rather than the jutting rocks below.

It was finally on to Thunder Bay. My primary impression of Thunder Bay, which is a hub of commerce with a deep water port, was that it appeared very utilitarian. It very much reminded me of cities like Anchorage and Fairbanks Alaska with buildings being more functional than architecturally appealing with very many structures looking like warehouses. I am sure some of this relates to the massive amounts of snow these cities get. I did not give it much of a chance because I was happy to go straight to my motel ( with a very surly desk clerk) and then get a bite to eat. I saw a Pizza Hut across the street and thought perhaps I would get something there but their dining room was closed and I did not want carryout. There was nice looking Chinese restaurant next door to that and the parking lot was crowded so I thought it might be a good choice. NOT. It was the worst Chinese food I have ever had. I would not even be able to describe what I was eating in the egg roll and entree. So even though I was quite glad to be out of the swarm of black flies, I wasn’t exactly enlivened by the thunder of Thunder Bay .

The next morning my major task was to get an oil change for my car and have it checked out after the incident a few days ago. The good news was that everything looked fine but the lube man kept upselling me on all different services I might want. So to be on the safe side I did have a few things done and was then on my merry way, heading south to the USA and Duluth.