THE EXPEDITION Chapter 21: Not Walking (Section Two)

In which the Expeditioners dip their toes in Lake Superior 

Date: August 23, 2019

Dryden to Thunder Bay; 352 km ride

Joan’s husband wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she calmly told him their son hitchhikes, so she’d help me. She was going that way anyways, and I’m so glad. Now her son has taken a sailing course… maybe he’d be interested in crewing for me on the Climate Emergency Sailboat – but that’s the next story. Back to this one. Joan stays in touch too… I hate so much about technology, but I’m thankful to be able to stay in touch with people.

Joan brought me to the courchsurf I’d found for a couple nights.

Frank is great. He does epic bicycle trips and keeps a guest book of all his couchsurfing visitors. He also requires that each one sign the book, preferably with a story or note. Visitors are also asked to take something from the box in his closet which exists for that purpose, and leave anything they might not be needing. The third condition of staying at Frank’s place is that visitors must set foot in Lake Superior (or just touch it, if it’s winter). This is actually a perhaps little known tradition – one ought not pass Superior without touching it, preferably getting into it. I have no recollection of why or where that comes from, but I remember it from road trips when I was little, and I’ve heard it from some others since. I’d probably have rushed, though, and not done it, so I’m happy Frank keeps the practice alive and that his couchsurf rules include it.

Date: Aug 24-25, 2019 Thunder Bay

Before all that, though, I had to find a way to keep going. I got online the next day, and in surprisingly little time, had a ride to Barrie.

Asfar was on his way back home to Ottawa from the west coast. He had a minivan, and spent the entire trip picking up and dropping off as many people as he possibly could. He wanted to reduce the carbon footprint, make the trip useful to a whole pile of people. He offered to take us right to Ottawa, but totally understood wanting to walk as much as possible.

Timing was a little up in the air, but we’d have time the following day to go fulfill our guestly obligations before he got here.

Mr Myrtle and I did some laundry the next morning and then set off to set foot in Lake Superior. There were some other to-do’s done along the way, but mostly, we found water and boats and Mr Myrtle is, I strongly suspect, the only Jamaican puppyfish to have been in Lake Superior.

Date: August 25, 2019

Thunder Bay to Barrie ; 1285 km ride

Asfar got slowed down in Winnipeg – everyone was taking turns driving and it was a non-stop trip except for pick-ups and drop-offs – and had sent a message saying he’d be late. I think it actually ended up being the next morning. At any rate, “they” included Fox, who is some kind of forest creature just trying on being human for a while, and a really sweet young woman from Belgium, full of inspiration and determination, who was doing a cross country trip all sorts of alternate ways. There would have been more, but our stuff filled the van to the ceiling and we all had stuff around us, too.

At one point, we passed what looked like a walking trail from a tiny pull-off spot. I’d told them about the Lake Superior tradition, so we backed up and parked. Heading down the footpath single file, the highway vanished and so did the whole first world. Air feels clearer near water, to me, too. Asfar laid down to take a nap on the thick moss of a high narrow bank where something small fed the lakes waters, while Mr Myrtle took the rest of us farther along to the shore.

The Great Lakes are truly phenomenal. I can’t imagine how astonishing they were before western culture insulted them so badly. Even so, they, especially this one, are breathtaking in a similar way as the sea is. This remote shore, with no sign of humanity other than that tiny, tidy trail, was part of another, more real world than the one where we’d stopped not long for gas and coffee.

We wandered the rock strewn beach till we stumbled upon a derelict cabin, then we explored that to what little extent seemed possible without causing it to collapse. Not far away, a collection of natural and found things which could be sat upon were arranged too conversationally for coincidence. A sign worn almost silent proclaimed it so.

Suddenly it was later than we thought, and we went back to find Asfar. Only a dent remained in the moss where he’d been. We shouted a few times in case he was near, then decided to head back to the van. We wanted to leave a note, but didn’t have anything to leave a note on. I think it was Fox who thought of making arrows with sticks along the middle of the path, pointing the way we went. That was a really sensible idea, even though we did find him snoozing in the driver’s seat.

The rest of the trip went licketysplit, with minimal pit stops and much good conversation. We got along so well, and had so much to talk about, and even the silly train of thought stuff was great. I felt so comfortable with them, and how this ridesharing had turned out. Fox and I stay in touch; she nearly came to live on the sailboat with me as I write this, or maybe she’s still considering the possibility.

I think I cried as we passed Parry Sound. My son and I lived there for the first four years of his life. It was kind of idyllic, and I’m still sad that I lost touch with so many people there. I’d been looking forward to stopping there till it became clear I couldn’t walk through, and that alternatives were difficult. I didn’t know how to get in touch with anyone now, and what with everything else, hadn’t been able to arrange a stop and a continuing ride… so we passed. Maybe I should have stopped; they offered. I waffled. I didn’t want to have nowhere to stay and no way to continue, but maybe I should have trusted. I don’t know.

I do know there were so many times when I was too tired to meditate, too tired to do observances I wanted to and felt necessary, too tired to listen. I’m sorry. I keep trying to do those things better.

The sun was setting as we unloaded our things at the KOA campground just north of Barrie.

#WalktoWakentheNationexpeditionbook