6 Wheels North: Hub of the North

 

After passing that grader, there were no more washouts, but the surface was a tad muckier.  We made it back to the pavement in Lynn Lake, however, with no real difficulties.  The 60-mile stretch from Kinoosao on Reindeer Lake had still taken three hours--not much less than the outbound leg the day before.  It had seemed less rough and exhausting, though.  One might even have called it enjoyable!

The ESSO gas station was right where we'd last utilized it--less than 24 hours ago.  But the weather was looking much more promising than it had then.  All that remained that day were 200 miles of alternating pavement and gravel to Thompson, the region's only city--aka, the Hub of the North.

After refilling Ryker's tank, I refilled the bottle holder on my luggage bag with a fresh cold hydrating beverage.  I was good to go!

Sixty-five miles later we were back in Leaf Rapids, and the clouds were building and darkening.  This time, we opted not to mess with the card reader at the pumps (between those two busses).  You may recall that our last visit had entailed multiple failed attempts (by each of us) before Dan finally got one of his cards to work.  We still had plenty of fuel in our reserve cans, and I'd decided that this spot looked like a nice out-of-the-way place to make the transfer.

While we were pouring, a remarkably talkative man approached us on foot from across the parking lot.  I attempted to carry on a reasonably engaging conversation without interrupting the precariously controlled flow of combustible liquid.  Completing the process without spilling any on the cycle or onto my boots is never easy.

But I was doing it--until he stepped around to my side of the trike and bumped into me!  He was ostensibly demonstrating something that had happened to him in a story he was relating, but I immediately flashed back to a couple of experiences I'd had overseas--and checked to confirm that the jacket pocket where I keep my wallet was still zipped up.  It was.

If I'm remembering this correctly, Dan and I both finished our refueling about the same time another man drove up and began talking with the first man--who turned away from me and took a few steps toward the truck.  At that moment, Dan and I wished them well and took off.

It might have been nothing--or it might have been an attempt at something that resulted in nothing.  The encounter had most of the hallmarks of the latter.  Either way would not have been my first.

On a rare stretch of nice blacktop again, we finally began to make good southward progress.

As you can see from the bent-over trees, the winds had picked up considerably by this time.  While having a third wheel does not make a rider immune to a strong gust, the effects, I'd say, are less startlingly terrifying.  We took a break at this junction--then continued on.

In the midst of the final 60-mile segment of gravel, a temporary resumption of asphalt signaled the proximity of the dam we'd crossed on our way north.  This time, we wanted to have a better look.  As soon as I'd killed the motor, I heard the rushing of mighty waters.

This stunning scene was only steps away!

The other side was a little calmer, but I wouldn't call it placid.

I assume the lake's dark color was a result of all the recent rain.  The sky had lightened up again, though, which was certainly encouraging.

Somewhere between Leaf Rapids and the Footprint River bridge (behind us), we encountered that same couple in the white SUV, who the previous day had reported that Floyd was expecting us.  When we told them how much we'd enjoyed our stay at the Grand Slam Lodge, they seemed a bit surprised that we'd made it!

A handful of miles later, we rolled onto the final 50 miles of pavement before Thompson.  The road from Lynn Lake hadn't seemed as bad as I'd remembered it, but then, return legs rarely do.  For the most part, we'd known what to expect.  And that usually helps relax any tension and pass the time.

We pulled into Thompson around 5:00 in the afternoon, gassed up, then found our international chain hotel not far from Walmart.  No, we weren't in the wilderness anymore.  As soon as we'd checked in and carried up our gear, we marked the occasion by walking across the street to Boston Pizza--rather oddly founded in Edmonton Alberta!

My individual Great White North (Canadian bacon with tons of mozzarella) was quite good.  Back at the hotel, Dan and I both called family while we did our laundry for the first time since leaving South Dakota.

We didn't turn out the lights until 11:30--about an hour after Dan took this sunset shot through our 2nd or 3rd floor window.  We'd covered 260 miles that day, our 5th since departing from Rapid City.  Nearly half had been unpaved.  If all went according to plan, tomorrow would be almost like a day off--our shortest one yet, and no gravel.

"Might be kind of nice," I thought.

6 Wheels North: Doubling Back

 

By morning, both the power and the water were out at the Grand Slam Lodge.  No matter--Dan donned his headlamp to work on something of his that needed work, and I began to pack up my things by dawn's early light.

We'd risen at 5:00 and by 6:30 were just about ready to head out.  We hadn't seen anyone else, so were glad we'd settled our bill with Floyd the evening before.  He was probably already out fishing.

I took one last stroll down to the water to say goodbye to Reindeer Lake.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  I'd heard some rain in the night, but it didn't seem like enough to cause too much issue with the road ahead--or rather, the road behind.  Yes, it was already time to start back.  Dan and I may have been the only visitors to stay just one night in this incredible place--that's so hard to get to!  Perhaps there will be a next time, when we can stay longer.

Returning to the trikes, we strapped on our helmets and pressed the starters.  Too bad we didn't get to say goodbye to Floyd and the kids.

But check it out!  Floyd was able to say goodbye to us.  The sign at the edge of the clearing reads, "THANK YOU!  HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT YEAR."  I hadn't noticed it at all the previous day.

"Thank you, Floyd.  Experiencing your hospitality and discovering what you've done with your little piece of the world was well worth the journey!"

One of the ways our host had taken care of us was by picking up all the big rocks and sticks in the "driveway" before we'd arrived.  We knew this short stretch would be the smoothest part of the 60-mile ride back to the pavement in Lynn Lake!

The first building you come to after leaving the lodge is the Catholic church--still active.  Not much farther along is the school.

The name Kinoosao comes from the Cree word for "fish."  The town has less than 100 inhabitants and has struggled since the closure of its fish-processing plant in 1971.  This is the same way we entered the area the day before, but I didn't take any photos then.

Less than a mile outside of town, we again arrived at the provincial border.  The Manitoba sign is hiding there in the trees on the right.  It wasn't our final exit from Saskatchewan though.  We planned to return via a paved crossing nearly 200 miles straight south on the following day.  Of course, our route would be far from straight.

The puddles were larger this time through.  Evidently, I'd been right about hearing rain.  On the plus side, the road surface seemed to have absorbed some of the moisture--softening it a little and making for less harsh riding than we'd endured in the previous day's late afternoon sun.  The little things can make a big difference sometimes.

This photo's pretty blurry.  I clipped it out of a video Dan took of me and blew it up quite a bit--but you get the idea.  The entire road was covered with water!

That's the toe of Dan's boot.  Looks like he's successfully keeping it pointed up and out of the wet stuff--but he may be soaking his heel in the process.

But we made it to the midway point--and knew from experience that the worst was behind us!  Like the buildings in K-Town, the junction with the winter road north was another point of interest I'd neglected to photograph on our way in.  As is my custom, I'll type out most of the information on that closest sign, in case your viewing device doesn't render it in a readable fashion.

"WINTER ROAD Narrow winding roadway.  Slippery surface.  Sharp curves and hills.  Drive with extreme care!"

Sounded like a good time to me--but now was not the time.  At the bottom, the communities of Brochet, Lac Brochet, and Tadoule Lake are all listed as "CLOSED."  It is a winter only road, after all.

A bit farther, this sign reads, "NO FUEL OR LODGING AVAILABLE BETWEEN DESTINATIONS."  Good to know.

The next group of signs is at the far edge of this grassy field.  See 'em?  Well, it's a grassy field in summer.  Once it snows sufficiently, a route is graded through and compacted, and voila--winter road!

There are hundreds of miles of these in northern Canada.  And believe me--I've been tempted.  But so far, I've resisted--for all the fairly obvious reasons.

I may have taken a picture from this same bridge the previous day--very likely.  But hey, it's a striking scene and a photogenic little bridge.

When we got back to the section of road along the ridgetop, we pulled over onto a wide turnout for an extended break.  The view from this spot was the most expansive we encountered along Route 394.

In the far distance, you can just barely see two portions of Vandekerckhove Lake--one that we'd passed by earlier.  It's named for a Manitoba soldier who lost his life in World War II.

The other side of the ridge looked much the same.  Imagine what it would have been like to be here when the fire roared through!

I told you this was a long break.  Lots of time for photos!

It was much cooler than it had been our first time through, and a stiff breeze was keeping the mosquitoes at bay.  It was hard to leave, actually.

But we eventually did.

We'd noticed this wrecked and rusted-out car on our way in.  But it didn't occur to me until just now that between the wrecking and the rusting--it had been torched by the wildfire!  Sure hope any occupants had found their way to safety long before that.

This is one of the countless spots where floodwaters had gouged a trench across the roadway.  It's worse than it looks, but I think I made it through without scraping bottom.  It's all about the angle and placement of the wheels.

Shortly after that, I came upon Dan chatting with a grader operator.  If he'd made it through from Lynn Lake that morning, that was good news!  But I always get a little nervous when I see heavy equipment.  Often, the road has to be made worse before it can be made better.  On the other hand, at least we weren't completely alone in the wilderness anymore.  And yes, I do have a love/hate relationship with being completely alone in the wilderness.

One thing we knew for sure.  Much of the surface would now be different than it was.