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.

6 Wheels North: Grand Slam Lodge

 

When I got closer to the second tree sign for our pre-arranged lodging, I saw that it did, in fact, include a tiny right-pointing arrow.  We wouldn't have to flip a coin to decide whether to take the left fork or the right.

A minute later, we finally rolled up to the primary structure of the Grand Slam Lodge, Kinoosao, Saskatchewan, Canada.  It does exist!  We'd ridden four full days from my home in South Dakota, 300+ miles and 11 hours since breakfast, and 60 miles and four hours of rock, dirt, and mud since leaving the pavement's edge--for the second time that day.  It had been quite the trip!

"You must be Floyd," I presumed, when our host (whom I recognized from his website photo) showed up almost immediately--must have heard us coming.  "We made it!"

"You're Troy?" he assumed, since I'd called him several times over the last few weeks--and we were doubtless the only cyclists he was expecting.  "Welcome to Reindeer Lake!  Dinner is on the table.  I was about to put it away when my granddaughter suggested we give you a few more minutes.  You'll be in that first cabin there, and you can wash up inside either of those side doors of the main house.  Just come into the front room when you're ready to eat."

"Sounds great!  We'll be quick," I promised.

Dan and I moved the trikes across the dirt and sand clearing and parked in front of our one-room hand-built house.  The setting was even more ideal than I had imagined.

Floyd began construction way back in 1983--and had added buildings as the growth of the business necessitated them, and as time and funds allowed.  His technique was likely a combination of traditions from his Scandinavian ancestors (his grandfather had emigrated from Norway as a fur trader) and those he'd picked up by living his entire life in northern Canada.  When I first talked with Floyd on the phone (while making our earliest plans for this trip) he'd told me just enough of his story that I knew I had to come and meet him!

Three more identical cabins were lined up alongside ours, but the place was not busy.  Visitors had been scarcer, Floyd said, since the road was completely washed out years ago--and it had taken years to make it passable again.  Obviously, it still could use some help.

As soon as we'd unpacked enough to change out of our riding boots, we walked back over to the lodge.

Stepping onto the front porch, the lake came into view!  We could see where a wildfire had surely come too close for comfort, but Floyd said he has insurance, so he wasn't worried.

In the dining room, we met Floyd's granddaughter (who'd helped cook the meal) and a cousin of hers--nice kids.  The five of us filled our plates with lightly breaded and fried walleye fish (caught right in the lake), a shrimp dish, mashed potatoes, and three different vegetables.  And it was all delicious!

After we thanked our hosts/cooks repeatedly and helped them clean up a bit, we walked back to the trikes.  Dan had noticed that some bolts on his luggage rack were loose, and I decided I should check all of mine as well.  Sure enough, we both found fasteners that needed attention after that terrible road--and got everything tightened up again for the return trip in the morning.

Once we'd wiped all the mud off our lights and mirrors, we took a stroll down to the water's edge.  There we found Floyd's own house and multiple docks.

Sometimes he takes his boat 70 miles all the way to Southend (on the south end of the lake) for supplies or to access the rest of the country.  It's the only other town on Reindeer Lake with summer road access.  And it's probably quicker and more comfortable than the route we'd taken.

I didn't think to ask if all these boats are his, or if he invites others in the community to use his marina.

If we weren't so exhausted, we'd have chartered a pleasure cruise of some sort.  As I write this (two months later), I kind of wish we had.  It was a perfect evening for it.

This is Blue.  "He's blond," the girl had said.  He doesn't look like a bear dog, so the property must not have much of a problem with that.

Before taking a shower and turning in, I found another lake access point--on the other end of the row of cabins.  I took off my sandals and waded a few feet into the cool, clear water.  After skipping the road to Kinoosao on my return trip from Churchill, it had taken me 11 years to return and complete the quest.  I was glad I hadn't given up on the idea.

Our cabin had a set of bunk beds and a single, here under the window.  A lone light bulb hung in the center of the ceiling, and a hand-washing sink had been installed near the door.  The toilets and showers were in the building where we'd eaten dinner.  It had been hot inside when we first arrived, but with the back screened window open, it was cooling off nicely.

The truck next door belonged to another member of Floyd's family.  Originally, he'd had a big reunion planned for that weekend, but between the fires and the floods, most had cancelled on him.  Hopefully they'd all been able to reschedule before the end of the season.

As expected, there was no cell service, so I'd have to check in with my wife at some point the following day.  She'd been following the "breadcrumbs" my GPS was leaving, though.  So, she'd know we'd arrived at the lodge.

With the help of the last natural light coming through the window, I scribbled a few things down in my journal.  By the time we turned off the electric one, it was nearly 11:00.  We were exhausted.  I doubted either of us would have much trouble sleeping.