North of Superior

As wild and lonely as Highway Seventeen may look today and as treacherous I may find it on a rainy day with crosswinds and as dangerous as it may be in winter conditions with blowing snow and ice the north shore is a tame place compared to the conditions the early fir traders faced.  In the days before paved roads travel to Fort William was by freighter canoe in summer and by snow shoe in winter after freeze up.  Anyone who absolutely had to make the journey hugged the North Shore of Lake Superior with a weather eye for the next squall that might capsize their craft and a mind for the next sheltered cove.  When the highway was finally punched through it was not without great cost in human toil, injury and death.  To this day the labour of widening the rock cuts that make this highway possible goes on. 

 

Monday morning I set out for Eagle Canyon on the road to Ouimet Canyon.  There I was met by a laconic young man claiming to be the enterprise’s owner who proceeded to rhyme off his empire’s features by rote and then took my money.  After that I was on my own to set up at will and wander the facility.  On my travels I met his father out planting seedling pines along the trail.  For a man whose business is selling the wonders of his fiefdom the son was singularly lacking in excitement.  His father’s home with cathedral windows overlooking the canyon has a million dollar view.  Last night I had the entire campground to myself.  This morning in the rain I was awakened by a singularly exuberant American Robin who obviously found more delight in the weather than I.  

 

Driving rain-slicked roads in cross-winds is not my idea of fun.  The price of gasoline left me feeling rather cold as well.  When my gauge hit empty just short of Schreiber I stopped at a station where the proprietor by name of Filane came out to pump my gas and when I went in to pay for it told me of his career as a musician with Bobby Curtola and his connection with an enterprise on Kerr St in Oakville.  I was gifted with a bottle of Filane Spring Water.  Filane seems to be a common name around town.  After finding Traveller’s Rest Campground I discovered no one at home.  Having hooked up I decided to explore town.  As I walked up to the public library a lady flipped the sign in the window to closed at 3:00 and locked the door.  Feeling somewhat bored I explored the local stores, I’d come into town earlier and shopped at Costa’s. There are two hardware stores,  Spadoni’s Department Store, and Skale’s grocery where the gal in charge told me I should check out the Waterfall Campground in Terrace Bay.  Seems the mill is closed with no word on its re-opening and the railway is laying people off left and right.  As usual in a small town businesses are multi-purpose with virtually everyone renting DVD’s, a beer store at the garage, a gas station at the GM Dealers along with a Skidoo Shoppe.  For Sale signs were everywhere.  The tourist bureau was not open.  Summer may be less than three weeks away but the air about town felt more of winter than spring.  Given the conditions I felt no need to explore the beach.