as I know it...: FTW Roadtrip, 1990

Two Yamaha 650's on an Ontario adventure, August 1990

"Oh, geez, my head hurts". Followed almost immediately by, "I got the zactly's", I continued. What I was really hoping at that point was that the Opeongo Lake Monster would come and separate my head and body so I didn't have to go on feeling this way. Dehydration stemming directly from liquid indulgences the night before was not at all kind, and the building morning's heat within our tent added exponentially to the effect. Empty bottles of Vodka and Yukon Jack, plus an empty OJ carton informed me that re-hydration may be some time in coming - our breakfast drink became the cocktail mix on hand the night before, being the only other fluids we'd brought with us. Drinking directly from the lake would be a regrettable mistake, but we weren't going anywhere this day until we got something in us soon. This was roughly half-way into our FTW roadtrip....

Two Yamahas, a 650 Special and an '82 Seca 650 would be our primary means of transportation for the week's adventure, during what Paul Helpard dubbed our 'FTW Tour' in the summer of 1990. A break in school and work obligations was the nucleation point for a more ambitious ride than we had yet attempted; though much less ambitious than many, this trip would take us on a journey of land, sea and air.

We would pack and re-pack, strap and re-strap enough times to finally get the balance and security necessary for a (mostly) drama-free ride. I had purchased a box-store tent that morning and was not yet confident that it would remain in place. The departure from Hamilton through Oakville led us deeper into the Canadian Shield (through Gravenhurst, Bracebridge, Hunstville and Baysville) and finally Arrowhead Provincial park - though for us not much more than a stop along the way, and a horrible night's sleep. We packed light and did not bring sleeping pads. Our sleeping bags lay directly on the tent base, meaning roots and rocks in your back no matter where you moved, and it was a cold, rainy night. But we have from this spot a memorable photo of the trip as we were packing to leave the next morning. At this point Paul needed a newspaper and we both need fluids and food, all of which a little greasy-spoon around the corner obliged.

Arrowhead Provincial Park

That day led us north to North Bay and an overnight stay at (my university roommate) Stuart Jones' place. A bright but somewhat cloudy sky this morning soon opened up to pouring rain. Though the worst of the downpour lasted roughly 15 minutes, the debate in my head only lasted 30 seconds before realizing the futility of stopping to put on rain gear once it began. For a time we could hardly see anything through fogged helmet shields and the clouds of water tossed up by passing cars. As the rain eased we found ourselves not quite soaked through, however, and once temperatures returned to a tolerable level we had little else to do but keep moving and let the summer day air-dry our gear.

North Bay

After an overnight visit, then on to Algonquin Park and Lake Opeongo for the next two nights. Our steel horses left in the outfitter's corral, we temporarily traded them in for a spankin' new canoe. This time taking along inflatable mattresses for tent sleeping comfort, too. After a short paddle we set up camp on a rocky point.

To this day, one of Paul's favorite stories involves our encounter with a friendly couple paddling in the opposite direction that morning. As he tells it, my response to their simple greeting of "Where are you guys coming from?" devolved into a detailed recounting of my entire life's story from birth. By the time I was finished, we were already on opposite sides of the lake. Anyway, more paddling, yaking and portaging later, we returned to our original campsite, and out came the Yukon Jack and Vodka. Several hours later it was gone, along with our orange juice, the only fluids we had managed to bring with us. This we would severely regret the following morning as we waited for our boiled lake water to cool (barely) while chasing the thunder claps in our heads with aspirin.

We eventually poured ourselves back into the rented canoe later that morning for a grim paddle to the outfitter's lodge. Just within sight of the dock, our path was blocked by a boat of 'lake police', who challenged us for life jackets, a signaling device and a bailing bucket. While we were able to show the necessary PFD's, we were finally sent on our way with a stern warning regarding the lack of the other two. No other drama returning the canoe, we found our bikes as we had left them and packed up for our return to the road. Oddly, at a re-supply stop, we bumped into an older gentleman with whom we had chatted several days earlier.

Later on that afternoon we rode on to Kingston and yet another overnight with university friends Rita and Claire-Marie. Once settled, Paul took another opportunity to adjust the valves on his 650, then we all hit the old college haunts late into the evening.

Ottawa

Kingston

Our next destination was a little over 100km away in Ottawa, to meet up with a university friend of Paul's, and hopefully another place to crash. Mission accomplished, we hit the city downtown for the night. The second day, spent off the bikes, again held some cloud and sun, but we got drenched before a short walking tour of our Nation's capital, including the national library and museum of man. The air conditioning freezing us in our wet t-shirts.

Following two nights in Ottawa, the next morning we progressed to our third and final stage of the FTW roadtrip - a plane flight in a Cessna 152 over the city of Kingston. I had become a licensed private pilot two years earlier, yet had few opportunities to take a passenger up for a tour. Paul was most likely scared shitless the entire flight, but I got us around for a brief flight around the town and University campus, and safely back to Norman Rogers airfield. Our return ride to Toronto would be somewhat less exciting and eventful....

aerial photo of Queen's campus from our Cessna flight that day

Paul had always been with me during most of my life adventures since the age of 7.* This road trip represented both a fitting summer farewell and hard separation, of the time before and the time since as we turned towards the rituals of career and life development.

*(well, except for that time I dumped my cousin Don Thomson over the bars after hitting a rock and coming down hard into the handle bars. Knocked the wind out of me. As I gasped for air, I staggered out onto a gravel road and passed out, face first. The resulting cut on my chin left a visible reminder that is with me to this day).

Fortunately, many other trips would follow. A few examples shown here in 2007 and 2008.