Motorcycle Miles: Discovering Ontario in One Pair of Pants Page 5

[Gord’s motorcycle journey continues, and under a new heading no less: link to page 4 for immediate context. You really should.]

The big guy that pulled up beside me at a red light, as I was riding east on Port Hope’s main street, instantly made me laugh.

“Where are you heading?” he asked.

“East,” I said. “Sandbanks Park.”

“I can show you a short cut,” he said and pulled away as the light turned green.


[My second photo at Sandbanks; taken before supper: photo GAH]

I admit there’s nothing funny about his short conversation.

But because he was riding a bike three sizes too small and had a head the size of a small nation stuffed inside a maroon helmet that was also too small - making him resemble the turtle I’d met a few hours earlier - I followed without hesitation, chuckling to myself inside my appropriately-sized helmet.

I was in a great mood.

Lunch, at a cost of 50 cents for two fresh eggs plus toast, had been grand, and the day was warm and bright.

Taking the opportunity to save a few miles by following another biker who definitely did not look like an axe murderer made me feel even better.

The big guy skillfully lead the way to the outskirts of Port Hope and, when we stopped beside one another at another intersection he told me how best to get to the highway that lead to Sandbanks.

Shortly thereafter he gave me a big wave (much like Ted the Turtle had waved at the Mack truck - only with less criminal intent) and turned into his cottage.

I followed highway 2 to Brighton and, after a short game of hide and go seek among the town’s short but confusing streets, found county road 64, my route to highway 33 and next stop, Sandbanks Provincial Park.

(Note to self: Get off the bike every once in awhile and ask for directions.)

The park is situated in Prince Edward County, an amoeba-shaped land mass on the north shore of Lake Ontario that possesses many natural wonders and, as far as I can tell, very few gas stations visible to the naked eye.

Before leaving the main road and heading to the park to book a campsite for the night I thought I should travel a bit farther and fill up the tank in Picton, the county’s largest town, so that I’d be ready for the road at the crack of dawn.

Very clever of me, right?

Not so fast, amigos.

[Stay tuned.]

.

Been to PEC? To the lake on top of the mountain? The bike shop in Bloomfield? (Or is it Wellington?)