The Two Dandies!

Little Current, ON, CA – Tobermory, ON, CA

So we left off with our Ferry Godmother having saved the day by banishing the evil Ghost Cloud and conjuring a scrumptious meal out of the nothingness that is the approach to Manitoulin Island.

The big question was whether she would come through again for our most important connection of the trip – the 30 mile ride across Lake Huron from South Baymouth to the Bruce Penninsula – gateway to Toronto!

You might recall that ferries and Mungers have had a tenuous relationship in the past. In fact, I may have had something to do with the origins of the term “missed the boat.”

But I’m happy to report that our newfound Ferry Godmother came through in spades.

She provided a beautiful day. Warm, sunny, and with the wind at our back. She provided striking fall colors. And, like the real Fairy Godmother, she provided little birds to help guide us along. See accompanying video (looks pretty innocuous but it’s worth a quick watch).

She was, in fact, so good that Diana and I ended up arriving at the ferry in time to take a swim in Lake Huron before the ferry, and even with that we were first in line for the ferry. For all those doubters and haters out there – see the photographic proof – with all the cars lined up behind us!

But the day was not without its little interesting moments and small dramas.

We stopped along the way to check out the island’s High Falls. It turned out someone turned the spigot off so there was no falls today – but there was a very nice Canadian man (kind of redundant at this point) and his dog. He was, I think, impressed by our biking, and explained to us that he used to own a restaurant in South Baymouth – where the ferry is – and that he specialized in baked items and meat, because his mom was a baker and his dad was a butcher.

He went on to tell us about some of his guests. There was man who walked into the restaurant bow-legged and uncomfortable looking, and our restaurant owner friend asked him if his back was okay. It turned out he was fine – he was just a biker and had legs like tree trunks from all the biking because he had biked from northern Alaska – where his wife and a pilot dropped him by helicopter. His legs were so big that he couldn’t walk normally.

Another man came into the restaurant and was walking to the tip of South America and it would take him 27 or 28 years to get there.

The stories went on until we – as politely as we could – just started biking away . . .

Now, normally I would just stay and listen to such stories – because this man with his dog was really a very good storyteller. But I think we got up the very un-Minnesotan gumption to just leave in the middle because our Ferry Godmother was watching over us and probably sprinkling ferry dust onto us, as Ferry Godmothers are wont to do . . .

But pride is a sin – as any good Mennonite could tell you – and it is probably because we were so proud that we were first in line for the ferry, and clearly were Ferry Godmother’s favorites that – just in our moment of glory – as we took the picture of ourselves first in line – at that moment we met the other two young bikers headed onto the ferry.

Now, what is so bad about that, you might wonder.

Well, let me tell you . . .

Here we are, all in our biker gear, with our fancy bikes and panniers, very proud of ourselves after our 42 mile ride to the ferry.

And then these two walk up. They have very pedestrian-looking backpacks. They have big, puffy sleeping bag strapped to their bikes. They are wearing long pants like they are going to a job interview as sales people at Sears Roebuck. Ordinary street shoes. No helmets – neat – “I’m a British Dandy” – type hats.

We ask them a few questions.

They live 200 kilometers (120 miles) south of Tobermory – where we will disembark from the ferry. A few days ago they rode their bikes from their homes up to Massey – home of the 450 pound pumpkins – where one of them has some relatives. They rode from their homes to the ferry – 120 miles – in one day. They rode this morning from Massey – probably like 100+ miles. They don’t stay in campgrounds. They tell us they have sleeping bags and just sack out “in a ditch” or somethin’.

I kind of recall some old Saturday Night Live skit. Maybe Dana Carvey?

“We’re not some ‘fancy bikers’ (and they have their hands up making those air quotes) – with fancy ‘gravel bikes’ and helmets and bike shoes and bike computers and Google Maps and ‘panniers’ and a ‘tent’ and water bottles. We’re just ordinary guys.”

Ferry Godmother, take me away (to do the tune of: “Calgon, take me away!”) . . . We won’t be so prideful next time . . .