Toronto to Kentucky, via Grand Bend Ontario
Approx 675 miles

The first day is kind of frustrating. As I look over the map before leaving Toronto, I remember that most of Southern Ontario is divvied up into long strait roads, running on a North/South and East/West grid.Â

And it's pretty flat. Â

And those fucking rain clouds are threatening again (just sat out 4 days of rain in Toronto - I need to ride again!)

I figure the best course is to take the 401 (yes, the dreaded 401) West as far as Cambridge, then go North on the 8 through Kitchener/Waterloo before turning West again toward Lake Huron.

It's only bout 130 miles to Grand Bend, so things won't be that bad, right?

As it turns out, the 401 is bearable today. I don't notice as many trucks, and I have earplugs on, so as I cruise along, all I hear is the deep thrum of the motor as I seem to float along the landscape.Â

Get twisted around in directions and circle the Kitchiner/Waterloo twin city area a couple of times before finally getting pointed in the right direction. By the time I am headed west on combined Route7/8, the dark sky finally does its thing, and it starts to pour.

This time I'm luck. Just as I pull off the highway into the hamlet of Petersburg, I behold and apparition in the steadying shower. It's a sign that says: "Blue Moon Cafe, 18 beers on tap, pool tables, bike night on Tuesday."Â

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This must be how Moses felt when the Big Guy parted the Red Sea. It's equally momentous for me, and the timing is perfect. I stash my bike out of the rain under a carport (sort of) and hunker down with a bowl of remarkably good homemade vegetable soup and start sampling the 18 beers on tap.

I don't get far down the beer list before the rain stops and its time to head west again. An hour or so of meandering through the towns of Shakespeare, Stratford, Exeter, and Dashwood, I reach the Lake Huron shore, where I'll bunk down for a couple of days or R &R with a bunch of old buddies and the usual passel of cousins.

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Get to spend Canada Day in my native land for the first time in many years. After a few beers I'm feeling as patriotic as everybody else, but don't quite make it to 4 AM like the hardcore partiers.

Tomorrow's another day, after all, and the great roadway awaits.

2nd Riding Day - Grand Bend, Ontario to Glencoe, Kentucky. Approx 450 miles.

It's after 8 PM and the sun is low over my right shoulder as I cross into Kentucky from Ohio, at Cincinnati. I've been on Interstate 75 for hours, having crossed from Canada into the US at Sarnia, Ontario, into Port Huron, Michigan.

It doesn't take long to realize that I've entered a new world - I've arrived in the South.





Today was one of those days to make up time - dedicated to the sole purpose of pegging a straight line down the main highway at max speed.  Mission accomplished - as I look down at my odometer and see 440 miles tick by. Not bad, given I left Grand Bend in the afternoon. My goal was simple - get through Michigan and Ohio and into Kentucky, hopefully before darkness falls.

The first sign that I've crossed into a different zone is when I see the water tower in the town of Florence, Kentucky.  It says proudly in giant letters for all to see:  "FLORENCE Y'ALL."



Welcome to the South.

Split off from the now familiar I-75 to run Southwest on Interstate 71. The other change is in the landscape - I'm suddenly in rolling lush green hills. A welcome contrast after the flatness of Southern Ontario and the high speed blast through Michigan and Ohio. This just feels different - and although I've never been to Kentucky before, it feels right too.

Getting dark, and I decide I'm far enough from Cincinnati to find a motel with small town rates. See a sign for the town of Verona and pull off I-71.  Wow!  Beautiful 2 lane road through picture perfect horse country, complete with white fences, green grass, and of course plenty of horses. My grin widens.    This is perfect biking territory!  Slowly roll into Verona, and stop at the convenience store to ask if there's a motel. Takes all my concentration to decipher the answer through the southern drawl.  Out of luck - nothing in Verona, and the cutie doesn't offer to take me in for the night either, so I follow her directions down the interstate to the Glencoe exit. Sure enough, there's a motel, gas station, and restaurant. The perfect combo - I'll take one of each. For some reason, despite the big signs that say "Motel" "Restaurant" and "Gas" the place doesn't seem to have a name. Hmmmmm, what's going on here?Â

Proprietor tells me the room rate is $45, and seems almost embarrassed about it, as if he thinks that's too much. I, on the other hand, am embarrassed to pay any less, so don't ask him for the AAA discount. We settle on $45 and call it a deal.Â

Then the restaurant -Â Â Â

You could hear a pin drop when I walk in - still in my chaps, leather jacket, and boots to order before throwing my gear in my room. I stand out like a sore thumb, as the locals look me up and down to figure out what planet I came from. I quickly realize I have more teeth, and less extra weight than anybody in the place. But the waitresses are like a couple of friendly grandmothers and they seem to like me, so the tension level drops back down.  I do my best not to stare and eavesdrop as I eat my dinner. (I passed on the chicken-fried steak in gravy, which the waitress told me was very popular with "folk 'round these parts." I can see the evidence of that culinary preference pretty clearly, and opt for soup and a club sandwich instead.)

I'm really attuned to anything that reminds me of the "Deliverance" movie, and think there was a scene in a restaurant - so my senses are on full alert.    I'm sitting strategically close to the door, and just from looking around, I'm pretty sure I can outrun anybody in the place, if it came to that.  But my dinner passes uneventfully - nobody makes any references to squealing pigs, and I relax a bit more.Â

Study the map, and spot lots of possibilities for tomorrow - I can go straight South to the Great Smoky Mountains on the Tennessee/North Carolina border, I can take a slight jog to the East into Daniel Boone National Forest, or check out the Mammoth Cave National Park. Or take any of the hundreds of secondary highways through the back-country. All good!

I don't remember crossing through the Pearly Gates, but this sure looks like heaven - bring it on! Â Â Â Â