6/12/22
You’re constantly meeting and talking to people on the road. It’s the nature of traveling on a motorcycle. Riders and non-riders alike want to know your story and travel plans.
Staying at the same motel in Wawa was Ken. Ken is traveling from Georgetown, Ontario to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territory. It’s a hamlet north of the Arctic Circle. He’s on a Honda CB500X, a smaller adventure bike, loaded with hard side cases and a stack of dry bags on the tail of the bike.
We started to chat that evening. And turns out we were both going to Thunder Bay and Winnipeg. And since there really just one major road there we talked about riding together or at least see each other along the way the next day. Riding with another person is a very personal thing. Some people avoid it like the plague and others welcome it given the right person. The right person could mean compatible riding style, riding constitution, speed, how often they want to stop, how long they want to stop for, how talkative they are, any and all of these combination. I wasn’t sure about adding another person since I like to stop a lot to see the sights. I’ll wake up and see how it goes.
The next morning I start to load my bike and saw that his Honda was already packed. I went inside the restaurant for coffee but the pot was drained dry by a table of Americans in town for a fishing expedition. While waiting for a new pot to be brewed, I ran into Ken again. He was ready to go but I needed my coffee first. After a few minutes of chatting about the previous night’s hot but mediocre Chinese food, I went back inside to get my coffee. When I came back out, his Honda was gone.
I finished loading my bike and continued on the Trans Canada Highway towards Thunder Bay. About 30 minutes, I rode into a little town and saw Ken at the parking lot of a gas station messing with his gear. I honked and continued on.
About 20 miles away at a road construction make shift stop light, I saw a bike come up behind and it had the shape of Ken. He stopped next to me and gave me the friendliest Canadian greeting. The light turned green and I took off with Ken behind me. It was a beautiful ride that went up and down the hills and occasionally gave us a view of Lake Superior to the west. We rode like this for the next 100 miles.
With about 38 miles left in the tank, the low fuel light came on. I did not fuel up at the last station thinking surely there would be another one. The next town is Marathon. I should be able to make it. The mileage counter kept ticking down. 35 miles. 30 miles. 25 miles. 20 miles. I’ve never been this low on fuel before. 15 miles. Marathon 20KM. 20km X 0.6 is 12 miles. I hope there’s a station at the edge of town. 10 miles. I'm not confident the bike computation of mileage reminding is accurate. Another mile goes by. Now 9 miles. Then there it is. An Esso sign! I can finally breathe out a sigh of relief.
I rolled into the station with 6 miles left in the tank.
I have never been more happy to pay $2.25/liter. While I was certainly nervous about running out of gas, the truth is, with Ken behind me, I knew that he would be able to help by getting gas in town and bringing it back to me. That's the beauty of riding with another person or a group. You're not alone and there is someone there to help. Even if there's nothing you can do to fix the problem, at least there is another person sharing your misery.