I always take August off, so this year I planned two weeks or so of ridding. Just me and the Savage. I don’t have the desire to ride continuously, rather I prefer to pick a location as a home base and explore from there. I picked Manitoulin Island as my destination. It was an easy decision for me as my wife’s parents, who are retired, maintain a 100 year old family homestead on the Island and stay there during the summer months. Manitoulin Island is located on Lake Huron in the Great Lakes chain. It is the largest freshwater Island in the world and contains over seventy lakes.
From my location in Sarnia (which is across the river from Port Huron MI.) to Tobermorry where I board the ferry to the Island is about 350 kilometers or 218 miles. I am not taking the highway most traveled; instead I will veer off Hwy #21 and poke around on B roads passing through villages and hamlets instead, adding about 80 extra kilometers to my trip.
I’m packing very light for a guy who will be gone for two weeks. That’s because my wife has the same destination and will be one day behind me. I put my suitcase in her SUV and take only rain gear and extra tools and maps in addition to my typical saddlebag gear.
I set out around 10 o’clock in the morning to bright and sunny skies, but I know it’s going to be hot in the afternoon. I plan on having breakfast later on and after 30 minutes of riding, something is not right. I am not happy enough. I should be grinning in my helmet but already I find myself a bit bored. I need coffee. I stop for ham and eggs and three cups of joe and everything is right. It’s funny what the effects of coffee have on people and for me, that morning; it was the elixir I needed. I pass through the tourist town of Grand Bend and get off Hwy #21 at the ghost town of St Joseph. Hwy #21 is traditionally filled with tourists and their travel trailers and motor boats. It seems both sides of Lake Huron cater to tourists, so is a good reason for me to say goodbye and take a quieter route. My destination is north but I travel east for a bit then find a freshly paved road heading north. Since breakfast I have been in the saddle for about an hour and can see the difference in the countryside. It is farm land with slight rolling hillsides Quite serene.



Before my trip I tried to buy a sheepskin seat cover from Alaska Leather, Butt Pads they call them, but we couldn’t come to an agreement on shipping cost so I went without. Oh sure I’ve done the seat mod but I know monkey butt is around the corner. I am not wearing my traditional whitey tightys, but instead, under my jeans I have on exercise shorts of a cotton/lycra blend that I used to wear as sliders under my baseball pants. The secrete here is no seams and it is making a positive difference. My newly paved road comes to a T with  a sign pointing to Blyth. I remember buying a leather motorcycle jacket there in 1981 and I recall them selling sheepskin covers and pelts. I roll into town and sure enough the store is still there. Hell the sign says Baintons Leather since 1894. I’m directed to a bin where they have assorted sheepskin pelts and I find a ¾ inch cut pile which although too long will be perfect for Black Betty. I will cut it to size when I get home. I lay it over the riders seat, then fold it over the pillion seat then secure it with the saddlebag straps after tucking in the sides.


My butt is a bit sore by now, but I mount up and oohhhhh this is comfy. I refuel while I am in town
. I only get 170 kilometers before switching to reserve so I have to be careful when I’m riding in a sparsely populated area. Of all the limitations of owning a Savage, my beef is with the small tank. Luckily I have not run dry, but there has been way, way too many times that I have been running around on reserve in an unknown area trying to find gas.
I work my way North East and the landscape becomes more undulating. The rolling hills are steeper and the vistas a greater distance. All good pavement and no annoying construction .The nice thing about taking B roads in an area less traveled is the surprise architecture you discover in small hamlets. I came across an old style general store and stopped, and as a bonus I treated myself to two home made butter tarts; a walnut and a raisin. The pursuit of a better butter tart has long been an ambition for me, and I will now list this little gem of an edifice as a destination for its baked treasure.