Places to eat - Ignace, Ontario
The Burger Scoop - Ignace, Ontario
On the north side of the highway, beside the Shell gas station. Don’t confuse it with a place farther east. You’ll be sorry if you do.
Hours: Summertime and the livin’ is easy. You figure it out.
Eat in or sit outside on the fenced-in patio, or in the front of the building. I was able to park the bike in front by the tables to keep an eye on my baggage.
This mom and pop place is pretty fine. Try the burger and shake. The burger is old-school flavor, served hot off the grill. If you’re in a hurry, don’t bother. You won’t be able to appreciate the ambiance nor the taste of good food served in a small-town setting.
Even though it’s located in the middle of nowhere, don’t miss out on making this a long-distance riding destination for satisfying eats.
There’s plenty of fuel available in town for those motorcycles with distance-challenged fuel tanks.
Update July 21, 2008 I just revisited The Burger Scoop, and let me tell you, the burger and milkshake are just as good, if not better. If you drive by this place, you’ll be sorry.
Eat light, stop often and drink lots of water
It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s 600 miles to anywhere and Mr. Chinese, one of my favorites in this neighborhood. I do the 600 while standing on my head, and end up talking to Jennifer, my waitress. She’s a very striking Chinese girl who introduces herself to me by spilling the pepper all over my table. It’s a nice icebreaker.
I overhear her say that she has two children, six and four. When I question her about starting young, she says she’s 32 — hard to believe, really, considering how young she looks. I wonder what her secret is. She is one of those rare women that I really want to photograph, but instead of asking, I pay and leave.
Next time.
I’ll have the bottled water, thanks
Outside the Lake Ontario corridor, trying to get anywhere in southern Ontario can be problematic. Township roads rarely point in the direction one wants to travel. Road closures are a constant, and detours appear to run in random directions. For a stranger to the area, a good map would be a constant companion. Unfortunately, my map is a dud — white roads on a very light green to white background. Thanks, MapArt Publishing, for nothing.
The inhabitants of much of southern Ontario aren’t known to travel well. Ask directions, and most don’t know the way to the next gas station because they haven’t been there. To say that it’s a simple life is an understatement. Time moves so slow that even when there’s a crisis of epidemic proportion, the citizenry is left to die before the cure is announced.
Thus I found myself in Walkerton, home to the worst E. coli contamination in Canada. Whereas it had been only a placename on a map, it’s now embedded in history forever. It’s a nice looking little place, where the pace is a little slower and nothing ever happens — until it does.
And so when I stop for a break and a drink, I get the question: Would you like tap or bottled? Call me overly cautious, but I’ll have a bottle.
Edited to add: I rode by the light of the full moon tonight, all the way up the Manitoulin. Where were you?
An ill wind turns fair
My friend’s surgery was yesterday.
He was in pre-op by 10, and under the knife at 11:30. We were offered the opportunity to watch the entire proceeding, but all of us turned it down. I think had it been for something less — brain surgery? open heart? — we might have agreed. Or not. Who the hell watches someone they care about go under the knife for a serious medical condition? And who wants to listen to the bantering of the residents as they dissect technique?
Apparently, some do.
We preferred the anonymity of the waiting room where we could come and go as we pleased, gorge ourselves on cafeteria food, and get mild cases of the runs four hours later.
We were pretty much wiped out by the time it was announced that Ted was in recovery. He spent several hours there getting pain meds straightened out by the anesthesiology team before being released to the relative comfort of a room, and even by then, the pain med routine continued to plague. Finally, some 12 hours post-surgery and with the med routine finally worked out, he was doing better.
Late in the evening a day later, normal color has returned and he’s wisecracking like the old days.
Pain meds do wonders for one’s outlook on life.
The occasional treat
These are rather good, but don’t blame me if you require rehab after indulging:
Teenagers and shopping
I spent today reconnecting with my old friend’s family. He has two teenage girls, now 14 and 16, and since they’re temporarily in a larger center, they decided that they’d like to go shopping. Old Navy is a special place for them, since there’s not one back home.
The girls appeared to be quite sensible, actually, and only bought what they felt the need for — and that means they didn’t walk up to the till with armloads of cotton. They spent a long time in the change rooms, and occasionally called mom in for an approval.
The eldest was torn between orange and blue flip-flops. Coordinating clothing and flip-flops was news to me, and my comments didn’t help her in the slightest. After getting back to the van I made the suggestion that she should have chosen the orange. Did I get a dirty look! — but they both knew that my peanut gallery comments were meant only in good fun.
In total, I think they walked out with two and three items, respectively — not a lot compared to other teenagers I have known in the past
For me, it was a treat to have participated.
Inches matter
While I was waiting to check into the hotel late this afternoon, another guest last in line said, “Nice Yamaha. What size is it?”
He looked pleased with himself that he had made the right guess when, without the blink of an eye, I said, “It’s a 1340,” as I smiled.
“That’ll get you there in a hurry,” he replied.
“Yes, it will,” I responded and let it go at that, since obviously he was trying to make conversation.
To be precise, it’s a Harley-Davidson, its just under 82 cubic inches, and whether I get anywhere in a hurry or not has never been much of a concern of mine.
But what the hell, he was wearing a suit and tie and I felt bad for him all dolled up like that on a hot day, while this very morning I rode the Manitoulin, spent time at an ice cream parlor after waiting for a swing bridge, took a leisurely hour and 45 minute ride on a ferry, and meandered south to my destination, enjoying every last living minute of it all.
Life is sweet.
Ice cream parlors
Usually I’m making time to get to the ferry, but today I had time to kill. Thus: 
The pace is slower on the island: 
And because of that
Delicacies come in many flavors on the road. I try to sample what comes my way, whether it be vegetable, animal or mineral.
The ferry ride is always uneventful, except for the characters that populate the ship. Of course, those vary from crossing to crossing. This time it was someone who was solving a Rubik’s cube in 45 seconds — every time.
About an hour south of the terminal and I had forgotten how convoluted the county highway system is in western Ontario — but no worries! I have been reminded. For approximately two hours, as I discovered roads closed and detours listed, I wandered aimlessly — which in and of itself is not unusual. However, I did have a final destination in mind. Thanks to a woman who pulled up beside me while I was perusing my map, I finally found myself prodded in the appropriate direction.
Eventually, I got to where I needed to be, but not before putting on an extra hundred miles and fumbling around with a map that was almost impossible to use on county roads. Oh well.
Meandering
Yesterday I stopped yet again for an overnight visit with a former colleague. He and his wife are camped out at a lake for the summer, so I was able to enjoy the mosquito ambiance of a northern Ontario summer. I’ve not experienced that for a long while. He does have all the comforts though. He’s not in a tent; he has running water; the roof doesn’t leak; the air conditioner works and the toilet flushes. Roughing it is a bitch.
So far, the weather has continued to be fantastic. It’s cooler today, but only because of some high cloud cover. I’ve not had any rain to date, but I think that will be coming tomorrow following my crossing on the Tobermory ferry. I’ve always liked that trip, especially when the sun is shining. On my odyssey last summer I rode into heavy summer rains after debarking. It didn’t last long and I dried out quickly, but it can be a pain on a two-lane highway.
Truthfully though, heavy rain can be a pain on any highway.
I should make my destination tomorrow also — not that that will be a good thing. My friend’s surgery is on Thursday, I believe. (As always while on a long distance ride I’ve been in a time warp, so I’ll need a day to adjust. That’s pretty typical for me. — losing track of time like that — when I’m riding.)
I’m looking forward to seeing my friend and his family, but not the reason for doing so.
A brief note
Those of you not in the long-distance riding part of the curve don’t care, but boxers are in and briefs are out. Why, you might ask? Or not. But I’ll tell you anyway.
Briefs have a seam that one is constantly sitting on.
Boxers, on the other hand, don’t.
Simple, isn’t it?
We have the technology, and it is boxers.
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Photos
