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Lake Superior Circle Tour
Lake Superior Circle Tour Ride Report
by Guy Stormo
July 1998
I'd been looking forward to doing the Lake Superior loop again for quite awhile. SWMBO and I did the loop on the XS back in '85. I remembered long cold days with lots of traffic - speeding logging trucks mixed up with slow, lumbering Winnebagoes. I wasn't comfortable mixing it up with that blend, we being the smallest thing on the road. I wanted to see if my memories of that trip matched with reality. Alone on my bike, I would be free of concerns about my passenger's safety.
Back in March I told my workmate Dean (79 BMW 650) of my plans for a trip, and we decided to go. Dean and I had traveled together before - once to central Michigan, once to the Black Hills. We are confortable with each other's travel style. Dean is more agressive, almost athletic in his riding style. Me - I'm more of a steady, constant speed tourer. It's a nice contrast. He leads when we need to pound miles; I lead when the scenery is more interesting. I keep him slowed down enough to enjoy the view. He makes sure we pay attention to pace.
Another workmate Joe heard of the trip and wanted to go. An experienced rider, there was one problem - no bike. He found one just in time, an '83 GL650 Silver Wing. It was in reasonably good shape. Not perfect, but a good runner, a faired motorcycle with fresh tires. I rode the bike before he bought it, and it seemed like it would be able to handle this trip.
So, we are three. Dean's friend Gary heard about the trip. Gary has made several long trips, and has even bicycled across the US. I've only met him once (at the Minnesota Mile flattrack race), and he seemed to have a good sense of humor and an interest in touring. So, Gary's in too. Now we are four.
We will depart Thursday after work and complete the trip the following Monday. Gary's in Green Bay and Dean, Joe, and I are in Central Minnesota. We agree to meet for dinner at Duluth, the western end of Lake Superior. Our tour together will start there.
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Thursday, July 23.
The bike's packed and ready to go. I'm stuck at work, trying to look busy. Look out the window, drum with pencils, doodle. I may be at work, but my mind is already miles down the road. I went home for lunch and found a package from Tkat at the front door. I scrambled to get the fork brace on, pound down a peanut butter sandwich, and return to the cubicle. At a reasonable time, I make a head fake for the front door and sneak out the back. I'm outa there!
Joe pulled in the driveway exactly on time. I put on the Aerostich and we're down the road.
I have changed the bike substantially since last season. I found large cracks in the Pacifico fairing while in the Black Hills last season, so I put the bike back into the as-received condition. Oh, plus fresh paint, relocate the back turn signals, new seat, rework the fuse box, new fork brace.... Without a fairing the air blast hits me about chest high and above. With the Aerostich riding suit on I'm not bothered at all by air blast, but the noise level in my helmet is much higher. I used to call the XS "Gorilla", because, well, have you ever tried to control one? Without the fairing weight and drag, it's a different bike. The fork brace enhanced the handling even more. "Gorilla" no longer fits. Time for a new name.
Joe and I met Dean at Onamia, a small town in central Minnesota. Dean has_that look_. He wants to pound out some miles to meet Gary in Duluth. I knew that this was going to be a fast start.
We start with some high speed highway time. We got seperated in some construction on I-35, where the speed limit is 70. Dean and Joe disappeared in the distance. Once clear of slower traffic, I got a clear stretch of road and decided to catch up. I opened the throttle and set the speedometer needle to a number that does not appear on Jimmy Carter slowmometers. Dean and Joe reappeared after a few minutes.
We arrived at Duluth and found Gary at the agreed-upon restaurant. After a great meal we rode up the shore of Lake Superior for our first view of what was to come. Sailboats and taconite haulers (enormous ships hauling processed iron ore - remember the Edmund Fitzgerald?) dot the horizon. We set up camp as we were devoured by mosquitoes. No campfire tonight - the bugs are too bad.
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Friday, July 24.
Time for a quick hike down the Superior shoreline. The bugs aren't as bad by the shore. Also, I got a look at Gary's bike. It's a Yamaha Vision, a bike I was not familiar with. Its a compact bike with a sport-touring style fairing. The cosmetics need some attention, but it runs strong for an '82 550. But the back tire is badly worn. I wouldn't have left on this trip with a tire like that. Hmmmmm....
On the road for our first real group time together. We all appear to have the same corner capability, with Dean leading and the rest of us easily keeping up. The road along the shoreline is all gentle turns, up and down the bluffs. We pass by glimpses of the North shore, but there aren't long stretches along the shore.
We blast into and out of Grand Portage, MN far too quickly. There is an authentic recreation of an early trading post where the voyagers met to trade. Those early voyagers led a rough life. They paddled from dawn to dusk in awful conditions. I've thought of these men as equivilent to early Evinrude motors - almost beasts of burden. SWMBO and I saw it on the last tour, but there is no stop on this trip. We keep up the pace.
Like Grand Portage, Thunder Bay, ON has a fascinating past. Like Grand Portage, we blast right on by.
The weather today, like yesterday, was perfect for riding. Partly cloudy, temps in the low 80's F.
At a gas stop late in the afternoon at Nipigon, ON Gary noticed a large cup forming on his thin rear tire. Cords show, but the tire holds air. No one likes the way the cup has developed, both in its severity and how rapidly it has formed. The thin tire doesn't have enough extra rubber for any cuts or punctures, and now I could see cord.
We took the time to call two motorcycle shops back at Thunder Bay, but by this time of day they were both closed.
Gary was willing to continue onward, perhaps even to Sault Ste. Marie up ahead at the US border. I didn't really feel good about our options, but Gary seems to feel obligated to continue. All of Gary's pack was placed on my bike, and everyone agreed to keep the speed to 60 MPH in an effort to stretch whatever life is left in that tire.
We continued on to Marathon, through some truly beautifuly scenery. Rolling roads, gentle curves capable of about any speed one wishes to ride at. We can't scrape the pegs with Gary's bad tire, but the road's wonderful anyway. With Gary's stuff on my bike it was a struggle to maintain the line I would have liked through the corners. The rear seemed overloaded, but it was the only way to get Gary and his bike to a shop. It's almost wilderness up in this area of Canada. I kept looking for deer, moose or bear, but I didn't see a single large animal on the whole trip.
We camped a stone's throw from the Superior shore at Neys Provincial Park. I laid in my tent thinking of how I should have said something about the tire when I saw it at Duluth. I fell asleep to the sound of waves rolling onto the shore.
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Saturday, July 25.
Another quick hike up the Superior shoreline. The area around Neys Provincial Park is rocky hills that drop down into the water. Small bays and river inlets interrupt the rock shore. Away from the shoreline, woods surround the road. The roads are cut through the hills, so the views are either shoreline, rocks, or woods. For long stretches there are no homes, towns, businesses. I searched through the driftwood piles for interesting finds, but I found nothing but more dirftwood.
We left camp early. We needed to find a new tire for Gary's bike. A look through the phone book revealed that there was no motorcycle shop at Marathon, ON, near the park. We phoned a dealer at Sault Ste. Marie, ON and located a tire there. Gary agreed to try the trip from Marathon to the Soo, nearly six hours away. With his load on the other bikes and a slow speed, we might make it.
A very heartfelt thanks a a "Good Guy" award go to Marathon Motor Sports in Marathon, Ontario. They are a Polaris dealer but we pulled in looking for a lead on a tire, because, hey, we were desperate. Although it was obvious that there was no way we could buy anything from this store, the store manager did everything he could to help us locate a tire. When he was done, I was sure that there was no tire available in this part of Canada. On to Sault Ste. Marie.
I took the lead. Joe took second. Gary took the third spot, and Dean assumed the end. My job is to keep the pace slow. Dean's job was to keep his BMW back from Gary, enough space so that if Gary starts to lose control Dean has kept a space in traffic for him to slow. Dean's job seemed unsafe - he had to fend off tailgaters all day.
The road through this part of Ontario cuts away from Lake Superior. The road gives way to Pukaskwa National Park, which occupies a large segment of wild shoreline. Miles, miles, and more miles.
Unfortunately, time was not on our side. The shop in Sault Ste. Marie agreed to stay late on a Saturday night to take care of a tourist who quite likely will never be back. We had to keep rolling to be sure that the dealer would still be there when we arrived. No time for breakfast.
More trees and rocks, rocks and trees. The traffic was lighter and less intimidating than I remembered from my 1985 trip. Although there was the constant concern over the crippled bike, I was having fun. Through this stretch, and along much of the Canadian side of this ride, the roads were capable of being ridden at whatever speed the rider desired. We were well within the speed limit, so we did not attract any attention from law enforcement.
Although we did what we could to keep a steady pace to deliver us to Sault Ste. Marie, we were running behind what was required. Dean came to the front of our small pack and, using hand signals, indicated that he was going to call ahead. Since I had the quickest bike I was to be the "rabbit", breaking away from the group to get to the dealer on time. If we couldn't get the tire mounted, at least we could do it ourselves in the parking lot. Without the tire, Gary's trip would stall here until Monday.
I opened up the XS and let it run. I glanced back one last time at the other three riders, and then got down to business. From Wawa to Sault Ste. Marie the roads are beautiful. There are more hills and curves, but it seems like the views of the lakeshore are more frequent, and even more beautiful. This is a rugged shoreline, and the road cuts up and down the slopes, long sweepers that can be taken at higher speeds. With Gary's gear, the XS was heavily loaded. I was limited by the extra weight. At the speed I needed to go it was hard to maintain the desired line through the corners.
I got to Sault Ste. Marie right at closing time. The dealer, like Marathon Motor Sports in Marathon, deserves an attaboy. Acme Motorcycles in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario had a mechanic waiting. Dean's call ahead had gotten through. When I assured the owner that the bike was on its way he seemed relieved. He thought we might no-show.
At a time like this, Acme could have charged a premium price for the tire. Acme mounted and balanced the tire at mail-order prices. After the old tire was removed I was alarmed to see that I could nearly push my index finger through the remaining cords.
We camped that night near Paradise, Michigan. With the day's low speeds and the tire change we were behind schedule. With the fresh tire came a fresh attitude and a sense of relief.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, July 26
When I'm traveling I try to avoid eating at places that have a national advertising budget. It seems like I get a better feel for the area I'm traveling through if I sample what the locals have. If I'm in some small town in a small diner I always look for something called the "lumberjack breakfast" or "logger special" or something like that. You just can't go wrong. The pattern holds true once more in Paradise. After the Lumberjack Special, we waddled out to the bikes.
A quick trip up to Whitefish Point was rewarded with a visit to the Whitefish Point Lighthouse Museum. It contains displays about various Lake Superior shipwrecks, and displays objects recovered from some of the wrecks. Most famous is the Edmund Fitzgerald. The ship's bell has been recovered and serves as a memorial to those who died in the cold Superior waters. From the shoreline, it did not seem possible that waters that could be this calm could also pound tons of steel into crushed wreckage.
We found ourselves on dirt roads at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Dirt isn't exactly what these roads were. The terrain through these woods is mostly dunes - sand. The dirt roads are well packed, but any departure from hardpacked track had us paddling through the corners like rookie dirt bikers. Once through this stretch we shook the thick dust from our clothing and got moving.
Our trip across Michigan's upper peninsula was fast. We worked the bikes hard to keep up the pace. We didn't see any law enforcement and that was probably fortunate for us.
We ate supper at Houghton, MI. Between salad and dessert an inch and one half of rain fell on our campsite. It was the only rain we had on our trip.
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Monday, July 27
My vacation time was up, and it was time to blast home. We took a trip from Houghton up to Copper Harbor on Hwy 41. This is one of the best motorcycle roads I have ever been on. The road starts gently enough, with easy sweepers past rural homes. As we left the outskirts of town the road started to tighten up. The long sweepers gave way to tighter corners, with perfect pavement making the road a pleasure. Soon, we dove into the forest and the canopy over the road gave the impression of travel through a tunnel. It didn't seem as though bulldozers or chainsaws were used when this road was built. Not only were the corners predictable and smooth, the elevation changes reminded me of a roller coaster. The XS ate this stretch up.
We had breakfast at the Harbor Haus, and we had to make miles for home. We had planned to take it easy this day but our tire troubles in Canada ate up the slack in the schedule. Maybe next time. This was a day without much adventure. It was time to get back home.
I pulled into the garage at sunset.
Guy Stormo
78 XS1100E - "Thor"
by Guy Stormo
July 1998
I'd been looking forward to doing the Lake Superior loop again for quite awhile. SWMBO and I did the loop on the XS back in '85. I remembered long cold days with lots of traffic - speeding logging trucks mixed up with slow, lumbering Winnebagoes. I wasn't comfortable mixing it up with that blend, we being the smallest thing on the road. I wanted to see if my memories of that trip matched with reality. Alone on my bike, I would be free of concerns about my passenger's safety.
Back in March I told my workmate Dean (79 BMW 650) of my plans for a trip, and we decided to go. Dean and I had traveled together before - once to central Michigan, once to the Black Hills. We are confortable with each other's travel style. Dean is more agressive, almost athletic in his riding style. Me - I'm more of a steady, constant speed tourer. It's a nice contrast. He leads when we need to pound miles; I lead when the scenery is more interesting. I keep him slowed down enough to enjoy the view. He makes sure we pay attention to pace.
Another workmate Joe heard of the trip and wanted to go. An experienced rider, there was one problem - no bike. He found one just in time, an '83 GL650 Silver Wing. It was in reasonably good shape. Not perfect, but a good runner, a faired motorcycle with fresh tires. I rode the bike before he bought it, and it seemed like it would be able to handle this trip.
So, we are three. Dean's friend Gary heard about the trip. Gary has made several long trips, and has even bicycled across the US. I've only met him once (at the Minnesota Mile flattrack race), and he seemed to have a good sense of humor and an interest in touring. So, Gary's in too. Now we are four.
We will depart Thursday after work and complete the trip the following Monday. Gary's in Green Bay and Dean, Joe, and I are in Central Minnesota. We agree to meet for dinner at Duluth, the western end of Lake Superior. Our tour together will start there.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday, July 23.
The bike's packed and ready to go. I'm stuck at work, trying to look busy. Look out the window, drum with pencils, doodle. I may be at work, but my mind is already miles down the road. I went home for lunch and found a package from Tkat at the front door. I scrambled to get the fork brace on, pound down a peanut butter sandwich, and return to the cubicle. At a reasonable time, I make a head fake for the front door and sneak out the back. I'm outa there!
Joe pulled in the driveway exactly on time. I put on the Aerostich and we're down the road.
I have changed the bike substantially since last season. I found large cracks in the Pacifico fairing while in the Black Hills last season, so I put the bike back into the as-received condition. Oh, plus fresh paint, relocate the back turn signals, new seat, rework the fuse box, new fork brace.... Without a fairing the air blast hits me about chest high and above. With the Aerostich riding suit on I'm not bothered at all by air blast, but the noise level in my helmet is much higher. I used to call the XS "Gorilla", because, well, have you ever tried to control one? Without the fairing weight and drag, it's a different bike. The fork brace enhanced the handling even more. "Gorilla" no longer fits. Time for a new name.
Joe and I met Dean at Onamia, a small town in central Minnesota. Dean has_that look_. He wants to pound out some miles to meet Gary in Duluth. I knew that this was going to be a fast start.
We start with some high speed highway time. We got seperated in some construction on I-35, where the speed limit is 70. Dean and Joe disappeared in the distance. Once clear of slower traffic, I got a clear stretch of road and decided to catch up. I opened the throttle and set the speedometer needle to a number that does not appear on Jimmy Carter slowmometers. Dean and Joe reappeared after a few minutes.
We arrived at Duluth and found Gary at the agreed-upon restaurant. After a great meal we rode up the shore of Lake Superior for our first view of what was to come. Sailboats and taconite haulers (enormous ships hauling processed iron ore - remember the Edmund Fitzgerald?) dot the horizon. We set up camp as we were devoured by mosquitoes. No campfire tonight - the bugs are too bad.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, July 24.
Time for a quick hike down the Superior shoreline. The bugs aren't as bad by the shore. Also, I got a look at Gary's bike. It's a Yamaha Vision, a bike I was not familiar with. Its a compact bike with a sport-touring style fairing. The cosmetics need some attention, but it runs strong for an '82 550. But the back tire is badly worn. I wouldn't have left on this trip with a tire like that. Hmmmmm....
On the road for our first real group time together. We all appear to have the same corner capability, with Dean leading and the rest of us easily keeping up. The road along the shoreline is all gentle turns, up and down the bluffs. We pass by glimpses of the North shore, but there aren't long stretches along the shore.
We blast into and out of Grand Portage, MN far too quickly. There is an authentic recreation of an early trading post where the voyagers met to trade. Those early voyagers led a rough life. They paddled from dawn to dusk in awful conditions. I've thought of these men as equivilent to early Evinrude motors - almost beasts of burden. SWMBO and I saw it on the last tour, but there is no stop on this trip. We keep up the pace.
Like Grand Portage, Thunder Bay, ON has a fascinating past. Like Grand Portage, we blast right on by.
The weather today, like yesterday, was perfect for riding. Partly cloudy, temps in the low 80's F.
At a gas stop late in the afternoon at Nipigon, ON Gary noticed a large cup forming on his thin rear tire. Cords show, but the tire holds air. No one likes the way the cup has developed, both in its severity and how rapidly it has formed. The thin tire doesn't have enough extra rubber for any cuts or punctures, and now I could see cord.
We took the time to call two motorcycle shops back at Thunder Bay, but by this time of day they were both closed.
Gary was willing to continue onward, perhaps even to Sault Ste. Marie up ahead at the US border. I didn't really feel good about our options, but Gary seems to feel obligated to continue. All of Gary's pack was placed on my bike, and everyone agreed to keep the speed to 60 MPH in an effort to stretch whatever life is left in that tire.
We continued on to Marathon, through some truly beautifuly scenery. Rolling roads, gentle curves capable of about any speed one wishes to ride at. We can't scrape the pegs with Gary's bad tire, but the road's wonderful anyway. With Gary's stuff on my bike it was a struggle to maintain the line I would have liked through the corners. The rear seemed overloaded, but it was the only way to get Gary and his bike to a shop. It's almost wilderness up in this area of Canada. I kept looking for deer, moose or bear, but I didn't see a single large animal on the whole trip.
We camped a stone's throw from the Superior shore at Neys Provincial Park. I laid in my tent thinking of how I should have said something about the tire when I saw it at Duluth. I fell asleep to the sound of waves rolling onto the shore.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Saturday, July 25.
Another quick hike up the Superior shoreline. The area around Neys Provincial Park is rocky hills that drop down into the water. Small bays and river inlets interrupt the rock shore. Away from the shoreline, woods surround the road. The roads are cut through the hills, so the views are either shoreline, rocks, or woods. For long stretches there are no homes, towns, businesses. I searched through the driftwood piles for interesting finds, but I found nothing but more dirftwood.
We left camp early. We needed to find a new tire for Gary's bike. A look through the phone book revealed that there was no motorcycle shop at Marathon, ON, near the park. We phoned a dealer at Sault Ste. Marie, ON and located a tire there. Gary agreed to try the trip from Marathon to the Soo, nearly six hours away. With his load on the other bikes and a slow speed, we might make it.
A very heartfelt thanks a a "Good Guy" award go to Marathon Motor Sports in Marathon, Ontario. They are a Polaris dealer but we pulled in looking for a lead on a tire, because, hey, we were desperate. Although it was obvious that there was no way we could buy anything from this store, the store manager did everything he could to help us locate a tire. When he was done, I was sure that there was no tire available in this part of Canada. On to Sault Ste. Marie.
I took the lead. Joe took second. Gary took the third spot, and Dean assumed the end. My job is to keep the pace slow. Dean's job was to keep his BMW back from Gary, enough space so that if Gary starts to lose control Dean has kept a space in traffic for him to slow. Dean's job seemed unsafe - he had to fend off tailgaters all day.
The road through this part of Ontario cuts away from Lake Superior. The road gives way to Pukaskwa National Park, which occupies a large segment of wild shoreline. Miles, miles, and more miles.
Unfortunately, time was not on our side. The shop in Sault Ste. Marie agreed to stay late on a Saturday night to take care of a tourist who quite likely will never be back. We had to keep rolling to be sure that the dealer would still be there when we arrived. No time for breakfast.
More trees and rocks, rocks and trees. The traffic was lighter and less intimidating than I remembered from my 1985 trip. Although there was the constant concern over the crippled bike, I was having fun. Through this stretch, and along much of the Canadian side of this ride, the roads were capable of being ridden at whatever speed the rider desired. We were well within the speed limit, so we did not attract any attention from law enforcement.
Although we did what we could to keep a steady pace to deliver us to Sault Ste. Marie, we were running behind what was required. Dean came to the front of our small pack and, using hand signals, indicated that he was going to call ahead. Since I had the quickest bike I was to be the "rabbit", breaking away from the group to get to the dealer on time. If we couldn't get the tire mounted, at least we could do it ourselves in the parking lot. Without the tire, Gary's trip would stall here until Monday.
I opened up the XS and let it run. I glanced back one last time at the other three riders, and then got down to business. From Wawa to Sault Ste. Marie the roads are beautiful. There are more hills and curves, but it seems like the views of the lakeshore are more frequent, and even more beautiful. This is a rugged shoreline, and the road cuts up and down the slopes, long sweepers that can be taken at higher speeds. With Gary's gear, the XS was heavily loaded. I was limited by the extra weight. At the speed I needed to go it was hard to maintain the desired line through the corners.
I got to Sault Ste. Marie right at closing time. The dealer, like Marathon Motor Sports in Marathon, deserves an attaboy. Acme Motorcycles in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario had a mechanic waiting. Dean's call ahead had gotten through. When I assured the owner that the bike was on its way he seemed relieved. He thought we might no-show.
At a time like this, Acme could have charged a premium price for the tire. Acme mounted and balanced the tire at mail-order prices. After the old tire was removed I was alarmed to see that I could nearly push my index finger through the remaining cords.
We camped that night near Paradise, Michigan. With the day's low speeds and the tire change we were behind schedule. With the fresh tire came a fresh attitude and a sense of relief.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, July 26
When I'm traveling I try to avoid eating at places that have a national advertising budget. It seems like I get a better feel for the area I'm traveling through if I sample what the locals have. If I'm in some small town in a small diner I always look for something called the "lumberjack breakfast" or "logger special" or something like that. You just can't go wrong. The pattern holds true once more in Paradise. After the Lumberjack Special, we waddled out to the bikes.
A quick trip up to Whitefish Point was rewarded with a visit to the Whitefish Point Lighthouse Museum. It contains displays about various Lake Superior shipwrecks, and displays objects recovered from some of the wrecks. Most famous is the Edmund Fitzgerald. The ship's bell has been recovered and serves as a memorial to those who died in the cold Superior waters. From the shoreline, it did not seem possible that waters that could be this calm could also pound tons of steel into crushed wreckage.
We found ourselves on dirt roads at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Dirt isn't exactly what these roads were. The terrain through these woods is mostly dunes - sand. The dirt roads are well packed, but any departure from hardpacked track had us paddling through the corners like rookie dirt bikers. Once through this stretch we shook the thick dust from our clothing and got moving.
Our trip across Michigan's upper peninsula was fast. We worked the bikes hard to keep up the pace. We didn't see any law enforcement and that was probably fortunate for us.
We ate supper at Houghton, MI. Between salad and dessert an inch and one half of rain fell on our campsite. It was the only rain we had on our trip.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, July 27
My vacation time was up, and it was time to blast home. We took a trip from Houghton up to Copper Harbor on Hwy 41. This is one of the best motorcycle roads I have ever been on. The road starts gently enough, with easy sweepers past rural homes. As we left the outskirts of town the road started to tighten up. The long sweepers gave way to tighter corners, with perfect pavement making the road a pleasure. Soon, we dove into the forest and the canopy over the road gave the impression of travel through a tunnel. It didn't seem as though bulldozers or chainsaws were used when this road was built. Not only were the corners predictable and smooth, the elevation changes reminded me of a roller coaster. The XS ate this stretch up.
We had breakfast at the Harbor Haus, and we had to make miles for home. We had planned to take it easy this day but our tire troubles in Canada ate up the slack in the schedule. Maybe next time. This was a day without much adventure. It was time to get back home.
I pulled into the garage at sunset.
Guy Stormo
78 XS1100E - "Thor"