In our minds Rossport had become the enchanted city. A definitive tangible representation of a distance denoting we were more than half way home. (And it only took us how long to get there?) We would even paddle through a culvert to bring the small town into certain view – how cool is that? Several friends and fellow travelers along the way had recommended this town to us. And as luck would have it we would meet some friendly folks from our realm of the world (Rick and Mary from Mason, WI) while experiencing one of the most delicious (and certainly expensive) meals of our lives. This was the one locale in which we had planned to stay at an INN, momentarily relax etc. However upon settling into this triumphant town we soon realized we’d missed some details in the appreciation factor. First, there is no grocery store here; you have to travel 15 miles back in the direction from whence you came. Second, small town does not denote small prices, due to the lack of abundant amenities, be ready to pay for it. Third make sure you lay in your bed before you commit to a room, otherwise when you flop down for a good nights’ rest, you may find that the mattress has been molded for a pear shaped individual leaving your feet slightly higher than your head while your bum hangs near the floor. (Kind of like a hammock, but not). Last, is there some type of amnesia vortex in this region where everyone you talk to forgets to tell you about the TRAINS? 
Bring ear plugs, because as natural as they are to existence, engineers seems to have no qualms about blasting the horn several times as they pass the one crossing in town…. You know, people are pretty observant, they see the warning lights, they hear that ‘ding, ding, ding’ noise and even witness thousands of tons of metal hurdling down those steel rails at ungawdly speeds- pretty sure you could go with out that blasted horn. But I digress…After struggling through that night of sleep, or lack there of, we regrouped at Superior Outfitters. Where owner Dave Tamblyn had been sacredly guarding our food box like a bear, ok we don’t know that for certain, but he did keep it safe and no mice got into it so that was awesome, for a few weeks. While discussing our food issues, prep packing our boats, he even offered the most unprecedented random act of kindness we’d experienced province side… The use of his vehicle (actually it was his wife’s, which is why it may have not been that big of a deal) to drive into Schreiber and purchase some buffer food. How cool was that? Way cool! We experienced velocitation for the first time since the wedding (always a fun experience when twenty minutes in the car is the equivalent of three hours on the water) and loaded up on all those important essentials for quick meals and spiffy snacks. It was also on this journey into town, the grocery store, adequately named Costa’s (cause it was gonna costa you a lot) that I almost cried. Seeing that freshie produce: avocados, tomatoes, pears, kale, garlic, peppers etc and knowing it would not last a wink and a half in the cooler was the clincher in potential Canadian blues. So close to fresh food, yet so very far away. We made haste in the store, restocked what we needed, even paid $11.22 for one pound of cheese (darned conversion of grams to pounds) and were on our way.
Back to Rossport, back to packing the boats, we set off in the late day sun towards our new appreciated and highly praised surroundings, the Rossport Islands…
Our first destination landed us upon Wilson Island, great sand beach, lots of deer tracks - we scared Bambi's relative upon arrival, and even a nice tree stand for viewing the lake, (or shooting at some food if you're into that).
We then set camp, made a marvelous meal and watched the moon rise in the indigo sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment