Gore Bay is a beautiful little village with all the services and CodMothers restaurant where I enjoyed a whitefish and chips lunch with a very nice Split Rail Brewing Co. ale.
Except for a 10 kilometre gravel stretch of the 540, the road to Meldrum Bay was in really good shape and the riding easy. But about gravel, especially uncompacted aggregate just dumped on the road, I can say that it's no friend of motorcyclists. Following a lead vehicle through a stretch of thick gravel at a very (too) slow speed I managed to ride my (heavy) motorcycle just of the roadway partially into the ditch. I swear the grader operator, who observed the incident from the splendid isolation of his perched cab, had a smile on his face as the escort vehicle driver, who had "led" me through this perilous obstacle course, strained to return my BMW to the road. Except for a few (more) scratches on one pannier, there was no other damage to either bike and rider and some 10 minutes later I arrived at the Meldrum Bay Inn where a nice room, and as it turns out a really good steak dinner and breakfast awaited me.
Meldrum Bay is a tiny harbour village consisting of the Inn, a General Store, a museum, and a marina. A harvest moon rising reflected in the waters of the channel in a nearly clear dark crimson sky provided a spectacular early evening tableau.
Friday after a delicious breakfast at the Inn I set off the ride to Little Current and off the Island to Lake Lauzon where the 1967 class reunion was to happen. Twelve classmates, some from as far away as Vancouver and Calgary, and from Montreal, Southern Ontario, Ottawa and Sudbury were welcomed at Lake Lauzon by an extremely generous and talented performer from Blind River.
What followed were nearly two days of reminiscing, and catching up. While we had all aged, expanded certain parts of our anatomy, and gone on different life journeys over the intervening 32 years, it proved to be very easy to reconnect with guys that we had been so close too at the college for five of our adolescent years. Incidents, lost or distorted in the fog of time, were rekindled, and, with the benefit of different perspectives, were rendered real and immediate again. We laughed, we drank, we ate, we hugged. We sat around campfires wanting to listen to each story. We remembered fondly those who had passed away, and spoke of those who had chosen, or been unable to join us. And we were treated to on the stage and impromptu campfire performances by three of our classmates: the legendary Robert Paquette, the greatest Franco-Ontarian composer and recording artist, Francois Lemieux, also a very accomplished local composer, musician and playwright, and Guy Lalonde, a skilled performer from Ottawa.
What a marvelous experience. It was bittersweet to say goodbye to each other this morning; we appreciated what had happened over the last two days. We held onto each other just a bit harder, just a bit longer; there were broad smiles but no tears, even if nearly. We hope to do it again; and we agree that a break of 52 years just won't work for our next "Retrouvailles".
Tomorrow the ride continues from here, at beautiful Lake Lauzon, to Lake of Bays where Jane, Pierre-Alain and my two grand-daughters, Jasmine and Alexandra, will be there on my arrival for days of fun at the cottage.
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