I was raring to go when I left Ignace, Ontario! I had my sights set on Saskatchewan. I was now only 1 sleep away from my son’s birthday, and I’d told him the night before I’d be there. I promised to do all I could to make it back to give him a birthday hug. I’d missed a hug before, and I wasn’t about to let that happen this year.

I followed Glenn again and I have to admit it was nice to be able to shut my brain off for another few hours. After having met him the day before in Wawa and following him the next day into Ignace, it was like my brain was on holidays. It was awesome.

This morning was just as gorgeous as most of the mornings I’ve had on this adventure. Rolling past the lakes as the sun rose high took my breath away. As I rolled past Jackfish Lake I slowed for longer look. The sun rose behind the trees on the eastern shore casting the back of the lake in shadow while lighting up the foreground. Mist floated from the water half way up the back drop of trees. The reds and golds reflected in the glass like water. The thin trail behind a lone loon cut through the surface leaving a sparkling trail of diamond ripples. Honestly, it was stunning. My eyes were just as misty as the lake and for about the eleventy nine millionth time, the gratitude I felt to be able to do this trip spilled out my eyes and over my beaming cheeks.

After a delish breakfast in Dryden, a heartfelt goodbye and promises to keep in touch, Glenn and I went our separate ways. Bikers are such special people. We have this common bond immediately because we have a love of two wheels. We understand the joy, the sense of freedom, the way we become wrapped in a feeling of peace when we fly down the highway, or lean into those twisties. We have a shared sense of how cleansing and therapeutic it is to feel the wind caress our souls; whether we wear a full face or open face. It’s a brotherhood/sisterhood/get-you-outta-the-hood bond. It doesn’t matter what bike you ride. It doesn’t matter where you ride. If you ride, you get it.

I’ve met so many people on this trip and consider myself so dang lucky to have met them all. Glenn let me know about a Facebook group for senior motorcycle riders. I joined that group and posted a few of my stories. It was wild to see responses from some of the folks I’d met along the way. I had a fella comment he’d met me in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, others met me in Liverpool, Nova Scotia, and now perhaps Glenn will have read how nice it was to travel with him for a day.

It’s always a welcome treat to make new friends, but I was eager to twist a little harder on my throttle and put some serious ribbon in my mirror. I had a birthday boy to hug!