August 5, 2006: Ontario & Michigan

When we started planning this trip, I gave thought to taking Highway 17 out of Toronto and driving home on the Trans-Canada Highway, but I decided the northern tier of the United States held much more of interest to us. I was amused to find a song (on The Rough Guide to the Music of Canada) that tells us what we’re missing. Wendell Ferguson doesn’t put quite as positive a spin on Highway 17 as Bobby Troop did on Route 66. Here’s an excerpt:

“Rocks & Trees”

“Highway 17 runs in a roughly north by northwest direction across the Canadian province of Ontario, linking the remote towns and settlements. The rugged beauty of the land up there has inspired both paintings and poems. As a musician I have traveled this road many times... many, many, many times.”

Rocks & trees, trees & rocks
If you've driven 17 you've seen lots
Though I dearly love this land
I've stood all I can stand of
Rocks & trees, trees & rocks

Rocks & trees, trees & rocks
Reams and reams of endless trees and tons of rocks
The whole north is just proliferous
With metamorphic and coniferous
Rocks & trees, trees & rocks

Rocks & trees, trees & rocks
Motel signs, hydro lines, and a flattened fox
Oh construction site machinery
Is a welcome change of scenery
Rocks & trees, trees & rocks….

Trees & rocks, rocks & trees
A guy can quickly get real sick of seein' these
What's the deal with all the tourists?
It's just shield here and some forests
Trees & rocks, rocks & trees

Rocks & trees, trees & rocks
A double line and I'm stuck behind a dozen trucks
By the time you hit Kenora
You don't want to see no more of
Rocks & trees, trees & rocks

This morning, our mysterious hosts served us cantaloupe and pancakes, some with peach compote and some with Tommy’s favorite, blueberries. We thanked our friends and departed at our usual early hour: noon.

Perhaps it was the three-day weekend, or it may have just been a series of breakdowns and a big truck fire, but the traffic was ridiculously dense most of the way to Kitchener, more than 50 miles from Toronto (or nearly 100 kilometres if you prefer.) When we finally broke free of the traffic, though, it was smooth sailing all the way to the border.

We had lunch just before reaching London, and we left Ontario at Sarnia, where we paid another toll and crossed Blue Water Bridge into Port Huron, Michigan, on the shores of Lake Huron. The long lines at the border crossing added another two hours to our travel time. The boys continued entertaining themselves by rereading Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince.

The asphalt on our way to Flint, headquarters of General Motors, was in dreadful repair for the most part, as we had been advised. I remarked on the irony of the state that for so long gave us most of our automobiles having such poor roads. The Rust Belt has truly fallen on hard times.

Debbie’s great-grandfather and great-grandmother on her father’s side were illiterate peasants who emigrated from Poland to Alpena, Michigan, early in the 1900s. Her father Bob was the first in his family to attend college, at the University of Michigan, where he met Dorothy, Debbie’s mother. Debbie and her sister Meryl were born in Detroit. As I’ve mentioned previously, Bob has written a book about the town of Saginaw, where he grew up.

We bought gas for $2.98 a gallon and spent the night at the Best Western in Battle Creek, home to the Kellogg’s company. There they operate a faux factory tour and mini theme park called Cereal City. It’s designed around the cartoon characters that the company uses to get our kids hooked on their sugary products. We decided we’d give it a miss.