Didn't Make it
I am also a member of the CBR-125R forum, for the very best reason there is -- I ride one. Some members of that forum, with whom I have ridden and camped in the past, said they were gathering at a restaurant in Orangeville, planning to depart for Tobermory and points north at 4:30 PM.
I set out, with a companion, to join these intrepid riders, not in order to go camping with them, but to bring a small tribute to one of them, a fellow who tries very hard to get a lot out of his 125, and succeeds far better than I could. I think that talent and zeal and wits and style and grace have something to do with his success, but those are attributes far from my sphere. I generally figure that if Brute Force and Ignorance won't do the job, what I need is more of both, and I can generally summon all I need.
Partly due to indolence, and partly due to canine maintenance, my companion and I did not leave enough time for the ride to Orangeville, so when traffic got boggy and complicated and downright unpleasant, we turned around (at Hwy 9 and 400) and took the scenic route home.
I hope the campers had a wonderful time, and I hope
I read about their adventures when I visit their forum.
For those of you who wonder if motorcycle camping is fun, I can tell you that it is. I began doing this sort of thing fifty years ago, sometimes with sufficient equipment, but more often with compromises and makeshift gimcrack gear. Either way, it is fun, and the sunshine always defeats the rain and mud and bugs and leaky tents and hissing air mattresses and noisy campers nearby and hangovers and dirt and sweat and all the other tribulations that try to overcome the fun factor, but always fail.
Just one memory: I got out of my tent in Battleford SK, loaded up in the rain, and plodded east on the Yellowhead Highway. I swam through Saskatoon, and wondered if I would ever see the sun shine on it, then stopped at Foam Lake to wring out my stuff, and finally reached Manitoba, just as the sun did. It was as if Saskatoon hadn't paid the light bill, and Manitoba hadn't paid the water bill, so I thought, "Bully for Manitoba!" and rode on in the sun, slowly drying as the sun got lower. I dined at Humpty's, and went South, reaching North Dakota as darkness became complete. I kept asking and asking Interstate highway 29 to produce a Rest Area, but it kept giving me exits and weigh scales and billboards, but at last a Rest Area loomed out of the fog. I had been following transports so that the trucks could kill the deer instead of the **** deer killing me. I pitched my tent in a thicket of pine, after 678 miles that day, and slept soundly, yes I did.
In the morning, I was dismantling my tent and stuff, and an indignant broom-pusher inquired whether I had been camping. I replied no, because I didn't start a fire, I didn't cook anything, and I sure as hell didn't sing. I have seen Star Trek V, so I know what camping is. He said, "Well, yer gonna sing plenty, 'cause I'm callin' the cops!" I shrugged, and continued loading up, and eventually departed without haste. No cops showed up, of course, but the lesson is that it is not a good idea to pitch a tent at a Rest Area. I have also a sloppy envelope glued up from tarpaulins, almost as effective as a tent, but clearly not a tent, and that seems to be welcome almost everywhere. After all, to rest I need to lie down, and then I need a tarp to keep rain and bugs off.
The next night I slept in a motel in Escanaba MI, then I reached Toronto on the day after. Helluva ride - Toronto - Denver - Vancouver - Edmonton - Toronto in 18 days, 9 of them in Vancouver. 6561 miles.
There are lots of examples to find, and all of them say to take
long rides, for the fun of the voyage and also for the memories.
Here's one: Jupiter's Travels. Young fellow went all over Africa.
Then he did it again when he was over 70 years old. Yes, he DID!
No I won't.