Long Point, Ontario, Canada has always played in my imagination because when I was a kid growing up in Erie, Pa., sitting on the shoreline with my friends, we could often see Long Point, some 30 miles to the north. Conditions had to be just right but we could see it. Swimmers who swam across Lake Erie would leave from Long Point and typically arrive at Presque Isle State Park on the American side. See Pat Budny and Budny Beach.
Lake Erie was my mysterious connection to Canada. Both a barrier in terms of not being able to drive directly across it, like I might cover the 30 miles down to Meadville, and yet also a kind of barrier-free portal that allowed me to capture Canadian television waves as a kid and secure Canadian radio signals.
All of my friends loved Lake Erie, particularly my close friend Rich Wilhelm. Rich’s dad, the locally famous Dick Wilhelm, owned a number of boats and Dick was one of the most impressive people I’ve ever met. He built the Cherry Street Marina (now Safe Harbor Marina Bay Harbor) on Presque Isle Bay…the dude secured the permits, bought a barge and necessary heavy equipment–including a gigantic pile driver–and drove steel pilings into the bedrock to form marina stalls. Rich used to spend long days helping his Dad. I helped out one day and nicked my finger. Good thing I was wearing a glove or I might have lost the middle finger on my right hand. I still have the scar. Dangerous work.
Dick was also the pre-eminent cigarette boat racer on Lake Erie. The PA Commonwealth website has taken down the info, giving me a 404 error, but I remember when the speed record on Lake Erie was approximately 85 mph and Dick Wilhelm came along and blew it up. I think we went something like 102 mph. He didn’t just beat it by a few miles per hour, he beat it by 20 mph. He was a speed demon. Rich and I went out with him a few times–not on a cigarette boat, which takes two people in helmets to drive and navigate–but in other speedy watercraft, and let me tell you that 50 mph is hairy on the water. You can go airborne of you don’t know what you’re doing.
To our old gang in the neighborhood, several of whom didn’t have fathers who were present in their lives, Dick Wilhelm was a man to admire.
Dick Wilhelm stories are always worth telling: His day job was operating a wrecker company, but in typical Wilhelm fashion, it was bigger then life. His tow-truck operation was for semis, not for cars, so the equipment was huge. We were all dwarfed by the “twin-screw” wreckers, something along these lines.
Dick was also a gun expert and not someone to be messed with. One day, according to Rich, an unknown man came to the Wilhelm’s front door and asked to use their phone. He claimed his car broke down and he needed help. Dick’s house and wrecker business was on East 12th Street, near General Electric. That stretch of East 12th Street was barren, so it would be considered strange for someone to knock randomly on that particular door.
Typically cautious, Dick said, “Let’s go over to my office in the garage and I’ll let you use the phone there.” Once they got there, the man said, “I have a gun. Put your hands where I can see them and give me your wallet.”
Little did this man know. Mr. Wilhelm, as we called him, whipped out his .357 magnum and stuck it against the man’s head before the dude could do jack shit. He pinned the dude’s skull to the floor with the end of the barrel, reached over to the phone and called State Police who came and arrested the perp. The troopers who arrived knew Dick…they used to shoot together at the Lawrence Park range. The moral: Be careful who you threaten, unless you want your head blown off.
Wilhelm stories are always worth telling, but let’s get back to Canada: Rich used to talk about Long Point and how his Dad would take his family there. I was always so jealous because I loved to travel and I wanted to see Long Point and the rest of Canada, the home of the Montreal Canadians and The Friendly Giant, which I had grown up on.
So Jackie and I made our way to Long Point Provincial Park which is pretty impressive. The road to the peninsula is long and then it goes all the way out to the various campgrounds. For reference, Long Point peninsula is approximately 20 miles from end to end and our campground was probably five miles in, so it’s expansive. Our campground was the second from the end and it was perfect. We were able to park without putting up the support the jack stands and I went for swim. Exhilarating.
On the beach, a magnificent wind was blowing out of the West. It felt good to my bones, especially after getting out of the water. The wind not only cooled my body, it also chased away the bugs. Inspired, I went back to the van and tried to convince Jackie to come out and join me.
“What about mosquitoes?” she asked.
“The wind drives them away,” I said.
So she came along. We stood on the sand and soaked it all in, sun setting and wind blowing. I will never forget that day.
One our way back, I climbed to the top of an east-facing sand dune and looked out over Lake Erie to Turkey Point. The first half mile out from shore is all marsh land. Big-time bird habitat. I’m always happy when I’m reminded Canada, by and large, understands things like conservation, habitat preservation, and the importance of water quality.
In the morning, we headed over to St. Thomas and found a Sunset Grill. We had been to the Sunset Grill four times previously in Canada and every time was awesome…good, hot food, and great service. This one was not so good. I ordered an omelet. It was overcooked and they far too many red peppers. I poked at it because I was hungry and didn’t want to get into sending it back. I had already challenged a food order at a breakfast diner once during our trip and didn’t feel like doing it again. I probably should have, though. The home fries were horrible. I don’t know how they can be hard and soggy at the same time but they were. My guess is that they were cooked yesterday and put in the fridge and then dumped out onto the grill this morning. They were awful.
The young lady who waited on us was very kind but kind of goofy. For example, instead of legitimately asking how our food was, she just came over and said, “Okay great. Everything delicious. Good.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away. Those were statements, not questions. Maybe she knows the food is shite and didn’t want to really ask. But that was another reason I didn’t complain. I didn’t have the standard opportunity. We also asked her what we should do in St. Thomas and she said, “Go to Port Stanley.” Port Stanley is eight miles south. Weird.
So we headed down to Talbot Street and visited Purely Wicked. The witchy shop was great. The people were kind and there was a house cat. Then we wandered over to Lockwood Books and spent quite a lot of time there and bought a couple of books. The owner was friendly. She had just purchased an espresso machine and was trying to learn it. Former barista Jackie provided some guidance and they figured it out together.
After bookshopping, we went to visit the Jumbo the Elephant Statue by Winston Bronnum. According to Wikipedia, the statue was commissioned by the city to “mark the 100th anniversary of the death of Jumbo, a circus elephant that was killed in the community after being struck by a train.” You may have guessed that Jumbo was the elephant from the Barnum and Bailey Circus (legend has it that there was more than one elephant, but this was one of them). The statue was constructed in New Brunswick and transported to St. Thomas.
From there, we exited St. Thomas and drove over to Thomas Brothers Farm Market where we picked up a bunch of fresh fruit. It was all very lovely. We also paused in the van for about 30 minutes, making additional reservations for the trip. I try to strike a balance between planning and letting things happen. It’s always tricky. Overplanning is a bad idea because it works against serendipity–what if you want to stay in a particular place for another day or two? In contract, too much of a hands-off approach can put you in a tight spot when the sun goes down.
From there I pointed the compass toward Pinery Provincial Park along the Southeast shore of Lake Huron. We made the drive, pulled into the campsite, and had a little snack. Then I made the pilgrimage to Lake Huron. I really wanted to see it. It was approximately 7 miles round-trip because the park is huge, but I didn’t mind.
The walk down the wooden steps to Lake Huron was beautiful. Familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. The landscape was familiar as someone who grew up on a Great Lake, but I could also tell that this was not Lake Erie. I was farther North, latitudinally, and was looking West, not North. The flora was also different. I’ll never forget that first impression.
It was about 6 p.m. and the sun was just starting to set. I went down to the shore and went for a swim. Finally, I had made it to Lake Huron (while listening to Lord Huron, by the way, but that’s a blog post for another day).
I sat on the beach and meditated:
What an amazing gift for me to be able to see Lake Huron, something I’ve wanted for years. I’ve dipped my toes into Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, and Lake Huron. Perhaps I’ll get to see Lake Superior and Lake Michigan some day. Tomorrow we head into London to see what we can find. Really looking forward to it. The day after we go to Stratford. Beyond that , we’re going up to a little rental unit that Jackie found, about an hour north in Goderich. There we’ll go to Owen Sound to see the Tom Thomson Gallery and stay at the Best Western Inn on the Bay. From there, we’ll see what it’s going to take for us to get up to Algonquin PP.
I slept for nine hours and seven minutes that night. Then got up and had tea and English muffins with peanut butter and lots of fruit. Then we packed the van for the day and were on our way to London, Ontario, Canada.
All photos by Mike Downing
My Writing Wanderland 