Fishing Lake Road

Fishing Lake Road Romping Along An Ontario Hydro Easement
23 Sep 07: It was a nice, sunny Sunday morning and I decided to take full advantage of the warm Fall weather by taking a ride in search of previously unexplored back roads. I didn't want to stray too far from home, though, as Angie had taken a pot roast out of the freezer to thaw out in time for supper... I did NOT want to miss one of my most favourite meals! So I selected an area 20km northeast of home and picked North Shore Road as the "trail du jour". It is located on the North side of Loughborough Lake, across from the village of Battersea in a region rich with many small lakes and seemingly devoid of roads, according to my large-scale map. There was an interesting looking squiggle named Fishing Lake Road that branched off from North Shore and extended several km's into the bush before seemingly ending at a small lake. I figured if North Shore didn't turn out to be amusing enough, I could try Fishing Lake. Hector was given a break from his usual sidecar duty and told to "guard Angie", as I wasn't planning to make a lot of dog-friendly stops today, then I headed out by myself in search of those new roads. North Shore Rd turned out to be a pleasantly winding road that had just been graded and covered in freshly tarred gravel. I amused myself by sliding the rig around the corners and taking in the Fall colours as I rode along. In mid-slide around one corner I saw the sign for Fishing Lake Rd flash past and made a note of its location for the return trip. Which wasn't long afterwards, as the road ended abruptly at the entrance to a private driveway about a kilometer later. So I spun the rig around and headed back to Fishing Lake Rd.
	This road was barely wide enough for a car, but was in good shape and a lot of fun to ride down as it had many sharp corners and hilly sections. Every few hundred meters or so there was a trail heading off on the south side of the road into the bushes. Curiosity finally got the better of me and I turned down one of the trails to see where it led. After a short trip through the undergrowth, I broke into the clear and discovered that the road paralleled an Ontario Hydro easement. Two rows of large power transmission towers went stringing off into the distance over very deserted countryside. Bonus! Another made-for-an-Ural road!
	This particular trail only went as far as the base of the closest tower so I'm assuming it was meant for technicians to access the tower for servicing or maintenance needs. That's probably what all the other trails were for, too, but I decided to check some of them out on the way back just in case. The easement ran along the northern side of a fairly deep ravine and I was hoping one of the many side trails would lead to the bottom of it, as it looked like very interesting terrain down there.
	A few hundred meters later, the road made a sharp right out onto the open and then began to follow along the tower line. It was beautiful country, even though the power lines ruined the effect. At one point, the trail dipped down into the ravine and headed back up the other side, so I didn't need to find a trail to the bottom after all. There were several places where ATV's had made trails leading off the road, but I decided to leave them for exploring some other time.
From this point on the road became narrower until it wasn't much wider than the Ural. But it was still in good shape with a loose gravel surface and evidence of recent passage by ATV's and wide stanced vehicles, probably pickup trucks. About 5km into the trail I was surprised when I rounded a corner and saw a driveway... with a freaking mailbox at the gate! It must have been a joke, as I highly doubt the Postal Service had a vehicle capable of making it this far, but you never know. After that driveway, the road narrowed more and was now obviously not as well used. In fact, it began to get pretty scary, as there were several washed out sections and lots of large, sharp rocks strewn about. It was 1st gear and slow going over this section and when the gravel finally disappeared and only a grassy path over the rocks remained, I decided to stop and dismount. I walked ahead for a bit to make sure there were no hidden surprises that would render the Ural helpless, but the trail was just too technical from this point on to attempt it alone.
	Not only that, but I had discovered this item lying on the trail while walking along. It looked remarkably clean like it had been dropped there only recently. It's a locking trigger guard for a shotgun and when I realised that's what it was, I decided to abort the mission and head back for civilisation. Somewhere, probably closer than I wanted to know, was an unknown entity with a weapon. And with my luck, at 1000 meters I probably looked like a potential meal to some half-drunk halfwit who was still mad because he'd lost his brand new trigger guard. "Hey, Cooter, what's that moving up yonder on that there ridge? "..."Why, Jim-Bob, I do believe that's a Fat Bellied Bearded Northern Black Bear - and them's good eatin'!"
	It was a shame I had to go back because the trail had led me into some absolutely beautiful scenery, with only the crickets and occasional bird cry to break the silence. That little pond down below looked inviting and I almost changed my mind about leaving, but I was alone and had no help if I became stuck. Or any backup, in case I accidentally wandered into Cletus and Cooter's Huntin' Camp and scared all the critters back into the bushes before they had a chance to blast them into small pieces that they could stew and eat without having to chew too much because they had no teeth left and they were already mad enough because they'd lost their new shotgun trigger guard.
	It wasn't until after I'd taken this photo that I noticed a boat moored on the far side of the pond (blocked by the small tree in the foreground, just left of center). From where I stood it looked like the trail ended on the near side of the pond, so the boat would be the only way across to the other side. Which meant that someone was probably over there right now, wondering where the hell their shotgun trigger lock went to. T'was definitely time to go now. I fired up the Ural and promptly dug a hole in the soft grass while trying to back up, stalling it in the process. It was a steep angle and it took a few tries, but eventually I had it turned around and was heading back towards civilisation.
	There were many spots suitable for photo opportunities, so I took a few minutes to snap an "Ural In The Wilds" pic, being careful not to stray too far off the trail. The total silence and serenity was intoxicating; I just wanted to lie down on a rock and snooze the afternoon away, lulled to sleep by the sounds of the crickets and birds. In this increasingly populated and noisy world, places like this are getting harder to find and I was reluctant to leave. But the promise of a good home cooked supper and a cold beer from the fridge are powerful forces and not easy to resist. Plus, there was that whole shotgun trigger guard thing.
	The trail was pretty rough going in some spots due to the washout, so extra care had to be taken when choosing a line of attack up a hill or around a corner. The surface was loose and the rocks were large and plentiful, but the Ural made it through the tough spots without harm. I hadn't realised just how steep the descent down this particular hill had been until it was time to head back up. It was slow going in 1st gear with lots of clutch slippage and I could feel the heat coming off the motor as it worked hard to propel me up the hill, but Douk muscled his way to the top without incident.
	I passed by that driveway with the mailbox again, but this time I noticed the small clearing directly opposite it and stopped to investigate something unusual. It was a wooden cross atop a pile of rocks and, although there was no inscription, it was pretty clear that something was buried there. Beloved family pet? Uncle Cooter? A tax collector? The last biker that disturbed the peace with his infernal motosickle? I didn't hang around long enough to find out.
	When I passed through the bottom of the ravine again I noticed a trail I'd missed on the way down. It had obviously been made by ATV's as the grass was hammered flat by oversized tires and the track was too narrow for a truck or Jeep. It wound around the rock cuts and eventually ended up heading down a steep incline into the woods. There were no signs of recent activity, but I was still hesitant to go barging down there on my own with no backup.
	I stopped at the entrance to the trail for one last photo of the ravine and took a timeout for some bottled water and another look at the map. There were some more roads in the region that looked promising, but it was time to start heading for home. There's still lots of opportunities before the snow flies (and even afterwards, really... snow is no excuse not to ride an Ural) so I'll probably be down this way again before too long. With backup.
	But before I returned to the pavement I needed to take one more photo to make the trip complete. I wanted something unique and dramatic, a setting that would totally capture the essence of the journey. I found it a few km's later; it took a bit of fancy footwork to get up there, but I managed to get Douk perched on top of this rock cut. Which, thanks to the limited view of the camera, doesn't look as impressive as it really was. But it did have a dramatic moment - just after the shutter clicked, the rig overcame the forces of gravity and, despite the ignition having been shut off and the transmission left in 1st gear, started chuffing its way backwards down the hill! I guess that's why Ural's come with a parking brake.
I made it home with time to spare before supper was served, but even Angie's excellent cooking couldn't drag my mind away from that ravine. I think I'll ring up my off-road riding buddies and see if we can schedule a trip back to Fishing Lake Road in the very near future. I think there's potential for a sequel. :)

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