I am a fully paid-up member of the travelling public.
  So, when something interesting crosses my path, I am entitled to stop and check it out.
  When I was travelling north from The Soo near the end of June, I checked out Agawa Crafts at Pancake Bay.  I fought my way through scores of fellow travelers to buy a book and an ice cream.  At Old Woman Bay, I checked out the cliff face on Lake Superior to see if the old woman was home.  Not that day.  Chatted up an older couple who were frolicking on the immense sand beach.  Few people know about this sacred spot.
  At Wawa I had to drive into town because the store would not come to me.  Still, hundreds of people every day find Young's General Store and linger longer than they imagined they would.
  I knew about Young's General Store, so I deliberately broke my trip to enjoy it once again.  How my fellow travelers found it, is beyond me.
  It is the dream of every highway community in the country to compel the travelling public to stop and buy stuff.  Some communities, such as Wawa and Pancake Bay, succeed big time.  Others fail big time, even if thousands of people are driving by every single day.
  Young's General Store is a combination curiosity shop and museum.  Before you step up to the front porch, there are dozens of artifacts to draw your attention.  And, if you're so inclined, a couple of old-fashioned privies to relieve your most pressing needs . . .
Read the full article with colour photos on E.J. Lavoie's Blog > http://bit.ly/2as2AgS

  Taking my cue from poet Robert Frost, when I had miles to go before I slept, I stopped anyway.
  No, not by snowy woods on the darkest evening of the year.  It was mid-day under a scorching sun on Saturday, June 25.  I was travelling north of The Soo when I saw the sign announcing an historical plaque.
  Not seeing the plaque immediately, I was drawn into the bush by a friendly path and the sound of rushing water.  I had arrived at the Chippewa River.  Other travelers with dopey smiles were loitering about. 
  I had stumbled upon one of the magical places on Superior's North Shore.  The river cascades over two ledges and runs merrily under the highway bridge towards the unseen lake.  As I learned later, the lower falls is 6 metres high, and the upper one, 7 metres.   (For you metrically challenged readers, that 20 and 23 feet.)  I joined other pleasure-seekers on the bare rocks of the lower falls.  I imagine that in early spring the ledge was smothered in foamy water, but on that day the river coursed through a narrow channel that younger legs than mine could probably overleap. 
  The fairy-tale path beckoned to me, and I scrambled up the hillocks to the upper falls.  Like the lower falls, woody debris littered the boulders and bedrock.  What a pleasant place to spend a summer day, but I had miles to go . . .
  Returning on the path, I stopped frequently to admire the plants in the understory, each with its tale to tell.  But, I still had miles to go . . .
  You know, back in the '50s, one of the Group of Seven painters had found this river . . .
Read the full article with colour photos on E.J. Lavoie's Blog > http://bit.ly/2a6mlI5 .

  Just the other day, I did two things I had sworn I would never do.  And I did them on the same day.
  First, I threw away a book.
  And second, I bought a Starbucks product.
  Both on the same day.  Consider this a confession.
  Last August we held a monster yard sale on our road in the country.  Neighbours joined in.  I had hundreds of books for sale, all from my personal library.  I have been collecting  ̶  and rescuing (but that is another story)  ̶  books for 70 years. 
  The monster sale was a roaring success.  Except . . . that very few books sold.
  So, over the next few months, I found homes for the leftovers.  And I had hundreds, hundreds of leftovers.  The other day, I took the last volumes to Thunder Bay.  I planned to give them away to the Thrift Store because nobody else wanted them.
  When I told them what I had in the boxes, I was turned down.  Flatly.  Nobody, it seems  ̶  nobody reads Reader's Digest Condensed Books any more.  These are good solid volumes, with hours, weeks, and sometimes months of reading pleasure in a single volume.  Nobody wants them.  Even to build shelving with . . .  With a few planks, one could build shelving that reaches the roof.  Nobody wants Reader's Digest Condensed Books any more.
  The Thrift Store was my last resort . . .
Read the full article with colour photos on E.J. Lavoie's Blog > http://bit.ly/29E8edt .

  What caught my eye today was a flotilla of colourful kayaks on Kenogamisis Lake.
  I pulled into the Geraldton waterfront to investigate.  The paddlers were too far out on Barton Bay for me to contact, but I spoke to one of the supervising adults from the Thunderbird Friendship Centre (TFC).  This was the second day of the Geraldton Multi-Sport Camp for Aboriginal youth, ages 12 to 16.
  Later in the afternoon, I caught up with Ron Miron, instructor, as he was loading the now-empty kayaks on a boat trailer.  He was assisted by Walter Davies, also of Longlac, and by Pete Hohmann of Virginia.  How did the kids respond? I asked Ron.  "They loved it," he said.
  Cheryl Checkley is the Aboriginal Health Outreach Worker for TFC.  She was also out on the lake, so I had to phone her later to get more facts.
  Cheryl said this was the first time the three-day event has been staged here.  The sponsor is a provincial body named Aboriginal Sport & Wellness Council of Ontario (ASWCO), and their representive, Heather Collins, was also participating as a facilitator.  ASWCO covered all costs for the 13 young participants.
  On the morning of the first day, Tuesday, July 5, the youngsters played golf at the local course . . .
For full article and colour photos, go to E.J. Lavoie's Blog at http://bit.ly/29iWX3l .