We put women first in everything we do, every frame we build, every component we spec and every piece of gear we design. Liv is the cycling brand dedicated to women.  

Words and pictures by Melanie Chambers - Liv Ambassador

Leaving Sault Ste. Marie

After caffeinating with our new buddy Jack (an employee of the local bike shop who let us camp on his property), feeding the animals and running with Farley, (remember, this pup is husky/German Shepard), we’re off to Thunder Bay, about a seven hours drive from The Soo.

We are driving less than an hour when we see a runner--on the Trans-Canada Highway! Say what? As we stop to let Farley out for a pee, we get the runner’s story: Raising money for childhood cancer, Rick began running from Victoria in early April. The Soo is his home and final destination.

Inspired by Terry Fox, Rick had just begun his daily run when we met him. “I’m not even sweaty yet, you should see me when I get going. It’s like a facet turned on.” But, often when he gets overheated, he stops in a nearby stream and drinks water right from a clean stream. Rick runs an average of 40 kilometers a day, almost a marathon. When he reaches The Soo, he will have completed the equivalent of 100 marathons.

We wish him well and continue to Thunder Bay. On the route, we see many touring cyclists—kind with panniers on the back wheel and safety vests. Amazing to see so many riding alone, and women. Wow. I don’t know if I could handle the prairies solo; but imagine if you got a tail wind? You could glide across the entire province without pedalling!

riding down rocks

The Black Sheep Mountain Bike Club began in 1998 by a bunch of high school hooligans! Today, they are entirely volunteer run and some of those original riders are still ripping it up on the trails.

When we finally pull into Thunder Bay, I’m stunned—the waterfront is abuzz with skaters and families, bikers, walkers, dogs. There’s an ice cream truck, sailboats in the bay, and the backdrop of the monstrous Sleep Giant rocks in the distance. The rocks jut into Lake Huron, which essentially creates Thunder Bay. Ojibwe legend has it that the giant turned to stone when the white man discovered the secret location of a silver mine.

At a waterfront skate park, I spot a red head girl on a push bike—she can’t be older than three, but she’s fearlessly cornering the turns on the pump track.

I reach out to the local Liv retailer, Fresh Air Experience . Anders, a young punk (an endearing term) rounds up some riders for the following morning. The next day, as the morning mist is coming off the lake, I follow the waterfront and then head into the forest to climb up to The Bluffs, one of the main entrances to the Shuniah Mines Trail network .

The Black Sheep Mountain Bike Club began in 1998 by a bunch of high school hooligans! Today, they are entirely volunteer run and some of those original riders are still ripping it up on the trails. Wow.

standing on the bluffs

Standing on The Bluffs with Anders, employee of Fresh Air Experience, and Harvey Lemelin, president of the Black Sheep Mountain Bike Club who we ran into at the parking lot.

Anders, whose dad owns the bike shop, arrives with Keifer (another young punk) and legend, Old Greg, his local moniker, and one of the hooligans I was talking about. Greg borrowed a friend’s mountain bike in 1992; the next day, he bought his own and has been riding ever since. Way behind him, I see that he rides like a gazelle—he even looks like a Billie Goat, and not because he is speedy fast, but because he has a long white goatie. I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone that loves the sport as much as Greg.

Here is an emotional story of Greg passing the torch of riding onto the next generation. If you don’t cry after watching this, you are made of stone.

We drop into a trail named Dagobah (that’s the movie Star Wars for you kids born in the 80s and beyond). The trio of the old and new riders are off like lightening through the super rooty single track. When the trail spits us out into a clearing, we meet Katherine, another local legend. At 26 years old, this lady recently began coaching, and she’s taken to it like bees to honey: “last week on our weekly race, I had three of my girls podium, it was pretty awesome.”

melanie and katherine

When the trail spits us out into a clearing, we meet Katherine, another local legend.

As we ride, Keifer is behind me and tells me that mountain biking pretty much saved his ass. “I didn’t have the best home life growing and I turned to riding.” Today, he’s the only shock expert in the region: “before me you’d have to send your bike away to get serviced and it would take weeks.” It’s ironic then that shortly after our talk, Keifer’s shock dies and starts leaking oil. “Man, I take care of everyone else’s bike, and my poor bike is forgotten.”

After ripping through some ‘dropper-post’ worthy sections, and berms so smooth you could eat your lunch on the trail, we stop for a breather. Old Greg talks about the future trails –a 20 km system built over the next three years, the largest trail expansion in the town’s history. The government, the city, the locals—everyone is on board to make it happen; the plan is also to get more youth riding. A connector trail through the city means kids can ride closer to home downtown.

It’s almost 10 a.m. and everyone has to leave to open up the bike shop. Katherine is meeting up with a kid for coaching. Greg drops me off and we chat more about riding, The Bay and our ailing bodies. I invite him to ride The Seven Summits, a legendary trail in the world of Canadian mountain bikers, located in Rossland, my final destination.  As I pedal away, he screams out: “You can count on that visit you know.” I know.

Next up: Winnipeg, where they had to build a mountain to ride it!