“It’s Getting Hot In Here……..I’m gonna take my clothes off…”

May 29, 2006

Perhaps it was a lack of practice after ten days in one place, because we usually hook-up our tow unit in a couple of minutes. This time it took us an hour. The space was tight at the campground parking lot and we were unable to line up the Honda perfectly behind Maggie. To exacerbate the situation, cars were whipping in and out of the parking lot all around us. So when the tow bar didn’t ‘click in’ the first time, we knew we were in trouble and should have moved on right away to a shopping centre lot with plenty of room. But that’s hindsight. With sweat dripping down our noses, tempers were short and we ended up driving along to a big parking lot eventually. We had to lube the tow bar and fiddle with it but finally we got it operational and we were on our way. Imagine that we were cursing the hot sunny day after weeks of whining about the cold.

The 401 east of Toronto was socked in with a yellowy smog – too many vehicles and too much industry. Rest areas along this stretch are ‘Service Centres’. They offer Tim’s, MacDonald’s, Wendy’s, KFC, banks and a couple of gas stations but no shady spots to pull an RV in. We were stuck between semi-trailer trucks belching fumes into our open windows because they don’t shut them down while parked. It wasn’t very ‘restful’ – I guess that’s why they don’t call them ‘Rest Areas’.

As the day progressed, the heat became more oppressive – obviously the humidity levels were sky high. We pulled into the 1000 Islands Casino, a few miles east of Kingston. There was a sentry at the entrance and we asked if we could stay overnight and he replied “Up to five nights, if you want”. Fernie was delighted at being in casino-land again. We were guided to a quiet lot where we were able to pull up beside a grassy verge – thank goodness because the heat was getting unbearable. Watching the news later, we found out that the temperature adjusted for humidity was 35 degrees Celsius (about 100 deg F) and tomorrow’s forecast is for 42 degrees C. We’ve had weather from one extreme to the other in the last 4 weeks and our bodies really need time to acclimatize….

We traipsed over to the casino when it got a bit cooler, looking forward to the air conditioning. We were smacked in the face by acrid cigarette smoke – YUCK! A big sign at the entrance announced, “As of May 31, this casino will be a non-smoking venue” but all the smokers were taking extra puffs before being cut off. I wish we’d stayed in Toronto for two more days. Our cool campsite in the trees would have helped beat the heat and we’d have arrived at a smoke-free casino. Fernie was also disappointed that there was no Texas Hold-Em nor was there Pai-Gow Poker, so he didn’t play. I was relieved because he would have come back stinking of smoke.

The Family Circle

May 19 to 29, 2006
Toronto was to be our home for ten days, so Walmart was out of the picture. Online research found us ‘the only campground in the city of Toronto’ – Glen Rouge Campground, actually located at the eastern border of Scarborough. It was a tremendously convenient location for us to get back and forth to our son’s house in ‘The Beaches’. He and his family were the reason we were putting down stakes for a while. Never before did we have the opportunity to be in Toronto for more than a few days.

Glen Rouge Campground, tucked into the vast Glen Rouge Park, is run by the city of Toronto. It’s a hidden green haven; lush grass, an abundance of trees with the Rouge River meandering through, a plethora of bird species, frogs and toads, squirrels, skunk, racoons – a secret Garden of Eden and it’s only minutes from the 401 freeway. Hiking trails twisted through the acres of parkland; we had no excuse to not take Caesar for a long woodland walk every day. The fresh spring foliage was airy and allowed the sun through the canopy to dapple the ground. A carpet of azure blue forget-me-nots greeted us in a shady glade surrounded by a jungle of magnificent feathery Maidenhair ferns. As we walked deeper into the park, the constant drone of the freeway would quieten and the diverse birdsong and croaking of the frogs were the rhythm section for the light wispy wind gently whispering the leaves of the trees.

The weather was not cooperative for the first few days. Clouds, wind, rain, blue skies and sun cycled continuously; we never knew from hour to hour what to expect. Maybe the weather was the reason the campground was so empty on the Victoria Day long weekend but I don’t think Ontarians are campers as we are in the west. Ironically, Vancouver was having 25 degree Celsius weather while we were chilly in Toronto. Finally, Tuesday morning after the long weekend dawned to wide-open blue skies and warm sunshine. I threw up the shades and flipped back the curtains so we could luxuriate in the dazzling warmth of the sun. Our panoramic view of the lush Glen Rouge Park was a feast for the eyes.

We’ve been to Toronto so many times before that we didn’t do much sightseeing. We took long walks along the lakefront and through the forests with David, the children and of course – Caesar. In the evenings, we’d sit back with a bottle of wine and catch up on each other’s lives. Our daughter-in-law, Janet is a fabulous cook and prepared some amazing meals for us. We told her that she’d give our gourmet friend (B) a run for his money and she says she’d like to challenge him to a ‘cook-off’. How can I ever lose weight with J and B in my life!

Caesar bonded closely with our 13-year-old grandson, Raheem and slept in his bed. They went everywhere together. Our little white dog is now totally spoilt because he hardly spent an hour alone. Myffy, our eight-year-old granddaughter delighted in staying overnight with us in the motorhome, chattering non-stop. We picked her up from school each day, went to her baseball game and with David, retrieved her from her Brownie camp and joined the family on the ‘Walk for Cystic Fibrosis’. This visit was a marvellous opportunity to experience their day-to-day lives.

Ten days in one place meant for many blissful mornings with slow starts. We really appreciated our sanctuary in the woods. Most days, there was no one near us as the campground was so sparsely populated. While walking the trails, we’d give a hearty ‘good morning’ to all who crossed our path but it seems that Torontonians are much more contained than Vancouverites because we’d only get an uncomfortable mumble in return. However, one baseball Mom proved that Ontarians can be outgoing. Myffy’s team is coed, mostly boys with just four girls – all 8 and 9 years old. The Mom of one girl was hopping around on the sidelines as her daughter played first base. She screamed at the top of her lungs “Damn it Danielle, pick it up / go get it / throw it home” and on and on and on. It was kinda fun to watch; it broke the monotony. When Myffy had to go to the restroom, this same Mom took over – giving me no choice, she said to me “I’ll take her – I’m really fast” and they ran over to the nearby arena together. A few minutes later, they were back and she loudly proclaimed “Those lacrosse guys told me ‘she’ couldn’t come in and use the bathroom --- and I told em ‘you mean you’d stop a lil girl from going when she’s gotta go?” - “To hell with them” she continued.

The second weekend arrived and the weather turned hot and the campground started to fill up. Early Saturday morning, we lounged outside with our coffee and tea and watched the passing scene. A portly grey-haired Grandma and her little grandson unpacked tents and sleeping bags and all the other camping paraphernalia and proceeded to put it all up unaided - all for just one night camping. I spoke to her in passing congratulating her on her outdoors aptitude. She was so happy to have someone engage her in conversation that I opened a floodgate. “Well, usually my husband comes with me and we bring our two grandsons but my other grandson is sick and my husband and I fight about how to put up the tent and where to put it and I end up walking off – so I just left him at home this time”. I didn’t know what to say, so I tried to get away, but she continued to natter on about her useless husband. I finally managed to extricate myself. A German family – parents and a youngish couple in their thirties - in a Cruise Canada rental motorhome arrived. A young couple from the Netherlands in another rental pulled in across from us and had trouble with their water hook-up and they solicited help from Fernie. Tents galore, trailers, fifth wheels, motorhomes – it was a lively scene.

Myffy developed an ear infection while at Brownie overnight camp on Friday night but she would not miss her ‘Walk for Cystic Fibrosis’ on Sunday morning. The day dawned clear and bright. David, Raheem & Myffy picked us up at 8:15am. It was held at the Toronto Zoo, which is only a few minutes north of our campground in the Rouge River Valley. I expected a long hot slogging walk – what a delight to find it was a stroll through the zoo, visiting 12 stations to get passports stamped. At each station, there was a task or a treat - a task such as matching your stride to that of a baby giraffe (I came up way short); or a treat such as having your caricature drawn. At the end, we were entertained by the famous “Max & Ruby”, a pair of large, clothed white rabbits, whose lips didn’t move when they spoke. Then lunch – pizza, chips, granola bars and Gatorade – a gourmet indulgence.

Somehow, Fernie and I missed out on the ‘goodie bags’ that were handed out at the exit – more gourmet treats, I suppose. It could be because my glasses fell apart that morning. David and Myffy had solicited a huge amount of pledges and were given a special gift for being in the top $ group. As for me, I left with a redder than usual nose – I forgot my sunscreen. My friend ‘B’ already calls me Rudolph – if he could see me now!

A sadness descended on me Sunday evening, as we went over for our final visit. We’d had such a wonderful time with them all………and I hate goodbyes. I wish they lived in Vancouver.

Grey Skies are Gonna Clear up……..

May 18, 2006
It was 3:30am and Caesar (who sleeps between us when it’s cold – and it’s cold) was scratching his ear and shaking his head. He couldn’t get relief so up we got and cleaned his ear and applied his prescription ear salve. It took him another half hour for it to help and for him to settle down.

We sank back into a deep sleep and when we woke, it was absolutely pouring rain – a downpour. The sky was dark on all horizons so we didn’t give it any hope of clearing up. Caesar did not want to get out of bed but if we had to get up, so did he. He ate his breakfast and within ten minutes vomited it all up. I was starting to think this wasn’t going to be our best day.

We weren’t going far – less than seventy miles to Orangeville, north of Toronto. The rain showed no signs of abating so no point in waiting and I went out to move the Honda into place ready for hook-up. The remote door opener didn’t work which gave me pause. Of course, the car wouldn’t start and the gauges were jerking and ticking. AARGH!

A phone call to CAA resulted in a promise of assistance within half an hour and they came through; the driver arrived in 27 minutes. He jump-started it with his little power box and told us we should get the electrical system checked. Hanover has a Honda dealership so we took the car in. “You need a new battery” we were told. “Is that all?” we thought and gladly gave the go ahead to replace the battery. Wouldn’t you think that an ailing battery would show symptoms and not just suddenly stop?

We couldn’t help think “What else will go wrong” as we gassed up Maggie (97.2 cents a litre – cheapest so far) and headed for Orangeville. Other than the socked in torrent, all went well. The location we chose in the Walmart gave us a pretty good wifi signal and Fernie got to play online poker for the first time this trip.

Orangeville, while a town of only 26,000 people, seemed more urban than the towns we’d visited. Its proximity to Toronto made for a more citified feel. It was 2:30 pm and both our stomachs were growling. We missed breakfast and lunch and Fernie was craving fish and chips. It was recommended by a local that we go to a little ‘Newfie’ joint, a bit away from the commercial centre because they had the ‘best’. We had halibut and chips and we didn’t order the senior meal – it was yummy! And we ate the lot.

Caesar stayed curled up asleep as animals will do when ailing but later on he bounced back to normal, demanding we play ball with him and he was as hungry as an overweight person before they weigh in at their Weight-Watchers meeting.

The rain stopped later on and the sun poked its rays through the clouds for a while predicting a good day for tomorrow.

Finger Lickin’ Good……..

May 17, 2006
While Fernie was checking Maggie’s tires, a valve stem popped out and the tire started to hiss, losing air. Fortuitously, we were parked beside the Walmart Tire Shop and one of the guys just about to report to work, passed by as it happened. He whipped out a tool and in a flash – fixed! We just had to backup to their large bay door to pressurize the tire. “No charge!” they said.

We only travelled a short distance and were settled by 11 am at the Walmart in Hanover in the heart of Southern Ontario’s agricultural belt. We chose a quiet spot beside a pond that was home to scads of frogs and redwing blackbirds were nesting in the reeds.

With a long day ahead of us, we took the Honda on a circular drive on secondary roads to the coast of lake Huron. Passing through Walkerton, I suggested we fill our fresh water tank – ooohhhhhh such sick humour! It’s such an idyllic and pristine locale that it’s hard to believe it was possible for the water to be tainted.

We were approaching Paisley when suddenly something huge and white fell from an oncoming vehicle and landed right ‘slap-dab’ in the middle of the road. I managed to swerve around it and I pulled over to the side of the road when Fernie noticed it was two women driving the car and we figured they’d need help. Their car was towing a homemade plywood utility trailer, atop which they’d balanced two immense white wooden chickens with hinged wings. Thank goodness, another vehicle pulled over to help and a muscular man emerged.

The two women, visibly upset, were a 40ish mother and her 20ish daughter. The six-foot (high, long & tall) chubby chickens were destined to be part of a float for the Canada Day Parade in Hanover. It took all five of us tugging and pushing the chunky chicken, while traffic whipped by us at full speed, to eventually slide the fat fowl onto the gravel shoulder.

“Can any of you back up a trailer?” the Mom asked. We all chimed “No” in unison. Fernie suggested she just do a U-turn and come up closely beside the hefty hen. Now we were faced with the task of boosting the big bird on top of the four-foot high trailer. Again, all five of us huffed and puffed until we got it up.

No wonder it fell off; it was just sitting across a flat-topped trailer with only flimsy door hinges attaching it. I advised them to put on their flashers and drive very slowly along the shoulder. “Oh, we don’t have any lights on the trailer” they answered. If the police had come along, they’d have thrown the book at them. I do hope they made it all right. I’ll watch the news in case there was another corpulent chicken catastrophe.

Ontarians are different from BCites. They build their houses on the lakefront with vast vistas to enjoy and then they plant huge trees and shrubs across the front to block out their view. What British Columbian would do such a thing? We put in floor to ceiling / wall-to-wall windows and let nothing interfere with our ocean views.

The populace in this part of the country has a mostly Anglo-Saxon heritage. When traipsing through the cemeteries, the names on the gravestones are English and Scottish, even in Owen Sound, where there’s an African Canadian contingent. Churches galore, but they’re Presbyterian, Lutheran or United. We never did see a synagogue, temple or mosque.

In the Mountain Greenery……

May 15, 2006

All through Ontario big brightly coloured signs with a caricature of a silly looking moose proclaiming “Moose on the Loose” confronted us. Then there was the more serious “Danger! Moose on Road Next 20km” – lots of those too. This gave us great hope of a moose sighting but sadly the fibreglass moose at the harbour in Sault Ste Marie was the only one we met.Signs in Ontario can’t be trusted. “Rest Area Ahead” and we keep our eyes peeled but it never materializes – I don’t know how many times that happened. Today, there was a sign for a rest area with info centre and sani-dump and it didn’t appear, so we turned around and went out the last exit we passed and there it was.
I trotted into the info centre to ask where the sani-dump was “Oh it was closed in March” I was told. That gave them two months to block out the sign on the highway so that people like us with huge RV’s and tow vehicles don’t have to manoeuvre precariously to get there and then be turned away. Oh – and the rest area…I don’t know where that was – there were parking spots for about a dozen cars and an info centre – that’s it.

We didn’t realize that there was such a large population of French in Ontario – northern Ontario anyway, especially Sudbury – bi-lingual signs and French-speaking folk everywhere

Parry Sound on the Eastern shore of Georgian Bay, Lake Huron, is a seasonal resort area. Being off-season, it was deserted; restaurants were closed and cruise boats were out of service, all waiting for summer when the hordes of Torontonians swarm the small community. We enjoyed it in its quiet way with the townsfolk going about their normal business.......... It's famous for being Bobby Orr's birth Place and I don't know what Don Cherry is doing with a restaurant there
At the top of Tower Hill is an old (1920’s) fire tower – twelve flights of thirteen steps plus six at the bottom (162). ‘Not for the faint of heart’ stated the guidebook. .........
I couldn’t resist the promise of a wonderful panoramic view and started to clamber up the open mesh steel stairs. Caesar’s little paws couldn’t handle the mesh steps so Fernie had the excuse he wanted to stay below. Of course I stopped a couple of times on the way up to catch my breath.

Another town; another Walmart; another great day.

May 16, 2006
We’re only travelling about a hundred miles a day now, so we have lots of time to sightsee when we arrive at our destination. However the one hundred miles today were slow going because we used local roads, which went through the main streets of a multitude of small towns. It was such a picturesque drive – from Parry Sound to Owen Sound. The weather was dismal when we started out, with low clouds and sporadic rain – all very gloomy. However, it seemed to burn off and the sun appeared or maybe we just outran the rain.

The trees are larger – maple, oak, sycamore, elm and birch. The farmhouses are usually Victorian brick structures with gingerbread trim surrounded by lovely trees and shrubs – purple lilac is popular and magnolias and deep pink flowering cherries. Vast glowing fields of yellow buttercups and dandelions sometimes peppered with white daisies delighted my eyes and brought back memories of childhood – making daisy chains for bracelets, necklaces and weaving into our hair and holding buttercups under our chins and if a yellow reflection shone on our neck it meant we liked butter.

We drove through an area called the Blue Mountains – this reminded us of a trip we made to Australia in 2002. We rented a car and meandered through the Australian Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney, New South Wales ending up in the Hunter Valley wine district. When we left Australia, we said we’d go back when we were retired so we could spend a month or six weeks there. So it’s decided that we’ll return to Australia next year – 2007; can’t do it this year because we’ve already booked a month in South Africa for October.

Back to Ontario and the Blue Mountain area: Apple orchards with trees in full blossom lined the roads; farms with cattle chewing on the cud; sheep dotting the hillsides; poultry farms with ‘fresh eggs for sale’; bee-keepers with ‘organic honey for sale’; equestrian centres with magnificent houses and barns – obviously moneyed.

I previously visited Owen Sound in 1970. It is known as ‘Beautiful Valley’ to the Ojibway. I remembered it was a lovely area but couldn’t remember details. It is a glorious region with a lot of history. I could imagine living there but for two reasons – winter……..and summer.

Down a quiet rural road a little church built in 1865 fronted a wooded sun-dappled ancient cemetery. Tom Thompson one of the Group of Seven artists is buried there – he was born and died near Owen Sound. Harrison Park, a wooded ravine near the centre of town has a memorial to the black slaves who sought freedom from slavery by coming north to Canada. Many of them settled in Owen Sound – the terminus of the ‘Underground Railway’. A World War I flying ace, Billy Bishop also called the region home and he is remembered with a museum and the district airport uses his name.

The region is riddled with hiking trails and we chose one that snaked up to Inglis Falls -about 5km round trip. It wound through deciduous forest with sparse undergrowth but with enough sun to allow wildflowers to bloom. Most lovely were the carpets of trillium from pale white to deep pink. Limestone cliffs lined the river valley and the remains of an old mill that once used the power of the falls for its operations now houses a parks info centre. We obviously took the wrong trail; we noticed that it was not well-used but carried on an ended up at the bottom of the falls, just around the corner. When we retraced our steps, we found that we could drive up to the top of the falls.

We had two separate visitors while we were parked at the side of the Walmart next to a well-manicured grassy spot, planted with new trees. Both were men; both wanted to admire Maggie and chat. They were interested in how our systems work, what we thought about having a satellite dish and how we liked our generator, etc. It took me aback when the second visitor thumped on our open door and he opened the conversation with “So, how do you like your satellite dish?”.

Proud to Own that Damned Big Chimney!

May 14, 2006
The Sault Ste. Marie Walmart was the first where we felt there was an undesirable element around us. Not far away, a car of youngsters fooled around and then slept in their car for the night. There were other undesirables loitering in the area in the earlier part of the evening but all turned out ok.

A fatal accident forced us to detour on our way out of town. The news reporters were interviewing the police while the damaged vehicles were cordoned off behind yellow tape. It involved a police cruiser, a van and a car. There were two fatalities – the RCMP officer and the driver of the van; the driver of the remaining vehicle was ‘hanging on by a thread’ according to a local. Sault Ste. Marie is a small enough town that an accident such as this sends shock waves through the community because it affects them personally. While I was paying for our gas at the Husky Station, the two clerks, visibly shaken, were discussing the incident not yet knowing who was killed and both afraid that they would know the police officer.
We entered ‘Cottage Country’ the sign announced as we travelled the north shore of Lake Huron. Resorts were sandwiched between First Nations reserves. But as we noticed all through Northern Ontario, there were so many businesses closed and not just for winter. They were boarded up and for sale – restaurants, motels, resorts, and gas stations. It seems the economy is suffering.

The forests were more beautiful than ever; I really do like the deciduous woodlands that are so unlike our western forests with their majestic evergreens. I think we always appreciate something different.

Approaching Sudbury, a nickel and copper mining centre, we couldn’t possibly miss the ‘tallest smokestack in the world’. What a thing to be famous for. The highways and roads in Sudbury were appalling; it seems as if they haven’t repaved them in years. We couldn’t even keep to the speed limit of 50kph in the city because Maggie shuddered and banged so terribly. Guess where we spent the night? I won’t even bothering telling you except that it was peaceful, beside a wooded ravine and Survivor Finale was on TV.

Where on Earth is Wawa?

May 13, 2006
Gas in Marathon, Ontario cost us $1.269/litre – the most we’ve ever paid. But we parked in the back of the gas station and managed to receive the wifi signal that eluded us the night before.

Ontario doesn’t cater to RV travellers. There’s a terrific lack of scenic viewpoints or even pullouts on the Lake Superior coastline even in the provincial parks. Where they had picnic areas, they were down winding narrow roads and we were never sure we’d be able to turn around in them. We finally found a scenic lookout that we could pull into and met a local man there – he was from north of Wawa (this means wild goose in Ojibway and there’s a huge statue of a goose at the entrance to town).
He was interested in our motorhome and the tow vehicle in particular so we had a discussion on the merits of towing four wheels down as opposed to on a dolly. While he chattered on incessantly, his wife kept her distance and Fernie clambered aboard Maggie and started up her motor. That gave me the excuse I needed to say, “Gotta go!”

As we drove south, it was apparent that spring had progressed and it appeared we’d finally left winter behind. The various trees were clad in the colours of their spring foliage creating a patchwork quilt of textures and shades. The evergreens were still spindly and over shone by the melange of deciduous trees. Huge boulders and cliffs of pink granite gave additional colour to the scene.

Sault Ste. Marie was our destination for the day and its Walmart was our host for the night but we had plenty of time to wander around town and revel in its sights. We had our first restaurant meal since we left home at the Docks Riverfront Grill. It was on the St. Mary’s River, which connects Lake Superior and Lake Huron and also runs along the Canada/US border. It was here that we finally had a moose sighting. The sun was lowering in the west and the water was glistening as if a million jewels lay beneath the surface and there was no better place to enjoy a meal.


It was Saturday night and the locals came out to celebrate in large family groups. The onion ring tower seemed to be the most popular appetizer and we watched families devour them quickly and reorder a second. We tried their specialty, something called ‘white fish’…. the no-name fish? I guess it’s probably a Great Lakes fresh water species, but funny they didn’t give it a name. I’ll have to find out more about it. With a little persuasion, I convinced Fernie to order the ‘senior’ dinner, when our server told us it was exactly the same as the regular – just a bit smaller. It arrived on square platters (14” square) – I can’t imagine the size of the regular one. We partnered our dinner with an Ontario Chardonnay…..it tasted more like Chablis to me.

We Can See Clearly Now......

May 12, 2006
The atrocious weather continued and we tossed it up – should we stay another day in Thunder Bay or hit the road. We mulled it over in Tim’s, the Canadian institution. No longer do the inhabitants of small communities frequent a ‘Mom & Pop’ café; they flock to Tim’s. Decision made, we toured the town and general area before departing.


Highway 17 east of Thunder Bay, the Trans Canada, now known as the Terry Fox courage Highway, skirts the northern shore of Lake Superior. About 15 kilometres northeast of Thunder Bay is the Terry Fox memorial erected on a bluff, overlooking the lake. It was here that he finally had to stop his marathon when his cancer recurred. It’s amazing the impact that young man made on our Canadian society.


As we headed out, an immense flashing sign announced “Beware of changing weather”. We puzzled over that until we met an oncoming vehicle with six inches of snow on its roof. Yikes! But instead, the weather started to improve a couple of hours out of town. Finally we could see that spring had sprung. The birch trees were just sprouting pale yellow-green foliage. The evergreens are so puny that the silver birch tower above them lending a canopy of soft pale green to the forest. The rock along the lake was mostly clay red in colour rather than the granite of the Lake District and the terrain was hillier.

Blue sky is never more beautiful than when it suddenly appears out of the gloom. Sunshine is never more warming than when it pops out of the clouds. And – how it affects the spirits. So each patch of blue that got larger than the last and each spotlight of sunshine that warmed our chilled bodies made us sing with delight. We approached Marathon, which is midway between Thunder Bay and Sault Ste. Marie, with the sun and sky finally visible. Wondering where we’d spend the night and discussing who’d be the one to ask if we could park overnight, a sign for May’s Gifts and Xmas Store caught our eye. At the bottom, a temporary addition read “Free overnight parking – 5km Ahead”. It was mystical!

May’s daughter said “Sure you can stay; choose your spot and you can plug in if you like because it’s awfully cold”. We chose a sheltered place in the trees at the back, which afforded us a clear view of the southern sky and a great satellite signal. Wifi? Well that’s another thing. There was an unsecured network present but I couldn’t get hooked up to it.

Apparition in the Mist

May 11, 2006
The cold that we woke to couldn’t be normal for the middle of May. We could see our breath. We heard that there had been a terrible freezing rain storm not too far away. As the morning drew on, the clouds cleared and the sun shone for a while but a cold wind still persevered.

On the advice of a business associate (thanks for the heads up Paul), we took Maggie in to an auto glass shop to have the chips repaired. They drove her into a large bay and slid the door down to warm up the glass; – otherwise, they couldn’t repair it. It was 2 ½ hours before it was complete at a cost of $110 – pretty good. They said there’s no guarantee it still won’t crack but it improves the odds 90%.

I blew a fuse for the power accessory outlet in the Honda. The old inverter that I use to power my laptop must be faulty because it blew a fuse in Maggie previously. Since then, I’ve used a new inverter in Maggie and kept the old one for the Honda but I’ll scrap the old one now. They sure don’t make it easy to change fuses – you have to be skinny as a rail and a contortionist to twist your body in beneath the steering wheel and you have to have the eyes of an eighteen year old to see what you’re doing. We gave up trying and drove into Canadian Tire and asked them to change it for us – and the guy was ‘skinny as a rail’ but he still struggled with it. Ten minutes later, all done and when we went in to pay “No Charge” we were told. Great Service!

It was still winter when we drove the long tedious highway 17 through Northern Ontario to Thunder Bay. Not a leaf was budding and the grass was brown. The scores of fishing and hunting resorts have signs posted “Closed for winter”. Rest areas, of which there are few, are barricaded. What a godforsaken land! We kept our eyes peeled along this stretch of road, hoping that a wildlife sighting might break the tedium – but there wasn’t a moose, or a coyote, or a rabbit or a mouse. Crows – that’s it. About 100 kilometres west of Thunder Bay is the geographic centre of mainland Canada, the point at which (going eastward) water flows down to the Atlantic. This also coincides with the time change to the Eastern zone.

On my last visit to Thunder Bay and Lake Superior, the vista was jaw-droppingly beautiful. It was July, 1970 and the glorious sun shone over the wave-crashing rocky shoreline. The vastness of lake Superior – really an inland sea – was realized by the clarity of the air. Not so this time. We were greeted with freezing rain, wind with close to hurricane force gusts and sombre grey skies. The ‘Sleeping Giant’, a promontory in the lake viewed from Thunder Bay, previously so awe-inspiring, now just a gloomy apparition in the mist.



Thank goodness Walmart put out the welcome mat and we hunkered down for the evening while we were battered by the storm. It was impossible to keep a satellite signal with the wind but fortunately we got ‘Survivor’ on a local station. We snuggled into our cozy fuzzy blankets on the couch with Caesar between us, of course.

My wifi connections have been erratic and not strong or solid enough to upload photos to my blog. I spent a couple of hours trying, always resulting in failure. I might have to enlist my ‘phantom assistant’.

Have you noticed it’s the little things that give the greatest satisfaction; it’s not the museums or ‘must-see’ sights. We find that we laugh easily over nothing, a sure sign of pleasure and contentment. Life on the road is so much more stimulating than life at home.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

May 10, 2006
We awoke to a ‘Vancouver morning’ – overcast and wet. As we pulled up stakes to move on, the elderly couple that greeted us on arrival drove up to wish us the best on our travels. It amused me to see them dressed in their parkas. I asked them if they were expecting snow and they said, “You never know”.

Gas is getting cheaper as we drive east. This morning at Safeway in Winnipeg it was only $1.009/litre; that’s the cheapest so far. I believe it’s much higher in the Maritimes though so I won’t take it for granted.

About sixty kilometres east of Winnipeg, farmland came to an abrupt halt and forests of birch, aspen, jack pine and black spruce took over. Highway 1 runs right through Sandilands and Whiteshell Provincial Parks, which protect the fragile ecosystem of the glacially carved rocky Canadian Shield. The shades of the woodland made for an artist’s palette of greens. Grassy medians dotted with bogs of reeds and bulrushes, divided the highway. West Hawk Lake on the Manitoba/Ontario border formed by a crashing meteor some million or billion years ago is on the western edge of Ontario’s lake district. The other thousands of lakes were created by glacial depressions and thus not as deep.

We stopped in Kenora, a tourist town on the north end of Lake of the Woods. Big signs lined the Walmart parking lot, “No Overnight RV Parking by City Ordinance”. I guess we know when we’re not welcome, so we carried on. Can’t blame Walmart.

“Lake of the Woods” is a misnomer; it was actually called “Lake of the Islands” by the Ojibway because of the thousands of islands. The French came along and didn’t understand the Ojibway language and thought they said ‘woods’ instead of ‘islands’.

The landscape started to become extremely monotonous – trees and lakes for mile after mile. We started to wish we could see a grain elevator on the horizon. We were happy when we approached the town of Dryden and signs of civilization broke the monotony.

Dryden, in what is called ‘northern Ontario’ (I would call it Western Ontario) is a pulp mill town. People are born there, work and die there. The belching smoke from the triple chimneys is visible from wherever you are in town. It’s the centrepiece and life revolves around it. A visit to Tim’s for a steeped tea was a rurally cultural experience. It was filled with men either just getting off shift at the mill or just about to start. They all wore the same style of clothing – ball caps with various logos (which they didn’t remove at the table), jeans, work boots and down vests or jackets. There was a chorus of “Hi Joe” – “Hi Bob” – Hi Doug” as new members joined their groups. The only women to be seen were the Tim’s workers.

There’s a Walmart in Dryden, so of course we pulled in; no signs on the fence and the woman in the Walmart Gas Station suggested we pull our motorhome around the side of the store to avoid the scores of transport trucks that pulled in and out all night. Across the road at the Superstore, there were large signs similar to those in Kenora that Dryden doesn’t allow overnight parking within the city limits. So we went to bed hoping the police wouldn’t wake us.

I’ve Never Met a Stranger!

May 9, 2006

Winnipeg – Muddy waters in Cree.
The mingling of the Assiniboine and the Red Rivers at a spot now known as ‘The Forks”, stirred up the silt into a murky mixture. The result was ‘Win-Nipi’.



The day we spent in the city was an unexpected pleasure. I had preconceived notions of what Winnipeg would be and a distant memory of a quick one-day visit in the summer of 1970. The city centre is far more bustling now but people move mostly below ground in subterranean malls like those in Toronto and Montreal – the cold cities. I didn’t recall how green the city was – Winnipeg is full of trees. Lovely boulevards lined with stately elms; flowering trees dressed in their spring blossoms; even in the residential neighbourhoods tree-lined streets prevail.

There was a residue of sandy gravel on the sidewalks, remnants of the winter
snowbanks, which probably didn’t disappear very long ago. While walking down to “The Forks”, a sudden unusual humidity filled the air – I was perplexed until a few minutes later, rain drops started to fall. The rain passed quickly and the humidity dropped – strange sensation.

Later in the afternoon, the sky darkened gloomily and we heard a distant roar that sounded like a deep growling wind but it was thunder – just not the crashes that we experience in Vancouver. As the storm moved overhead, the thunder rolled like scores of bowling balls down an alley – the rumbles travelled from north to south as if in stereo. A chemical odour permeated the air and monstrous raindrops speckled the pavement. It was a localized store – we could see blue sky on the horizon in all directions while the huge black mass loomed overhead.










The friendliness of Winnipeggians is unrivalled in my experience. We had just pulled in to the Walmart and I was outside guiding Fernie in to our chosen spot. An old Chevy chugged over beside us and an aging couple rolled down their windows to chitchat. They offered advice on where to park to avoid the truckers. “We have one too,” they said proudly, alluding to the motorhome. “Here’s a pic of our baby” he handed me a snapshot of an old micro-mini motorhome on a Datsun chassis “But we have to sell her soon, we’re in our late 70’s you know.” It was a sad moment.



Another older gent walked by about ten minutes later. “That’s a beaut!” he expressed, as he looked Maggie over. “How long?” he asked. “Mine is 28 foot”. He visited for another ten minutes or so before walking on to the Walmart.



While Fernie was washing the windshield that evening, I heard a vociferous “Jeez! That’s quite a bus you got there” an apparently homeless vagrant stopped to admire without rancour. Many cars drove by, slowed down and smiling faces gazed up at Maggie and waved if they caught sight of us – we soon pulled down our daylight blinds to regain our privacy in true Vancouverite fashion.