We’re Having a Heat Wave!

May 30-31, 2006

It was a hot night but with our windows all open, we slept well with just a sheet covering us. About 5am, a damp chill crept in and I pulled up a blanket – what a wonderful feeling after the heat. The heavy moisture in the air made for an eerie landscape as dawn arrived. The cold morning air meeting the warm damp earth created low mists with trees rising above as if floating through the air. We were up early (for us) and on the road by 8am. We could feel the humidity in the air but it was cool as we drove along with our windows wide open.

Destination: Ottawa – there are two Walmarts in Ottawa and one in Hull but the city of Ottawa does not permit overnight parking. Walmart’s sign says it only allows three hours ‘while shopping’ (can you imagine shopping for three hours in Walmart?). A perfect wifi signal there and I was able to upload a blog instalment but I mourned that we couldn’t stay and have that wifi signal for the whole night. The heat was pretty stifling though by now and a parking lot is not a place to be.






While we were in Quartzsite, Arizona at their big RV Show in January, we purchased a membership with Passport America at a cost of $35 US for 16 months. PA has a network of campgrounds across North America and the cost to camp is 50% of their regular rate. So we checked our catalogue and found one only ½ hour outside Ottawa near the little town of Casselman. ‘A Summer Nest’ run by Tony and Jeanne (pronounced ‘Genie’), a garrulous Francophone couple, was situated in the middle of farmland. As we drove in, Tony came out to meet us. His bow-legged and arthritic gait was accentuated by his cut-off denim shorts and he moseyed over like Chester from Gunsmoke (for all of you over 50 or maybe 60). His eyes were an opaque silvery-blue as if they were buried under layers of cataracts. His hands were scarred and calloused probably from long years of manual labour.
“Hello” he said jovially and I wondered how he knew not to say “Bon Jour”. His eyes must be good enough to read our license plates, I suppose.
“Come on” he said “I’ll show some campsites and you can choose”. So I followed him while he nattered about how he and Jeanne just got back from Florida a few weeks ago. They spend six months there every winter in a mobile home. He wheels and deals on his mobiles, buying and selling if the price is right.
“Everything is for sale at the right price,” he said in his broad French accent, grinning like smurf.

From the front porch of their office / home, Jeanne called out “Tony – show ‘er the one at the end – the one with the trees and the grass; they’ll be cool there”. And that’s the one we chose.
“Go settle in,” said Tony “and you can come up to the office and see my wife, the bookkeeper later” he chuckled as he ambled off.

Jeanne with an elfin smiling face, hair pulled back with a sweat band, in shorts and t-shirt looked younger than I expected (Tony had led me to believe she was frail and ailing) greeted me like an old friend and ushered me into her large open office / kitchen. “I ‘ave lunch on” she said “ I been working in the garden and I’m real hungry”. A pot of soup (no doubt ‘pea’) bubbled on the stove. I told her we’d be staying for two days.
“That’ll be $25,” she said.
$12.50 a day - what a deal especially in a heat wave – with 30-amp electricity for our air conditioner.
She showed me around to the side of their house where the laundry and showers were chattering exuberantly all the way.
“We ‘ave music on the weekend” she told me “I play the guitar and we have a bunch who come in with their instruments and we play in the back field – country and western” she said beaming “I sing too” she said proudly. Her dimpled Pillsbury Doughboy face crinkled with glee as she recounted tales of their jam sessions.

As I made my way back over to Maggie, Tony shouted out “I’ll bring you a picnic table so you can ‘ave your lunch outside on the grass”. Good as his word, ten minutes later we heard a tractor pulling up on our vast stretch of lawn with a freshly painted half-size picnic table, which he put in the shade of a big poplar tree.
“I cut the tables in ‘alf” he said “that way, I can handle em alone and I get more for my money” guffawing at his own humour. He then went on to tell us how he bought the place nine years ago.
“The doctor told me that my Jeanne would be crippled soon and that I should ‘ave a ranch style home for ‘er with no stairs” his hazy eyes misted as he thought back “so I came to see this place – I was only 56 then and I still had to work” he continued.
“It was a bankruptcy - - and I told them at the ‘Caisse’ that I only had $48,000 to spend when they asked me for an offer” he paused looking around at his property.
“They accepted it” he said gleefully “can you believe it? The campground is 9 acres, and that’s what I thought I was buying but when I was signing the agreement for sale, it said that the property was 29.5 acres” by now he was chortling with the thrill of his deal.
“Next door, that guy has only 1.75 acres and he’s asking $250,000 for it – I figure I could get 1 ½ million for mine now” he said “and when I do, I’m gonna buy me a rig just like yours”.

We weren’t going to let the obscene heat and humidity stop us from heading back into Ottawa for a look around but we couldn’t leave Caesar behind. I was afraid to leave him with the A/C on because what if the power went off and he was shut in without ventilation. So we piled into the Honda and put the A/C on high and took a motor tour of our country’s capitol. We did get out a few times but hustled from shade to shade. We strolled along by 24 Sussex and peered through the hedge at the Prime Minister’s residence. Somehow, it doesn’t have the same glamour with Stephen Harper in residence as it did when Pierre Trudeau lived there. We crossed over to Rideau Hall and thought the lovely treed grounds would be a cool haven from the heat but they turned us away “No dogs, I’m sorry” the young woman said apologetically. We made another couple of stops – at Rockcliffe Park’s scenic viewpoint of the meeting of the Ottawa and Gatineau Rivers and at the Remic Rapids in Nepean Bay it’s strange how the calm wide waters suddenly break into wild rapids; It looks like shallow water running over a vast area of shale.



The traffic was very heavy along Wellington Street, in the heart of the city and along the stretch in front of the Houses of Parliament. It worked well for us as we crawled along in the shady bus lane because I (the driver) could sightsee too and it was so lovely and cool in the car. We followed the Rideau Canal south for several miles out of town – there are some lovely properties on the waterway and it was very picturesque.

When we got ‘home’, we cranked up the A/C and cooled down Maggie and spent a pleasant though muggy evening.

On our second day of patriotic tourism, we left Caesar behind in a well-ventilated and reasonably cool motorhome. We started early to take advantage of the relatively cool morning.

Ottawa is a lovely city full of heritage buildings, tree lined streets, the picturesque Rideau Canal running through it, beautiful residential neighbourhoods and no apparent poverty. The populace were dressed very formally in the core of the city even in the horrible heat wave.

We started with the Houses of Parliament, marvelling at the Victorian architecture with spires, gargoyles and other grotesque stone carvings. The immensity of the buildings is not realized when watching TV newscasts from Parliament Hill – it is most impressive in person. To visit the inside, you have to take an escorted tour and tours leave every ten minutes. The tour is short – only about 40 minutes and half of that’s taken up in clearing security. The gothic arches and alcoves made me think of the Harry Potter movie sets. We visited the senate chamber but not the House of Commons – I guess it was in session.

We took a little more time prowling around the grounds visiting the statues from Queen Victoria to MacDonald, Laurier and more recently Diefenbaker and Pearson – but where was Pierre? Tucked in the trees behind a fence, at the side of the main building just behind Queen Victoria is a cat sanctuary. What an incongruous feature with the pomp and circumstance of Parliament only steps away. Volunteers care and feed stray cats, along with squirrels, racoons, groundhogs and various birds. I don’t understand the feeding of the wild animals and birds – can’t they fend for themselves naturally? There were several well-fed cats stretched out in front of their refuge and a little black squirrel scampered by only inches from their noses stopping periodically to pick at bits of food – the cats paid no attention; they’d just open one eye to watch. Strangely, the government of Canada does not financially support this shelter at all. One woman who took over from the originator who died in 1987, spends $6,000 a year for food and has a box there soliciting donations.

As we strolled over to the locks on the Rideau Canal, the heat and humidity seemed to amplify. Our clothes were feeling quite damp. We decided a respite in a cool restaurant for lunch would revive us before tackling the National Gallery. The first restaurant we encountered was on the banks of the canal and was so inviting but all the customers were dressed in business attire and we would feel mighty uncomfortable there in our casual dress. We found an Indian restaurant offering a luncheon buffet and we figured that would hit the spot. Wonderful curries, butter chicken, tandoori, washed down with a Cheetah beer in an oh-so-cool location and we were revived.

Onwards to the National Gallery across the road from the beautiful Notre Dame Cathedral. What an unexpected treat the Gallery was – a wonderful exhibition of Canadian art from the very early days to the present; of course including a fine collection from the ‘Group of Seven’. We spent most of our time in the Canadian exhibits, disregarding the traveling DaVinci and Michaelangelo travelling exhibit (been there/done that). After all, this Cross Canada sojourn is to discover the many facets of our amazing country.

We looked at our watches and had to scurry back to Caesar; no time to visit Rideau Hall or Laurier House – our baby was waiting for us and had been alone all day. He was still fast asleep when we arrived back, got up, stretched and wagged his tail in welcome – I think he enjoyed his day alone.

The evening became unbearable with the heat and we couldn’t stand to be shut up in the motorhome with the A/C on, so after we cooled it down somewhat, we shut it off and just opened windows. We couldn’t go outside because the millions of hungry mosquitoes were waiting to attack. Sheet lightning in the west lit up the sky and we sat watching it having no energy to move. We started to hear the thunder and the lightning was closer and jagged as well as sheet – a vibrant light and sound show. The wind came up suddenly and we rushed to turn down the satellite dish – didn’t want it to be hit by lightning. Then the rain started and the storm was right overhead. We were gleeful at the thought of the lowering of temperature that usually follows a storm but it just seemed to get hotter and more humid. Lying in bed, with not a breath of air – I’m surprised we got any sleep at all.