Single Step

It seems my well-laid plans for entitling the initial blog entry for each province we enter have encountered a glitch. PEI has several sub-titles for its license plate, depending on the era, the language and an Islander’s choice. The old ones say, “PEI, Canada” while the newer ones say, “Confederation Bridge” , “The Green Province”, or “Home of Confederation”. The other two options are in French.

It is a good example of the island itself; a little French Acadian, a little Mi’kmac First Nations and certainly an Old World Irish/Scottish connection. The Island is on its third name: first was Abegeit (Mi’qmac) meaning Land Cradled on the Waves, second was Ile St. Jean and third, of course is Prince Edward Island. When the Brits took it over in 1758 they couldn’t give the land away and when they did, land owners didn’t want to live here so they just didn’t. You can imagine how that dampened development. Everything changed in the 1870’s with the Compulsory Land Purchase Act and PEI’s population grew to a height of 140,000 in the 1930’s; where it has stayed (Lonely Planet Canada, p. 463).

Whatever you call it, the place is breathtaking with its red sand shores and patchwork of rust red soil and spring green hills and farmsteads. We crossed the 13 km Confederation Bridge on our arrival yesterday morning, met up with our new friends for lunch, window-shopped in Summerside, then headed to a beachside campsite overlooking Charlottetown.

The evening is a great time for pouring over maps and charting our course for the following day so that’s what we did. John and Anna invited us in for watermelon and a visit so we brainstormed possible travel plans through the Maritimes, down the Eastern Seaboard and home.

It seems too early to talk about turn-around yet although we are missing family and the comforts of home. There is a common travelers’ philosophy that surmises this: at the end of the time you designate for a vacation is the time when you feel ready to go home. What are your thoughts? We are beginning to think it’s true. Newfoundland is still ahead as is Nova Scotia and the southern part of New Brunswick but it sure feels good to have come this far!

Some people think a trip across Canada must be intolerable. “Driving, driving, driving!”Yes, some days are like that and these past 3 days certainly have been. The photos represent some of the surfside scenery that lies along the St. Lawrence River as well as on the Atlantic side of New Brunswick. It’s wonderful to smell the sea!

Since our days are filled with driving and we have some time to reflect, we had an idea. We have been talking about doing a blog spot on bathrooms; the provincial and federal campsite ones, plus the public and private restrooms. The categories are: showers, toilets, their overall cleanliness, quirks and comfort. This may sound like a crude topic to cover in a public blog but we will do our best to keep it clean – however, having said that, I would put off reading until lunch is well past digestion.

A day without a shower can influence comfort and a sense of well-being for the entire day. Something you should know about a camping adventure is the importance of a good shower to start or end the day. A good shower includes all these components: even water pressure, even and controlled temperature, a reasonably dry area outside of the shower stall where clothes can be hung without risk of getting wet, the floor should be clean, preferable tiled (concrete feels like nails on a chalk board), no coin showers, no co-ed showers, and it should smell nice – no sulphur, no rotten wood.

Over the years, and especially before I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease, I have had the interesting experience of being well-acquainted with toilets wherever I go. It’s the nature of CD. The first time we visited Europe together I took photos of every toilet in every hotel or pension where we stayed. I know it’s weird but I have this thing about good toilets. On the road, the toilet experience can be fair to traumatic. Usually Tim Horton’s are the best, gas stations are in the middle somewhere and rest stops are the worst. Again, a good toilet includes: cleanliness, it flushes, no padded seat (too hard to clean), decent toilet paper (not 1 ½ strips that resemble crepe paper and pull into ½ inch streamers when coming off the role), automatic flush is okay as long as the toilet doesn’t mistake itself for a shower and spray the stuff going down over the entire stall and user, the stall locks properly, and the seat fits the porcelain bowl and doesn’t slide off. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, however we have found that all of these preferences rarely exist in one instance.

So, when it comes to our experience with Canadian bathrooms, I could tell you the worst but I care too much about you to speak of such things. I could tell you about the best but you might think the details inappropriate so I will only say that we are becoming experts on a topic so common it hardly seems worth mentioning under normal circumstances.

PS We are guessing that the NB license plate means to say, “The place to be”.

The Saguenay Canyon runs east-west at the mouth of the St. Lawrence just south of the port town of Tadoussac. It’s a popular spot with the outdoorsy-types for hiking, kayaking, skiing, snowmobiling, fishing, etc. We decided to camp at the National Park there because we wanted an inexpensive place to stay and thought our Parks Canada pass might relieve some of the cost and besides, we were ready for wilderness after our week of cities. What we didn’t know is that although Quebec designates a park as National it is not national in the Canadian sense but national in the Quebec sense. All other provinces call those kinds of parks; Provincial. We accept it as one more indication that Quebec still sees itself as a distinct society, national in its own right, remembering where it came from and afraid of being swallowed up in Anglophonium.

To make an even longer story short, after paying a full camp fee, succumbing to a cold semi-shower, and taking in the valley scenery, though not as advertised, we headed more north than east toward the Saguenay Gorge and an 1800’s tourist trap called Tadoussac. Mostly, guide books have been helpful; however, today was not one of those days. We did enjoy the drive but in the end felt we could have better spent the day and that’s a consequence we accept. Adventures aren’t always fun but they do stretch a person.

Our topic of conversation at Timmie’s on the way out of the Gorge centred around Quebec’s history, her yearning for distinct society status and our inklings on that entire much-debated topic. We will keep those to ourselves for now but let me say, the province’s landscape is spectacularly varied and beautiful, the language is melodic and the people are  industrious and determined. Quebec has a lot in its favour.

Tonight we are camped on a grassy knoll just up from the high tide line of the St. Lawrence River in a township called Saint-Simeon. We can see the freighters gliding westward, the herons fishing for a late dinner and the sky finally clearing. It’s been another blessed day, though not as advertised.

Enchantingly European and yet quintessentially Canadian, Old Quebec is one of those places where I happily lose myself. Entering through the grey stone gateway brought back sweet memories of our last visit here and this time the sun is shining, there is blue sky overhead, and to tops things off, we met up with our new Vancouver friends and played all day! Each of us had on our list one “to do” thing and so we took turns leading the others along. Here’s the list: a tour of the Parliament, a visit to the market, lunch for John and Gord, a photo stop at the Hotel Frontenac, a gelato break (where John insisted the proprietor provide me with a gluten-free option), shopping for the grandbabies and ourselves (me and Anna), dinner at the oldest restaurant in the city, and finally a night at the Hotel Wal-Mart (but that’s another story). As Anna said, “Now it feels like I’m on holiday!”

We were up at 5:00 a.m. as was John and thankfully, he invited us to use the washroom in his palatial RV (very much appreciated!). Some Super Wal-Marts are open 24/7 and provide free use of washrooms and even showers but this one was just a daytime store. Another bonus was that we got in a quick chat with him and Anna before they headed off to the Gaspe. PEI lobster dinner is on all our “to do” lists and we hope to meet up and make it happen in the next week or two.

The Lonely Planet guide encouraged a stop at a little island just 15 minutes east of Quebec City in the centre of the St. Lawrence River and so we zoomed over the bridge into pastoral bliss. I have heard that the colour green has soporific qualities and we felt it as we meandered between the lush fields, cemeteries and churches of L’Isle d’Orleans. By the time we reached the campsite it was only 9 a.m. and too early for check-in so we found an old farmhouse café and ordered coffee and eggs in an attempt to stay awake until 11:00 a.m. The eatery felt like a step back in time with its high beamed ceiling and cook stove in the corner. Breakfast was a family affair with Papa at the skillet, Grandmere taking orders, Mama making cappuccinos and the little one practicing her pastry chef skills with multi-coloured playdoh and its squeezing machine. I might have been fooled into tasting one of her fancy little cupcakes if I hadn’t known better.

The campsite is one of the cleanest we have encountered and so we pulled in, popped the top and napped away the wind and rain. What a treat to sleep in!

After our nap we headed to the south side of L’Isle d’Orleans and discovered its fame as a windsurfing haven. It was a wild show as the winds reached 35-45 knots and the waves grew to heights of 5 feet or more.

Like the Gulf Island at home, quite a number of artisans ply their wares and among them we found a blackcurrant Vinegariere, a gourmet Chocolatriere, heirloom strawberries and rhubarb (in season, of course). The land is mostly agricultural and the homes date back 300 and 400 years. I just couldn’t decide where to point the camera as every angle was memory-worthy.

We only stayed one night, sadly and moved on east again. Ste-Anne’s waterfall, with its gondola and overhanging bridge required a stop, then up along the north side of the St. Lawrence to one of Quebec’s National Parks. The canyon is the deepest this side of the Rockies so a comparison was necessary. We have concluded that in our westcoast paradise we are spoiled with our fjords, snow-capped mountains and the sea. There simply is no comparison.

It’s lovely to smell the salt spray once again. I have missed it.

The Quebecois may state the importance of looking back and remembering their roots, however, they sure know how to live in the present. Mont Tremblant is a perfect example of joie la vive with its half a dozen golf courses, lakeside attractions and international reputation for topnotch snow skiing. The Intrawest fingerprint is ubiquitous and the town feels every bit as Swiss as Zermatt, just like its sister hills, Whistler/Blackcomb and the Blue Mountains. This little gal (duck photo) turned her best side just as I snapped the shot. It seems even the wildlife appreciate the importance of the tourism industry. 

Pointing our nose southward, we made our way to another noteworthy mountain; Mont Royal on the Isle de Montreal. Old Montreal rated top on our priority list this trip so we spent the day wandering around the streets, loving the European feel, taking in the fashion, flowers and food. Since we both prefer churches to museums, the Bastilique Notre-Dame was an obvious stop.

‘Tis the season for school field trips so we are always accompanied by three or more classes of middle school kids when we site see and it usually works in our favour. Bits of historical or contemporary information we might otherwise miss come our way and we overhear perspectives that are both amusing and enlightening.

I think one of the common activities that most of us engage in when we travel to a place that feels a little foreign, is that we compare and contrast our new experience with what we already know. Here are our observations thus far:

Where winters are colder the windows in houses are smaller

The ethnic mix in the large city areas of Ontario and Quebec is profound

The First Nations population appears more self-assured and more integrated east of Winnipeg

No snow capped mountains

More bugs!

As Porky Pig would say, “Th-th-th-a-t’s All, Folks!”

Our attempt to live on a low travel budget has often meant living in closer community and it’s been a great way to share information and hear travel stories. It also means that we are exposed to others’ gremlins. After two separate and drawn-out incidents of listening to one family member screaming (swearing, verbally abusing, etc., etc.) at another we placed ourselves out of reach and are privately enjoying some peace and quiet. How does the saying go? “Pleasant speech is like honey to the soul.” And I might add, “music to the ears!” My heart went out to the poor recipients of all that verbal yuck.

We had a rainy start and thought we were in for a stretch of wet weather, however, the sun came out late this morning just in time for our Rideau Canal boat ride. Can’t get enough of that Rideau!

Maybe you don’t know this about me but I love to cook. My menu plans consist of mostly familiar Anglo-Saxon-type fare but I am gradually branching out and today we decided to make it a foodie day. I would love to be a true foodie but I’m afraid I would get so fat I would have to resort to rolling everywhere. But the fact remains that I do love food; the initial taste on my tongue, the feel of it in my mouth, the delightful aroma…boy, have I got the foodie bug! Amanda recommended a book to me called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and it’s taken me a year to open the cover. Now I wonder why because it’s the perfect book for a food lover. Here’s what we experienced.

Cora’s Omelet Crepe Beni, Italian Nocciola Gelato, and Thai yummies (not sure what they are called). Feast your eyes!

Oh, I should mention that we also visited some pretty fantastic sites in Ottawa which included the Notre Dame Basilica, the Supreme Court of Canada (saw a mock trial), the Byward Market, and Sussex Drive.

The Rideau Canal is even more beautiful than it is famous. It winds a crooked country path some 200 km from Kingston to Ottawa and was originally used for shipping. It is now a National Heritage Site and one of Ontario’s most treasured. We decided to take the slow road along the Rideau and check out the lock system on the way.

This is the second time to Ottawa for us and with the warm spring weather the city is in full flower.

Three especially kind things and three unusually fun things happened for us today. We were the beneficiaries of the great kindness of two strangers (one was the VW mechanic, the other was the car rental guy). We also received some important camping  information, saving us time and money.

As for the unusually fun things? We met a couple from Vancouver who are also travelling across the country and enjoyed some good laughs with them. We happened to see a street named Nanaimo just as we arrived in Ottawa. Then a Rabbi taking his class of 6 boys for a tour of Ottawa, was following the same course we were so we walked alongside them for a bit, listening to their good-humoured banter. Of course fun happens every day on vacation, right?

We hope you are all well and we think of you often. Sending love your way!

You have to wonder about a place that houses the most convicts in the country as well as one of the most prestigious military training institutions. It’s also the home to Queens University so the town is an eclectic mix of unlikely neighbours. We cruised the downtown core in the morning with its farmers’ markets, antique kiosks, and waterfront eateries then headed up the hill to Fort Henry. Guess who we found? The Red Coats, of course! Dressed in their woolen red finery these guys entertained us with a tour, marching drum practice, and the highlight; fife and bagpipe renditions of Loch Lomond. I was expecting them to “trip the light fantastic” at any moment. (Amanda, thank you for calling during the drum march to tell us about our little one’s heartbeat! So very exciting!)

The Fort itself was built in 1812 and restored in 1936 so there were lots of narrow, dank passages to explore but my favourites were the kitchen and mess hall. The bunks left quite a bit to be desired and we were glad for our comfy bed that Stella provides each night. Early in the 19^th century it was considered bad posture to lie horizontally on one’s back so the beds were built shorter and folks slept in a semi-seated position. I guess that would relieve heartburn but it sounds like an uncomfortable arrangement to me.

The weather seems to be turning and we welcome the cooler temperatures. More sun and high temperatures are forecasted but for now we’ll take the clouds. We’re staying in a hotel tonight (Stella needs more physio), pretending to be Jason Bourne and company on the run, needing an inconspicuous cover. The drug house, which we thought was a hostel, in Eilat (1979) held more promise.

Does the term, “Loyalist” mean anything to you? Known as Red Coats, they sympathized with British rule and moved into Upper Canada (Ontario) during the American Revolution. Apparently, they arrived on the shores of what is now Napanee County about 50 km south of Kingston. We retraced their steps from Prince Edward County, across the Glenora ferry (they probably paddled) then over into the heart of Loyalists country, Adolphustown. Camping at the United Empire Loyalist Heritage Centre and Park, which is also a restored Loyalist cemetery, furthered our connection with this noteworthy piece of our past and we so enjoyed the beauty and serenity.

A little side note: while boarding the Glenora ferry and chatting on the cell phone with James, I breathed in one of the hundreds of fluffballs floating in the air. It was a cotton seed. The best I can say about these little seeds is that they floated like angel snow; downy cream fluffs, drifting gently on the breeze. The photos don’t quite capture nor do my words adequately describe the experience. Magic!

Lake Ontario has suffered over the years as a dumping ground for many industrial sites along its shore, however, there’s a new movement afoot called “Green Belt” and it’s working to clean things up. Consequently, Lake Ontario sparkles and people are actually swimming in it! We considered it but decided not to in the end. The temperature is still a little cool.

When a source tells you that you oughta see something because it’s the biggest, the only, the unique-in-some-way site, then you better go see it. That’s why we drove the long way ‘round to visit the Kissing Bridge and it was worth the trip, even for the contrast we would come to realize later. It’s the only covered bridge left in Canada and is in the heart of Old Mennonite country (& visited by thousands each year – parking photo) . It holds all the charm you might expect from its history. The bridge surface suffered deterioration with weather and use so locals built a structure around it for protection. Again, I refer you to photos that say it better. Yes, we did kiss (I knew you’d ask). The little store at the head of the bridge is run by an Old Mennonite family so most of the goods were in bags and the prices very reasonable.

On our way to another place of significance we read that its name was originally York and it first served as a trading post. Now it is Canada’s largest city and North America’s 6^th largest. It felt like a sprawling beast as we approached and like Vancouver from the Fraser Valley side it seemed to take forever to arrive. We intended to spend the afternoon taking in the sites, then head out to our campsite later in the day, however, we got caught by the baseball bug, learned the Jays had a date with the Orioles, so decided to indulge. Neither of us had been to a professional baseball game and there’s something magical about donning the cloak (jersey) of a fan and jumping on the bandwagon. Gord phoned his brother to get the lowdown on who we should ogle over, we picked up a program, bought a hot dog and coke and “Bob’s your uncle”. The Jays led a shut out of 7-0. As a side note, the train ride back to our room was every bit as entertaining and took nearly as long.

All is not sunshine and roses here in Toronto as Stella has decided she needed physio (we suspect a joint issue) and a spa treatment (oil change) so we, her measly servants, will appease her and wait for the go-ahead before moving on.