Single Step

My sister is a great one for revisiting previous homes of our growing-up family and there have been a few. Remarkably, my Dad remembered the address of the house in Stratford so we made a point of driving by it today on our way back from St. Jacob’s Village. I took photos and wondered, if it was indeed the same house. I had hoped the experience would spark something, but alas, nothing. If I had my son, James’ memory, I would not only remember the house but what I ate for breakfast in it.

St. Jacob’s Village was first on our list this early morning and since I have had it penned on my “10 Things to Do Before You Die” list for 10 or more years, I was pretty pumped. The best part? We unexpectedly happened on the Mennonite Central Committee’s 2010 Quilt Show and the whole town donned quilts in some form or another (check out the Car Quilt Cover – the car is completely “workable” with the cover on). Quaint doesn’t begin to describe it.

It is on these kinds of days that I realize how much I love my husband. Not a word of complaint, not a sigh of boredom, not a derogatory comment of any kind, bless his soul. I tried not to tax his good humour and patience but I know it’s not easy being married to a quilter. One kindly volunteer remarked how lovely it was to see a man taking interest in quilting. He smiled amiably and I felt a little peccant. I’m sure he was the only man within 5 kilometers and in fact, he made that observation at the end of the morning.

The Farmer’s Market just south of town took us on a welcome side trip as we shopped among a few bonnet-clad women and straw-hatted men of the Old Mennonite order who arrived at market by horse and cart.

As if that wasn’t enough fun and excitement on one sweltering Southwestern Ontario day, Shakespeare beckoned us inside for an afternoon telling of A Winter’s Tale. I laughed and cried and believed the thing was as real as the nose on my face. We left the theatre feeling elated and highly entertained until Gord asked, “Are you ready to go do laundry?” That brought us quickly back to reality and so, we spent the next 90 minutes eating DQ at the Laundromat and planning our next few days.

The food photo is a sample of what lunch looks like on any given day; Mennonite Sausage, Carmelized Onion Marbled Cheese and fresh picked tomatoes. Gord adds bread.

Apparently, Wasaga Beach has a reputation for attracting thousands of visitors from Toronto any given summer day as it’s the closest beach to the city as well as the longest fresh water beach on earth (14 km!). We walked there alone today and loved every minute.

Next we followed the triple steeple skyline to the Martyr’s Shrine in Midland where history recounts the massacre of 6 Jesuit missionaries at the hands of the Huron natives. Thankfully the details were left out of the telling and the focus seemed more about Pope John Paul’s visit to the site in 1984. Still, reverence was the appropriate response and the serenity put us in a welcome calm and contemplative state before we hit the infamous 401.

I hope you will indulge me as I break into a little narrative: Once upon a time there was a wee child living in the northern reaches of Alberta, her little family of four made the long trek to Stratford, Ontario to try to make a home there. The city (as the tale is told) suffered from severe weather conditions such as unbearable humidity and severe winter storms. Unfriendly conditions prevailed and the family moved back to the warmer climes of BC’s Okanagan Valley after a brief stay of 12 months. 47 years later the wee child, now a woman of half a century, made the long trek back to that little community to connect with her roots in some form. Sadly, she found she could not remember a thing about her childhood experience but sure thinks the current state of things is singularly romantic!

After a funky dinner of lamb and curry-something, we attempted a walk along the Avon River but the heat proved too much for us. We caved on several levels: eating dinner out, staying in a hotel room with our very own bathroom (and it’s SO clean!), blasting the air conditioner into a state of feverishness, and watching Lost.

To quote my husband, “It just doesn’t get much better than that!”

Today I saw a sign that said, “On every path there are a few puddles” and we stepped in one today. Stella’s fridge refused her propane feed and insisted on a diet of battery power or nothing. You can imagine what that did for our electrical load. Thankfully, the Ontario camping guide lists RV service centres in their glossy magazine so we tried a couple and found one that seemed promising (the bee sign gave us a good feeling). The waiting area consisted of a wrap-around deck, Adirondack chairs looking out over a view of fields and farmlands. Our books and conversation kept us occupied for the first 3 hours, the latter we walked. When the trouble was identified and parts could not be located, the friendly service tech fixed us up as best he could and sent us on our way. We had hoped for a more satisfying end, however, Stella’s fridge is on propane again and we’re off to the beach.

Instead of heading to Stratford (just yet), we took a turn east along the Georgian Bay shoreline and stopped at Intrawest’s Blue Mountain Ski Resort. If the name Intrawest sounds familiar, it could be because these are the same high-rolling folks who built Whistler and Mont Tremblant in Quebec. If I could transport you blindfolded to the centre of the village and un-blindfold you, you would think you were in Whistler. The thing is, Blue Mountain is on the Georgian Bay coast and that means that the residents’ perfect placement allows them to swim on the sandy shores in the summer and ski at a world class resort in the winter. While they may also benefit from sky-rocketing housing prices, they suffer as their property tax hops, skips and jumps beyond reach. Sadly, there were a lot of homes for sale.

Tonight we are camped at Craigleith on the beach watching the sun set as we sit by our campfire, marveling at the fossils (photo) we found in the seaboard shale, planning our route for tomorrow and feeling sleepy from puddle-jumping. Bedtime.

It was all about people on this travel day. First of all, the ladies down in Tobermory’s Little Tub Harbour were setting out the annuals in all the flower pots. We were there early enough to catch them in the act and our conversation was just as lovely as the work they were doing. Then we stepped into an art gallery and met a man named Kent Wilkins (www.wilkens-art.com) whose claim to fame is the mural he painted of the Sea of Galilee in Ramallah (Palestine’s West Bank). He has since married an Australian missionary, and together they have brought 6 children into the world. He now works out of his gallery just a stone’s throw from Little Tub.

There are about 12 lighthouses on the Bruce Peninsula and we were determined to see one or two so we turned off the main highway to Lion’s Head Harbour and found the lighthouse as promised right off the shore at the marina. The thing that caught my eye was the white Angora rabbit at the end of a leash, perched atop an umbrella-shaded table. She and her owner were sharing a picnic of green grapes, nuts and seeds and were very happy to pose for a photo. The owner told us that this was the annual weekend when the crane comes to town to move all the boats from their cradles into the water. It’s also the time when boat owners re-install the masts that have been sitting onshore all winter. All of this to protect the boats from winter weather, and the storms get pretty bad in these parts, we’re told.

Next we set off to find a campsite in Sauble (sounds like wobble) Beach Provincial Park. We popped into the ValuMart to pick up something for dinner and Gord had a hankering for ice cream. Sauble Beach wasn’t far so we headed there. The approach is something like Monterey, California where the boutique shops and crowds quickly become more concentrated closer to the beach. We felt instantly transported as we directed Stella onto a sandy parking lot amongst hundreds of other cars. We made our way toward the water clicking photos, photos and more photos!

A retired fellow wearing a Vancouver shirt came over and chatted us up – first about Stella, then about BC, then about the changing weather, the increasing shoreline, the May 2 4 Weekend, as it’s known around here. He gave us the low-down on why all alcohol and radios are banned in campsites and parks for only this one weekend. He said it is due to college students’ appetite for letting loose at year’s end. In the past the experience has created such havoc that residents go elsewhere.

The weather is hot, it feels like summer and I would be playing Little Deuce Coupe on my radio but with the ban and all, this college student will keep things tame.

Try saying “Chi-Cheemaun” 5 times fast. Doesn’t it just make you want to dance? It means “big canoe” and suits its bearer perfectly well. The Chi-Cheemaun ferry takes cars and passengers from Manitoulin Island to the nautical Cape Cod-ish town of Tobermory at the north end of Bruce Peninsula and I’ve heard it’s a lovely trip. I can vouch for the ride but as for the lovely part, I’m sorry to say that thick fog prevented us from seeing much. The two hour ride allowed me time to catch up on my hand-quilting so all was not lost.

 Our daily trip to the market, this time in Tobermory, felt like something out of a New England novel: a sensory feast of sorts with a collection of whitewashed store fronts selling fish, shells, diving lessons, fudge, chocolate and ice cream. The crowds were tremendous too with more people than we have seen in two weeks!

We spent most of the afternoon hiking the Bruce Peninsula National Park along the Niagara Escarpment, which is lined with craggy shores, 1000 year old cedars and the clear waters of Georgian Bay. It’s strange to me to encounter such an extensive body of water (and very little life at the beach) that lacks the scent of the sea. We are undeniably old salts and will feel more at home when the ocean is near.

I have included a photo of our campsite as it’s just too pretty not to share. These little ones were returning a turtle they caught this afternoon to his home for bedtime. Oh, the joys of living out of doors!

Yesterday was my parents’ 51^st wedding anniversary and I know you will agree with me that that’s quite an accomplishment. Hats off to you both and Happy Anniversary!

On another happy note, we send love and kisses to our great niece Lila on her very 1^st birthday. Happy, Happy Birthday, sweetie!

Manitoulin Island rests between Georgian Bay and Lake Huron and is the ancestral home of the Odawa First Nations people, whom you may not know, as well as the Huron and Iroquois, whom you probably know. If I may return you to grade 5 Canadian history, you will remember Samuel de Champlain – he’s a big name on the early explorer list, and this is where he first met the Odawa people in 1615. Then the Jesuits arrived around the 17^th century and set up their mission and that encompassed teaching the people to read and write as well as how to farm, run a business and the importance of embracing and adhering to Catholic tradition.

You know how the story usually goes but this plot line incorporates a twist. The Odawa people refused to sign the treaty trading more of their settlement land for reserve land and the government let it go. Yup, a large population of First Nations (8 tribes in all) live, work and play here and they do a great job of promoting its unique history and beauty for the tourist (my current interest) as well as working the land. Farmland is plentiful and profitable and the cottage-style homes are cozy with expansive gardens and lush lawns and the views are varied and captivating. There are also the usual treats for sale along with handcrafted items using ingredients from the island itself.

The two hour ferry sails not 5 minutes from here to Bruce Peninsula in the morning and the village of South Baymouth offered us a chance to camp on the shores of Lake Huron tonight so that’s our intention. The skies are pink, the air tinged with the smoke of nearby campfires, and the lake reflects a rosy glow as we prepare to settle in for the night.

One more little thing; Stella (our van) is drawing more attention of late, despite her bug-splattered nose. The conversation usually begins, “Your plate is BC, I noticed. Where in BC are you from?”…the answer from us…”Where are you heading?”…..our answer….”Never been there but I sure would like to go someday.” We are just so thankful we are…going, that is!

Remarkably, our total driving time today was two hours; a record for us! The small city of Sault Ste. Marie (literally means St. Mary Falls), Ontario is just across St. Mary’s River from Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan and the Ontario side is where we spent the better part of May 21^st. In high season a ship will take tourists through the locks, which matches our experience of France’s ecluse system but on a gigantic scale. It seems the tourist season here is just warming up with the weather so many of the sites and tours are presently closed. The lock tour was disappointingly no exception.

We walked the 5 km or so along the river to a Canadian Heritage Site where the old buildings still stand and were once part of a thriving shipping industry. The photos say it better than my words so I will let them do their work.

By 2:00 we had walked ourselves out and made our way back to Glenview RV and Campsite, settled in the laundry building with laptops in hand and caught up on several fronts. Surprisingly, we have had no cell phone reception or Internet access these past 3 days. I say surprising because I expected, in our technologically modern world, to have unlimited access but I have been told that northwestern Ontario is still quite remote and I now have reason to believe it.

We hope you are well and we think of each of you often and with fondness. Thank you for your presence with us.

It’s the largest fresh water lake in the world and Lake Superior’s shoreline is one of the most gorgeous I have seen. National Geographic’s Traveler’s Magazine rated Kailua Beach on the leeward side of Oahu one of the ten most beautiful beaches on the planet and for beauty, I would say Kailua has met its match in Superior’s Agawa Bay.

The upside to camping early in the season is that the sites (if they’re open) are almost empty and that means we get top choice as to where we hunker down for the night. Last night we practically camped on the beach and though the bugs were bothersome, the sunset was spectacular!

Sometimes we assume that you can easily imagine what our ordinary daily tasks look like but maybe that’s not quite fair. Afterall, how many of our family and friends have traveled across Canada in a minivan, we ask ourselves.

I thought I would just explain the food consumption aspect of our adventure. We have a little fridge (runs on propane and has its own battery back-up system) that holds about one day’s worth of meals plus condiments and 3 containers of drinking liquid. Fruits and veggies tend to be unhappy about the 0 degree temperatures there and often freeze so I keep them in our collapsible cooler. The two burner (propane again) cook top is where we boil or fry veggies (or just eat them raw) and Coleman came through for us with a place to grill and/or occupy a one-burner element outside as we need. That’s usually where Gord takes care of the meat. It’s pretty simple but it works and it allows us to cook our own food while keeping costs minimal.

We have a table where one end clips into the sink/cooktop unit that we set up food prep and eating. It works pretty well and I have lots of headroom as you can see (no short jokes, please!).

Canadian culture is largely a driving culture. One of the reasons for this, I have reasoned, is that Canada is just so large. There are opportunities that entrepreneurial types see as a means of supplementing our drive to drive and one is the availability and variety of listening devices. Gord bought me a Faux Pod a few years ago, which worked well until I plugged it into a higher than normal electrical output adapter and blew the poor thing into a smoking frenzy. What I own now is no longer faux but the real deal (or so says Mr. Apple). I downloaded a couple of Regent College MP3’s for my road-listening pleasure and am enjoying the experience immensely.

The title of the first is: Pilgrimage by Maxine Hancock, which is fitting, I thought, for a road trip like ours. Ms. Hancock wrote her PhD thesis on the marginal notes of Bunyan’s classic, Pilgrim’s Progress so you can imagine her penchant for detail and nuance. Yesterday she commented on Bunyan’s introductory poem and pointed out that he is not a high writing poet like Spence or Milton but rather a fable-type writer. His poetry style is more of a “jog trot to market”. I just loved that line and thought it fit so well with our little venture. (she credited Shakespeare and so will I)

We are travelling “jog trot to market” style in our VW Eurovan*; slow and go, slow and go. We are travelling with the people and at ground level. Our journey does feel like a pilgrimage of sorts as there is definitely a spiritual component to the experience. Living outdoors, connecting with other travelers, learning more of our history all serve to open our eyes ever wider in awe of our God who created and established this amazing country we are so blessed to call home.

Lake Superior at Agawa Provincial Park

*Gord has renamed our Eurovan “Stella” as he had trouble with Vanna – could be her squarish figure or maybe her age, not sure.

FYI, Jane is still along but suffers from what appears to be a form of dementia. When she does have her bearings, she truly shines.

I have heard about the bugs back east, that they are supersized and super persistent, but I admit to skepticism and even condescension when it came to responding to easterners’ complaints. I have since learned that Manitoba employs a method called “fogging”: a practice in which the cities and outlying areas are sprayed with pesticides – for obvious reasons. Residents bring in toys, pets, and just about anything else that’s not nailed down during the application so harmful contact between the poison and humans is reduced. At first I thought the measures extreme but after a night in an enclosed space with dozens of mosquitoes (at least it felt like dozens and poor Gord got the worst of it) I have a new appreciation for what these folks live with. The thought is, “I would rather live a shorter more comfortable life, than a longer one tormented by bugs.” My heart bleeds for you, dear eastern Canadian kin.

While on the subject of bugs, let me tell you about the black flies. Be advised that these insidious little fellows can bore a hole in your flesh that bleeds for days and takes a week to heal. Our daily reading through the book of I Samuel talked about King Saul being tormented by an evil spirit and I am convinced it must have been an Ontarian mosquito or black fly. I’m thinking I might submit an idea to Alfred Hitchcock for the premise of a film.

Despite the bugs, the stretch between Kenora and Thunder Bay reminded us of Pender Harbour on the Sunshine Coast. I had a peek at a map of the Lake of the Woods behind the cashier at a re-fueling station yesterday and it seemed to me that there was more water than land. A myriad of islands, large and small, dot the lake and provide a collection of nooks and bays that I would love to have the means to explore. Of course, the sunshine and the soft green of spring growth make the area even prettier. Our BC eyes also love the more rolling terrain and we find ourselves continually scanning the horizon for something more than a knoll.

Kakabeka Falls runs over a 50 ft drop of layered shale and you can hear the roar for miles.

We are both finally feeling more relaxed as if we really are on holiday and still in such a state of joy over our son’s recent wedding and now the exciting news that we are going to be grandparents in the fall. Blessed and blessed and blessed!