Teton National Park to Picabo, Idaho

No, we didn’t stop here because of the name of the town. We’re actually camped outside Picabo on a little river. It’s a forestry service type campsite. Very basic. I think it’s mostly used by fly fisherman who are likely at work mid-week. And, it appears to be free. There’s only one other camper ... a couple in a RV.

But the day began in Teton National Park in Wyoming. The haze of smoke from forest fires hadn’t cleared during the night. The best we got was this:

And that’s with a little tweeking of the contrast on the original photo file. We headed south out of the park through Jackson, Wyoming. It seems a fine little town but the traffic was horrendous. All those folks heading to Yellowstone, I guess.

We headed up Highway 22 which goes over Teton Pass. Immediately the grade was very steep (10% however that’s calculated). As there were no passing lanes we soon had a long lineup of cars behind us. I’m sure Helmut would have made it to the top in second gear but there might have been quite a bit of road rage going on behind us, so we abandoned the uphill climb and chose route B.

It turned out that the ride down Hwy 89 followed the Snake River much of it a wide canyon. Most of the traffic from the north disappeared and we could even stop and sit gazing over the edge without a dozen other cars stopping to see what was so interesting. And we ended up far enough south that most of the forest fire smoke disappeared.

At approximately the Idaho/Wyoming border the Snake River does a 180 and turns north. And the road follows it. The countryside is gentler and the valley gets much wider with lots of agriculture.

On we went through Idaho Falls where we stopped for lunch. Then continuing west on Highway 20. West of Idaho Falls is a whole lot of flat arid country that I’m sure is filled with rattlesnakes. But the road is good and goes in a straight line for miles and miles.

 

We stopped in the town of Alco, Idaho for gas and groceries. Gas was found but nothing resembling groceries was for sale. Dinner tonight was a can of beans and crackers and a pear for dessert. Sadly the Golden West Cafe appeared to be closed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

About 30 minutes past Alco is Craters of the Moon National Monument. In the centre of Idaho there’s a huge lava field the remainders of volcanic activity some of which occurred only 2,000 years ago. It’s odd to be driving through cowboy desert when quite quickly it turns to a landscape more reminiscent of Hawaii.

Yellowstone to Grand Teton National Park

I cannot imagine what these parks are like in the summertime. Right now, in mid-September there are many, many people. The parking lots are jammed. Far worse than Thrifty’s on a Saturday afternoon. It can make sight-seeing a bit trying at times.

The main roadways in Yellowstone park are two circles making a figure eight. There are roads coming into the park in all four directions so you end up connecting to one of the two circles in the figure eight. We had arrived from the east and between yesterday and today we made a circle of the bottom of the figure eight. There are many, many places to stop. You can usually figure how worth it is to stop by the traffic jam created or the absence of parking places. However, you can be fooled. There are a few roads in the park that are narrow and you can drive in only one direction. Today, I was going down one of the these and decided to stop and take some pictures by the little stream that ran along the roadway. I’d only been stopped for about five minutes when several other cars had stopped and people had gotten out to see why I had stopped. I don’t think me crouching along the side of a brook taking pictures was exactly what they were expecting to find.

 

There is lots of wildlife. Everyone seems mad for the bison. I guess they do figure rather prominently in the advertising for the park. And you really do have to keep and eye out. This evening we are camped in Teton National Park. This afternoon I was strolling to the washroom and as I came up the path I discovered a big buck between me and the washroom door. He had a very impressive rack of antlers and seemed pretty laid back but I took no chances and found relief elsewhere.

Also on view today were waterfalls (lots of them):

The Yellowstone River:

And Yellowstone park’s Grand Canyon – a work in progress:

I was looking forward to Grand Teton National Park because of photographs I’ve seen of the lake and the huge mountains that rise up on the far side of the lake. There are no foothills for these peaks ... just bam ... there they are. However, there seem to be forest fires burning to the west and to the north and so today the peaks were just light grey outlines. Perhaps tomorrow will bring clearer skies.

Buffalo Bill State Park to Yellowstone

Still in Wyoming. The drive to the eastern entrance of Yellowstone National Park is spectacular. It follows a river canyon rising higher and higher as you get closer to the park gate. There were two HUGE bison in a field just to the right of the entrance. I thought they’d been put there to give visitors a thrill on first arriving but the gal at the gate said they’d just wandered in that morning.

After the park gate it was up over Sylvan Pass at just over 8,500 feet. No signs of altitude symptoms at this height. But we were up and over pretty quickly.

The national parks are not particularly dog friendly. No dogs on hiking trails. No dogs on any boardwalks. No dogs more than 100 feet from pavement basically. I’d say in Yellowstone the boardwalks are probably no place for any pet. If they should escape and leap off the boardwalk the waters are very hot, some deep and some quite acidic.

When we drove south to West Thumb Geyser Basin, I was lucky to find a shady parking spot (although it wasn’t scorching hot at 7,000 feet) and walked the boardwalks which take visitors past the thermal attractions found throughout the park – mud pools, hot springs, geysers.

This particular spring is called The Abyss. Others were simply beautiful with different coloured mineral deposits and algae.

I found it interesting that none of these springs seemed to have any odour unlike the sulphuric springs in the Rocky Mountains.

After West Thumb we headed up north to investigate Old Faithful. I feared that it would be a mob scene but it wasn’t too bad. I had no idea what to expect. The park has built huge boardwalks almost all the way around the geyser. And a huge chuck of the circumference has benches. I spoke to some people who’d come over to ask about Eliot (and showed me pictures of their West Highland Terriers). The guy said that the next eruption was supposed to happen at 4pm. It was almost 3:30pm so we decided to stick around. This seemed to be a fairly dog friendly part of the park.

Eliot and I went off for a walk and returned about 3:45pm. People had been arriving steadily and there was quite a crowd. We waited and waited. The steam continued to pour out of the geyser’s mouth. Around 3:55pm a little steaming water splashed over the edge. Then at 4:00pm there was this:

It couldn’t have been more than four feet high. Everyone sat anticipating more. But sadly after ten minutes everyone realized that that had been it. Old Faithful hadn’t erupted; it had burped. It seems that several years ago there was an earthquake and it appears to have moved around some of Old Faithful’s innards. And now the geyser is less than faithful. It was pretty disappointing. It reminded me of the time I went to Hawaii and was eagerly anticipating seeing the lava flowing into the ocean at Volcanos National Park. But the day I finally got there, the park ranger informed me that the lava had mysteriously stopped flowing and that it was the first time it had ceased to flow in over the decade.

Tonight we’re camped at Madison campground. Besides the pathways around the campground being off-limits to Eliot, it’s one of those campground where everyone is squeezed in cheek by jowl. Now that it’s after 8pm, at least there are no generators running.

Tomorrow a little more exploring in Yellowstone and then down to Grand Teton National Park.

Buffalo, Wyoming to Cody, Wyoming

This morning started with an invasion. While I was busy getting the van ready for the road, Eliot and I were oblivious to the fact that we were being surrounded by a turkey and his/her gang. However, when Eliot noticed the intruders inspecting our campsite and table, he sprang into action and ran them off. None of the turkeys seemed particularly upset so I guess they’ve had run-ins with campground dogs before.

 

The ring leader and some of his gang

We began the day by heading west on Hwy 16. This involved going over the Big Horn Mountains into the valley on the other side. The pass through the mountains is at almost 10,000 feet. We were already at 4,500 feet but it was still going to be a big climb.

The trip did not go quickly. I had hoped that third gear would suffice for most of the climb. But second gear was called into use quite frequently. So we crept along at about 50 km/hr. Sometimes less. Before the summit, I decided Helmut needed a little break so we stopped to look at the view.

We eventually reached the summit.

I had never been at this high an elevation before (except in an airplane). We were well above 8,000 feet for some time and I began to notice that I was short of breath and getting a bit headachy. Just did feel quite right. It wasn’t very pleasant and I was glad to roll down the other side of the pass to more moderate elevations.

The western slopes of the Big Horn Mountains are much craggier than the eastern side.

A bit mini-Grand Canyon in appearance.

Needless to say we came down a lot faster than we went up and that was pretty much it for big hills for the day. The eastern side of the Big Horn’s is a vast valley that’s very desert like. Not much vegetation and things growing only where they are irrigated.

Onward through the towns of Ten Sleep, Worland and Greybull. In Greybull there is an airport that appears to have once had an aviation museum. The reason I say ‘used to’ is a very old sign advertising a museum of war planes and a lot of old planes that appear to have been abandoned. From the road I saw this one. I wonder what the history of it is. If you look closely you can see “Royal Canadian Air Force” printed on the side.

Tonight we’re camped at Buffalo Bill State Park (he was big in these parts apparently) and tomorrow it’s on to Yellowstone National Park which is about 40 miles down the road.

Bowman, ND to Buffalo, Wyoming

From North Dakota via South Dakota. I couldn’t resist making a little loop through South Dakota on our way to Wyoming. Actually I’d meant to spend some time in South Dakota. But as we travelled down Highway 85, everything seemed seemed shrouded in haze. I suspect that a forest fire was burning and the smoke was creating the haze.

The plan was to visit the Black Hills of northwestern South Dakota and maybe have a gawk at Mount Rushmore. But the Black Hills looked mostly grey when we got into South Dakota and so, after lunch, we hopped on Interstate 90 and headed towards Wyoming.

It is and has been very dry in these parts. As we went further south the fields of grain and sun flowers gave way to mostly ranching. I passed a big herd of sheep on a lonely hillside. And there sitting among the sheep was a big sheep dog. He was lying down keeping and eye on things. But ever vigilant, I’m sure.

It was even hotter today than yesterday. I’d say well over 30C although now that the sun has gone down the temperature is dropping. A woman I talked to today says that the weather is fairly unpredictable. Snow in September would not be a big surprise. And snow comes and goes during the winter as they have chinooks in these parts.

Tomorrow it’s over the mountains to the west and on to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks.

Jamestown, ND to Bowman, ND

Yes, we’re still in North Dakota. It’s a very wide state. I looked on a larger map and right now we’re in the lower left hand corner of North Dakota. If i look straight up to Canada we’re pretty much lined up with Regina.
We spent quite awhile on I94 today. We got away rather early (for us) just before 9am. The scenery was, once again, rather Alberta-ish. The cornfields of Minnesota gave way to huge fields of sunflowers and grain crops. Early on I had to go off the interstate to find ‘facilities’. We drove into a little village called Dawson. A man and a woman were washing their war memorial wall ... she with a scrub brush and spray detergent ... he following up with the power washer. This was next door to the town hall.



Across the street was this rather odd presentation. Note the beer can in the bear’s paw.

By noon it was time to stop for gas and a bite to eat. I sometimes get a salad at McDonalds as they usually have picnic tables outside where I can sit with Eliot. However, today I discovered a place called Taco John’s. John had picnic tables and was also conveniently across the drive from the gas station so the decision was made. I had some soft tacos which came with odd potato things that I believe they called potato olés. The olés have to be the saltiest thing I have ever eaten. They were almost too salty for me and I like things salty. And, of course, they’d been deep fried.
While in line there were three guys behind me joshing with one another. At one point, one of the three said to one of the others: “But then you know I’ve got more guns than you!” And he probably did.

More Interstate 94 ...
Just before the Montana border, we headed south on Highway 85 which goes down to South Dakota. I figured we were this close we might as well see both of the the Dakotas. We’re not quite there yet. We’re in a municipal campground in a little town called Bowman. I stopped into the flower/coffee shop where I got a pound of their finest dark roast. The lady told me if we were heading south that we should be sure to check out the Black Hills in South Dakota. She also said we shouldn’t miss Mount Rushmore. I’ve always thought that Mount Rushmore was an odd sort of memorial. A bit too kitsch for my taste although the size of it appeals to my delight in big things. Perhaps I shouldn’t miss it. Besides supplying tourist advice the gal also got on the phone to see if the local campground was still open. I said: “Oh, you know the campground manager.” And she replied: “In this town, everyone knows everyone else.” I’m not sure if she thinks that’s a good or bad thing.
On my way to the campground which costs $20 with electricity and $15 without and has great showers, I stopped at a little store to buy some beer. As I was getting out of my car, this young guy drives up in a big truck with super booming bass. He held the door for me and it wasn’t until I was inside that I looked out and saw that in big letters across the top of his windshield is said: “It’s a white thing.” I am still wondering what that meant. I was standing behind him and he had a lot of tattoos but they were mostly the sentimental kind. I think one may have been of his son.
So when we left the store the radio (that had been left on blaring) was playing something by a black rapper. The only two lines I caught (unfortunately) were:
I’ll take from my black bitch
And give it to my whore.
So, if he’s a big, old racist I’m confused as to why he’d be listening to ugly black rap music. I wasn’t about to ask him.
I did buy a six pack of Budweiser. I told the clerk that I didn’t need a bag. But she informed me that she had to put the beer in a bag. It’s the law in North Dakota.

Heading South.

SW of Deluth, MN to Jamestown, ND

Yes, here we are in the heart of North Dakota. Minnesota the land of lakes (they say there are 10,000 of them); Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon; wild rice; Lutherans; and canoes are all in the rear view mirror.
I quite liked Minnesota. At least the 24 hours of that I saw. People were very polite and helpful and everything had a small town feel. I suppose because there are mostly small towns. Around lunch time we stopped in Wadena on Route 10. It has a lovely main street with some old buildings that are still in good shape. And buildings like this movie theatre.

Earlier in the day we had stopped in Brainerd (mentioned in the movie Fargo) for some dog food. We stopped at a pet store called “Pets North”. And when I asked where the dog food was they informed me that there wouldn’t be any until they had a delivery in the afternoon. I found it difficult to imagine how a pet store could run complete out of kibble. Fortunately we had better luck in Wedena where a helpful gal at a local grooming parlour and all around pet place was able to sell us something that will keep Eliot happy until we return to Victoria and can get him more of his Go!
As we drove up Route 10 (in Minnesota) which I knew from my map went to Fargo, North Dakota, I did not see a single sign saying how far we had to go. As it turns out Fargo is right on the border with Minnesota. The last town before Fargo is Moorhead where I discovered yet another order outside from the little window Dairy Queen.

Not five minutes later there were signs announcing that we had entered Fargo and North Dakota ... not that the Minnesota Department of Transport would want you to know. Fargo seemed to have a happening downtown and I would have stopped except that the railway divides the town and there are one way streets everywhere (much like Calgary). It was time for a break but I couldn’t deal with downtown parking and basically not knowing where I was (except for the Fargo bit).
But North Dakota is very flat. At least what we’ve seen so far. Reminds me a bit of parts of Saskatchewan that we passed through during Ute’s part of the trip east. After Fargo we hopped on Interstate 94 which the main drag through Fargo sort of ends up on. It goes pretty much in a straight line right across the state. We’ve made it to Jamestown which is about a quarter of the way.

Like this forever.
I love my GPS but late this afternoon when I was trying to find a campground it led us down this road ... through a cornfield.

It’s a legitimate road. It even had a road sign (37th Avenue) but clearly it was not much maintained. And it did eventually (after four miles) lead us to a campground which was rejected because it sat right beside the aforementioned Interstate 94. But GPS to the rescue as the next campground was quite acceptable. It’s a municipal campground on the Jamestown Reservoir and only cost $10 with great showers and lots of hot water! Mind you, we’re also right next door to the municipal airport but there are only planes with single engines and I suspect they will suspend operations when it gets dark. Happy campers.

Munising, Michigan to Deluth, Minnesota

Actually we’re somewhere southwest of Deluth. I’m just not exactly sure where. Out in the country where we’re camped on the edge of a trailer park. A bit “Texas Chainsaw-ish ...”. But I have Eliot to protect me.

So it was up bright and early this morning after a fitful night’s sleep what with the wind howling and rocking the van back and forth most of the night. The wind had died down by morning and all the tents seemed to still be where they were the night before. I can’t imagine their occupants got much shut-eye.

We headed out across Michigan passing through towns such as Marquette, Ishpeming, Sidnaw and Matchwood. There were some oddly named businesses too. How about the diner called “Upchuck’s”. I’m not kidding. On the other hand, the southern shores of Lake Superior seem to be unending stretches of sandy beaches. Very fine.

By noon we had crossed over into Wisconsin and changed time zones to Central Daylight Savings Time. At one point I decided on a little pick-me-up and stopped at this Dairy Queen that is very old school with an outside window where you walk up to and give your order.

But the best was yet to come. When I received my %^@&#@ I was also presented with this for Eliot!

I’m sure you can imagine his delight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The top of Wisconsin is not very wide and by suppertime we were in Deluth, Minnesota. Deluth is at the very western edge of Lake Superior where there are more beautiful sandy beaches.

Campgrounds had become scarcer the further west we travelled and seemed to be almost non-existent as we drove southwest from Deluth. We stopped at one which was quite nice and on a lovely lake. But there was no one in the office. In fact, we didn’t see a single soul during a ten minute walk around. A lot of these places have people who bring their trailers and set them up for the summer. Sort of a temporary or seasonal trailer park. So we drove on and eventually found another of these seasonal parks with a couple of men talking out front. They referred me to the ‘lady of the house’ who said to park out behind the garage (quite pleasant here). She only charged me $10.00. I’ve found water but no showers. What did I expect for ten bucks.

Spanish, Ontario to Munising, Michigan

As early as this morning I was still debating whether or not to cross into the U.S. at Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. But the prospect of driving up over the top of Lake Superior again (and the price of gasoline) nudged me towards the U.S.

We got an early start from Mitchell’s Campground and headed towards S.S.M. which we made in good time around noon. I located a Bank of Montreal with almost no delay and obtained some U.S. funds. Then a quick lunch and off to the border which involved driving over two very large bridges that span the locks letting boats pass between Lake Superior and Lake Huron.

I hadn’t realized that it was September 11 until I drove up to U.S. Immigration. There electronic signs showing the various places of the 2001 attacks. When I was passing through eastbound, I had noticed huge numbers of cars and trucks backed up on the bridge. But today it was about a five minute wait with only three cars in front of us.

I got quite the interrogation probably because the guy had lots of time. He asked me to turn off the engine and I thought: “Oh, no. They’re going to take the van apart.” But they merely wanted to sniffer dog to give the van a once over without being done in by the exhaust from my 1984 engine.

We then proceeded along Hwy 26 which runs dead west in Michigan. It’s pretty dull for the first 100 miles. The driving wasn’t dull though as a huge wind with severe gusts had come up and it was both hands on the wheel all of the time to keep Helmut on the road.

We’ve stopped tonight at the municipal campground in Munising, Michigan. The campground sits in a pretty spot on the southern shore of Lake Superior. But the wind is still howling. Just glad I’m not in a tent tonight.

Tobermory to Spanish, Ontario

Tobermory is a charming little town at the top of the Bruce Peninsula. Well, it was charming the second week of September. From all the tourist shops in town, I suspect it is a horror during the summer.

Since the ferry to Manitoulin Island didn’t leave until 1:30pm, Eliot and I did a little exploration on foot. There’s a tiny harbour where a host of tour boats leave to explore Georgian Bay. We found a little café with a sunny patio where I had a lovely cup of dark roast and a bran muffin. Back at the harbour we found this rather large vessel being manoeuvred onto what seemed a tiny trailer. They had attracted quite a few onlookers.

Then around 1pm the MS Chi-Cheemaun arrived from Manitoulin Island. (A local couple I talked to referred to it at ‘The Cheech’.)It’s about the same size as the Coho that travels between Victoria and Port Angeles, Washington. But it has an amazing feature. The bow lifts up giving access to a ramp that’s lowered to allow the vehicles to drive off the ferry.

It was a lovely, smooth crossing with an almost cloudless sky. Dogs are allowed on what they call the promenade deck. Eliot seemed quite blazé about being on the ferry unlike his reaction fretful reaction to travel on the Coho. And, of course, he made a few new friends in the course of the two hour crossing.

Once on Manitoulin Island we drove up to Highway 17 and made it as far as Spanish, Ontario where we set up camp at Mitchell’s which is really mostly a fisherman’s camp but was fine for an overnight. Good hot shower in the morning.

Toronto to Tobermory, Ontario

Sunday morning began with the somewhat disconcerting experience of getting locked in my bedroom at the Sumner-Wright residence. Around 7am Eliot decided it was time to get up. I’d been in bed relatively early the night before so it didn’t seem like a bad idea. However, when I turned the doorknob to open the bedroom door, the knob came off in my hand. And it wasn’t about to be reattached. So what to do? Wake the whole household? Which would be Wayne and Heather as I suspect their boys, Nathan and Nick, would sleep through anything. I was finally rescued around 8am when Wayne arose and confessed that he’d been meaning to tighten that doorknob.

I’d decided that we would leave Toronto after lunch and head up to Tobermory where there is a ferry that travels to Manitoulin Island. This route avoids quite a bit of highway travel. But before leaving, Heather and I shopped for groceries at Sobey’s over on Mount Pleasant Road. Actually Heather shopped and Eliot and I stood outside people watching.

Wayne had gone off to watch his grand-daughter(?) play soccer so Heather and I had lunch. After lunch I did a final check and packed up the van. Heather also equipped me with a water flask with water (since I’d left my nalgene in N.S.), blueberries and a couple of chucks of dark chocolate.

The drive to Tobermory involved getting out of Toronto in one piece. And another short run on the 401 and over to Hwy 400 which heads up Barrie way. The drive was mostly uneventful except when I noticed a factory outlet when I exited the 400 near Barrie. The signs indicated that there was a Villeroy and Boch outlet. Since the Victoria store had closed since I’d bought some dishes I dashed in to replace the mug that has since been chipped. And I picked up two more dessert plates and two soup bowls.

Waiting to turn left at Yonge and Eglinton

The rest of the drive was uneventful but a bit long and tedious. When we finally arrived at the campground at Bruce Peninsula National Park there was not a park employee in sight. The park struck me as rather odd. The campground is on a lake and not the shores of Georgian Bay. It’s also rather gloomy with campsites crammed up against one another. In any event, arriving late we couldn’t be picky. The next morning no one turned up to ask for a fee so we rolled out around 10:30am having camped yet again for free.

Toronto, Ontario

Heather insisted that we sleep indoors last night (Friday). Just as well, because during the night the heavens opened up and heavy rain came down. And the downpours lasted well into the morning. It turned out to be the most rain that had even fallen on Toronto on a September 8. With all the rain that I have seen since June, I am beginning to suspect that I should be hiring myself out in areas of drought. Invite me to come and visit and the rains will come.

Heather, Wayne and I had had a good visit the night before. Eliot discovered the black squirrels that infest Toronto and began seeing what he could do about Heather and Wayne’s backyard since we were spending the evening out on the deck. However, at one point he was inside looking out through the screen on the door, when Heather’s cat Dinah approached. Eliot warned her off with a few good barks which scarred the poor cat causing her to high tail it to the back fence. She was eventually rescued by Heather’s son, Nathan, and for the rest of the weekend there was a delicate dance to keep the two separated.

Heather and I had a walk down Yonge Street, across Davisville and up Mount Pleasant Road. So much had changed since I lived there 22 years ago. I guess I should have expected that. Later that day when Heather was off to her guitar lesson, I wondered around the neighbourhood with Eliot. In particular I visited the two places I first rented when I moved to Toronto in the 1970s. That first apartment has been replaced by a rather ugly office/commercial building at the corner of Mount Pleasant Road and Eglinton Avenue.

And the house on Taunton Road that I shared with friends (just around the corner from here) is also gone. I must have walked down this street many times during those years but much of it was quite unfamiliar. Well, it was over 35 years ago.

Heather and I on her back deck.

Tweed, ON to Toronto, ON

Today began with one of my back molars losing a filling (or perhaps I lost a bit of tooth). Damn those ju-jubes! You may ask what I was doing eating ju-jubes at 10 o’clock in the morning but it is a question which will remain unanswered. An immediate trip to the dentist does not seem indicated so I think it will wait for my return to Victoria.

We left the boys at Riverside RV Resort and made the drive from Tweed, Ontario to Peterborough in a little over an hour. First on the agenda was a visit to the Peterborough Lift Lock. It’s a kind of elevator for boats. As one big tub of water goes up, another comes down. The two huge weights counter-balance one another although the lift going down has more water in it so that it will push the other to the top and not have them get stuck it approximately this position.

Just as we were walking up for a closer inspection, a fellow in a motor boat came along and the operator shouted for him to enter the lock on the left. Very soon the whole contraption was in motion. The tiny motor boat was in the lock on the left. Because of the counter-weighted system I can’t imagine that it takes a lot of extra energy to run and so I assume it’s not big deal to run this huge apparatus with for a 50 pound motor boat. I have to say that the captain of the motor boat weighed considerably more than 50 pounds.

Then it was on to the Canadian Canoe Museum. I wasn’t quite sure what I would do with Eliot because it was warm and very humid. But the two women who were at the door showed me a hoot where I could tie him in the vestibule. They even ran and brought him a bowl of water. I had been so looking forward to seeing this wonderful zen-like museum. The museum is a history of Canada told through the canoe and its many versions and incarnations over the years. Unfortunately after about 15 minutes I began to notice (from the third floor) a bit of yipping and yapping from you-know-who left along downstairs. I returned to the entry way and gave him a bit of a talking to and returned to my tour. The yipping and yapping continued so I speeded up my tour.

The two volunteers were quite understanding and said they didn’t mind at all as I was the only person in the museum at the time. One of them even took Eliot out for a brief walk to see if that would calm him down. I was glad to get to see the museum and most of its artifacts even if I had to rush a bit.

We finally left Peterborough by mid-afternoon for the drive into downtown Toronto. I had called my friend, Heather, a few days before and suggested we could drop by for a night or two if she and the family weren’t otherwise occupied. They weren’t so we were on our way. I don’t believe in all my years in Toronto that I had ever actually drive on Highway 401 or the Don Valley Parkway. But I did on Friday. The speed of the other cars seemed reasonable and no one was impatient. Helmut was able to keep up quite nicely. And we got to Manor Road East near Eglinton and Yonge at around 4:30pm

Onward to Ontario

Yesterday we hit the road in earnest and made it from just outside Quebec City to Perth, Ontario. This involved whizzing down Quebec’s Route 20. I had tried to find a route that would bypass Montreal. I had no desire to take Helmut onto and and then off the isle of Montreal. I selected a town southwest corner of Quebec that appeared to have a bridge across the St. Lawrence. I typed this name into my GPS and we were off.

It seemed to work just fine. As the skyline of downtown Montreal began to appear over the steering wheel we were taken to Route 30 and began heading southwest ... just as I had planned.

However, I began to notice more and more construction. Perhaps a lot of other people had had my idea of bypassing Montreal. It appeared that the Quebec government was busy building, revising and extending roads to enable this. However, at one point the roads ahead did not correspond at all with what the GPS map was showing. So on the GPS screen, the car sailed off into space where no roads were shown. I started watching signs very carefully and eventually all was well and we ended up where I had hoped.

We eventually arrived at Smith’s Falls, Ontario where I had a look at the some of the locks on the Rideau Canal (and thought how pleasant the canal looked for paddling). There then ensued a hunt for a place to camp overnight. The roads were maddeningly numbered and it took forever to find a provincial campground that looked promising. I had been warned about the high fees at Ontario’s provincial campgrounds but I was not quite ready to pay almost $40 for an unserviced campsite. To make matters more annoying there wasn’t even an attendant at the campground so it was up to you to find a campsite (no maps were provided on paper or signage), then return and fill out an envelope and deposit cash (if you were lucky enough to have the exact change as there was no option to leave a credit card number). We left!

Other roads led us to Perth, Ontario. It, like Smith’s Falls, is a lovely old Ontario town with lots of lovingly restored buildings and heaps of history. As we passed through Perth, we came across a municipal campground run by the town. There was no attendant but no matter, the sign said that the attendant would come around later. By 10:30am today the attendant still hadn’t showed up so we got free camping for a night. It was quiet except for some distant railway noises and had great showers. No free or pay wi-fi though.

 

Mural of quilters in Perth

Today was a lazy day with only a short drive down to Frontenac Outfitters to see their H2O canoes. I resisted the urge to pull out the Mastercard and secure one to Helmut’s roof.

Then up so Riverside Campground never Tweed, Ontario where it is very quiet and peaceful and they have a lovely swimming pool which was refreshing on another warm and humid day.

Métis to somewhere south of Quebec City

It seemed like a lot of driving today but really we haven’t come all that far. Perhaps if I’d stuck to the four lane highway we would have made better time. But we’ve been travelling Quebec Route 132 ever since we entered Québec Province. All the way up around the Gaspé and down the south side of the St. Lawrence River. Route 132 goes almost the whole way to Ontario but seems to disappear for a bit (on my maps) around Montreal.

I suppose that Route 132 is the original highway in those parts. Around Rimouski a four lane divided highway starts and you can have Rte 132 pretty much to yourself. There are all sort of interesting villages and almost all have at least one ice cream shop called a ‘laitier’.

I blindly followed Route 132 into Lévi, Quebec (across the river from Québec City). It was around 4pm and it hadn’t occurred to me that they would have a rush hour. All of a sudden it was bumper to bumper; stop and go. I tried Route 20 (the four lane freeway) and it was just as bad. By the time we’d passed the exits to Québec City I was ready to stop for the night.

A sign for a campground indicated it was five kilometres away. A reasonable distance and likely to ensure that the campground wasn’t beside the highway. We twisted and turned through country lanes. Very rural.

We finally came upon the campground and it was massive. One of those places that doesn’t even have tent sites and a lot of sites that are seasonally occupied. There’s even a campground restaurant, swimming pool and man-made lake. But the best was yet to come. Clearly visitors weren’t arriving in droves and when I asked about a campsite I was told it would be $46.00. I think I must have given the poor gal one of my looks. I explained that I didn’t need a site with ‘services’ (electricity, etc.) but she explained that all the sites had services ... there were no sites ‘sans’ services. I was able to beat them down to $36.00. Even though I was tired and wanted to stop, I was having trouble with paying almost $50.00 to park Helmut for the night. And, I think they were hesitant to lose an easy sale given that trailers weren’t exactly lining up to get in.

But here’s the best part. When I asked about wi-fi/internet, the poor gal had to tell me there was a charge of $5.00 for 24 hours. I think I may have laughed out loud. I said I’d think about it. Next morning I discovered that I needed a quarter for the shower (which, of course, I had not brought along). Sheeeeesh!

One of these things is not like the others;
One of these things just doesn’t belong.

Forillon National Park to Grand-Métis, PQ

Today we pretty much drove the entire north coast of the Gaspé Peninsula. It’s a spectacular drive. At first there are huge headlands that the road twists and turns up and over. Then things become a little less mountainous and the road hugs the coast for miles and miles. There are long sections with only a cement breakwater between the road and the ocean. And there are signs with a big wave and a car skidding. I’m assuming that during winter storms the waves splash up and over the road somewhat the way they do at Ogden Point in Victoria.

The towns and villages are farther apart on the north shore as well. I’ve already forgotten what this one is ... Grande-Vallée??

A little further down the road I went in search of coffee at the little café across from this lighthouse. The woman who ran the place which was also a gift shop had just taken fresh baked cookies out of the oven. The little village where this lighthouse is situated is called Sainte-Madeleine-de-la-Riviere-Madeleine. I suspect there are people who have moved rather than have to write that as their return address.

Sometime later we arrived in the village of Marsoui. Along the water they have a public park where I discovered my next photo exhibits.

Also in the park was this much decorated boat which included a quote (in French) by Kahlil Gibran.

There was a little canteen on the edge of the park which seemed to be heavily patronized. I had a ‘trio’ which included a hamburger (not huge but satisfying), a bag of ‘frites’ and a can of pop. The french fries were delicious as they were made from scratch from real potatos not those detestable refried frozen things.

Back on the road, the little villages whizzed by. Our next stop was at Cap-Chat (Cape Cat?) where we discovered our final photo exhibit in the local park or ‘halte’ as they seem to be called. Almost every little village along the way ... sometimes just a few kilometers apart ... seems to have one. It’s great for travellers as you always know there’s a “facility” not far down the road. And I suppose it does encourage people to stop and spend money locally. However, the tourist season seems to be very short. Today (Labour Day) there were not many people on the road and some places had already hung out the ‘fermé’ sign.

 

 

 

In any event, this last collection of photos was quite wonderful. There was a collection of portraits taken by Christian Lamontagne of folk from the Imperial Valley in California.

Tonight we’ve found a $19.00 campsite with free showers and a lovely view of the St. Lawrence River (at least until it got dark). It’s near Grand-Métis which is pretty much the end of the north shore of the Gaspé Peninsula. We’re also within earshot of the highway but even that is beginning to quiet down.