The Great Northen Peninsula

I’m now as far north as I can get without taking a boat. On Friday I drove up the Great Northern Peninsula and camped at Quirpon in Viking RV Park. The Vikings didn’t have running water, boil order notwithstanding or laundry room, flush toilets and a shower but otherwise conditions look pretty primitive.

Although there were patches of sun when I left Norris Point things clouded over quickly once I started heading north. I stopped in Cow Head Bay to pick up a ticket to a theatre performance there, then headed north amid clouds and fog patches that became heavier as the day progressed. Stopped for gas in Parsons Pond and drove into Port-Au-Choix where I was turned off by the oceanfront parking lot that is the Lion’s Club Campground. Drove through town and failed to find a sign marking the National Historic Site on the way out. Somewhere near abouts Brig Bay I started seeing small icebergs in the Stait of Belle Isle and soon the coast of Labrador loomed in the distance amid the cloud and fog.

By the time I’d found my campground the wind was blowing a full gale and the cold and rain were like to cut right through one. No one was in sight to take my fee but I hooked up, battened down the hatches, and turned on the heat. In honour of the boil water signs I drove over to Saint Anthony yesterday, checked out the mall, and made my first-ever purchase of 10 L of water. With boil-water orders common on the Rock I figured it was about time. The signs along the highway up to Saint Anthony make it appear to be the cultural and commercial centre of the Northern Peninsula and it probably is but on a day of fog and rain it looked very unprepossessing.

The Great Northern Highway crosses bogs and marshes with embankments up to 50 feet high; driving in gusting crosswinds tends to rivit one’s attention and causes one to slow down. In such locations and especially on turns where there are guardrails the highway is marked by 8-foot poles with fluorescent markings to assist snow plow operators in winter. Calling Newfoundland ‘the Rock’ may be a term of affection but it is also close to the truth. Wherever there is a spot of arable soil along the highway people have put up fences to keep out the moose and planted ‘victory gardens’. In the ditches often close by the highway itself are stacked piles of firewood in hopes of it drying. Rather than attempt to blast or drill into the exposed bedrock utility poles are placed inside cribbing and held in place by rock.

It is always interesting to check out the stock in trade of local grocery stores. I stopped at Foodland in Port-Au-Choix as much to browse as pick up lettuce and potatoes. They stock Nova Scotia Solomon Gundy and sardines from Blacks Harbour New Brunswick but no fiddleheads here. Bologna is popular as in Nova Scotia but calling it Newfie Steak might not be wise. It was earlier at Norris Point KOA that I encountered BBQ Chicken and Beef and Gravy flavoured potato chips. I was amused to note when I had dinner at the Seaview Restaurant at Trout Cove that the butter for my roll came from Scotsburn in Nova Scotia as did the cream for my coffee. The mint was from Granby, Quebec.

Since I eventually expect to be ‘Screeched In’ while I’m here in Newfoundland I’m learning:

The Ode to Newfoundland:

1. When sun rays crown thy pine clad hills,
And summer spreads her hand,
When silvern voices tune thy rills,
We love thee, smiling land.
We love thee, we love thee,
We love thee, smiling land.
2. When spreads thy cloak of shimmering white,
At winter's stern command,
Thro' shortened day, and starlit night,
We love thee, frozen land.
We love thee, we love thee
We love thee, frozen land.
3. As blinding storm gusts fret thy shore,
And wild waves lash thy strand,
Thro' spindrift swirl, and tempest roar,
We love thee windswept land.
We love thee, we love thee
We love thee windswept land.
4. As loved our fathers, so we love,
Where once they stood, we stand;
Their prayer we raise to Heaven above,
God guard thee, Newfoundland
God guard thee, God guard thee,
God guard thee, Newfoundland.

http://cansomebodyhelpme.com/screechin/screech-howto.pdf

After the foregoing weather report imagine my utter surprise when I awoke this morning to sunshine and a cloudless sky. However if i was expecting it to warm up, good luck. I did finallly get my bike off its rack and took it out for a ride to photograph icebergs. If my source is correct I’ll be attending United Church this evening.





++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Only in America. Some woman fell asleep during a flight and woke to find herself alone on a locked aircraft in the hangar. Someone has some splaining to do and her lawyer is seeing dollar signs.

Wishful Thinking

Wayne, our host and commentator on the boat tour Saturday described a solar panel located on a lighthouse in Newfoundland as wishful thinking; I’m beginning to think the weather forecast suffers from similar woes--10% chance of precipitation seems to be lacking a zero.

The closest distance between two points here is a boat, it’s barely a mile across Bonne Bay to Woody Harbour but yesterday I drove 50 miles one way getting there by road traversing 8 miles of road construction and descending at least two 20% grades. At least that highway is under construction, on the news, when I could get radio reception, the mayors of towns inside Terra Nova National Park were complaining about the state of their roads--guess I’ll have my own chance to evaluate the validity of their complaints. Nothing is close here, never by a direct route, and always over a steep hill; might as well have left my bike in Halifax. Internet service is available here only if one is close to the office and even then is directionally challenged. When it comes to Facebook it feels like I’m on another planet.

During one of the brief breaks in the cloud cover and rain Sunday I got out for a walk on the well maintained trail that encircles a small lake on the Kampground Property. Alien Coltsfoot is everywhere but the Marsh Marigolds are beginning to open. With all the wetlands surrounding me but for the wind and cold the blackflies and mosquitoes would be carrying me away. Expecting Rain on Monday I stayed in camp and wrote E-mail, now if only people would write me back! I did make it up to the Parks Interpretive Centre to have a closer look at the displays and watch their introductory movies.

Yesterday I made a 100-mile drive over steep hills and roads under construction to reach Woody Point a mile across the bay. After stopping to admire the view from the park’s discovery centre and chat up the staff I drove down to Trout River for a gourmet fish dinner at the Seaside Restaurant; local beer, bean salad, cod fish, and partridge berry pie. Partridge berries and Swedish Lingon Berries are the same plant, who knew? When I get a chance will insert a few of my photographs.

Norris Point

Woody Point

Woody Point Light

I’ve got to stop reading and listening to the news. Between bar fights where ears get chewed off, planes crashing into buildings, oil spills, murders, and sexual molesting priests I may be better off not knowing.

CBC News - Nova Scotia - Marine Atlantic charters 2 refitted ferries

Let's hope this is a better deal than those British Subs proved to be!

Marine Atlantic charters 2 refitted ferries

Last Updated: Friday, May 21, 2010 | 7:42 PM AT Comments99Recommend42

CBC News

Marine Atlantic released this concept design for two ferries that it expects to have operating by the summer of 2011. (Courtesy Marine Atlantic)

The Crown corporation that operates a ferry service between southern Newfoundland and Nova Scotia is chartering two vessels to start work on the Gulf of St. Lawrence next summer.

The two Swedish vessels, the Stena Trader and the Stena Traveller, will carry 1,000 passengers each.

At a news conference Friday, Marine Atlantic announced that two aging ferries — the Joseph and Clara Smallwood and the Caribou — will be retired.

"I guess we're all excited," Marine Atlantic president Wayne Follett said. "I see today as a watershed day for Marine Atlantic, and we are proud to introduce the new fleet."

The vessels have 300 beds, with roughly the same capacity for passengers as the ferries that will be retired and sold off. However, each can hold many more cars and trucks.

"The ability to carry cars, tractor-trailers and drop trailers — compared to the Joseph and Clara, and the Caribou — will be about a 50 per cent increase," Follett said.

Marine Atlantic is not revealing how much it is paying for the ships. But Rob Merrifield, the federal minister of state, said the new vessels represent a great improvement in the Crown corporation's service.

"It's an exciting day for the people in this room. I don't know if you're as excited as I am, but you should be," Merrifield told reporters.

The ferries will be refitted in Germany, during which each will be made 12.5 metres shorter. The change will allow for easier manoeuvres in the harbour of Port aux Basques, Marine Atlantic's main terminal in Newfoundland.

The first ferry will be delivered around Christmas.

Read more: http://www.cbc.ca/canada/nova-scotia/story/2010/05/21/nl-ferries-chartered-521.html#ixzz0ort8Oq3L

Half an Hour Earlier in Newfoundland

May 20, 2010

We backed into Port-Aux-Basques harbour last evening thankful for being able to land at all. Given a choice between fog and standing off-shore in choppy seas we took the fog gladly. Not much to see in the fog unfortunately. I was just thankful for enough visibility for safe driving the 40 km to Grand Codroy Campground. The massive peaks to the right of the highway were lost in fog. At my campground I was informed that I can expect much of Newfoundland to be a cash society, my hostess pocketed the only 20 dollar bill I had on me and sent me to a campsite without doing paperwork.

Friday dawned overcast, damp, and cold but fog free. The drive up to Cornerbrook seemed to take forever. Didn’t seem to be much other traffic though seeing my first moose standing in the middle of the highway near Stephenville added some excitement. At least this one beat a retreat unlike one other I’ve heard of that stood his ground in the middle of the road blocking traffic until authorities shot him and carted the carcass away. The main road into Corner Brook is closed and the detour totally unmarked. My GPS earned its keep this day. Didn’t find the bank I was headed for but did find an ATM inside Sobeys. Reminds me of the CIBC branch that was closed in a mall in Oakville and also replaced by an ATM leaving the letter carrier scratching his head as to how to deliver the registered mail from head office. Got a few groceries, stopped for gas and found my way out of town along the river road which passes by the industrial section of town; the Bowaters Pulp Mill for which the town is famous has pride of place in the centre of town.

I suppose the hiking trail I’ve been noticing to the right of the Trans Canada Highway, TCH, is all that remains of the narrow gauge line that was once traversed by the Newfie Bullet. The drive up to Deer Lake didn’t seem as tedious and traffic increased. The drive into Gros Morne was winding and hilly though the remains of the Applachian Mountains are dwarfed by the Rockies; nevertheless the winding road demanded care and at least two downhill grades had me finding second gear lest I overheat my brakes. Found the Gros Morne Interpretive Centre, purchased my annual park passes, got info, bought a guide in the book store, and picked the naturalists brains. L’Anse Aux Meadows it seems doesn’t open until open until June 1st. I did learn of an ongoing Festival in the park and later my campground host was able to book me onto a boat trip.

The Norris Point KOA is busy for the long weekend and barking dogs, blasting radios and kids on bikes abound. One thing that has struck me in the two days I’ve been on the Rock is the number of people I’ve seen out walking along even the Trans Canada Highway on foot. My campsite is on a hill and leveling the RV proved an impossible task. I look forward to a better site come Monday and the peace and quiet of the mid-week doldrums.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

In Norris Point the Cat Stop is named after the cats that formerly frequented the wharf shed that once occupied its site. Service is cafeteria-style and working from two small deep-fryers definitely not fast food. I’d driven down for the afternoon cruise and when I asked if my parking spot was ok I was told by a man half my age, “You’re fine, my son.” At $15 for a 2-hr cruise in Bonne Bay I got a bargain and nature co-operated with moderately sunny skies, a light chop, and bracing breeze. I managed to catch a glimpse of the harp seal that came by to people watch, the bald eagle on the nest, and the moose one of guides spotted onshore. Just as priceless was the repartee among our guides, their banter, the stories attached to various sites, and the turns of phrase.

Visiting the Home Sod

May 11, 2010

The Saint John River is at full flood but in testimony to the dryness of the season running barely above its banks. After a quiet night stopped on the way out to get gasoline and resumed my trek along Highway 2 past Moncton and on to the Nova Scotia Border. There I stopped to visit the tourist bureau, pick up a Halifax Chroncle, and make lunch. An hour later I was in Halifax at my sister’s home.

I was welcomed first by their neighbour’s two dogs which I and my Brother-In-Law ended up walking daily until the weekend as their owner had a sore knee. My Brother-In-Law guided me to a parking spot beside his home. My sister’s home is as close to home as I can get any more in Nova Scotia and indeed there is much I recognize from our mutual native home in her house. Everyone should have a Brother who is a consummate handiman. Getting my laundry done is a definite bonus.

For a week I got to fall into the rhythm of the Joudrey’s life. The places they shop, their neighbourhood, their neighbours. On Thursday we drove out to the Annapolis Valley to Berwick and to Richard’s Homestead on South Mountain to mow the lawn and air out the house. Then to his sister’s home after a visit to the graveyard and a few other nieghbours. Home is where one is treated the best and complain the most. Actually I’d say I get spoiled. My youngest neice dropped in to visit and earlier I got to see my Sister and Brother-In-Law’s pictures from Australia and New Zealand along with a few shots of their latest grandchild in England. Saturday night we drove into the city and I treated to them to a Dinner Theatre performance of Nunsense.

Sunday morning saw us walk to church at the nearby Saint Thomas Anglican Church. Highlight of the service was the puppetry presentation given by a visiting professor. Walter, it seems ate three pans of lasagna at the latest supper and needed help getting dragged from his bag. One of the best lines aimed at the adults in the audience involved the existance of dinosaurs and the fact that anyone who doesn’t believe they exist hasn’t been to an Anglican Synod. In the afternoon we got to visit with my first cousin Joan, her husband a cousin via our Mother and her daughter and grandchilren--two active brothers.

Monday we got back to the big city to wander through the Public Gardens, visit a book store, and get pan handled while we sat beside the Rhododendrons. Lunch was at Cousins, a local Greek institution and later coffee at Fair Trade. A tour of two local second-hand shops suggests that Haligonians have better than average reading habits. Halifax still supports an independent book store.

On Tuesday, the 18th, I drove down the South Shore to Bridgewater. I was fortunate on two accounts; the winds were light and I wasn’t held up in construction traffic; indeed, on my return journey I miraculously hit every light green. Spent most of my time with my 91-year-old Aunt--I’d rather spend time with the living than visit graveyards. Made it to the county offices just in time to settle my land tax accounts.

When visiting relatives it is important to leave while one is still being told one is leaving too soon. Wednesday morning I geared up, filled my gas tank at $1.04.2 a litre, dropped into Sobey’s for groceries, and headed out for Truro and then Cape Breton Island. A few hours later I stopped at the Cape Breton Tourist Office which had copies of this year’s Newfoundland Guide and Map. From there it was an hours’ drive to Kelly’s Mountain and the KOA skirting the west side of the Bras D’Or Lakes. Just once I’d like to see them lit up like golden shoulders. There was a hours’ sun to illumine the red cliff face of Kelly’s Mountain and the bridge opposite before clouds and rain settled in.

May 20, 2010

Anyone who has listened to CBC programming will remember, “and half an hour later in Newfoundland.” Tomorrow that becomes a reality in my life as I have spent the day crossing the Gulf of Saint Lawrence on a Marine Atlantic Ferry. Ferry travel as with air travel teaches one to accept one’s low status in the scheme of things. The ride can be much bumpier and the motion sickness bags are prominently in sight, the decks seem to make odd movements under one’s feet that tend to throw one off. And then there are fog horns and that warning of seven blasts from the ship’s horn that would announce, “Abandon Ship!”, a thing no one would ever want to hear. One is required to arrive a minimum of one hour before sailing and then hurry up and wait. Learning that the ferry coming the other way has not left port due to high winds is oddly discomforting; fortunately the winds abated and we backed into the dock seven hours later.

Welcome to Newfoundland. Met a couple from Saint Johns on the ferry who gave me their take on the Rock. The word Newfie, from the mouth of someone from away such as myself, can be interpreted as a term of dirision. Getting off the boat calls for more patience. The big trucks on our deck got off the boat first before smaller vehicles got their chance. Later we passed the trucks lined up at the weigh scale. Fortunately although the fog hid the spectacular scenery around Port-Aux-Basques it was not thick enough to prevent my 30-minute drive up to Grand Codroy and my campground there. It just strikes me that while I was enjoying the use of slow Wi-Fi onboard ship the ship was playing Master and Commander--which features a shipwreck; something more soppy; and finally Avatar. The language in the latter is not family rated. The tiny screen and scratchy sound system did not motivate me to go watch it.

Trekking Through Quebec

May 10, 2010

Last Wednesday having no access to the internet since I was unwilling to pay another $10.50 for a few hours internet service, that fee at Quinte Isle Campark is usurious, was off by 7 AM beating the school buses on the rural roads. Was shocked to find gasoline selling in Picton for 91.9¢ a litre and wasted no time filling up. The drive up to the 401 seemed to take forever. Heading East one passes through Kingston and Cornwall taking care not become a speed-trap customer. At the Quebec Border I noted that the Information Centre is still under construction and does not look to be ready for a June opening. Earlier I wondered at the forethought behind the closing of three consecutive service centres but suppose having been built around the same time each needed to have their buried fuel tanks replaced at the same time. Decades ago I remember liking to stop at the 1867 Restaurant near Upper Canada Village because it was one of th few remaining service centre establishments that actually supplied counter service in contrast to the usual Burger King/MacDonalds stand in line takeout look.

Stopped to visit Quebec Tourism in their trailer at Km 6 on Highway 20 and took their advice to ignore my GPS and follow Highway 20 through the southern edge of the Island of Montreal missing downtown traffic and the construction I remember from last year. Highway 20 for a time passes through city streets and remains much patched though not nearly as rough as it was decades ago when I learned to avoid it. Eventually 20 crosses the Saint Lawrence and I took 10 to Bromont. There’s been much construction and street renaming since my GPS was programmed so I had to take my own head for it in finding my campground. The town of Bromont is nestled in among the Laurentian Hills, Mountains, south of Montreal and remains an equestrian centre benefiting from facilities built for the 76 Olympics. I was pleased to find a fluently bilingual campground manager and preferential pricing, Wi-Fi included. Spent a quiet 2-day respite though outside my RV the area spent a day under a severe thunderstorm watch that brought gusting winds and a half-hour power blackout along with intermittent showers.

Thankful not to have been on the road in gusting winds the day before I drove up the Eastern Townships with just enough wind to keep the fog at bay. The drive was distinguished solely by its tedium though being stiffed 112.9¢ a gallon to fill up served to ruffle my feathers. Reaching Rivière-Du-Loup seemed to take forever but I finally turned at Highway 85 and found Camping Lido. Just opened that day the smell of fresh paint pervaded the office and my hosts Réjean et Manôn were friendly and bilignual as well. The washroom was unheated though, lacked toilet paper and had pay showers; the temperature felt ominously like snow which did arrive. Again decided to stay over and ended up extending that stay when the forecast proclaimed more wind and rain. My Wi-Fi service was good here so I managed to catch up. I even managed to sweep out the RV and scrub a few layers of dirt off the textured ABS floor. Around my site my French Canadian Neighbours were moving trailer loads of goods into their seasonal trailers. Jeep Wranglers seem to be the vehicle of choice here--at least no one here drives Hummers.

Woke this morning to a world of white and cold. At a certain point heat pumps stop creating heat and I have to resort to my noisy propane heater. When I finally got myself going my RV and the grass surrounding it were still snow-covered though the roads were clear. The ‘mountains’ were coated in sticky white stuff until 20 miles inland I topped a rise and it magically disappeared. At the New Brunswick Border one first meets the Irving Station and then the tourist centre. Although its Quebec counterpart was marked as Fermé, the NB centre failed to bother to so inform tourists. In Edmunston I stopped to shop at Sobeys, now an Atlantic Superstore. Don’t know that I was aware of the degree to which this area is French Canadian, aside from being over-large for easy shopping the signage was in French and all the packaging had the French side showing. Since I’ll be visiting relatives didn’t want to get too many perishables and had trouble finding things in any case.

Highway 2 in New Brunswick is now a 4-lane divided highway for its entire length and sections of it are old enough to be in need of reconstruction but I rediscovered the fact that large portions of it along my route to Fredericton are not programmed into my GPS. GPS give strange results when they think one is driving through rocks and trees. For miles there is fencing on either side of the highway with passthroughs for men on foot which one supposes are meant to keep out the moose; I wonder just how effective this effort has proved to be. Today was calm and without precipitation but just once I’d love to see this province without a heavy leaden sky glowering overhead. Took my own head to find my way to Hartt Island RV Resort beside the Saint John River in Fredericton. Highway 2 may be faster but Highway 102 follows the river and is a shorter route. I still have 264 miles or 426 km to go to reach Halifax tomorrow. When I crossed the border this morning I lost an hour.

Alberta's huge beaver dam sparks media buzz

Last Updated: Wednesday, May 5, 2010 | 1:57 PM ET Comments124Recommend138

CBC News

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British and American media are buzzing about the world's largest beaver dam, which is in northern Alberta and was first found using Google Earth in 2007.

The dam on the southern edge of Wood Buffalo National Park is about 850 metres long. It's common for beaver dams in Canada to reach 500 metres in length.

Park officials said the dam is in an inaccessible part of the park just south of Lac Clair, about 190 kilometres northeast of Fort McMurray.

Biologists estimate the dam would have taken at least 20 years to build. It is visible in NASA satellite imagery from 1990.

The dam first jumped into the global spotlight a few years back.

"[Beavers] are one of the few species that really leave a footprint on the Earth that is visible from satellite," ecologist Jean Thie told CBC News in an interview in 2008.

Thie said he discovered the dam while scanning satellite images for signs of climate change.

The previously reported largest beaver dam was a 652-metre structure in Three Forks, Mont., Thie said.

On The Road

Yes, dear readers, I'm guilty of neglecting my blog. Since I went back on the road March 15th I have not had so much time to wax eloquent. Monday, March 15th, as planned, I pulled up stakes and headed south on I-35 for San Antonio. The number of speed traps along the highway impressed me but I gave them no cause to have an interest in my affairs. Signed into the KOA after braving the inner city expressways and was assigned a well-drained site on a rise above a small river or large stream, significant as it rained that night and all next day. Until Wi-Fi failed spent some time catching up. On Wednesday the 17th I took the bus into downtown to tour the Alamo, walk the Riverwalk, and catch noontime mass at San Fernando Cathedral. On the return journey the coach passengers were entertained by some impromptu local colour. Rested up for the next day's drive.

Driving three hundred miles is one thing but fighting traffic is quite another. Even at 10 in the morning getting out of San Antonio was a challenge as was the drive through Austin on I-35 but it was the ten-mile jam on a four-lane section of I-35W in Fort Worth caused by a collision that took the cake. I was thankful to cross the Red River into Oklahoma and meet the Welcome Centre. Finding my campground in Marietta a few miles on proved a challenge. The place was small, had poor Wi-Fi, and poorer services; it's for sale if you want a tiny poorly located campground. Fatefully decided I didn't want to drive the next day and although I enjoyed the walk about the property on a graded walkway discovered a spring blizzard was on the way which ocassioned a further stopover.

When I did get off again discovered why Oklahoma City got 5 inches of snow and Marietta a dusting. The drive was uphill all the way, though calling the ridge a mountain may be overstating the point. Oklahoma City had a pall of smog hanging over it and the look of the one campground that was open did not appeal to me especially since there was no one present to sign me in. Decided to drive on to Kansas discovering that I-35 was the only expressway in Oklahoma that isn't a toll road. Upon entering Kansas I was met by the gal at the Toll Road Booth and then got to visit the Welcome Centre. It had a gift store packed with green witches and Dorothy Dolls. My objective was Lindsborg, the little Sweden of the plains which rises out of prairie farmland like a mirage amid the blowing dust with its tallest structure the grain elevators one of which leans at a 10% cant.

I spent 2 weeks in Lindsborg walking and biking about town. A 'city' of 3300 tall blonde Swedes with unlocked doors and people who wave on the street. My campground was a parking lot behind the motel whose owner is a Bangladeshi refugee. Bangladeshi TV is available by cable. It is not convenient for it to be necessary to walk to another location to use the internet. Scott's Grocery stocks Swedish specialties and Wisconsin Cheese--a 50 lb block of cheddar in the meat department. Convenient to have a grocery store open across the street. The two churches and college were a short walk from my site. Downtown, paved with bricks was lined with art galleries, a handful of restaurants, and the usual hardware stores and gift shops. The Post Office has a sidewall mural painted by a famous local artist, the library boasts significant artifacts, and the Bank of America had carved doors and sign reading Farmer's Bank along with significant art. Toured several art galleries, museums including the rolling mill which made flour, and biked all over town. Attended Holy Week services, the Messiah, Saint John Passion, a recital, theatre, and the art exhibit. Found my way to the Smoke River Auditorium for a high school production of Our Town by Thornton Wilder, the play seeming apt for Lindsborg. Lenten Service began with a lasagna dinner with salads and Easter Brunch proved to be biscuits and gravy.

Hitting the road again was a bit of a wrench but I headed north and then east to Independence Missouri. Even the campground was owned by the Mormons now styled the Church of Christ. Needed some help to find it. The other industries in Independence appear to be nostalgia and Harry S Truman. After visiting the now 20-year-old Temple dedicated to peace for the daily prayer for peace ceremony and taking the tour spent a day visiting the historic C&A Railway Station, the National Trail Centre and a flour baron’s 20-room mansion. After getting personalized tours of the two museums the Trail Centre seemed rather impersonal. A walk uptown led to Clinton’s Soda Fountain which gave Harry his first job, little has changed since save for the demise of the adjoining drug store. The streets were lined with flowering shrubs and trees.

Driven from Independence by the ‘World Conference’ I drove up to spend a quiet weekend surrounded by cornfields, flowering redbuds, and magnolias in a bucolic campground outside Springfield, Illinois. Too far from town for easy access I biked the countryside admiring this lakeside resort area. Little else to do and internet service made dial-up look lightening speed. The coal-fired generating station south of town spewed a cloud of evil smelling by-products. Lincoln and state government are the principal employers. Not much to see on the drive up to Lake Michigan but farmland. Springfield may be the state capitol but Chicago sprawls over 3 states and my route skirted the industrial south-east before heading East on a 12-lane toll highway amid busy truck traffic.

Michigan City is a small town just East of the newly formed Indiana Dunes National Shoreline. The National and State Parks serve to protect the dunes and 600-ft Mount Baldy and keep the shorline in the public domain as even now rows of cottages dot the park interior. I was charmed to drive through a mile-long swamp alive with blooming marsh marigolds. The Michigan City Campground south of the interstate was gearing up for the coming season but I was pleasantly surprised to see wildflowers blooming under the trees in a neglected fencerow including red and white trilliums, bloodroot, meadowrue, may apples, wood anenomes.

I’ve come to dread cinderblock highways. The constant chunk, chunk, chunk caused by eroding chinks between the concrete blocks becomes extremely enervating. Interstate 69 is groved and the constant vibration isn’t long in taking its toll. The highway wends its way past the Michigan State cities of Kalamazoo and Flint. The demise of America’s once-proud automotive industry has led to the emptying of entire subdivisions in Flint and a proposal to bulldoze entire neighbourhoods and return them to greenspace. My tolerance for the road vibration ran out just east of Flint and having researched the fact that it was open headed north to the small ‘town’ of Otisville and down a dirt road to a Free Methodist Summer Camp called Covenant Hills. Led to the active RV Section by a gold-ear ring clad senior I camped in solitude waiting in vain for ‘he’ who would collect my fee. Never did find anyone and left next morning feeling well rested.

An hour later I crossed the Bluewater Bridge at Sarnia and cleared customs after being asked if any of my new friends in Austin were drug dealers. The Rev. Karl Gronberg and Kent Bohls would not feel complimented. Driving East on the 402 one meets Toronto’s garbage headed for upstate Michigan and later the stench of farmers spraying pig manure on their fields. Welcome to Southern Ontario. The next 10 days were spent with 10 months of mail, 2 banks, shopping and a bit of visiting. Drove up to Kitchener now part of Waterloo Region it seems to get my RV maintained under warantee and camp at what I remember as being a Mennonite Farm north of Waterloo between St. Jacobs and Hiedelberg. It’s a strange feeling to feel ill at ease in one’s own bed, certainly it was quieter in North Waterloo County. After one more night home picked up more mail, visited another bank, picked up groceries and headed east across the top of Toronto. The core lanes moved along at the limit but there was plenty of congestion on the collectors.

I should know enough to double-check the GPS but followed it as it led me into Prince Edward County through the middle of the city of Belleville. I’m camped in a 250-site campground with only the woodpeckers and kildeer for company. Down the way are close to 500 year-round and 3-season park model trailers ranged in tight rows like a small city complete with lawns and paved drives, TV Satellite Dishes, propane tanks, water shut-off valves, and the other utilities. Next door is Sandbanks Provinicial Park and inches from my driver’s side door just to make me feel at home is a healthy patch of poison ivy. Early tomorrow I hope to head out for Bromont PQ. The Maritimes beckon.