“Queen Victoria choose Ottawa as the capital of Canada after the other cities that were in contention to be the capital all said that while they’d prefer to be the capital, if they could not, then it should be Ottawa” our tour guide Taylor told us as we walked around the perimeter of the parliament of Canada. Taylor, a university student of history, does tours at the capital as a summer job. Laid-back, but with a passion for passing along knowledge of Canada, he loved that our tour group that day was such a multi-national group: a visiting student from India, a man from Australia, a couple from Panama, and of course, ourselves from the land of freedom. We followed this tour with a tour of the interior of the parliament building, which lacked the panache of Taylor’s tour. Sorry Canada, but your parliament building was dreary, oppressive, and felt like a state capital.
Although the outside was quite pretty
We had biked downtown, following a bike path that shadowed the river for a fair ways from our hotel. It continued to be fantastic to have the option for cashing out at a hotel, especially when the nice one we found on the east side of Ottawa was a paltry 10k points/ night. [and we"re sitting on ~400k] The arrival to the hotel, where we were greeted with a simple, “Hello sir, checking in?” had us releasing sighs of relief: we were back in English speaking Canada.
Following the tours, we pulled up the radar on the phone: thunderstorms were almost on top of us. Hopping on the bikes, we rushed back to the hotel, getting rained on lightly by the vanguard of the storms. Relaxing in the room and looking out over the city, the weather remained ominous but the rain was nowhere to be found. “Should have stayed in the city and swung by the Black Tomato to try some of the beer” I pouted to no one in particular. It was at that moment that the skies opened up, and we watched the torrential rain lash the city. Watching the aftermath, I started laughing and pointed out to Bethany the huge puddle that had formed at an intersection outside our hotel. I promptly spent the next 45 minutes standing in the window drinking a beer and laughing maniacally as I watched car after car gun through the yellow light and then hit the puddle, which had to be over a foot deep, throwing water over the cars next to them. More than one compact car looked like it wouldn’t be able to make it through.
Also, randomly, we saw a dog wandering through the rural area on the way to Rock Point
We quickly learned that camping in Ontario wasn’t going to be like camping in Newfoundland. With the major population centers located within it, the campgrounds could get away with charging $50/night, and lacked wifi and some of the other amenities we’d found at other campgrounds, likely because everyone visiting could have their phones with them and just use those. [Also helping to explain the delay in our posts] Driving from Rock Point, nestled on the coast with lake Erie, we struck out for Niagara, and immediately were perplexed by a GPS route that had us going left, right, left, right at what felt like every intersection. Despite the hassle, we made it to Niagara.
I had never seen the falls [albeit speaking about them extensively in my New Horizons textbook for my JHS students in Japan], but for Bethany this was her third trip. So, following her lead, we parked a ways away and biked up to the falls. Walking along the Canadian side and taking in the view. Bethany motioned to the Horseshoe Falls farther down and said we should check them out. I couldn’t help but notice the wet road under a clear sky where the falls’ spray misted down. I also couldn’t miss that we didn’t have an umbrella or the plastic ponchos people who took the boats out to view the falls up close had. Nevertheless, I figured Bethany knew what she was doing, so we strode off towards the Horseshoe Falls. Not even halfway in we were drenched, receiving looks from other tourists, no doubt wondering why we were getting ourselves soaked through. [Ike is conveniently omitting from the story that we were not the only ones without ponchos walking through the mist.]
Nevertheless, we started drying out and were in decent shape by the time we were boarding the boat to see the falls up close from below. The package naturally includes a stock photo of you green-screened in front of the falls:
Following the Niagara Falls region, we drove up to Niagara-on-the-Lake to do some wine touring. Parking ourselves at one of the first ones along the route, we had to admit that we again missed steady income and room to store the delicious stuff. However, we happily were able to park our car and continue the tour on our bikes. We promptly proceeded to hit up another four wineries, a brewery, and a confectionery. Doing it from a bike at once helped you not feel as bad and on the other hand made me feel about as bougie as humanly possible. Only thing missing was a fixie.
One of the early wineries we visited was touted in our guidebook for it’s environmental practices and LEED certification. Despite the region touting a bike tour of the wineries, most people out on the tours were retirees in polos and slacks. We rolled in after about 7 miles on the bikes in warm weather. While in there, we ended up speaking of the trip we’re on with the woman doing the tastings. Following our tasting, the woman asked us if we’d be purchasing any of the [quite expensive] wine, to which I replied, “No room on the bikes” while Bethany said “we’re on a budget”. The woman quickly replied, “Yes. I can tell.” Ouch.
Our last winery stop was ad hoc; not having any luck finding another winery on the map, we were almost back to where we’d started, but saw one just off to the side and moseyed on over. We found ourselves at Marynissen winery. Inside, just the tasting server and a single couple. The server and the man spoke to each other about their passions: for the server, painting. For the man, photography [explaining the camera he had slung from his shoulder, which now was with his wife outside] “Finding a passion is what keeps you going into retirement, you know?” the man said. The server nodded sagely. “So many friends of mine, they enter retirement, and then they just sit in front of the TV wondering what to do.” He moved off to work on something else leaving us with our wine and our thoughts. After a minute, “That’s why we decided to front-load our retirement.” I ventured. As I explained the trip to him, a gleam came to his eye. Here was someone who loved what we were doing. The server was hardly back before the man [Gene, I learned] was telling him of our trip. “HERE’S someone who knows what we’re talking about!” Gene exclaimed. A fist bump followed. Closing time was suddenly upon us, so we made our way to the other counter to pay. Gene asked for a bottle, and then proceeded to turn to me and said, “And a bottle of whatever this guy wants.” Gene paid, I expressed my profuse thanks, his wife Jodi came in and was given a quick rundown of our trip, handshakes exchanged, and they were out the door. Turning to the server I said, “One of the best things about this trip has been the enjoyment of meeting great and generous people. $10 for the tasting?” A gruff wave of the hand met me. “This one’s on me. You two have a fantastic trip.” “See, this is exactly what I mean.” A grin covered my face the rest of the bike ride back to our car, marred only occasionally as I checked my water bottle holder to make sure the bottle of wine was still snug.
Thanks Gene and Jodi!
Back in the campsite, we were pleased to see a young couple in the adjacent site. Initially, we had contemplated going to chat with them, but after the long day out and about, we were too tired to share pleasantries. [it also didn"t help that all they did in their campsite was make out] I awoke the next morning and saw a Cheetos bag in our campsite. “Hrm, raccoons must have been into a campsite nearby.” I thought to myself. “Oh. My. God.” Bethany ranted. “The f$%&*!@ raccoons last night and the derps that were camping next to us. They dropped some Cheetos and then of course some raccoons came up to eat them. They started screaming because they were drunk, and then they stomped around, yelled at it, and honked their horn, to no effect. At one point I heard them screaming ‘ahh! There it is again! How many ARE THERE?’ morons.” I was just happy I had slept through it all.
some folks spent most of an afternoon building driftwood sculptures
We assuaged the rough night by walking a couple minutes down to the shores of Lake Erie and spent the morning swimming in the “Shark and Salt free waters.” “Man, tide is low today.” I said to Bethany as deadpan as possible. “Ike, it’s a lake, there aren’t tides.” Bethany emphatically replied. “But look, there are waves Bethany! It must be big enough for tides!” On and on this went. But the weather was nice and the water fairly warm.
Bronte Point campground is the closest provincial park campground to Toronto. With the weekend looming in the city for us, we wanted to limit our commute time. [HAH! Sentences I"m glad I haven"t had to say in the last few months.] We rolled into the campground, and felt like we were truly back in civilization. Which wasn’t hard to believe when this is the view from your campground:
The following morning, we drove to a city park about 10km outside of downtown Toronto. The plan was to meet Bethany’s coworkers Peter and Amanda. We parked, grabbed the bikes, and hopped on the waterfront trail heading downtown.
Peter had warned us that getting downtown via car would be gross, and that due to construction “it is like Baghdad down here. Don’t drive. Seriously. Don’t Drive” The ride in was beautiful, the morning air crisp, the fog light, the biking fun. I have a bad habit of not liking to be passed when biking on trails [which makes having a hybrid bike hilarious; they"re the crossovers of the bike trail], and kept leaving Bethany behind. It didn’t help when we passed an actual bike race that they’d closed the highway to let go on. I had never noticed that women’s competitive biking uniforms are basically one-piece swimsuits. I’m actually curious if that’s all they honestly are, or if someone made a ton of money by taking women’s swimsuits and rebranding them as bike uniforms and charging 3x as much.
We met up with Peter, his wife Julia, kids David and Johanna, and rode the Yacht club ferry out to the Toronto Islands. Peter told us how the yacht club he’s a part of got it’s start as a club for people who worked over at the bougie yacht club on the Toronto islands [which to this day requires you wear a tie on the ferry. Orfl]. True to that spirit, they keep dues low by having members put in mandatory seasonal work hours to keep buildings in good shape, help get boats into or out of the water for the season, and of course to have the occasional beer. Sounds like my type of club. The six of us made our way to the beach and spent the morning swimming in Lake Ontario. Amanda and her [new] husband Mike met up with us shortly thereafter, and we shared stories, enjoyed the warm sun and the cool water. Mike quickly taught me that I’m not off-roading to our true potential, as he told a story of how on their recent honeymoon in Antigua he gunned it into a mud puddle [pool, maybe lake to hear Amanda tell it] and was able to get water to go over the top of their rental Jeep…and into it since it was an open top.
After lunch, we disbanded and Bethany and I took recommendations and biked around the downtown area, heading for the two market districts of Toronto, [St. Lawrence Market & Kensington Market] eventually settling in Chinatown and having bubble tea. True to it’s Asian roots, the establishment sold dozens of kinds of bubble tea in the front half, with the back half of the small family-run business devoted to renting movies, of which nearly half were pornographic and prominently displayed. Naturally, there were several middle-aged men in business attire perusing the available options.
Bethany and I quickly came to the realization that once again, downtown’s of cities offer much less when you’re on a tight budget. [And, honestly, it"s hard to distinguish one western big city from another...] We made our way back to Sweetcakes, with myself once again playing the 8 year old and racing people on the way back, oblivious that I kept leaving Bethany behind.
The following morning we attended our first Lutheran church of the trip [I"m expecting there to be more in the prairies, as it sounds like most of the German and Scandinavian immigrants went out there.] Afterward, we met up with a fellow OT’er and had Korean BBQ. It was all you can eat, and JP protein-loaded pretty hard, trouncing both Bethany and I. [Don"t get those guns from going light I guess.] JP showed us the scenic Forks of the Credit area outside of Toronto. Although being from Australia originally, Bethany and I kept hearing ‘Fox and the Credit’. Sorry JP, we’re just silly ‘mericans. Following more advice from JP, we made our way to Oastler Park, near Parry Sound, north of Toronto. [Home of Bobby Orr! This is important if you"re from Canada or Boston] I thanked our lucky stars that we were heading north on Sunday instead of Friday. We belatedly noticed in the guide book that the summer traffic on the highway is atrocious as people flee the city for the weekends to enjoy the beautiful countryside. I happily enjoyed not being locked in the awful traffic heading back into the city.
Pictured: Good fellowship
In our campsite on the lake, we walked around to see some of the other sites. The walk-in sites in particular were amazing, and while strolling through them, a request came from a young man to snap a picture for him. We learned that three brothers [one from BC, the other Toronto, the last from New York] were spending the week with their father [originally from Finland]. After taking their picture [the father: “ask for a photo, didn"t realize you"d find professional photographers!” he said in a good-natured tone after Bethany and I moved them around a couple times to make sure the picture would be good] we explained our trip to them [again the dad, “Why are you in Canada, wasn"t Wisconsin good?” again good-naturedly] and bid them farewell.
sometimes it’s important to photobomb Bethany’s incessant sunset pictures
The next morning we drove into the nearby town to bike on the Fitness Trail, which the park information said was a manicured 5k trail that had the best views of the bay. Ike, in all his glory, sped off and left me in the dust. After a short time the trail seemed to come to an end, but there was a sign pointing to where you could pick up the trail again. Naturally I continued on, figuring Ike was so far ahead of me that I couldn’t see him. The trail here was definitely not “manicured,” and fell more into the category of mountain biking, with large boulders strewn throughout. Eventually the trail turned pretty muddy, so I turned around. A few minutes later I saw Ike peddling towards me. “Where have you been?” Turns out he had been waiting for me down by the water, near where the trail turned from manicured to unmaintained. Oops, totally didn’t see him. We somehow again got separated on our way back to the car. But that gave me a chance to briefly put my feet into Lake Huron. (3 of the 5 great lakes, check!)
Next we set off to Mississauga Provincial Park, making our way north of Lake Huron. Boy were the mosquitoes bad there. The campsite redeemed itself with a little footpath right down to a lake, and we went for a quick dip in the water to cool off (and keep our skin from being bitten).
The next day we headed for the “Soo,” and crossed back into the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave via Sault St. Marie. I still don’t understand how “Sault” is pronounced “Soo,” but I digress… We filled up with seriously cheap gas right across the border, and headed off to explore Michigan’s Upper Peninsula for a couple of days.
Tahquemenon Falls in the UP are the second largest falls east of the Mississippi, which was kinda like being the second best team in the East of the NBA this last year. When Niagara is number one, and fresh in your memories, the tannin-stained water of Tahquemenon is almost quaint. “Sure bud, you’re real big! Yeah, tons of water! The roar is almost deafening! Sure thing buddy.” The stairways had signs at the top proclaiming the exact number of stairs down to the falls. “No doubt to allow the old folks to weigh the costs and benefits of seeing the falls versus icing their knees for the next week straight.” Bethany said.
poverty Niagara
Niagara-lite
Water that doesn’t need to be boiled isn’t always a given on this trip, so we like to fill up the water jug when it’s available. As I stood waiting for it to fill, a tentative “excuse me?” drifted over my shoulder. I turned around to see a slightly sheepish man looking at me as he stood near his vehicle. “Do you have jumper cables by chance?” he said. I smiled, “Sure do. Battery’s dead?” I said, immediately realizing that it was that or torture, and somehow the latter didn’t seem likely. “Yeah,” he responded. “I have an inverter for my electronics hooked up to the battery….” he trailed off. “And you drained it and now it won’t start, right?” I finished for him. “Why, do you have one too?” “Sure do.” “And you never have problems with the battery?” “Well….ours is hooked up to a solar battery, which is hooked up to a solar panel on the roof of our vehicle.” His eyes widened a bit at at that. “We’re on a long-haul trip. It’s a bit excessive but it’s nice to not worry about having power.” I finished. “Where in Wisconsin are you from?” I ventured. “Green Bay. Son’s up here with us and he went to the University and still lives in Madison.” Always happy to help a ‘Sconnie, and happier still that it was our vehicle helping jump another instead of vice-versa.
The Pictured rocks [or as Bethany kept calling them, the Painted rocks] are yet another scenic stop in the UP. For us, though, the highlight of them was seeing a chipmunk avidly attacking a jolly rancher someone had left on the ground. The wrapping stood no chance and he went to town on the bar of sugar. With another one sitting on the sidewalk, we couldn’t help picture the little guy eating both and entering a hell of a sugar coma.
We wrapped up our time in the UP at Porcupine State Park. “You wanna stay here too?” The park registration guy seemed shocked that yes, we did want to stay here despite no, we don’t have a reservation. Come on, it’s a Thursday night! The campground was half empty. We picked out a spot, set up our site, and promptly climbed down to the shore of Lake Superior. (4 out of 5: Lake Michigan… you’re next)
We are spending a week or so visiting family & friends in Wisconsin and Iowa, then will be continuing through Western Ontario and into Canada’s prairies.
Sweet sweet corn
Not pictured: Bethany constantly screaming “REDBUD” at Spring Creek instead of Redbud.
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