Hi Folks!
Well, we made it to Vancouver…5000 km from home now (home being Ottawa of
course). Did all of you realize that Ottawa is closer to Ireland than it is to
Vancouver? I figure we should have just driven to Ireland for a more cultural
experience but the Atlantic ocean proved to be too great an obstacle. Plus, Mary
has a severe allergic reaction when she comes within 3 kilometres of
leprechauns.
My reports this time around will not focus heavily on cultural differences like
last year’s Europe reports. Heck, there is nothing new about culture here expect
the influx of our Asian friends. Otherwise, there is still the 26 car pile-up at
the Tim Horton’s drive-thru, the complete domination of the CRTC on all media
broadcasts and of course the fascination with weather and bugs. The other day an
Albertan commented to us that hailstones the size of volleyballs collided with
his pick-up as he was travelling the back roads. Fortunately, he was able to
take cover under a freeway overpass until he was snowed in by a fierce blizzard.
After he dug his way out, a huge mosquito carried his wife away. He is still
looking for her as we speak…
However, when travelling with a “5th wheel (a 30 ft camper resting on back of a
very powerful truck) with my parents (also known as my wife Mary’s lovin’
in-laws) many new tales can be told.
We’ve been on the road for 10 days now since leaving Ottawa. During that time,
the first two days took us through Sudbury, Ontario to Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario
to Marquette, Michigan to Duluth, Minnesota and finally to Winnipeg. Upon
arrival at my parent’s house in Winnipeg, we discovered that my industrious
father had already parked the 30-ft trailer on their driveway. He spoke
excitedly about the success of parking such a beast. Later I found out two
neighbours were inconvenienced by my father’s success. The first neighbour had
already contacted the local eaves trough company to replace the ones torn off
his roof by the trailer and his other neighbour discovered rich mineral deposits
unearthed in her yard as the trailer tires barrelled through.
My mother meanwhile had the trailer fully stocked and ready to go. Each cabinet
was labelled (twister-tie cabinet, pill cabinet etc.), the refrigerator was
marked clearly with a “do not enter” sign and her make-up application area was
protected with the familiar “do not cross” police tape. Fortunately, my father
found a portable cooler to store all of his home-brewed beer. He erected an
electric fence around it as well.
So on Day 3 we continued driving west after parking our own car safely in my
parent’s garage. My father proudly told me during the first 37 minutes about the
engine in his new truck. Apparently, this engine can pull the equivalent of a
well-stocked Wall-Mart on a good day. He also complained bitterly about the
fierce head-wind that was ruining our gas mileage. Sure enough, as when filled
up in Brandon (a beautiful prairie city…I might add), he raved on and on about
how the only good thing about a $70.00 fill-up was the air miles he would be
awarded with. The weather that day turned miserable and by the time we found our
campsite in the lovely hamlet of Moose Jaw, my father had icicles hanging from
his beard.
My mother had pre-cooked and frozen over 100 suppers, so we had no problem
getting supper ready that night. After supper, Mary and I managed to find the
world’s largest moose in Moose Jaw. However, Mary noticed that the testicles on
the moose belonged on a smaller mammal, such as a chipmunk.
My father emerged proudly before bed sporting his new pyjamas. He claimed they
were “hip” pyjamas. A very hip gray T-shirt accompanied by very hip sweatpants
would be the envy of all other gray-beard campers. I discovered the amazing
stereo system in the trailer and treated my parents to the soundtrack to “A
Beautiful Mind”
On Day 4 Mary and I re-discovered my father’s dislike of any sounds louder than
a baby chick’s chirping. Therefore, the radio was not an option in the truck.
Instead, we were treated to the soothing rumble of the diesel truck’s engine and
the swish-swashing of saliva as gum was being processed by my father’s jaw…
Our lunches always consisted of a selection of over 100 pre-frozen sandwiches
that my mother had dutifully prepared. My father enjoyed his head-cheese
sandwiches (thin pink strands of meat separated by thick clear strands of
gelatine) while the rest of us settled for old standbys like Bavarian 7-spiced
meatloaf.
Usually during these car rides, all of us would fall asleep (except my father,
the primary driver of course). Mary predictably would sometimes shout out while
asleep with phrases like “watch out for the rabid calf on the shoulder up
ahead”. My mother would then jump and knock her head silly on the car window and
then proceed to clean the smudges she made with Windex.
Anyway, we made it to Lethbridge, Alberta and found a campground with an
abundance of mosquitoes. We also found Alberta-brewed Pilsner at only a
buck-a-can (to my father and I quantity is much more important than quality) and
proceeded to forget to buy the ladies any fruity alcoholic drinks. We then
toured the campground and to my father’s dismay, discovered much bigger rigs
than his. In fact, some of these monsters need no human influence to set-up. A
computer monitors the levelling and other less-fortunate campers are recruited
to hook up their sewage, water, cable and electricity.
On Day 5 we avoided Calgary (my father hates any conglomeration of human beings
that numbers more than 10) and spend four-extra scenic hours zig-zagging through
the Crowsnest Pass of southern B.C. We ended up in a place called Creston (where
they brew Kokanee beer!) We bought a pile of fresh B.C. fruits and vegetables. I
am a fan of currents (sour red berries) and fresh peas in a pod, especially in
large quantities. Unfortunately my digestive system is not, so I sang praises to
the porcelain god that night.
Mary and I decided to cycle the wonderful town of Creston. We discovered how
much fun it is to ride down the side of a mountain into a valley. However, we
discovered how incredibly impossible it is to ride up a mountain. As we walked
our bikes up the mountainside, small children on tricycles circled around us
like flies, pointing and mocking our painfully slow progress.
Mary discovered wireless internet in our campground that evening and managed to
recruit 27 cub scouts from South-Western Australia in a game of advanced bridge.
My mother shared ox-tail soup recipes with a gal named Peggy in Oklahoma and I
found 206 ways to de-scent my two-year-old sandals before they killed all my
travel companions. These sandals really reek but all of you must understand the
sentimental value that comes with owning an item of comfortable clothing.
However, I might have to get rid of them after my doctor refused to do my
physical last month. I left the sandals in the waiting room for the other
patients to enjoy, so I might enjoy my physical.
So our next day’s travels brought us to my mother’s brother (coincidentally my
uncle) just north of Kelowna. My aunt keeps her living quarters just as spotless
as my mother does. Predictably, they both find Mr. Clean the sexiest man on
earth. My uncle gathered an enormous bucket full of walnuts to feed, well, any
living being crazy enough to consume an enormous bucket full of walnuts (yes, my
father again)
Mary and I cycled into the orchards of the Okanagan valley and decided to gorge
ourselves with cherries. I prefer the sour ones personally. They seem to melt in
your mouth more. Afterwards we visited my uncle’s old vineyard and the present
owner proudly presented us with 409 apricots of which 401 have now spoiled.
Later on, we visited a winery that provided free samples of their finest wines.
My father, however, dampened the mood of our server when he proudly proclaimed
that his home brew was far superior.
After Kelowna, we travelled a bit further northeast to a beautiful little town
called Chase. Here, we met Mary’s mother’s sister and her husband
(coincidentally Mary’s aunt and uncle). They were fabulous hosts as well and
provided us with enough liquor to thoroughly disorientate the entire British
army. We met Mary’s vibrant grandmother (coincidentally…aw, you figure it out!)
and even received a fabulous tour of her retirement residence. However, my
parents eyed us suspiciously afterwards thinking we were planning their future
for them. My father relaxed once I remarked that I would never consider a
residence to accommodate them unless there was a keg in every room.
That evening we went to Kamloops to watch one of Mary’s cousins perform in a
free concert in the city’s largest park. After being caught in a downpour (the
first in Kamloops since 1961) and being run over by kids high on cotton candy,
we made our way back to Chase. Since Mary’s aunt and uncle elected to sit in the
rain while we took shelter under a tree during the concert, they were quite
chilled. Her aunt decided to increase the temperature in the van quite
substantially. Therefore, the lovely van we travelled in turned into a portable
sauna. My father dehydrated completely and requested beer, Mary took off most of
her clothes, my mother’s hair frizzed, Mary’s uncle hung his head out the window
and Mary’s aunt was toasty warm. I, meanwhile, as always, pondered how I would
put this latest experience in words.
So off we went to Vancouver the next day. My father couldn’t believe the traffic
as we approached the city. He cursed the fact that cars were behind him, in
front of him AND BESIDE HIM! His evil glare forced most drivers to roll up their
windows (since he could hear their radios).
On a serious note, (am I not always serious?) my father had one of numerous
follow-up appointments at the Vancouver General Hospital to check his eye. A
specialist (the only one in Canada) had rid his eye of cancer many years ago and
still requests that he come every 1 to 2 years so she could make sure everything
was still ok. My dad did lose sight in one eye but better that than lose his
life… He was declared healthy so we all breathed a sigh of relief as we do every
year!
We met another one of Mary’s aunts while my dad was at his appointment. We had a
great lunch in a restaurant near False Creek. I managed to energetically consume
a sandwich filled with crab, squid and oysters. Mary opted only to have salmon
in her sandwich. Mary’s aunt opted to consume a salad and not look in our
direction. Later on, we toured her condominium. I believe it is one of the best
views I have ever seen from a private residence. She managed to secure a front
row seat to view all the “anthills” (condominiums) across the river as well as a
garden full of palm and eucalyptus trees directly below her window.
Our campground in Vancouver shocked and angered my father, which in turn
frustrated my mother, which in turn made Mary and I laugh hysterically. As I
suspected, a campground in the middle of the city with the highest real estate
prices in Canada would be quite expensive and crowded. A forklift actually had
to park our trailer into a spot the size of a gopher hole. My mother frantically
waved her arms trying to direct the forklift driver who in turn ignored her just
like my father does. My father meanwhile continued cursing about the high price
and didn’t notice his trailer scrape into a cedar hedge. Afterwards my father
attempted to level the trailer and levelled his head against the edge of the
trailer instead. Only a beer subdued his cursing…
To end this first trip report (thanks for reading this far) I have to talk about
our toilet. Yes, it got plugged. Fortunately, my father was the first to jump
forward to accept the task to unplug it. After lecturing each one of us about
excessive use of toilet paper and too much fibre intake, the toilet decided to
take matters into its own hands. It actually backfired on the poor man. At this
point, my father had had enough and placed a curse on the fixture. It hasn’t
plugged since…
